The Private Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, Complete

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Although an entire stranger to politics, I had read with deep interest
the newspapers I received in my retreat, since the great political change
to which the name of the Restoration was given; and it seemed to me to
need only the simplest common-sense to see the marked difference which
existed between the government which had been overthrown and the new. In
all departments I saw a succession of titled men take the places of the
long list of distinguished men who had given under the Empire so many
proofs of merit and courage; but I was far from thinking, notwithstanding
the large number of discontented, that the fortunes of the Emperor and
the wishes of the army would ever restore him to that throne which he had
voluntarily abdicated in order that he might not be the cause of a civil
war in Dance. Therefore, it would be impossible to describe my
astonishment, and the multiplicity of varied feelings which agitated me,
when I received the first news of the landing of the Emperor on the coast
of Provence. I read with enthusiasm the admirable proclamation in which
he announced that his eagles would fly from steeple to steeple, and that
he himself would follow so closely in his triumphal march from the Bay of
Juan to Paris.

Here I must make a confession, which is, that only since I had left the
Emperor, had I fully comprehended the immensity of his greatness.
Attached to his service almost from the beginning of the Consulate, at a
time when I was still very young, he had grown, so to speak, without my
having perceived it, and I had above all seen in him, from the nature of
my duties, the excellent master rather than the great man; consequently,
in this instance the effects of distance were very different from what it
usually produces. It was with difficulty I could realize, and I am often
astonished to-day in recalling the frank candor with which I had dared to
defend to the Emperor what I knew to be the truth; his kindness, however,
seemed to encourage me in this, for often, instead of becoming irritated
by my vehemence, he said to me gently, with a benevolent smile, "Come,
come! M. Constant, don't excite yourself." Adorable kindness in a man
of such elevated rank! Ah, well I this was the only impression it made
on me in the privacy of his chamber, but since then I have learned to
estimate it at its true value.

On learning that the Emperor was to be restored to us, my first impulse
was to repair at once to the palace, that I might be there on his
arrival; but more mature reflection and the advice of my family made me
realize that it would be more suitable for me to await his orders, in
case he wished to recall me to my former service. I congratulated myself
on deciding to take the latter course, since I had the happiness to learn
that his Majesty had been kind enough to express his approval of my
former conduct. I learned from most reliable authority, that he had
hardly arrived at the Tuileries, when he condescended to inquire of M.
Eible, then concierge of the palace, "Well, what is Constant doing? How
is he succeeding? Where is he?"--"Sire, he is at his country-place,
which he has not left."--"Ah, very good. He is happy raising his
cabbages." I learned also that, during the first days of the Emperor's
return, his Majesty had been investigating the list of pensions, and had
been good enough to make a note that mine should be increased. Finally,
I experienced an intense satisfaction of another kind, no doubt, but none
the less sincere in the certainty of not being considered an ingrate.
I have stated that I had been fortunate enough to procure a position for
M. Marchand with the Emperor; and this is what was related to me by an
eye-witness. M. Marchand, in the beginning of the Hundred Days, happened
to be in one of the saloons of the palace of the Tuileries, where several
persons were assembled, and some of them were expressing themselves most
unkindly in regard to me. My successor with the Emperor interrupted them
brusquely, saying that there was not a word of truth in the calumnies
which were asserted of me; and added that, while I held the position, I
had uniformly been most obliging to all persons of the household who had
addressed themselves to me, and had done no injury to any one. In this
respect I can affirm that M. Marchand told only the truth; but I was none
the less deeply grateful to him for so honorably defending me, especially
in my absence.

Not being in Paris on the 20th of March, 1815, as we have just seen, I
could have nothing to say of the circumstances of this memorable epoch,
had I not collected from some of my friends particulars of what occurred
on the night following the re-entrance of the Emperor into the palace,
once again become Imperial; and it may be imagined how eager I was to
know everything relating to the great man whom we regarded at this moment
as the savior of France.

I will begin by repeating exactly the account which was given me by one
of my friends, a brave and excellent man, at that time sergeant in the
National Guard of Paris, who happened to be on duty at the Tuileries
exactly on the 20th of March. "At noon," he said, "three companies of
National Guards entered the court of the Tuileries, to occupy all the
interior and exterior posts of the palace. I belonged to one of these
companies, which formed a part of the fourth legion. My comrades and I
were struck with the inexpressible sadness produced by the sight of an
abandoned palace. Everything, in fact, was deserted. Only a few men
were seen here and there in the livery of the king, occupied in taking
down and removing portraits of the various members of the Bourbon family.
Outside could be heard the clamorous shouts of a frantic mob, who climbed
on the gates, tried to scale them, and pressed against them with such
force that at last they bent in several places so far that it was feared
they would be thrown down. This multitude of people presented a
frightful spectacle, and seemed as if determined to pillage the palace.

"Hardly a quarter of an hour after we entered the interior court an
accident occurred which, though not serious in itself, threw
consternation into our ranks, as well as among those who were pressing
against the grating of the Carrousel. We saw flames issuing from the
chimney of the King's apartments, which had been accidentally set on fire
by a quantity of papers which had just been burned therein. This
accident gave rise to most sinister conjectures, and soon the rumor
spread that the Tuileries had been undermined ready for an explosion
before the departure of Louis XVIII. A patrol was immediately formed of
fifteen men of the National Guard, commanded by a sergeant; they explored
the chateau most thoroughly, visited each apartment, descended into the
cellars, and assured themselves that there was nowhere the slightest
indication of danger.

"Reassured on this point, we were nevertheless not without anxiety. In
returning to our posts we had heard numerous groups shouting, 'Vive le
Roi! Vivent les Bourbons!' and we soon had proofs of the exasperation
and fury of a part of the people against Napoleon; for we witnessed the
arrival in our midst, in a most pitiable condition, of a superior officer
who had imprudently donned too soon the tricolored cockade, and
consequently had been pursued by the mob from the Rue Saint-Denis. We
took him under our protection, and made him enter the interior of the
palace, as he was almost exhausted. At this moment we received orders to
force the people to withdraw, as they had become still more determined to
scale the gates; and in order to accomplish this we were compelled to
have recourse to arms.

"We had occupied the post at the Tuileries an hour at most when General
Excelmans, who had received the chief command of the guard at the
chateau, gave orders to raise the tricolored banner over the middle
pavilion.

"The reappearance of the national colors excited among us all emotions of
the most intense satisfaction; and immediately the populace substituted
the cry of 'Vive l'Empereur' for that of 'Vive le Roi,' and nothing else
was heard the whole day. As for us, when we were ordered to don the
tricolored cockade it was a very easy performance, as a large number of
the guard had preserved their old ones, which they had simply covered
with a piece of white cambric. We were ordered to stack arms in front of
the arch of triumph, and nothing extraordinary occurred until six
o'clock; then lights began to shine on the expected route of the Emperor,
and a large number of officers on half pay collected near the pavilion of
Flora; and I learned from one of them, M. Saunier, a decorated officer,
that it was on that side the Emperor would re-enter the palace of the
Tuileries. I repaired there in all haste; and as I was hurrying to place
myself on his route, I was so fortunate as to meet a commanding officer,
who assigned me to duty at the very door of Napoleon's apartment, and to
this circumstance I owe the fact that I witnessed what now remains to be
related.

"I had for some time remained in expectation, and in almost perfect
solitude, when, at fifteen minutes before nine, an extraordinary noise
that I heard outside announced to me the Emperor's arrival; and a few
moments after I saw him appear, amidst cries of enthusiasm, borne on the
arms of the officers who had escorted him from the island of Elba. The
Emperor begged them earnestly to let him walk; but his entreaties were
useless, and they bore him thus to the very door of his apartment, where
they deposited him near me. I had not seen the Emperor since the day of
his farewell to the National Guard in the great court of the palace; and
in spite of the great agitation into which I was thrown by all this
commotion, I could not help noticing how much stouter he had become.

"The Emperor had hardly entered his apartments than I was assigned to
duty in the interior. Marshal Bertrand, who had just replaced General
Excelmans in the command of the Tuileries, gave me an order to allow no
one to enter without informing him, and to give him the names of all who
requested to see the Emperor. One of the first to present himself was
Cambaceres, who appeared to me even more pallid than usual. A short time
after came the father of General Bertrand; and as this venerable old man
attempted to pay his respects first to the Emperor, Napoleon said to him,
'No, monsieur! nature first;' and in saying this, with a movement as
quick as his words, the Emperor, so to speak, threw him into the arms of
his son. Next came Queen Hortense, accompanied by her two children;
then, Count Regnault de Saint-Jean d'Angely, and many other persons whose
names have escaped me. I did not see again those I announced to Marshal
Bertrand, as they all went out by another door. I continued this duty
till eleven o'clock in the evening, at which time I was relieved of my
duties, and was invited to supper at an immense table of about three
hundred covers. All the persons presented at the palace took their
places at this table, one after the other. I there saw the Duke of
Vicenza, and found myself placed opposite General Excelmans. The Emperor
supped alone in his room with Marshal Bertrand, and their supper was by
no means so splendid as ours, for it consisted only of a roast chicken
and a dish of lentils; and yet I learned from an officer who fad attended
him constantly since he left Fontainebleau, that his Majesty had eaten
nothing since morning. The Emperor was exceedingly fatigued; I had
opportunity to mark this each time his door was opened. He was seated on
a chair in front of the fire, with his feet on the mantelpiece.

"As we all remained at the Tuileries, word was sent us about one o'clock
that the Emperor had just retired, and that in case any soldiers should
arrive during the night who had accompanied him, he had given orders that
they should be on duty at the palace conjointly with the National Guard.
The poor creatures were hardly in a condition to obey such an order. At
two o'clock in the morning we saw two of them arrive in a most pitiable
condition; they were perfectly emaciated, and their feet blistered. All
that they could do was to throw themselves on their bags, on which they
fell sound asleep; and they did not even awake while the duty of
bandaging their feet was attended to in the room which they had reached
with so much difficulty. All were eager to lavish every attention on
them; and I admit that I have always regretted not having inquired the
names of these two brave grenadiers, who inspired in all of us an
interest I cannot describe.

"After retiring at one o'clock, the Emperor was on his feet at five
o'clock in the morning; and the order was immediately given to the
soldiers on half pay to hold themselves ready for a review, and at break
of day they were ranged in three ranks. At this moment I was deputed to
watch over an officer who was pointed out as suspicious, and who, it was
said, had come from Saint-Denis. This was M. de Saint-Chamans. At the
end of a quarter of an hour of arrest, which had nothing disagreeable in
it, he was simply asked to leave. Meanwhile, the Emperor had descended
from the palace, and passed through the ranks of the soldiers on half
pay, speaking to each one, taking many of them by the hand, and saying to
them, 'My friends, I need your services; I rely on you as you may rely on
me.' Magic words on the lips of Napoleon, and which drew tears of
emotion from all those brave soldiers whose services had been ignored for
a year.

"From the morning the crowd increased rapidly on all the approaches to
the Tuileries, and a mass of people assembled under the windows of the
chateau, demanding with loud shouts to see Napoleon. Marshal Bertrand
having informed him of this, the Emperor showed himself at the window,
where he was saluted by the shouts which his presence had so often
excited. After showing himself to the people, the Emperor himself
presented to them Marshal Bertrand, his arm resting on the marshal's
shoulder, whom he pressed to his heart with demonstrations of the
liveliest affection. During this scene, which deeply affected all the
witnesses, who cheered with all their might, officers, standing behind
the Emperor and his friend, held above their heads banners surmounted by
their eagles, of which they formed a kind of national canopy. At eleven
o'clock the Emperor mounted his horse, and reviewed the various regiments
which were arriving from every direction, and the heroes of the island of
Elba who had returned to the Tuileries during the night. All seemed
deeply impressed with the appearance of these brave men, whom the sun of
Italy had tanned, and who had traveled nearly two hundred leagues in
twenty days."

These are the curious details which were given to me by a friend; and I
can guarantee the truth of his recital the same as if I myself had been
an eye-witness of all that occurred during the memorable night of the
20th and 21st March, 1815. Continuing in my retreat during the hundred
days, and long after, I have nothing to say which all the world would not
know as well as I concerning this important epoch in the life of the
Emperor. I have shed many tears over his sufferings at the time of his
second abdication, and the tortures inflicted on him at St. Helena by the
miserable Hudson Lowe, whose infamy will go down through the ages side by
side with the glory of the Emperor. I will simply content myself by
adding to the preceding a certain document which was confided to me by
the former Queen of Westphalia, and saying a word in conclusion as to the
destination I thought best to give to the first cross of the Legion of
Honor which the First Consul had worn.

Princess Catharine of Wurtemberg, the wife of Prince Jerome, is, as is
well known, a woman of great beauty, gifted at the same time with more
solid qualities, which time increases instead of diminishing. She joins,
to much natural intelligence, a highly cultivated mind, a character truly
worthy of a sister-in-law of the Emperor, and carries even to enthusiasm
her love of duty. Events did not allow her to become a great queen, but
they have not prevented her remaining an accomplished wife. Her
sentiments are noble and elevated; but she shows haughtiness to none, and
all who surround her take pleasure in boasting of the charms of her
kindness towards her household, and she possesses the happiest gift of
nature, which consists in making herself beloved by every one. Prince
Jerome is not without a certain grandeur of manner and formal generosity,
which he learned while on the throne of Cassel, but he is generally very
haughty. Although in consequence of the great changes which have taken
place in Europe since the fall of the Emperor, Prince Jerome owes the
comfortable maintenance which he still enjoys to the love of the
princess, she does not any the less show a truly exemplary submission to
his will. Princess Catharine occupies herself almost exclusively with
her three children, two boys and one girl, all of whom are very
beautiful. The eldest was born in the month of August, 1814. Her
daughter, the Princess Mathilde, owes her superior education to the care
her mother exercised over it; she is pretty, but less so than her
brothers, who all have their mother's features.

After the description, which is not at all flattered, which I have just
given of Princess Catharine, it may seem surprising that, provided as she
is with so many solid qualities, she has never been able to conquer an
inexplicable weakness regarding petty superstitions. Thus, for instance,
she is extremely afraid to seat herself at a table where there are
thirteen guests. I will relate an anecdote of which I can guarantee the
authenticity, and which, perhaps, may foster the weakness of persons
subject to the same superstitions as the Princess of Wurtemberg. One day
at Florence, being present at a family dinner, she perceived that there
were exactly thirteen plates, suddenly grew pale, and obstinately refused
to take her seat. Princess Eliza Bacciochi ridiculed her sister-in-law,
shrugged her shoulders, and said to her, smiling, "There is no danger,
there are in truth fourteen, since I am enceinte." Princess Catharine
yielded, but with extreme repugnance. A short time after she had to put
on mourning for her sister-in-law; and the death of the Princess Eliza,
as may well be believed, contributed no little to render her more
superstitious than ever as to the number thirteen. Well! let strong
minds boast themselves as they may; but I can console the weak, as I dare
to affirm that, if the Emperor had witnessed such an occurrence in his
own family, an instinct stronger than any other consideration, stronger
even than his all-powerful reason, would have caused him some moments of
vague anxiety.

Now, it only remains for me to render an account of the bestowal I made
of the first cross of honor the First Consul wore. The reader need not
be alarmed; I did not make a bad use of it; it is on the breast of a
brave soldier of our old army. In 1817 I made the acquaintance of M.
Godeau, a former captain in the Imperial Guard. He had been severely
wounded at Leipzig by a cannon-ball, which broke his knee. I found in
him an admiration for the Emperor so intense and so sincere, he urged me
so earnestly to give him something, whatever it might be, which had
belonged to his Majesty, that I made him a present of the cross of honor
of which I have spoken, as he had long ago been decorated with that
order. This cross is, I might say, a historical memento, being the
first, as I have stated, which his Majesty wore. It is of silver, medium
size, and is not surmounted with the imperial crown. The Emperor wore it
a year; it decorated his breast for the last time the day of the battle
of Austerlitz. From that day, in fact, his Majesty wore an officer's
cross of gold with the crown, and no longer wore the cross of a simple
member of the legion.

Here my souvenirs would end if, in re-reading the first volumes of my
memoirs, the facts I have there related had not recalled to me some
others which may be of interest. With the impossibility of presenting
them in the proper order and connection, I have decided, in order that
the reader may not be deprived of them, to offer them as detached
anecdotes, which I have endeavored to class as far as possible, according
to the order of time.




CHAPTER XXX.

ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.

As I have often-had occasion to remark, the Emperor's tastes were
extremely simple in everything relating to his person; moreover, he
manifested a decided aversion to the usages of fashion; he did not like,
so to speak, to turn night into day, as was done in the most of the
brilliant circles of society in Paris under the Consulate, and at the
commencement of the Empire. Unfortunately, the Empress Josephine did not
hold the same views, and being a submissive slave of fashion, liked to
prolong her evenings after the Emperor had retired.

She had the habit of then collecting around her her most intimate ladies
and a few friends, and giving them tea. Gaming was entirely precluded
from these nocturnal reunions, of which conversation was the only charm.
This conversation of the highest circles of society was a most agreeable
relaxation to the Empress; and this select circle assembled frequently
without the Emperor being aware of it, and was, in fact, a very innocent
entertainment. Nevertheless, some obliging person was so indiscreet as
to make the Emperor a report concerning these assemblies, containing
matters which roused his displeasure. He expressed his dissatisfaction
to the Empress Josephine, and from that time she retired at the same time
as the Emperor.

These teas were then abandoned, and all persons attached to the service
of the Emperor received orders not to sit up after the Emperor retired.

As well as I remember, this is how I heard his Majesty express himself on
the occasion. "When the masters are asleep, the valets should retire to
bed; and when the masters are awake, the valets should be on their feet."
These words produced the intended effect; and that very evening, as soon
as the Emperor was in bed, all at the palace retired, and at half-past
eleven no one was awake but the sentinels.

By degrees, as always occurs, the strict observance of the Emperor's
orders was gradually relaxed, still without the Empress daring to resume
her nocturnal gatherings. The words of his Majesty were not forgotten,
however, and were well remembered by M. Colas, concierge of the pavilion
of Flora.

One morning about four o'clock, M. Colas heard an unaccustomed noise,
and a continued movement in the interior of the palace, and supposed from
this that the Emperor was awake, in which he was not mistaken. He
dressed in all haste, and had been ten minutes at his post when the
Emperor, descending the staircase with Marshal Duroc, perceived him.
His Majesty usually took pleasure in showing that he remarked exactness
in fulfilling his orders; therefore he stopped a moment, and said to M.
Colas, "Ah! already awake, Colas?"--"Yes, Sire; I have not forgotten that
valets should be on foot when the masters are awake."--"You have a good
memory, Colas; an excellent thing."

All this was very well, and the day began for M. Colas under most
favorable auspices; but in the evening the medal of the morning was
obliged to show the opposite side. The Emperor went that morning to
visit the works on the canal of the Ourcq. He was apparently much
dissatisfied; for he returned to the palace in such evident illhumor,
that M. Colas, perceiving it, let these words escape his lips, "Il y a de
l'oignon." Although he spoke in a low tone, the Emperor heard him, and
turning abruptly to him, repeated angrily, "Yes, Monsieur, you are not
mistaken; il y a de l'oignon." He then rapidly remounted the staircase,
while the concierge, fearing he had said too much, approached the grand
marshal, begging him to excuse him to his Majesty; but he never had an
idea of punishing him for the liberty he had taken, and the expression
which had escaped his lips one would hardly expect to find in the
imperial vocabulary.


The coming of the Pope to Paris for the purpose of crowning the Emperor
is one of those events which suffice to mark the grandeur of a period.
The Emperor never spoke of it except with extreme satisfaction, and he
wished his Holiness to be received with all the magnificence which should
attend the founder of a great empire. With this intention his Majesty
gave orders that, without any comment, everything should be furnished not
only that the Pope, but also all that the persons of his suite, might
demand. Alas! it was not by his own personal expenses that the Holy
Father assisted to deplete the imperial treasury.

Pius VII. drank only water, and his sobriety was truly apostolic; but
this was not the case with the abbes attached to his service, for these
gentlemen each day required five bottles of Chambertin wine, without
counting those of other kinds and most expensive liquors.