Emperor, as he stepped into his carriage, told me he would send some
sweetmeats for the pupils. I immediately communicated to them the
intelligence, which was joyfully received; but the sweetmeats were looked
for in vain. When Alexander set out for England he changed horses at
Ecouen, and the post-master said to him: 'Sire, the pupils of Ecouen are
still expecting the sweetmeats which your Majesty promised them.' To
which the Emperor replied that he had directed Saken to send them. The
Cossacks had most likely devoured the sweetmeats, and the poor little
girls, who had been so highly flattered by the promise, never tasted
them."
"A second house was formed at St. Denis, on the model of that of Ecouen.
Perhaps Madame Campan might have hoped for a title to which her long
labours gave her a right; perhaps the superintendence of the two houses
would have been but the fair recompense of her services; but her fortunate
years had passed her fate was now to depend on the most important events.
Napoleon had accumulated such a mass of power as no one but himself in
Europe could overturn. France, content with thirty years of victories, in
vain asked for peace and repose. The army which had triumphed in the
sands of Egypt, on the summits of the Alps, and in the marshes of Holland,
was to perish amidst the snows of Russia. Nations combined against a
single man. The territory of France was invaded. The orphans of Ecouen,
from the windows of the mansion which served as their asylum, saw in the
distant plain the fires of the Russian bivouacs, and once more wept the
deaths of their fathers. Paris capitulated. France hailed the return of
the descendants of Henri IV.; they reascended the throne so long filled by
their ancestors, which the wisdom of an enlightened prince established on
the empire of the laws.
[A lady, connected with the establishment of St. Denis, told Madame Campan
that Napoleon visited it during the Hundred Days, and that the pupils were
so delighted to see him that they crowded round him, endeavouring to touch
his clothes, and evincing the most extravagant joy. The matron
endeavoured to silence them; but Napoleon said, 'Let them alone; let them
alone. This may weaken the head, but it strengthens the heart.'"]
This moment, which diffused joy amongst the faithful servants of the royal
family, and brought them the rewards of their devotion, proved to Madame
Campan a period of bitter vexation. The hatred of her enemies had
revived. The suppression of the school at Ecouen had deprived her of her
position; the most absurd calumnies followed her into her retreat; her
attachment to the Queen was suspected; she was accused not only of
ingratitude but of perfidy. Slander has little effect on youth, but in
the decline of life its darts are envenomed with a mortal poison. The
wounds which Madame Campan had received were deep. Her sister, Madame
Auguie, had destroyed herself; M. Rousseau, her brother-in-law, had
perished, a victim of the reign of terror. In 1813 a dreadful accident
had deprived her of her niece, Madame de Broc, one of the most amiable and
interesting beings that ever adorned the earth. Madame Campan seemed
destined to behold those whom she loved go down to the grave before her.
Beyond the walls of the mansion of Ecouen, in the village which surrounds
it, Madame Campan had taken a small house where she loved to pass a few
hours in solitary retirement. There, at liberty to abandon herself to the
memory of the past, the superintendent of the imperial establishment
became, once more, for the moment, the first lady of the chamber to Marie
Antoinette. To the few friends whom she admitted into this retreat she
would show, with emotion, a plain muslin gown which the Queen had worn,
and which was made from a part of Tippoo Saib's present. A cup, out of
which Marie Antoinette had drunk; a writing-stand, which she had long
used, were, in her eyes, of inestimable value; and she has often been
discovered sitting, in tears, before the portrait of her royal mistress.
After so many troubles Madame Campan sought a peaceful retreat. Paris had
become odious to her.
She paid a visit to one of her most beloved pupils, Mademoiselle Crouzet,
who had married a physician at Mantes, a man of talent, distinguished for
his intelligence, frankness, and cordiality.
[M. Maigne, physician to the infirmaries at Mantes. Madame Campan found
in him a friend and comforter, of whose merit and affection she knew the
value.]
Mantes is a cheerful place of residence, and the idea of an abode there
pleased her. A few intimate friends formed a pleasant society, and she
enjoyed a little tranquillity after so many disturbances. The revisal of
her "Memoirs," the arrangement of the interesting anecdotes of which her
"Recollections" were to consist, alone diverted her mind from the one
powerful sentiment which attached her to life. She lived only for her
son. M. Campan deserved the tenderness of, his mother. No sacrifice had
been spared for his education. After having pursued that course of study
which, under the Imperial Government, produced men of such distinguished
merit, he was waiting till time and circumstances should afford him an
opportunity of devoting his services to his country. Although the state
of his health was far from good, it did not threaten any rapid or
premature decay; he was, however, after a few days' illness, suddenly
taken from his family. "I never witnessed so heartrending a scene," M.
Maigne says, "as that which took place when Marechal Ney's lady, her
niece, and Madame Pannelier, her sister, came to acquaint her with this
misfortune.--[The wife of Marechal Ney was a daughter of Madame Auguie,
and had been an intimate friend of Hortense Beauharnais.]--When they
entered her apartment she was in bed. All three at once uttered a
piercing cry. The two ladies threw themselves on their knees, and kissed
her hands, which they bedewed with tears. Before they could speak to her
she read in their faces that she no longer possessed a son. At that
instant her large eyes, opening wildly, seemed to wander. Her face grew
pale, her features changed, her lips lost their colour, she struggled to
speak, but uttered only inarticulate sounds, accompanied by piercing
cries. Her gestures were wild, her reason was suspended. Every part of
her being was in agony. To this state of anguish and despair no calm
succeeded, until her tears began to flow. Friendship and the tenderest
cares succeeded for a moment in calming her grief, but not in diminishing
its power.
"This violent crisis had disturbed her whole organisation. A cruel
disorder, which required a still more cruel operation, soon manifested
itself. The presence of her family, a tour which she made in Switzerland,
a residence at Baden, and, above all, the sight, the tender and charming
conversation of a person by whom she was affectionately beloved,
occasionally diverted her mind, and in a slight degree relieved her
suffering." She underwent a serious operation, performed with
extraordinary promptitude and the most complete success. No unfavourable
symptoms appeared; Madame Campan was thought to be restored to her
friends; but the disorder was in the blood; it took another course: the
chest became affected. "From that moment," says M. Maigne, "I could never
look on Madame Campan as living; she herself felt that she belonged no
more to this world."
"My friend," she said to her physician the day before her death, "I am
attached to the simplicity of religion. I hate all that savours of
fanaticism." When her codicil was presented for her signature, her hand
trembled; "It would be a pity," she said, "to stop when so fairly on the
road."
Madame Campan died on the 16th of March, 1822. The cheerfulness she
displayed throughout her malady had nothing affected in it. Her character
was naturally powerful and elevated. At the approach of death she evinced
the soul of a sage, without abandoning for an instant her feminine
character.
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
Ah, Madame, we have all been killed in our masters' service!
Brought me her daughter Hortense de Beauharnais
Condescension which renders approbation more offensive
Difference between brilliant theories and the simplest practice
Extreme simplicity was the Queens first and only real mistake
I hate all that savours of fanaticism
If ever I establish a republic of women....
No ears that will discover when she (The Princess) is out of tune
Observe the least pretension on account of the rank or fortune
On domestic management depends the preservation of their fortune
Spirit of party can degrade the character of a nation
Tastes may change
The anti-Austrian party, discontented and vindictive
They say you live very poorly here, Moliere
True nobility, gentlemen, consists in giving proofs of it
We must have obedience, and no reasoning
What do young women stand in need of?--Mothers!
"Would be a pity," she said, "to stop when so fairly on the road"
Your swords have rusted in their scabbards