The First Consul left Boulogne to return to Paris, in order to be present
at the marriage of one of his sisters. Prince Camille Borghese,
descendant of the noblest family of Rome, had already arrived at Paris
to--marry Madame Pauline Bonaparte, widow of General Leclerc, who had
died of yellow fever in San Domingo. I recollect having seen this
unfortunate general at the residence of the First Consul some time before
his departure on the ill-starred expedition which cost him his life, and
France the loss of many brave soldiers and much treasure. General
Leclerc, whose name is now almost forgotten, or held in light esteem, was
a kind and good man. He was passionately in love with his wife, whose
giddiness, to put it mildly, afflicted him sorely, and threw him into a
deep and habitual melancholy painful to witness. Princess Pauline (who
was then far from being a princess) had married him willingly, and of her
own choice; but this did not prevent her tormenting her husband by her
innumerable caprices, and repeating to him a hundred times a day that he
was indeed a fortunate man to marry the sister of the First Consul. I am
sure that with his simple tastes and quiet disposition General Leclerc
would have preferred less distinction and more peace. The First Consul
required his sister to accompany her husband to San Domingo. She was
forced to obey, and to leave Paris, where she swayed the scepter of
fashion, and eclipsed all other women by her elegance and coquetry, as
well as by her incomparable beauty, to brave a dangerous climate, and the
ferocious companions of Christophe and Dessalines. At the end of the
year 1801 the admiral's ship, The Ocean, sailed from Brest, carrying to
the Cape (San Domingo) General Leclerc, his wife, and their son. After
her arrival at the Cape, the conduct of Madame Leclerc was beyond praise.
On more than one occasion, but especially that which I shall now attempt
to describe, she displayed a courage worthy of her name and the position
of her husband. I obtained these details from an eye-witness whom I had
known at Paris in the service of Princess Pauline.
The day of the great insurrection of the blacks in September, 1802, the
bands of Christophe and Dessalines, composed of more than twelve thousand
negroes, exasperated by their hatred against the whites, and the
certainty that if they yielded no quarter would be given, made an assault
on the town of the Cape, which was defended by only one thousand
soldiers; for only this small number remained of the large army which had
sailed from Brest a year before, in brilliant spirits and full of hope.
This handful of brave men, the most of them weakened by fever, led by the
general-in-chief of the expedition, who was even then suffering from the
malady which caused his death, repulsed by unheard of efforts and heroic
valor the repeated attacks of the blacks.
During this combat, in which the determination, if not the number and
strength, was equal on both sides, Madame Leclerc, with her son, was
under the guard of a devoted friend who had subject to his orders only a
weak company of artillery, which still occupied the house where her
husband had fixed his residence, at the foot of the low hills which
bordered the coast. The general-in-chief, fearing lest this residence
might be surprised by a party of the enemy, and being unable to foresee
the issue of the struggle which he was maintaining on the heights of the
Cape, and against which the blacks made their most furious assaults, sent
an order to convey his wife and son on board the fleet. Pauline would
not consent to this. Always faithful to the pride with which her name
inspired her (but this time there was in her pride as much greatness as
nobility), she spoke to the ladies of the city who had taken refuge with
her, and begged them to go away, giving them a frightful picture of the
horrible treatment to which they would be exposed should the negroes
defeat the troops. "You can leave. You are not the sisters of
Bonaparte."
However, as the danger became more pressing every moment, General Leclerc
sent an aide-de-camp to his residence, and enjoined on him, in case
Pauline still persisted in her refusal, to use force, and convey her on
board against her will. The officer was obliged to execute this order to
the letter. Consequently Madame Leclerc was forcibly placed in an
arm-chair which was borne by four soldiers, while a grenadier marched by
her side, carrying in his arms the general's son. During this scene of
flight and terror the child, already worthy of its mother, played with
the plume of the soldier who was carrying him. Followed by
her cortege of trembling, tearful women, whose only source of strength
during this perilous passage was in her courage, she was thus conveyed to
the seashore. Just as they were going to place her in the sloop,
however, another aide-de-camp of her husband brought news of the defeat
of the blacks. "You see now," said she, returning to her residence, "I
was right in not wishing to embark." She was not yet out of danger,
however; for a troop of negroes, forming part of the army which had just
been so miraculously repulsed, in trying to make good their retreat to
the dikes, met the small escort of Madame Leclerc. As they appeared
disposed to attack, it was necessary to scatter them by shots at short
range. Throughout this skirmish Pauline preserved a perfect equanimity.
All these circumstances, which reflected so much honor on Madame Leclerc,
were reported to the First Consul.
His self-love was flattered by it; and I believe that it was to Prince
Borghese that he said one day at his levee, "Pauline is predestined to
marry a Roman, for from head to foot she is every inch a Roman."
Unfortunately this courage, which a man might have envied, was not united
in the Princess Pauline with those virtues which are less brilliant and
more modest, and also more suitable for a woman, and which we naturally
expect to find in her, rather than boldness and contempt of danger.
I do not know if it is true, as has been written somewhere, that Madame
Leclerc, when she was obliged to set out for San Domingo, had a fancy for
an actor of the Theatre Francais. Nor am I able to say whether it is
true that Mademoiselle Duchesnois had the naivete to exclaim before a
hundred people in reference to this departure, "Lafon will never be
consoled; it will kill him!" but what I myself know of the frailty of
this princess leads me to believe that the anecdote is true.
All Paris knew the special favor with which she honored M. Jules de
Canouville, a young and brilliant colonel who was handsome and brave,
with a perfect figure, and an assurance which was the cause of his
innumerable successes with certain women, although he used little
discretion in respect to them. The liaison of Princess Pauline with this
amiable officer was the most lasting that she ever formed; and as,
unfortunately, neither of them was discreet, their mutual tenderness
acquired in a short while a scandalous publicity. I shall take occasion
later to relate in its proper place the incident which caused the
disgrace, banishment, and perhaps even the death, of Colonel de
Canouville. A death so premature, and above all so cruel, since it was
not an enemy's bullet which struck him, was deplored by the whole army.
[Monsieur Bousquet was called to Neuilly (residence of the
Princess Pauline) in order to examine the beautiful teeth of her
Imperial Highness. Presented to her, he prepared to begin work.
"Monsieur," said a charming young man in a wrapper, negligently
lying on a sofa, "take care, I pray, what you do. I feel a great
interest in the teeth of my Paulette, and I hold you responsible for
any accident."--"Be tranquil, my Prince; I can assure your Imperial
Highness that there is no danger." During all the time that
Bousquet was engaged in working on the pretty mouth, these
recommendations continued. At length, having finished what he had
to do, he passed into the waiting-room, where he found assembled the
ladies of the palace, the chamberlains, etc., who were awaiting to
enter the apartments of the Princess.
They hastened to ask Bousquet news of the princess, "Her Imperial
Highness is very well, and must be happy in the tender attachment
her august husband feels for her, which he has shown in my presence
in so touching a manner. His anxiety was extreme. It was only with
difficulty I could reassure him as to the result of the simplest
thing in the world; I shall tell everywhere what I have just
witnessed. It is pleasant to be able to cite such an example of
conjugal tenderness in so high a rank. I am deeply impressed with
it." They did not try to stop good M. Bousquet in these expressions
of his enthusiasm. The desire to laugh prevented a single word; and
he left convinced that nowhere existed a better household than that
of the Prince and Princess Borghese. The latter was in Italy, and
the handsome young man was M. de Canouville.
I borrow this curious anecdote from the "Memoirs of Josephine," the
author of which, who saw and described the Court of Navarre and
Malmaison with so much truth and good judgment, is said to be a
woman, and must be in truth a most intellectual one, and in a better
position than any other person to know the private affairs of her
Majesty, the Empress.--CONSTANT.
He was slain by a ball from a French cannon, which was discharged
after the close of an action in which he had shown the most
brilliant courage.--CONSTANT.]
Moreover, however great may have been the frailty of Princess Pauline in
regard to her lovers, and although most incredible instances of this can
be related without infringing on the truth, her admirable devotion to the
person of the Emperor in 1814 should cause her faults to be treated with
indulgence.
On innumerable occasions the effrontery of her conduct, and especially
her want of regard and respect for the Empress Marie Louise, irritated
the Emperor against the Princess Borghese, though he always ended by
pardoning her; notwithstanding which, at the time of the fall of her
august brother she was again in disgrace, and being informed that the
island of Elba had been selected as a prison for the Emperor, she
hastened to shut herself up there with him, abandoning Rome and Italy,
whose finest palaces were hers. Before the battle of Waterloo, his
Majesty at the critical moment found the heart of his sister Pauline
still faithful. Fearing lest he might be in need of money, she sent him
her handsomest diamonds, the value of which was enormous; and they were
found in the carriage of the Emperor when it was captured at Waterloo,
and exhibited to the curiosity of the inhabitants of London. But the
diamonds have been lost; at least, to their lawful owner.