The Private Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, Complete

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"The Emperor," my uncle continued, "conversed in this strain for a long
while, though the stranger did not reply, or replied in so low a tone
that it was impossible to hear a word; and the scene, which must have
been most trying to the mysterious personage, lasted about twenty
minutes. At last he was permitted to leave, which he did with the same
precautions as on his arrival, and retired from the palace as secretly as
he had come."

Nothing of this scene was known in Paris; and, moreover, neither my uncle
nor I have ever sought to ascertain the name of the person whom the
Emperor overwhelmed with such numerous and severe reproaches.

Whenever circumstances allowed, the Emperor's habits of life were very
regular, his time being almost uniformly divided as follows. Every
morning, at nine o'clock precisely, the Emperor left the imperial
apartments; his exactness in observing hours was carried to an extreme,
and I have sometimes seen him wait two or three moments in order that no
one might be taken by surprise. At nine o'clock his toilet was made for
the whole day. When he had reached the reception-room, the officers on
duty were first admitted, and received his Majesty's orders for their
time of service.

Immediately after this, what was called the grandes entrees took place.
That is to say, personages of high rank were admitted, who had this right
on account of their duties, or by the special favor of the Emperor; and I
can assert that this favor was much envied. It was granted generally to
all the officers of the imperial household, even if they were not on
duty; and every one remained standing, as did the Emperor also. He made
the tour of all the persons present, nearly always addressed a remark or
a question to each one; and it was amusing to see afterwards, during the
whole day, the proud and haughty bearing of those to whom the Emperor had
spoken a little longer than to others. This ceremony usually lasted a
half-hour, and as soon as it was finished the Emperor bowed and each
retired.

At half-past nine the Emperor's breakfast was served, usually on a small
mahogany stand; and this first repast commonly lasted only seven or eight
minutes, though sometimes it was prolonged, and even lasted quite a long
while. This, however, was only on rare occasions, when the Emperor was
in unusually good-humor, and wished to indulge in the pleasure of a
conversation with men of great merit, whom he had known a long while, and
who happened to be present at his breakfast. There he was no longer the
formal Emperor of the levee; he was in a manner the hero of Italy, the
conqueror of Egypt, and above all the member of the Institute. Those who
came most habitually were Messieurs Monge, Berthollet, Costaz
(superintendent of crown buildings), Denon, Corvisart, David, Gerard,
Isabey, Talma, and Fontaine (his first architect). How many noble
thoughts, how many elevated sentiments, found vent in these conversations
which the Emperor was accustomed to open by saying, "Come, Messieurs, I
close the door of my cabinet." This was the signal, and it was truly
miraculous to see his Majesty's aptitude in putting his genius in
communication with these great intellects with such diversities of
talent.

I recall that, during the days preceding the Emperor's coronation, M.
Isabey attended regularly at the Emperor's breakfast, and was present
almost every morning; and strange, too, it did not seem an absurd thing
to see children's toys used to represent the imposing ceremony which was
to exert such a great influence over the destinies of the world. The
intelligent painter of his Majesty's cabinet portraits caused to be
placed on a large table a number of small figures representing all the
personages who were to take part in the ceremony of the coronation; each
had his designated place; and no one was omitted, from the Emperor to the
Pope, and even to the choristers, each being dressed in the costume he
was expected to wear.

These rehearsals took place frequently, and all were eager to consult the
model in order to make no mistake as to the place each was to occupy. On
those days, as may be imagined, the door of the cabinet was closed, and
in consequence the ministers sometimes, waited awhile. Immediately after
the breakfast the Emperor admitted his ministers and director generals;
and these audiences, devoted to the special work of each minister and of
each director, lasted until six o'clock in the evening, with the
exception of those days on which his Majesty occupied himself exclusively
with governmental affairs, and presided over the council of state, or the
ministerial councils.

At the Tuileries and at Saint-Cloud dinner was served at six o'clock; and
the Emperor dined each day alone with the Empress, except on Sunday, when
all the family were admitted to dinner. The Emperor, Empress, and Madame
Mere only were seated in armchairs; all others, whether kings or queens,
having only ordinary chairs. There was only one course before the
dessert. His Majesty usually drank Chambertin wine, but rarely without
water, and hardly more than one bottle. To dine with the Emperor was
rather an honor than a pleasure to those who were admitted; for it was
necessary, to use the common expression, to swallow in post haste, as his
Majesty never remained at table more than fifteen or eighteen minutes.
After his dinner, as after breakfast, the Emperor habitually took a cup
of coffee, which the Empress poured out. Under the Consulate Madame
Bonaparte began this custom, because the General often forgot to take his
coffee; she continued it after she became Empress, and the Empress Marie
Louise retained the same custom.

After dinner the Empress descended to her apartments, where she found
assembled her ladies and the officers on duty; and the Emperor sometimes
accompanied her, but remained only a short while. Such was the customary
routine of life in the palace at the Tuileries on those days when there
was neither the chase in the morning, nor concert nor theater in the
evening; and the life at Saint-Cloud differed little from that at the
Tuileries. Sometimes rides were taken in coaches when the weather
permitted; and on Wednesday, the day set for the council of ministers,
these officials were invariably honored by an invitation to dine with
their Majesties. When there was a hunt at Fontainebleau, Rambouillet, or
Compiegne, the usual routine was omitted; the ladies followed in coaches,
and the whole household dined with the Emperor and Empress under a tent
erected in the forest. It sometimes happened, though rarely, that the
Emperor invited unexpectedly some members of his family to remain to dine
with him; and this recalls an anecdote which should have a place in this
connection. The King of Naples came one day to visit the Emperor, and
being invited to dine, accepted, forgetting that he was in morning dress,
and there was barely time for him to change his costume, and consequently
none to return to the Elysee, which he then inhabited. The king ran
quickly up to my room, and informed me of his embarrassment, which I
instantly relieved, to his great delight. I had at that time a very
handsome wardrobe, almost all the articles of which were then entirely
new; so I gave him a shirt, vest, breeches, stockings, and shoes, and
assisted him to dress, and fortunately everything fitted as if it had
been made especially for him. He showed towards me the same kindness and
affability he always manifested, and thanked me in the most charming
manner. In the evening the King of Naples, after taking leave of the
Emperor, returned to my room to resume his morning dress, and begged me
to come to him next day at the laysee, which I did punctually after
relating to the Emperor all that had occurred, much to his amusement.
On my arrival at the Elysee I was immediately introduced into the king's
apartments, who repeated his thanks in the most gracious manner, and gave
me a pretty Breguet watch.

[Abraham Louis Breguet, the celebrated watchmaker, was born at
Neuchatel, 1747; died 1823. He made numerous improvements in
watches and in nautical and astronomical instruments.]

During our campaigns I sometimes had occasion to render little services
of the same nature to the King of Naples; but the question was not then,
as at Saint-Cloud, one of silk stockings, for more than once on the
bivouac I shared with him a bundle of straw, which I had been fortunate
enough to procure. In such cases I must avow the sacrifice was much
greater on my part than when I had shared my wardrobe with him. The king
was not backward in expressing his gratitude; and I thought it a most
remarkable thing to see a sovereign, whose palace was filled with all
that luxury can invent to add to comfort, and all that art can create
which is splendid and magnificent, only too happy in procuring half of a
bundle of straw on which to rest his head.


I will now give some fresh souvenirs which have just recurred to my mind
concerning the Court theater. At Saint-Cloud, in order to reach the
theater hall, it was necessary to cross the whole length of the Orangery;
and nothing could be more elegant than the manner in which it was
decorated on these occasions. Rows of rare plants were arranged in
tiers, and the whole lighted by lamps; and during the winter the boxes
were hidden by covering them with moss and flowers, which produced a
charming effect under the lights.

The parterre of the theater was usually filled with generals, senators,
and councilors of state; the first boxes were reserved for the princes
and princesses of the imperial family, for foreign princes, marshals,
their wives, and ladies of honor. In the second tier were placed all
persons attached to the Court. Between the acts, ices and refreshments
were served; but the ancient etiquette had been re-established in one
particular, which greatly displeased the actors,--no applause was
allowed; and Talma often told me that the kind of coldness produced by
this silence was very detrimental at certain parts where the actor felt
the need of being enthused. Nevertheless, it sometimes happened that the
Emperor, in testimony of his satisfaction, made a slight signal with his
hand; and then and also at the grandest periods we heard, if not
applause, at least a flattering murmur which the spectators were not
always able to repress.

The chief charm of these brilliant assemblies was the presence of the
Emperor; and consequently an invitation to the theater of Saint-Cloud was
an honor much desired. In the time of the Empress Josephine there were
no representations at the palace in the absence of the Emperor; but when
Marie Louise was alone at Saint-Cloud during the campaign of Dresden, two
representations a week were given, and the whole repertoire of Gretry was
played in succession before her Majesty. At the end of each piece there
was always a little ballet.

The theater of Saint-Cloud was, so to speak, on more than one occasion
the theater of first attempts. For instance, M. Raynouard played there
for the first time the 'Etats de Blois', a work which the Emperor would
not allow to be played in public, and which was not done, in fact, until
after the return of Louis XVIII.

'The Venetians' by M. Amand also made its first appearance on the theater
of Saint-Cloud, or rather of Malmaison. This was not highly considered
at the time; but the infallible judgment the Emperor displayed in his
choice of plays and actors was most remarkable. He generally gave M.
Corvisart the preference in deciding these matters, on which he descanted
with much complacence when his more weighty occupations allowed. He was
usually less severe and more just than Geoffroy; and it is much to be
desired that the criticisms and opinions of the Emperor concerning
authors and actors could have been preserved. They would have been of
much benefit to the progress of art.


In speaking of the retreat from Moscow, I related previously in my
memoirs that I had the good fortune to offer a place in my carriage to
the young Prince of Aremborg, and assisted him in continuing his journey.
I recall another occasion in the life of this prince, when one of my
friends was very useful to him, some particulars of which may not be
without interest.

The Prince of Aremberg, an ordnance officer of the Emperor, had, as we
know, married Mademoiselle Tascher, niece of the Empress Josephine.
Having been sent into Spain, he was there taken by the English, and
afterwards carried a prisoner to England. His captivity was at first
very disagreeable; and he told me himself that he was very unhappy, until
he made the acquaintance of one of my friends, M. Herz, commissary of
war, who possessed a fine mind, was very intelligent, spoke several
languages, and was, like the prince, a prisoner in England. The
acquaintance formed at once between the prince and M. Herz soon became so
intimate that they were constantly together; and thus passed the time as
happily as it can with one far from his native land and deprived of his
liberty.

They were living thus, ameliorating for each other the ennui of
captivity, when M. Herz was exchanged, which was, perhaps, a great
misfortune for him, as we shall afterwards see. At all events, the
prince was deeply distressed at being left alone; but, nevertheless, gave
M. Herz several letters to his family, and at the same time sent his
mother his mustache, which he had mounted in a medallion with a chain.
One day the Princess of Aremberg arrived at Saint-Cloud and demanded a
private audience of the Emperor.

"My son," said she, "demands your Majesty's permission to attempt his
escape from England."--"Madame," said the Emperor, "your request is most
embarrassing! I do not forbid your son, but I can by no means authorize
him."

It was at the time I had the honor of saving the Prince of Aremberg's
life that I learned from him these particulars. As for my poor friend
Herz, his liberty became fatal to him, owing to an inexplicable
succession of events. Having been sent by Marshal Augereau to Stralsund
to perform a secret mission, he died there, suffocated by the fire of a
brass stove in the room in which he slept. His secretary and his servant
nearly fell victims to the same accident; but, more fortunate than he,
their lives were saved. The Prince of Aremberg spoke to me of the death
of M. Herz with real feeling; and it was easy to see that, prince as he
was and allied to the Emperor, he entertained a most sincere friendship
for his companion in captivity.




CHAPTER, XXXI.

MILITARY ANECDOTES.

I have collected under the title of Military Anecdotes some facts which
came to my knowledge while I accompanied the Emperor on his campaigns,
and the authenticity of which I guarantee. I might have scattered them
through my memoirs, and placed them in their proper periods; my not
having done so is not owing to forgetfulness on my part, but because I
thought that these incidents would have an added interest by being
collected together, since in them we see the direct influence of the
Emperor upon his soldiers, and thus can more easily form an exact idea of
the manner in which his Majesty treated them, his consideration for them,
and their attachment to his person.

During the autumn of 1804, between the time of the creation of the empire
and the coronation of the Emperor, his Majesty made several journeys to
the camp of Boulogne; and from this fact rumors arose that the expedition
against England would soon set sail. In one of his frequent tours of
inspection, the Emperor, stopping one day near the end of the camp on the
left, spoke to a cannoneer from a guard ship, and while conversing with
him, asked him several questions, among others, the following, "What is
thought here of the Emperor?"--"That 'sacre tondu' puts us out of breath
as soon as he arrives. Each time he comes we have not a moment's repose
while he is here. It might be thought he was enraged against those dogs
of English who are always beating us, not much to our own credit."

"You believe in glory, then?" said the Emperor. The cannoneer then
looked at him fixedly: "Somewhat, I think. Do you doubt it?"--"No, I do
not doubt it, but money, do you believe in that also?"--"Ah! what--I see
--do you mean to insult me, you questioner? I know no other interest
than that of the state."--"No, no, my brave soldier; I do not intend to
insult you, but I bet that a twenty-franc piece would not be disagreeable
to you in drinking a cup to my health." While speaking thus the Emperor
had drawn a Napoleon from his pocket, which he presented to the
cannoneer, whereupon the latter uttered a shout loud enough to be heard
by the sentinel at the west post some distance off; and even threw
himself on the Emperor, whom he took for a spy, and was about to seize
him by the throat when the Emperor suddenly opened his gray overcoat and
revealed his identity. The soldier's astonishment may be imagined! He
prostrated himself at the feet of the Emperor, overcome with confusion at
his mistake; but the latter, extending his hand, said, "Rise, my brave
fellow, you have done your duty; but you will not keep your word, I am
very sure; you will accept this piece, and drink to the health of the
'sacre tondo', will you not?" The Emperor then continued his rounds as
if nothing had occurred.


Every one admits to-day that never, perhaps, has any man been gifted to
the same degree as the Emperor with the art of addressing soldiers. He
appreciated this talent highly in others; but it was not fine phrases
which pleased him, and accordingly he held that a master-piece of this
kind was the very short harangue of General Vandamme to the soldiers he
commanded the day of the battle of Austerlitz. When day began to break
General Vandamme said to the troops, "My brave fellows! There are the
Russians! Load your pieces, pick your flints, put powder in the pan, fix
bayonets, ready and--forward!" I remember one day the Emperor spoke of
this oration before Marshal Berthier, who laughed at it. "That is like
you," he said. "Well, all the advocates of Paris would not have said it
so well; the soldier understands this, and that is the way battles are
won."


When after the first campaign of Vienna, so happily terminated by the
peace of Presburg, the Emperor was returning to Paris, many complaints
reached him against the exactions of certain generals, notably General
Vandamme. Complaint was made, amongst other grievances, that in the
little village of Lantza this general had allowed himself five hundred
florins per day, that is to say, eleven hundred and twenty-five francs,
simply for the daily expenses of his table. It was on this occasion the
Emperor said of him: "Pillages like a madman, but brave as Caesar."
Nevertheless, the Emperor, indignant at such exactions, and determined to
put an end to them, summoned the general to Paris to reprimand him; but
the latter, as soon as he entered the Emperor's presence, began to speak
before his Majesty had time to address him, saying, "Sire, I know why you
have summoned me; but as you know my devotion and my bravery I trust you
will excuse some slight altercations as to the furnishing of my table,
matters too petty, at any rate, to occupy your Majesty." The Emperor
smiled at the oratorical skillfulness of General Vandamme, and contented
himself with saying, "Well, well! say no more, but be more circumspect
in future."

General Vandamme, happy to have escaped with so gentle an admonition,
returned to Lantza to resume his command. He was indeed more circumspect
than in the past; but he found and seized the occasion to revenge himself
on the town for the compulsory self-denial the Emperor had imposed on
him. On his arrival he found in the suburbs a large number of recruits
who had come from Paris in his absence; and it occurred to him to make
them all enter the town, alleging that it was indispensable they should
be drilled under his own eyes. This was an enormous expense to the town,
which would have been very willing to recall its complaints, and continue
his expenses at the rate of five hundred florins per day.


The Emperor does not figure in the following anecdote. I will relate it,
however, as a good instance of the manners and the astuteness of our
soldiers on the campaign.

During the year 1806, a part of our troops having their quarters in
Bavaria, a soldier of the fourth regiment of the line, named Varengo, was
lodged at Indersdorff with a joiner. Varengo wished to compel his host
to pay him two florins, or four livres ten sous, per day for his
pleasures. He had no right to exact this. To succeed in making it to
his interest to comply he set himself to make a continual racket in the
house. The poor carpenter, not being able to endure it longer, resolved
to complain, but thought it prudent not to carry his complaints to the
officers of the company in which Varengo served. He knew by his own
experience, at least by that of his neighbors, that these gentlemen were
by no means accessible to complaints of this kind. He decided to address
himself to the general commanding, and set out on the road to Augsburg,
the chief place of the arrondissement.

On his arrival at the bureau of the town, he was met by the general, and
began to submit to him an account of his misfortunes; but unfortunately
the general did not know the German language, so he sent for his
interpreter, told the carpenter to explain himself, and inquired of what
he complained. Now, the general's interpreting secretary was a
quartermaster who had been attached to the general's staff since the
Peace of Presburg, and happened to be, as luck would have it, the first
cousin of this Varengo against whom the complaint was made. Without
hesitation the quartermaster, as soon as he heard his cousin's name, gave
an entirely incorrect translation of the report, assuring the general
that this peasant, although in very comfortable circumstances, disobeyed
the order of the day, in refusing to furnish fresh meat for the brave
soldier who lodged with him; and this was the origin of the disagreement
on which the complaint was based, no other motive being alleged for
demanding a change. The general was much irritated, and gave orders to
his secretary to require the peasant, under severe penalties, to furnish
fresh meat for his guest. The order was written; but instead of
submitting it to the supervision of the general, the interpreting
secretary wrote out at length that the carpenter should pay two florins
per day to Varengo. The poor fellow, having read this in German, could
not restrain a movement of anger, seeing which, the general, thinking he
had resisted the order, ordered him out, threatening him with his
riding-whip. Thus, thanks to his cousin, the interpreter, Varengo
regularly received two florins per day, which enabled him to be one of
the jolliest soldiers in his company.


The Emperor did not like duelling. He often pretended to be ignorant of
duels; but when he had to admit his knowledge of one, loudly expressed
his dissatisfaction. I recall in this connection two or three
circumstances which I shall attempt to relate.

A short time after the foundation of the Empire, a duel occurred, which
created much stir in Paris, on account of the rank of the two
adversaries. The Emperor had just authorized the formation of the
first foreign regiment which he wished to admit into the service of
France,--the regiment of Aremberg. Notwithstanding the title of this
corps, most of the officers who were admitted were French; and this was
a good opening, discreetly made, for rich and titled young men, who, in
purchasing companies by the authority of the minister of war, could thus
pass more rapidly through the first grades. Among the officers of the
Aremberg regiment, were M. Charles de Sainte-Croix, who had recently
served in the ministry of foreign affairs, and a charming young man whom
I saw often at Malmaison, M. de Mariolles, who was nearly related to the
Empress Josephine. It seems that the same position had been promised
both, and they resolved to settle the dispute by private combat. M. de
Mariolles fell, and died on the spot, and his death created
consternation among the ladies of the salon at Malmaison.

His family and relations united in making complaint to the Emperor, who
was very indignant, and spoke of sending M. de Sainte-Croix to the Temple
prison and having him tried for murder. He prudently concealed himself
during the first outburst over this affair; and the police, who were put
on his track, would have had much difficulty in finding him, as he was
especially protected by M. Fouche, who had recently re-entered the
ministry, and was intimately connected with his mother, Madame de
Sainte-Croix. Everything ended with the threats of his Majesty; since
M. Fouche had remarked to him that by such unaccustomed severity the
malevolent would not fail to say that he was performing less an act of
sovereignty than one of personal vengeance, as the victim had the honor
of being connected with himself.