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RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PRIVATE LIFE OF NAPOLEON, V8
By CONSTANT
PREMIER VALET DE CHAMBRE
TRANSLATED BY WALTER CLARK
1895
CHAPTER XXII.
Towards the end of September the Emperor made a journey to Raab; and, as
he was mounting his horse to return to his residence at Schoenbrunn, he
saw the bishop a few steps from him. "Is not that the bishop?" said he
to M. Jardin, who was holding his horse's head. "No, Sire, it is
Soliman."--"I asked you if that was not the bishop," repeated his
Majesty, pointing to the prelate. M. Jardin, intent on business, and
thinking only of the Emperor's horse which bore the name of Bishop, again
replied, "Sire, you forget that you rode him on the last relay." The
Emperor now perceived the mistake, and broke into a laugh. I was witness
at Wagram of an act which furnished a fine illustration of the Emperor's
kindness of heart and consideration for others, of which I have already
given several instances; for, although in the one I shall now relate, he
was forced to refuse an act of clemency, his very refusal challenges
admiration as an exhibition of the generosity and greatness of his soul.
A very rich woman, named Madame de Combray, who lived near Caen, allowed
her chateau to be occupied by a band of royalists, who seemed to think
they upheld their cause worthily by robbing diligences on the highway.
She constituted herself treasurer of this band of partisans, and
consigned the funds thus obtained to a pretended treasurer of Louis
XVIII. Her daughter, Madame Aquet, joined this troop, and, dressed in
men's clothing, showed most conspicuous bravery. Their exploits,
however, were not of long duration; and pursued and overcome by superior
forces, they were brought to trial, and Madame Aquet was condemned to
death with her accomplices. By means of a pretended illness she obtained
a reprieve, of which she availed herself to employ every means in her
power to obtain a pardon, and finally, after eight months of useless
supplications, decided to send her children to Germany to intercede with
the Emperor. Her physician, accompanied by her sister and two daughters,
reached Schoenbrunn just as the Emperor had gone to visit the field of
Wagram, and for an entire day awaited the Emperor's return on the steps
of the palace; and these children, one ten, the other twelve, years old,
excited much interest. Notwithstanding this, their mother's crime was a
terrible one; for although in political matters opinions may not be
criminal, yet under every form of government opinions are punished, if
thereby one becomes a robber and an assassin. The children, clothed in
black, threw themselves at the Emperor's feet, crying, "Pardon, pardon,
restore to us our mother." The Emperor raised them tenderly, took the
petition from the hands of the aunt, read every word attentively, then
questioned the physician with much interest, looked at the children,
hesitated--but just as I, with all who witnessed this touching scene,
thought he was going to pronounce her pardon, he recoiled several steps,
exclaiming, "I cannot do it!" His changing color, eyes suffused with
tears, and choking voice, gave evidence of the struggle through which he
was passing; and witnessing this, his refusal appeared to me an act of
sublime courage.
Following upon the remembrance of these violent crimes, so much the more
worthy of condemnation since they were the work of a woman, who, in order
to abandon herself to them, was forced to begin by trampling under foot
all the gentle and modest virtues of her sex, I find recorded in my notes
an act of fidelity and conjugal tenderness which well deserved a better
result. The wife of an infantry colonel, unwilling to be parted from her
husband, followed the march of his regiment in a coach, and on the days
of battle mounted a horse and kept herself as near as possible to the
line. At Friedland she saw the colonel fall, pierced by a ball, hastened
to him with her servant, carried him from the ranks, and bore him away in
an ambulance, though too late, for he was already dead. Her grief was
silent, and no one saw her shed a tear. She offered her purse to a
surgeon, and begged him to embalm her husband's corpse, which was done as
well as possible under the circumstances; and she then had the corpse
wrapped in bandages, placed in a box with a lid, and put in a carriage,
and seating herself beside it, the heart-broken widow set out on her
return to France. A grief thus repressed soon affected her mind; and at
each halt she made on the journey, she shut herself up with her precious
burden, drew the corpse from its bog, placed it on a bed, uncovered its
face, and lavished on it the most tender caresses, talking to it as if it
was living, and slept beside it. In the morning she replaced her husband
in the box, and, resuming her gloomy silence, continued her route. For
several days her secret remained unknown, and was discovered only a few
days before she reached Paris.
The body had not been embalmed in such a manner as to preserve it long
from decay; and this soon reached such a point, that, when she arrived at
an inn, the horrible odor from the box aroused suspicion, and the unhappy
wife's room was entered that evening, and she was found clasping in her
arms the already sadly disfigured corpse of her husband. "Silence," she
cried to the frightened innkeeper. "My husband is asleep, why do you
come to disturb his glorious rest?" With much difficulty the corpse was
removed from the arms of the insane woman who had guarded it with such
jealous care, and she was conveyed to Paris, where she afterward died,
without recovering her reason for an instant.
There was much astonishment at the chateau of Schoenbrunn because the
Archduke Charles never appeared there; for he was known to be much
esteemed by the Emperor, who never spoke of him except with the highest
consideration. I am entirely ignorant what motives prevented the prince
from coming to Schoenbrunn, or the Emperor from visiting him; but,
nevertheless, it is a fact, that, two or three days before his departure
from Munich, his Majesty one morning attended a hunting-party, composed
of several officers and myself; and that we stopped at a hunting-box
called la Venerie on the road between Vienna and Bukusdorf, and on our
arrival we found the Archduke Charles awaiting his Majesty, attended by a
suite of only two persons. The Emperor and the archduke remained for a
long while alone in the pavilion; and we did not return to Schoenbrunn
until late in the evening.
On the 16th of October at noon the Emperor left this residence with his
suite, composed of the grand marshal, the Duke of Frioul; Generals Rapp,
Mouton, Savary, Nansouty, Durosnell and Lebrun; of three chamberlains; of
M. Labbe, chief of the topographical bureau; of M. de Meneval, his
Majesty's secretary, and M. Yvan; and accompanied by the Duke of Bassano,
and the Duke of Cadore, then minister of foreign relations.
We arrived at Passau on the morning of the 18th; and the Emperor passed
the entire day in visiting Forts Maximilian and Napoleon, and also seven
or eight redoubts whose names recalled the principal battles of the
campaign. More than twelve thousand men were working on these important
fortifications, to whom his Majesty's visit was a fete. That evening we
resumed our journey, and two days after we were at Munich.
At Augsburg, on leaving the palace of the Elector of Treves, the Emperor
found in his path a woman kneeling in the dust, surrounded by four
children; he raised her up and inquired kindly what she desired. The
poor woman, without replying, handed his Majesty a petition written in
German, which General Rapp translated. She was the widow of a German
physician named Buiting, who had died a short time since, and was well
known in the army from his faithfulness in ministering to the wounded
French soldiers when by chance any fell into his hands. The Elector of
Treves, and many persons of the Emperor's suite, supported earnestly this
petition of Madame Buiting, whom her husband's death had reduced almost
to poverty, and in which she besought the Emperor's aid for the children
of this German physician, whose attentions had saved the lives of so many
of his brave soldiers. His Majesty gave orders to pay the petitioner the
first year's salary of a pension which he at once allowed her; and when
General Rapp had informed the widow of the Emperor's action, the poor
woman fainted with a cry of joy.
I witnessed another scene which was equally as touching. When the
Emperor was on the march to Vienna, the inhabitants of Augsburg, who had
been guilty of some acts of cruelty towards the Bavarians, trembled lest
his Majesty should take a terrible revenge on them; and this terror was
at its height when it was learned that a part of the French army was to
pass through the town.
A young woman of remarkable beauty, only a few months a widow, had
retired to this place with her child in the hope of being more quiet than
anywhere else, but, frightened by the approach of the troops, fled with
her child in her arms. But, instead of avoiding our soldiers as she
intended, she left Augsburg by the wrong gate, and fell into the midst of
the advance posts of the French army. Fortunately, she encountered
General Decourbe, and trembling, and almost beside herself with terror,
conjured him on her knees to save her honor, even at the expense of her
life, and immediately swooned away. Moved even to tears, the general
showed her every attention, ordered a safe-conduct given her, and an
escort to accompany her to a neighboring town, where she had stated that
several of her relatives lived. The order to march was given at the same
instant; and, in the midst of the general commotion which ensued, the
child was forgotten by those who escorted the mother, and left in the
outposts. A brave grenadier took charge of it, and, ascertaining where
the poor mother had been taken, pledged himself to restore it to her at
the earliest possible moment, unless a ball should carry him off before
the return of the army. He made a leather pocket, in which he carried
his young protege, arranged so that it was sheltered from the weather.
Each time he went into battle the good grenadier dug a hole in the
ground, in which he placed the little one, and returned for it when the
battle was over; and though his comrades ridiculed him the first day,
they could not but fail to admire the nobility of his conduct. The child
escaped all danger, thanks to the incessant care of its adopted father;
and, when the march to Munich was again begun, the grenadier, who was
singularly attached to the little waif, almost regretted to see the
moment draw near when he must restore it to its mother.
It may easily be understood what this poor woman suffered after losing
her child. She besought and entreated the soldiers who escorted her to
return; but they had their orders, which nothing could cause them to
infringe. Immediately on her arrival she set out again on her return to
Augsburg, making inquiries in all directions, but could obtain no
information of her son, and at last being convinced that he was dead,
wept bitterly for him. She had mourned thus for nearly six months, when
the army re-passed Augsburg; and, while at work alone in her room one
day, she was told that a soldier wished to see her, and had something
precious to commit to her care; but he was unable to leave his corps, and
must beg her to meet him on the public square. Little suspecting the
happiness in store for her, she sought the grenadier, and the latter
leaving the ranks, pulled the "little good man" out of his pocket, and
placed him in the arms of the poor mother, who could not believe the
evidence of her own eyes. Thinking that this lady was probably not rich,
this excellent man had collected a sum of money, which he had placed in
one of the pockets of the little one's coat.
The Emperor remained only a short time at Munich; and the day of his
arrival a courier was sent in haste by the grand marshal to M. de Lucay
to inform him that his Majesty would be at Fontainebleau on the 27th of
October, in the evening probably, and that the household of the Emperor,
as well as that of the Empress, should be at this residence to receive
his Majesty. But, instead of arriving on the evening of the 27th, the
Emperor had traveled with such speed, that, on the 26th at ten o'clock in
the morning, he was at the gates of the palace of Fontainebleau; and
consequently, with the exception of the grand marshal, a courier, and the
gate-keeper of Fontainebleau, he found no one to receive him on his
descent from the carriage. This mischance, which was very natural, since
it had been impossible to foresee an advance of more than a day in the
time appointed, nevertheless incensed the Emperor greatly. He was
regarding every one around him as if searching for some one to scold,
when, finding that the courier was preparing to alight from his horse, on
which he was more stuck than seated, he said to him: "You can rest to-
morrow; hasten to Saint-Cloud and announce my arrival," and the poor
courier recommenced his furious gallop.
This accident, which vexed his Majesty so greatly, could not be
considered the fault of any one; for by the orders of the grand marshal,
received from the Emperor, M. de Lucay had commanded their Majesties'
service to be ready on the morning of the next day. Consequently, that
evening was the earliest hour at which the service could possibly be
expected to arrive; and he was compelled to wait until then.
During this time of waiting, the Emperor employed himself in visiting the
new apartments that had been added to the chateau. The building in the
court of the Cheval-Blanc, which had been formerly used as a military
school, had been restored, enlarged, and decorated with extraordinary
magnificence, and had been turned entirely into apartments of honor, in
order, as his Majesty said, to give employment to the manufacturers of
Lyons, whom the war deprived of any, outside market. After repeated
promenades in all directions, the Emperor seated himself with every mark
of extreme impatience, asking every moment what time it was, or looking
at his watch; and at last ordered me to prepare writing materials, and
took his seat all alone at a little table, doubtless swearing internally
at his secretaries, who had not arrived.
At five o'clock a carriage came from Saint-Cloud; and as the Emperor
heard it roll into the court he descended the stairs rapidly, and while a
footman was opening the door and lowering the steps, he said to the
persons inside: "Where is the Empress?" The answer was given that her
Majesty the Empress would arrive in a quarter of an hour at most. "That
is well," said the Emperor; and turning his back, quickly remounted the
stairs and entered a little study, where he prepared himself for work.
At last the Empress arrived, exactly at six o'clock. It was now dark.
The Emperor this time did not go down; but listening until he learned
that it was her Majesty, continued to write, without interrupting himself
to go and meet her. It was the first time he had acted in this manner.
The Empress found him seated in the cabinet. "Ah!" said his Majesty,
"have you arrived, Madame? It is well, for I was about to set out for
Saint-Cloud." And the Emperor, who had simply lifted his eyes from his
work to glance at her Majesty, lowered them again, and resumed his
writing. This harsh greeting, distressed Josephine exceedingly, and she
attempted to excuse herself; but his Majesty replied in such a manner as
to bring tears to her eyes, though he afterwards repented of this, and
begged pardon of the Empress, acknowledging that he had been wrong.