The Private Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, Complete

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CHAPTER XIX.

The battle of Essling was disastrous in every respect. Twelve thousand
Frenchmen were slain; and the source of all this trouble was the
destruction of the bridges, which could have been prevented, it seems to
me, for the same accident had occurred two or three days before the
battle. The soldiers complained loudly, and several corps of the
infantry cried out to the generals to dismount and fight in their midst;
but this ill humor in no wise affected their courage or patience, for
regiments remained five hours under arms, exposed to the most terrible
fire. Three times during the evening the Emperor sent to inquire of
General Massena if he could hold his position; and the brave captain, who
that day saw his son on the field of battle for the first time, and his
friends and his bravest officers falling by dozens around him, held it
till night closed in. "I will not fall back," said he, "while there is
light. Those rascally Austrians would be too glad." The constancy of
the marshal saved the day; but, as he himself said, he was always blessed
with good luck. In the beginning of the battle, seeing that one of his
stirrups was too long, he called a soldier to shorten it, and during this
operation placed his leg on his horse's neck; a cannon-ball whizzed by,
killed the soldier, and cut off the stirrup, without touching the marshal
or his horse. "There," said he, "now I shall have to get down and change
my saddle;" which observation the marshal made in a jesting tone.

The surgeon and his assistants conducted themselves admirably on this
terrible day, and displayed a zeal equal to every emergency, combined
with an activity which delighted the Emperor so much, that several times,
in passing near them, he called them "my brave surgeons." M. Larrey
above all was sublime. After having attended to all the wounded of the
guard, who were crowded together on the Island of Lobau, he asked if
there was any broth to give them. "No," replied the assistants. "Have
some made," said he, "have some made of that group," pointing to several
horses near him; but these horses belonged to a general, and when it was
attempted to carry out M. Larrey's orders, the owner indignantly refused
to allow them to be taken. "Well, take mine then," said the brave
soldier, "and have them killed, in order that my comrades may have
broth." This was done; and as no pots could be found on the island it
was boiled in helmets, and salted with cannon powder in place of salt.
Marshal Massena tasted this soup, and thought it very good. One hardly
knows which to admire most,--the zeal of the surgeons, the courage with
which they confronted danger in caring for the wounded on the field of
battle, and even in the midst of the conflict; or the stoical constancy
of the soldiers, who, lying on the ground, some without an arm, some
without a leg, talked over their campaigns with each other while waiting
to be operated on, some even going so far as to show excessive
politeness. "M. Docteur, begin with my neighbor; he is suffering more
than I. I can wait."

A cannoneer had both legs carried away by a ball; two of his comrades
picked him up and made a litter with branches of trees, on which they
placed him in order to convey him to the island. The poor mutilated
fellow did not utter a single groan, but murmured, "I am very thirsty,"
from time to time, to those who bore him. As they passed one of the
bridges, he begged them to stop and seek a little wine or brandy to
restore his strength. They believed him, and did as he requested, but
had not gone twenty steps when the cannoneer called to them, "Don't go so
fast, my comrades; I have no legs, and I will reach the end of my journey
sooner than you. 'Vive la France;'" and, with a supreme effort, he
rolled off into the Danube.

The conduct of a surgeon-major of the guard, some time after, came near
compromising the entire corps in his Majesty's opinion. This surgeon, M.
M----, lodged with General Dorsenne and some superior officers in a
pretty country seat, belonging to the Princess of Lichtenstein, the
concierge of the house being an old German who was blunt and peculiar,
and served them with the greatest repugnance, making them as
uncomfortable as possible. In vain, for instance, they requested of him
linen for the beds and table; he always pretended not to hear.

General Dorsenne wrote to the princess, complaining of this condition of
affairs; and in consequence she no doubt gave orders, but the general's
letter remained unanswered, and several days passed with no change of
affairs. They had had no change of napkins for a month, when the general
took a fancy to give a grand supper, at which Rhenish and Hungarian wine
were freely indulged in, followed by punch. The host was highly
complimented; but with these praises were mingled energetic reproaches on
the doubtful whiteness of the napery, General Dorsenne excusing himself
on the score of the ill-humor and sordid economy of the concierge, who
was a fit exponent of the scant courtesy shown by the princess. "That is
unendurable!" cried the joyous guests in chorus. "This hostess who so
completely ignores us must be called to order. Come, M----, take pen and
paper and write her some strong epigrams; we must teach this princess of
Germany how to live. French officers and conquerors sleeping in rumpled
sheets, and using soiled napkins! What an outrage!" M. M was only too
faithful an interpreter of the unanimous sentiments of these gentlemen;
and under the excitement of the fumes of these Hungarian wines wrote the
Princess of Lichtenstein a letter such as during the Carnival itself one
would not dare to write even to public women. How can I express what
must have been Madame Lichtenstein's horror on reading this
production,--an incomprehensible collection of all the low expressions
that army slang could furnish! The evidence of a third person was
necessary to convince her that the signature, M----, Surgeon-major of
the Imperial French Guard, was not the forgery of some miserable
drunkard. In her profound indignation the princess hastened to General
Andreossy, his Majesty's Governor of Vienna, showed him this letter, and
demanded vengeance. Whereupon the general, even more incensed than she,
entered his carriage, and, proceeding to Schoenbrunn, laid the wonderful
production before the Emperor. The Emperor read it, recoiled three
paces, his cheeks reddened with anger, his whole countenance was
disturbed, and in a terrible tone ordered the grand marshal to summon
M. M----, while every one waited in trembling suspense.

"Did you write this disgusting letter?"--"Sire."--"Reply, I order you;
was it you?"--"Yes, Sire, in a moment of forgetfulness, after a supper."
--"Wretch!" cried his Majesty, in such a manner as to terrify all who
heard him. "You deserve to be instantly shot! Insult a woman so basely!
And an old woman too. Have you no mother? I respect and honor every old
woman because she reminds me of my mother!"--"Sire, I am guilty, I admit,
but my repentance is great. Deign to remember my services. I have
followed you through eighteen campaigns; I am the father of a family."
These last words only increased the anger of his Majesty. "Let him be
arrested! Tear off his decorations; he is unworthy to wear them. Let
him be tried in twenty-four hours." Then turning to the generals, who
stood stupefied and immovable around him, he exclaimed, "Look, gentlemen!
read this! See how this blackguard addresses a princess, and at the very
moment when her husband is negotiating a peace with me."

The parade was very short that day; and as soon as it was ended, Generals
Dorsenne and Larrey hastened to Madame Lichtenstein, and, describing to
her the scene which had just taken place, made her most humble apologies,
in the name of the Imperial Guard, and at the same time entreated her to
intercede for the unfortunate fellow, who deserved blame, no doubt, but
who was not himself when he wrote the offensive epistle. "He repents
bitterly, Madame," said good M. Larrey; "he weeps over his fault, and
bravely awaits his punishment, esteeming it a just reparation of the
insult to you. But he is one of the best officers of the army; he is
beloved and esteemed; he has saved the life of thousands, and his
distinguished talents are the only fortune his family possesses. What
will become of them if he is shot?"--"Shot!" exclaimed the princess;
"shot! Bon-Dieu! would the matter be carried as far as that?" Then
General Dorsenne described to her the Emperor's resentment as
incomparably deeper than her own; and the princess, much moved,
immediately wrote the Emperor a letter, in which she expressed herself as
grateful, and fully satisfied with the reparation which had already been
made, and entreated him to pardon M. M----

His Majesty read the letter, but made no reply. The princess was again
visited; and she had by this time become so much alarmed that she
regretted exceedingly having shown the letter of M. M---- to the general;
and, having decided at any cost to obtain the surgeon's pardon, she
addressed a petition to the Emperor, which closed with this sentence,
expressing angelic forgiveness: "Sire, I am going to fall on my knees in
my oratory, and will not rise until I have obtained from Heaven your
Majesty's pardon." The Emperor could no longer hold out; he granted the
pardon, and M. M---- was released after a month of close confinement.
M. Larrey was charged by his Majesty to reprove him most severely, with a
caution to guard more carefully the honor of the corps to which he
belonged; and the remonstrances of this excellent man were made in so
paternal a manner that they doubled in M. M----'s eyes the value of the
inestimable service M. Larrey had rendered him.

M. le Baron Larrey was always most disinterested in his kind services, a
fact which was well known and often abused. General d'A----, the son of
a rich senator, had his shoulder broken by a shell at Wagram; and an
exceedingly delicate operation was found necessary, requiring a skilled
hand, and which M. Larrey alone could perform. This operation was a
complete success; but the wounded man had a delicate constitution, which
had been much impaired, and consequently required the most incessant care
and attention. M. Larrey hardly ever left his bedside, and was assisted
by two medical students, who watched by turns, and assisted him in
dressing the wound. The treatment was long and painful, but a complete
cure was the result; and when almost entirely recovered, the general took
leave of the Emperor to return to France. A pension and decorations
canceled the debt of the head of the state to him, but the manner in
which he acquitted his own towards the man who had saved his life is
worthy of consideration.

As he entered his carriage he handed to one of his friends a letter and a
little box, saying to this general, "I cannot leave Vienna without
thanking M. Larrey; do me the favor of handing to him for me this mark of
my gratitude. Good Larrey, I will never forget the services he has
rendered me." Next day the friend performed his commission; and a
soldier was sent with the letter and the present, and, as he reached
Schoenbrunn during the parade, sought M. Larrey in the line. "Here is a
letter and a box which I bring from General A----." M. Larrey put both
in his pocket, but after the parade examined them, and showed the package
to Cadet de Gassicourt, saying, "Look at it, and tell me what you think
of it." The letter was very prettily written; as for the box, it
contained a diamond worth about sixty francs.

This pitiful recompense recalls one both glorious and well-earned which
M. Larrey received from the Emperor during the campaign in Egypt. At the
battle of Aboukir, General Fugieres was operated on by M. Larrey under
the enemies' fire for a dangerous wound on the shoulder; and thinking
himself about to die, offered his sword to General Bonaparte, saying
to him, "General, perhaps one day you may envy my fate." The
general-in-chief presented this sword to M. Larrey, after having
engraved on it the name of M. Larrey and that of the battle. However,
General Fugieres did not die; his life was saved by the skillful
operation he had undergone, and for seventeen years he commanded the
Invalids at Avignon.




CHAPTER XX.

It is not in the presence of the enemy that differences in the manner and
bearing of soldiers can be remarked, for the requirements of the service
completely engross both the ideas and time of officers, whatever their
grade, and uniformity of occupation produces also a kind of uniformity of
habit and character; but, in the monotonous life of the camp, differences
due to nature and education reassert themselves. I noted this many times
after the truces and treaties of peace which crowned the most glorious
campaigns of the Emperor, and had occasion to renew my observations on
this point during the long sojourn which we made at Schoenbrunn with the
army. Military tone in the army is a most difficult thing to define, and
differs according to rank, time of service, and kind of service; and
there are no genuine soldiers except those who form part of the line, or
who command it. In the soldiers' opinion, the Prince de Neuchatel and
his brilliant staff, the grand marshal, Generals Bertrand, Bacler d'Albe,
etc., were only men of the cabinet council, whose experience might be of
some use in such deliberations, but to whom bravery was not
indispensable.

The chief generals, such as Prince Eugene, Marshals Oudinot, Davoust,
Bessieres, and his Majesty's aides-decamp, Rapp, Lebrun, Lauriston,
Mouton, etc., were exceedingly affable, and every one was most politely
received by them; their dignity never became haughtiness, nor their ease
an excessive familiarity, though their manners were at all times slightly
tinged by the austerity inseparable from the character of a warrior.
This was not the idea held in the army in regard to a few of the ordnance
and staff officers (aides-de-camp); for, while according them all the
consideration due both to their education and their courage, they called
them the jay-birds of the army; receiving favors which others deserved;
obtaining cordons and promotions for carrying a few letters into camp,
often without having even seen the enemy; insulting by their luxury the
modest temperance of the braver officers; and more foppish in the midst
of their battalions than in the boudoirs of their mistresses. The
silver-gilt box of one of these gentlemen was a complete portable
dressing-case, and contained, instead of cartridges, essence bottles,
brushes, a mirror, a tongue-scraper, a shell-comb, and--I do not know
that it lacked even a pot of rouge. It could not be said that they were
not brave, for they would allow themselves to be killed for a glance;
but they were very, rarely exposed to danger. Foreigners would be right
in maintaining the assertion that the French soldier is frivolous,
presumptuous, impertinent, and immoral, if they formed their judgment
alone from these officers by courtesy, who, in place of study and
faithful service, had often no other title to their rank than the merit
of having emigrated.

The officers of the line, who had served in several campaigns and had
gained their epaulettes on the field of battle, held a very different
position in the army. Always grave, polite, and considerate, there was a
kind of fraternity among them; and having known suffering and misery
themselves, they were always ready to help others; and their
conversation, though not distinguished by brilliant information, was
often full of interest. In nearly every case boasting quitted them with
their youth, and the bravest were always the most modest. Influenced by
no imaginary points of honor, they estimated themselves at their real
worth; and all fear of being suspected of cowardice was beneath them.
With these brave soldiers, who often united to the greatest kindness of
heart a mettle no less great, a flat contradiction or even a little hasty
abuse from one of their brothers in arms was not obliged to be washed out
in blood; and examples of the moderation which true courage alone has a
right to show were not rare in the army. Those who cared least for
money, and were most generous, were most exposed, the artillerymen and
the hussars, for instance. At Wagram I saw a lieutenant pay a louis for
a bottle of brandy, and immediately divide it among the soldiers of his
company; and brave officers often formed such an attachment to their
regiment, especially if it had distinguished itself, that they sometimes
refused promotion rather than be separated from their children, as they
called them. In them we behold the true model of the French soldier; and
it is this kindness, mingled with the austerity of a warrior, this
attachment of the chief to the soldier, which the latter is so capable of
appreciating, and an impregnable honor, which serve to distinguish our
soldiers from all others, and not, as foreigners think, presumption,
braggadocio, and libertinage, which latter are ever the characteristics
of the parasites of glory alone.

In the camp of Lobau on the evening before the battle of Wagram, the
Emperor, as he was walking outside his tent, stopped a moment watching
the grenadiers of his guard who were breakfasting. "Well, my children,
what do you think of the wine?"--"It will not make us tipsy, Sire; there
is our cellar," said a soldier pointing to the Danube. The Emperor, who
had ordered a bottle of good wine to be distributed to each soldier, was
surprised to see that they were so abstemious the evening before a
battle. He inquired of the Prince de Neuchatel the cause of this; and
upon investigation, it was learned that two storekeepers and an employee
in the commissary department had sold forty thousand bottles of the wine
which the Emperor had ordered to be distributed, and had replaced it with
some of inferior quality. This wine had been seized by the Imperial
Guard in a rich abbey, and was valued at thirty thousand florins. The
culprits were arrested, tried, and condemned to death.

There was in the camp at Lobau a dog which I think all the army knew by
the name of corps-de-garde. He was old, emaciated, and ugly; but his
moral qualities caused his exterior defects to be quickly lost sight of.
He was sometimes called the brave dog of the Empire; since he had
received a bayonet stroke at Marengo, and had a paw broken by a gun at
Austerlitz, being at that time attached to a regiment of dragoons. He
had no master. He was in the habit of attaching himself to a corps, and
continuing faithful so long as they fed him well and did not beat him.
A kick or a blow with the flat of a sword would cause him to desert this
regiment, and pass on to another. He was unusually intelligent; and
whatever position of the corps in which he might be the was serving, he
did not abandon it, or confound it with any other, and in the thickest of
the fight was always near the banner he had chosen; and if in the camp he
met a soldier from the regiment he had deserted, he would droop his ears,
drop his tail between his legs, and scamper off quickly to rejoin his new
brothers in arms. When his regiment was on the march he circled as a
scout all around it, and gave warning by a bark if he found anything
unusual, thus on more than one occasion saving his comrades from ambush.

Among the officers who perished at the battle of Wagram, or rather in a
small engagement which took place after the battle had ended, one of
those most regretted by the soldiers was General Oudet. He was one of
the bravest generals of the army; but what brings his name especially to
mind, among all those whom the army lost on that memorable day, is a note
which I have preserved of a conversation I held several years after this
battle with an excellent officer who was one of my sincerest friends.

In a conversation with Lieutenant-colonel B---- in 1812, he remarked, "I
must tell you, my dear Constant, of a strange adventure which happened to
me at Wagram. I did not tell you at the time, because I had promised to
be silent; but since at the present time no one can be compromised by my
indiscretion, and since those who then had most to fear if their singular
ideas (for I can call them by no other name) had been revealed, would now
be first to laugh at them, I can well inform you of the mysterious
discovery I made at that period.

"You well know that I was much attached to poor F---- whom we so much
regretted; and he was one of our most popular and attractive officers,
his good qualities winning the hearts of all, especially of those who
like himself had an unfailing fund of frankness and good humor. All at
once I noticed a great change in his manner, as well as in that of his
habitual companions; they appeared gloomy, and met together no more for
gay conversation, but on the contrary spoke in low tones and with an air
of mystery. More than once this sudden change had struck me; and if by
chance I met them in retired places, instead of receiving me cordially as
had always been their custom, they seemed as if trying to avoid me. At
last, weary of this inexplicable mystery, I took F---- aside, and asked
him what this strange conduct meant. 'You have forestalled me, my dear
friend,' said he. 'I was on the point of making an important disclosure;
I trust you will not accuse me of want of confidence, but swear to me
before I confide in you that you will tell no living soul what I am now
going to reveal.' When I had taken this oath, which he demanded of me in
a tone of gravity which surprised me inexpressibly, he continued, 'If I
have not already told you of the 'Philadelphi', it is only because I knew
that reasons which I respect would prevent your ever joining them; but
since you have asked this secret, it would be a want of confidence in
you, and at the same time perhaps an imprudence, not to reveal it. Some
patriots have united themselves under the title of 'Philadelphi', in
order to save our country from the dangers to which it is exposed. The
Emperor Napoleon has tarnished the glory of the First Consul Bonaparte;
he had saved our liberty, but he has since destroyed it by the
reestablishment of the nobility and by the Concordat. The society of the
'Philadelphi' has as yet no well-defined plans for preventing the evils
with which ambition will continue to overwhelm France; but when peace is
restored we shall see if it is impossible to force Bonaparte to restore
republican institutions, and meanwhile we are overcome by grief and
despair. The brave chief of the 'Philadelphi', the pure Oudet, has been
assassinated, and who is worthy to take his place? Poor Oudet! never
was one braver or more eloquent than he! With a noble haughtiness and an
immovable firmness of character, he possessed an excellent heart. His
first battle showed his intrepid spirit. When cut down at Saint
Bartholomew by a ball, his comrades wished to bear him away, "No, no,"
cried he; "don't waste time over me. The Spaniards! the Spaniards!"--
"Shall we leave you to the enemy?" said one of those who had advanced
towards him. "Well, drive them back if you do not wish me to be left
with them." At the beginning of the campaign of Wagram, he was colonel
of the Ninth regiment of the line, and was made general of brigade on the
evening before the battle, his corps forming part of the left wing
commanded by Massena. Our line was broken on this side for a moment, and
Oudet made heroic efforts to reform it; and after he had been wounded by
three bayonet strokes, with the loss of much blood, and dragged away by
those of us who were forced to fall back, still had himself fastened on
his horse in order that he might not be forced to leave the battlefield.

"After the battle, he received orders to advance to the front, and to
place himself with his regiment in an advantageous position for
observation, and then return immediately to headquarters, with a certain
number of his officers, to receive new orders. He executed these orders,
and was returning in the night, when a discharge of musketry was suddenly
heard, and he fell into an ambush; he fought furiously in the darkness,
knowing neither the number nor character of his adversaries, and at break
of day was found, covered with wounds, in the midst of twenty officers
who had been slain around him. He was still breathing, and lived three
days; but the only words he pronounced were those of commiseration for
the fate of his country. When his body was taken from the hospital to
prepare it for burial, several of the wounded in their despair tore the
bandages from their wounds, a sergeant-major threw himself on his sword
near the grave, and a lieutenant there blew out his brains. Behold,'
said F----, 'a death that plunges us into the deepest despair!' I tried
to prove to him that he was mistaken, and that the plans of the
'Philadelphi' were mad, but succeeded very imperfectly; and though he
listened to my advice, he again earnestly recommended secrecy."