The Private Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, Complete

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The whole of the garden which their Majesties traversed presented a view
of which it is impossible to give an idea. The illuminations were
designed in perfect taste; there were a variety of amusements, and
numerous orchestras concealed amid the trees added yet more to the
enchantment. At a given signal three doves flew from the top of a column
surmounted with a vase of flowers, and offered to their Majesties
numerous and most ingenious devices. Farther on German peasants danced
waltzes on a charming lawn, and crowned with flowers the bust of her
Majesty the Empress, and shepherds and nymphs from the opera executed
dances, Finally, a theater had been erected in the midst of the trees, on
which was represented a village fete, a comedy composed by M. Ittienne,
and set to music by Nicolo. The Emperor and Empress were seated under a
dais during this play, when suddenly a heavy shower fell, throwing all
the spectators into commotion. Their Majesties did not notice the rain
at first, protected as they were by the dais, and the Emperor being
engaged in conversation with the mayor of the town of Lyons. The latter
was complaining of the sales of the cloths of that town, when Napoleon,
noticing the frightful rain which was falling, said to this functionary,
"I answer for it that to-morrow you will have large orders."

The Emperor kept his position during most of the storm, while the
courtiers, dressed in silk and velvet, with uncovered heads, received the
rain with a smiling face. The poor musicians, wet to the skin, at last
could no longer draw any sound from their instruments, of which the rain
had snapped or stretched the cords, and it was time to put an end to this
state of affairs. The Emperor gave the signal for departure, and they
retired.

On that day Prince Aldobrandini, who in his quality of first equerry of
Marie Louise accompanied the Empress, was very happy to find and borrow
an umbrella in order to shelter Marie Louise; but there was much
dissatisfaction in the group where this borrowing was done because the
umbrella was not returned. That evening the Prince Borghese and Princess
Pauline nearly fell into the Seine in their carriage while returning to
their country house at Neuilly. Those persons who took pleasure in
finding omens, and those especially (a very small number) who saw with
chagrin the rejoicings of the Empire, did not fail to remark that every
fete given to Marie Louise had been attended by some accident. They
spoke affectedly of the ball given by the Prince of Schwartzenberg on the
occasion of the espousals, and of the fire which consumed the
dancing-hall, and the tragic death of several persons, notably of the
sister of the prince. They drew from this coincidence bad auguries;
some from ill-will, and in order to undermine the enthusiasm inspired by
the high fortunes of Napoleon; others from a superstitious credulity, as
if there could have been any serious connection between a fire which cost
the lives of several persons, and the very usual accident of a storm in
June, which ruined the toilets, and wet to the skin thousands of
spectators.

It was a very amusing scene for those who had no finery to spoil, and who
ran only the risk of taking cold, to see these poor women drenched with
the rain, running in every direction, with or without a cavalier, and
hunting for shelter which could not be found.

A few were fortunate enough to find modest umbrellas; but most of them
saw the flowers fall from their heads, beaten down by the rain, or their
finery dripping with water, dragging on the ground, in a pitiable state.
When it was time to return to Paris the carriages were missing, as the
coachmen, thinking that the fete would last till daylight, had prudently
thought that they would not take the trouble to wait all night. Those
persons with carriages could not use them, as the press was so great that
it was almost impossible to move. Several ladies got lost, and returned
to Paris on foot; others lost their shoes, and it was a pitiable sight to
see the pretty feet in the mud. Happily there were few or no accidents,
and the physician and the bed repaired everything. But the Emperor
laughed heartily at this adventure, and said that the merchants would
gain by it.

M. de Remusat, so good and ready to render a service, always forgetting
himself for others, had succeeded in procuring an umbrella, when he met
my wife and mother-in-law, who were escaping like the others, took them
on his arm, and conducted them to the palace without their having
received the least injury. For an hour he traveled back and forth from
the palace to the park, and from the park to the garden, and had the
happiness to be useful to a great number of ladies whose toilets he saved
from entire ruin. It was an act of gallantry which inspired infinite
gratitude, because it was performed in a manner evincing such kindness of
heart.




CHAPTER XXXI.

This seemed to be a year of fetes, and I dwell upon it with pleasure
because it preceded one filled with misfortunes. The years 1811 and 1812
offered a striking contrast to each other. All those flowers lavished on
the fetes of the King of Rome and his august mother covered an abyss, and
all this enthusiasm was changed to mourning a few months later. Never
were more brilliant fetes followed by more overwhelming misfortunes. Let
us, then, dwell a little longer upon the rejoicings which preceded 1812.
I feel that I need to be fortified before entering upon reminiscences of
that time of unprofitable sacrifices, of bloodshed without preserving or
conquering, and of glory without result. On the 25th of August, the
Empress's fete was celebrated at Trianon; and from early in the morning
the road from Paris to Trianon was covered with an immense number of
carriages and people on foot, the same sentiment attracting the court,
the citizens, the people, to the delightful place at which the fete was
held. All ranks were mingled, all went pell-mell; and I have never seen
a crowd more singularly variegated, or which presented a more striking
picture of all conditions of society. Ordinarily the multitude at fetes
of this kind is composed of little more than one class of people and a
few modest bourgeois that is all; very rarely of people with equipages,
more rarely still people of the court; but here there were all, and there
was no one so low that he could not have the satisfaction of elbowing a
countess or some other noble inhabitant of the Faubourg St. Germain, for
all Paris seemed to be at Versailles. That town so beautiful, but yet so
sadly beautiful, which seemed since the last king to be bereft of its
inhabitants, those broad streets in which no one was to be seen, those
squares, the least of which could hold all the inhabitants of Versailles,
and which could hardly contain the courtiers of the Great King, this
magnificent solitude which we call Versailles, had been populated
suddenly by the capital. The private houses could not contain the crowd
which arrived from every direction. The park was inundated with a
multitude of promenaders of every sex and all ages; in these immense
avenues one walked on foot, one needed air on this vast plateau which was
so airy, one felt cramped on this theater of a great public fete, as at
balls given in those little saloons of Paris built for about a dozen
persons, and where fashion crams together a hundred and fifty.

Great preparations had been made for four or five days in the delightful
gardens of Trianon; but the evening before, the sky became cloudy, and
many toilets which had been eagerly prepared were prudently laid aside;
but the next day a beautiful blue sky reassured every one, and they set
out for Trianon in spite of the recollections of the storm which had
dispersed the spectators at the fete of Saint Cloud. Nevertheless, at
three o'clock a heavy shower made every one fear for a short while that
the evening might end badly. "Afternoon shower making its obeisance," as
the proverb says; but, on the contrary, this only made the fete
pleasanter, by refreshing the scorching air of August, and laying the
dust which was most disagreeable. At six o'clock the sun had reappeared,
and the summer of 1811 had no softer or more agreeable evening.

All the outlines of the architecture of the Grand Trianon were ornamented
with lamps of different colors. In the gallery could be seen six hundred
women, brilliant with youth and adornments; and the Empress addressed
gracious words to several among them, and all were charmed by the cordial
and affable manners of a young princess who had lived in France only
fifteen months.

At this fete, as at all the fetes of the Empire, there were not wanting
poets to sing praises of those in whose honor they were given. There was
a play which had been composed for the occasion, the author of which I
remember perfectly was M. Alissan de Chazet; but I have forgotten the
title. At the end of the piece, the principal artists of the opera
executed a ballet which was considered very fine. When the play was
over, their Majesties commenced a promenade in the park of the
Petit-Trianon, the Emperor, hat in hand, giving his arm to the Empress,
and being followed by all his court. They first visited the Isle of
Love, and found all the enchantments of fairyland and its illusions
there united. The temple, situated in the midst of the lake, was
splendidly illuminated, and the water reflected its columns of fire.
A multitude of beautiful boats furrowed this lake, which seemed on fire,
manned by a swarm of Cupids, who appeared to sport with each other in
the rigging. Musicians concealed on board played melodious airs; and
this harmony, at once gentle and mysterious, which seemed to spring from
the bosom of the waves, added still more to the magic of the picture and
the charms of the illusion. To this spectacle succeeded scenes of
another kind, taken from rural life,--a Flemish living picture, with its
pleasant-faced, jolly people, and its rustic ease; and groups of
inhabitants from every province of France, giving an impression that all
parts of the Empire were convened at this fete. In fine, a wonderful
variety of attractions in turn arrested the attention of their
Majesties. Arrived at the saloon of Polhymnie, they were welcomed by a
charming choir, the music composed, I think, by Paer, and the words by
the same M. Alissan de Chazet. At last, after a magnificent supper,
which was served in the grand gallery, their Majesties retired at one
o'clock in the morning.

There was only one opinion in this immense assembly as to the grace and
perfect dignity of Marie Louise. This young princess was really
charming, but with peculiarities rather than traits of character. I
recall some occurrences in her domestic life which will not be without
interest to the reader.

Marie Louise talked but little with the people of her household; but
whether this arose from a habit brought with her from the Austrian court,
whether she feared to compromise her dignity by her foreign accent before
persons of inferior condition, or whether it arose from timidity or
indifference, few of these persons could remember a word she had uttered.
I have heard her steward say that in three years she spoke to him only
once.

The ladies of the household agreed in saying that in private she was kind
and agreeable. She did not like Madame de Montesquieu. This was wrong;
since there were no cares, endearments, attentions of all sorts, which
Madame de Montesquieu did not lavish on the King of Rome.

The Emperor, however, appreciated highly this excellent lady who was so
perfect in every respect. As a man he admired the dignity, perfect
propriety, and extreme discretion of Madame de Montesquieu; and as a
father he felt an infinite gratitude for the cares she lavished on his
son. Each one explained in his own way the coolness which the young
Empress showed to this lady; and there were several reasons assigned for
this, all more or less untrue, though the leisure moments of the ladies
of the palace were much occupied with it. What appeared to me the most
likely solution, and most in accordance with the artless simplicity of
Marie Louise, was this: The Empress had as lady of honor Madame de
Montebello, a charming woman of perfect manners. Now, there was little
friendship between Madame de Montesquieu and Madame de Montebello, as the
latter feared it is said to have a rival in the heart of her august
friend; and, in fact, Madame de Montesquieu would have proved a most
dangerous rival for this lady, as she combined all those qualities which
please and make one beloved. Born of an illustrious family, she had
received a distinguished education, and united the tone and manners of
the best society with a solid and enlightened piety. Never had calumny
dared to attack her conduct, which was as noble as discreet. I must
admit that she was somewhat haughty; but this haughtiness was tempered by
such elegant politeness, and such gracious consideration, that it might
be considered simple dignity. She was attentive and assiduous in her
devotion to the King of Rome, and was entitled to the deep gratitude of
the Empress; for she afterwards, actuated by the most generous devotion,
tore herself from her country, her friends, her family, to follow the
fate of a child whose every hope was blasted.

Madame de Montebello was accustomed to rise late. In the morning when
the Emperor was absent, Marie Louise went to converse with her in her
room; and in order not to go through the saloon where the ladies of the
palace were assembled, she entered the apartment of her lady of honor
through a very dark closet, and this conduct deeply wounded the feelings
of the other ladies. I have heard Josephine say that Madame de
Montebello was wrong to initiate the young Empress into the scandalous
adventures, whether true or false, attributed to some of these ladies,
and which a young, pure, simple woman like Marie Louise should not have
known; and that this was one cause of her coldness towards the ladies of
her court, who on their side did not like her, and confided their
feelings to their neighbors and friends.

Josephine tenderly loved Madame de Montesquieu, and when they were parted
wrote to her often; this correspondence lasted till Josephine's death.
One day Madame de Montesquieu received orders from the Emperor to take
the little king to Bagatelle, where Josephine then was. She had obtained
permission to see this child, whose birth had covered Europe with fetes.
It is well known how disinterested Josephine's love for Napoleon was, and
how she viewed everything that could increase his glory and render it
more durable; and there entered into the prayers she made for him since
the burning disgrace of the divorce, even the hope that he might be happy
in his private life, and that his new wife might bear this child, this
firstborn of his dynasty, to him whom she herself could not make a
father.

This woman of angelic goodness, who had fallen into a long swoon on
learning her sentence of repudiation, and who since that fatal day had
dragged out a sad life in the brilliant solitude of Malmaison; this
devoted wife who had shared for fifteen years the fortunes of her
husband, and who had assisted so powerfully in his elevation, was not the
last to rejoice at the birth of the King of Rome. She was accustomed to
say that the desire to leave a posterity, and to be represented after our
death by beings who owe their life and position to us, was a sentiment
deeply engraved in the heart of man; that this desire, which was so
natural, and which she had felt so deeply as wife and mother, this desire
to have children to survive and continue us on earth, was still more
augmented when we had a high destiny to transmit to them; that in
Napoleon's peculiar position, as founder of a vast empire, it was
impossible he should long resist a sentiment which is at the bottom of
every heart, and which, if it is true that this sentiment increases in
proportion to the inheritance we leave our children, no one could
experience more fully than Napoleon, for no one had yet possessed so
formidable a power on the earth; that the course of nature having made
her sterility a hopeless evil, it was her duty to be the first to
sacrifice the sentiments of her heart to the good of the state, and the
personal happiness of Napoleon sad but powerful reasoning, which policy
invoked in aid of the divorce, and of which this excellent princess in
the illusion of her devotion thought herself convinced in the depths of
her heart.

The royal child was presented to her. I know nothing in the world which
could be more touching than the joy of this excellent woman at the sight
of Napoleon's son. She at first regarded him with eyes swimming in
tears; then she took him in her arms, and pressed him to her heart with a
tenderness too deep for words. There were present no indiscreet
witnesses to take pleasure in indulging irreverent curiosity, or observe
with critical irony the feelings of Josephine, nor was there ridiculous
etiquette to freeze the expression of this tender soul; it was a scene
from private life, and Josephine entered into it with all her heart.
From the manner in which she caressed this child, it might have been said
that it was some ordinary, child, and not a son of the Caesars, as
flatterers said, not the son of a great man, whose cradle was surrounded
with so many honors, and who had been born a king. Josephine bathed him
with her tears, and said to him some of those baby words with which a
mother makes herself understood and loved by her new born. It was
necessary at last to separate them. The interview had been short, but it
had been well employed by the loving soul of Josephine. In this scene
one could judge from her joy of the sincerity of her sacrifice, while at
the same time her stifled sighs testified to its extent. Madame de
Montesquieu's visits were made only at long intervals, which distressed
Josephine greatly; but the child was growing larger, an indiscreet word
lisped by him, a childish remembrance, the least thing, might offend
Marie Louise, who feared Josephine. The Emperor wished to avoid this
annoyance, which would have affected his domestic happiness; so he
ordered that the visits should be made more rarely, and at last they were
stopped. I have heard Josephine say that the birth of the King of Rome
repaid her for all sacrifices, and surely never was the devotion of a
woman more disinterested or more complete.

Immediately after his birth the King of Rome was confided to the care of
a nurse of a healthy, robust constitution, taken from among the people.
This woman could neither leave the palace nor receive a visit from any
man; the strictest precautions were observed in this respect. She was
taken out to ride for her health in a carriage, and even then she was
accompanied by several women.

These were the habits of Marie Louise with her son. In the morning about
nine o'clock the king was brought to his mother; she took him in her arms
and caressed him a few moments, then returned him to his nurse, and began
to read the papers. The child grew tired, and the lady in charge took
him away. At four o'clock the mother went to visit her son; that is to
say, Marie Louise went down into the king's apartments, carrying with her
some embroidery, on which she worked at intervals. Twenty minutes after
she was informed that M. Isabey or M. Prudhon had arrived for the lesson
in painting or drawing, whereupon the Empress returned to her apartments.

Thus passed the first months which followed the birth of the King of
Rome. In the intervals between fetes, the Emperor was occupied with
decrees, reviews, monuments, and plans, constantly employed, with few
distractions, indefatigable in every work, and still not seeming to have
anything to occupy his powerful mind, and happy in his private life with
his young wife, by whom he was tenderly beloved. The Empress led a very
simple life, which suited her disposition well. Josephine needed more
excitement; her life had been also more in the outside world, more
animated, more expansive; though this did not prevent her being very
faithful to the duties of her domestic life, and very tender and loving
towards her husband, whom she knew how to render happy in her own way.

One day Bonaparte returned from a hunt worn out with fatigue, and begged
Marie Louise to come to him. She came, and the Emperor took her in his
arms and gave her a sounding kiss on the cheek. Marie Louise took her
handkerchief and wiped her cheek. "Well, Louise, you are disgusted with
me?"--"No," replied the Empress, "I did it from habit; I do the same with
the King of Rome." The Emperor seemed vexed. Josephine was very
different; she received her husband's caresses affectionately, and even
met him half way. The Emperor sometimes said to her, "Louise, sleep in
my room."--"It is too warm there," replied the Empress. In fact, she
could not endure the heat, and Napoleon's apartments were constantly
warmed. She had also an extreme repugnance to odors, and in her own
rooms allowed only vinegar or sugar to be burnt.






VOLUME III.




CHAPTER I.

In September, 1811, the Emperor decided to make a journey into Flanders
in company with the Empress, that he might personally ascertain if his
orders had been carried out in all matters concerning both the civil and
religious administration. Their Majesties left Compiegne on the 19th,
and arrived at Montreuil-sur-Mer at nine o'clock in the evening.
I accompanied the Emperor on this journey. I have read in O'Meara's
Memorial that M. Marchand was at that time in the service of Napoleon.
This is incorrect; for M. Marchand did not enter the Emperor's private
service until 1814, at Fontainebleau. His Majesty at that time ordered
me to select from the domestics of the service an intelligent young man
to assist me in my duties near his person, since none of the ordinary
'valets de chambre' were to remain on the island of Elba. I mentioned
the name of M. Marchand, son of a nurse of the King of Rome, as a
suitable person for the place. He was accepted by his Majesty, and from
that time M. Marchand formed a part of the private service of the
Emperor. He may have been on this journey to Holland; but Napoleon was
not aware of it, as his duties did not bring him near his Majesty's
person.

I will now relate some of the circumstances which occurred on this
journey, and are not generally known to the public, and at the same time
take advantage of the opportunity to refute other assertions similar to
those I have just mentioned, and which I have read with surprise,
sometimes mixed with indignation, in the Contemporary Memoirs. I deem
it important that the public should have correct information as to
everything pertaining to this journey, in order that light may thus be
thrown on certain incidents, by means of which calumny has attacked the
honor of Napoleon, and even my own. A devoted though humble servant of
the Emperor, it is natural that I should be deeply interested in
explaining all that seems doubtful, in refuting all falsehoods, and in
giving minute corrections of many incorrect statements which might
influence the judgment of the public concerning my master and myself.
I shall fulfil this duty with perfect frankness, as I have sufficiently
proved in the foregoing volumes of these Memoirs.

A little incident occurred at Montreuil, which I take pleasure in
narrating, since it proves how carefully Napoleon examined both the
fortifications and improvements being made in the towns, either by his
personal orders, or from the impulse given by him to these important
departments of public service. After investigating the work done in the
past year on the fortifications of Montreuil, and having made a tour of
all the ramparts, the Emperor returned to the citadel, whence he again
emerged to visit the exterior works. An arm of the river Canche, which
lies at the foot of the wall on one side of the city, intercepted his
route. The whole suite set to work to construct a temporary bridge of
planks and logs; but the Emperor, impatient at the delay, walked through
the stream in water up to his knees. The owner of a mill on the opposite
shore took his Majesty by the arm to assist him in mounting the bank, and
profited by this opportunity to explain to the Emperor that his mill,
being in the line of the projected fortifications, would necessarily be
torn down; whereupon the Emperor turned to the engineers and said, "This
brave man must be indemnified for any loss he may sustain." He then
continued his rounds, and did not re-enter his carriage until he had
examined everything at leisure, and held a long interview with the civil
and military authorities of Montreuil. On the route a soldier who had
been wounded at Ratisbon was presented to him; and his Majesty ordered
that a present should be made him on the spot, and that his petition
should be presented to him on his arrival at Boulogne on the 20th.