On the 22d of May, ten days after the triumphant entry of the Emperor
into the Austrian capital, the battle of Essling took place, a bloody
combat lasting from four in the morning till six in the evening. This
battle was sadly memorable to all the old soldiers of the Empire, since
it cost the life of perhaps the bravest of them all,--the Duke of
Montebello, the devoted friend of the Emperor, the only one who shared
with Marshal Augereau the right to speak to him frankly face to face.
The evening before the battle the marshal entered his Majesty's
residence, and found him surrounded by several persons. The Duke of----
always undertook to place himself between the Emperor and persons who
wished to speak with him. The Duke of Montebello, seeing him play his
usual game, took him by the lappet of his coat, and, wheeling him around,
said to him: "Take yourself away from here! The Emperor does not need
you to stand guard. It is singular that on the field of battle you are
always so far from us that we cannot see you, while here we can say
nothing to the Emperor without your being in the way." The duke was
furious. He looked first at the marshal, then at the Emperor, who simply
said, "Gently Lannes."
That evening in the domestic apartments they were discussing this
apostrophe of the marshal's. An officer of the army of Egypt said that
he was not surprised, since the Duke of Montebello had never forgiven the
Duke of ---- for the three hundred sick persons poisoned at Jaffa.
Dr. Lannefranque, one of those who attended the unfortunate Duke of
Montebello, said that as he was mounting his horse on starting to the
island of Lobau, the duke was possessed by gloomy presentiments. He
paused a moment, took M. Lannefranque's hand, and pressed it, saying to
him with a sad smile, "Au revoir; you will soon see us again, perhaps.
There will be work for you and for those gentlemen to-day," pointing to
several surgeons and doctors standing near. "M. le Duc," replied
Lannefranque, "this day will add yet more to your glory."--"My glory,"
interrupted the marshal eagerly; "do you wish me to speak frankly? I do
not approve very highly of this affair; and, moreover, whatever may be
the issue, this will be my last battle." The doctor wished to ask the
marshal his reasons for this conviction; but he set off at a gallop, and
was soon out of sight.
On the morning of the battle, about six or seven o'clock, the Austrians
had already advanced, when an aide-de-camp came to announce to his
Majesty that a sudden rise in the Danube had washed down a great number
of large trees which had been cut down when Vienna was taken, and that
these trees had driven against and broken the bridges which served as
communication between Essling and the island of Lobau; and in consequence
of this the reserve corps, part of the heavy cavalry, and Marshal
Davoust's entire corps, found themselves forced to remain inactive on the
other side. This misfortune arrested the movement which the Emperor was
preparing to make, and the enemy took courage.
The Duke of Montebello received orders to hold the field of battle, and
took his position, resting on the village of Essling, instead of
continuing the pursuit of the Austrians which he had already begun, and
held this position from nine o'clock in the morning till the evening; and
at seven o'clock in the evening the battle was gained. At six o'clock
the unfortunate marshal, while standing on an elevation to obtain a
better view of the movements, was struck by a cannon-ball, which broke
his right thigh and his left knee.
He thought at first that he had only a few moments to live, and had
himself carried on a litter to the Emperor, saying that he wished to
embrace him before he died. The Emperor, seeing him thus weltering in
his blood, had the litter placed on the ground, and, throwing himself on
his knees, took the marshal in his arms, and said to him, weeping,
"Lannes, do you know me?"--"Yes, Sire; you are losing your best friend."
--"No! no! you will live. Can you not answer for his life, M.
Larrey?" The wounded soldiers hearing his Majesty speak thus, tried to
rise on their elbows, and cried, "Vive l'Empereur!"
The surgeons carried the marshal to a little village called Ebersdorf, on
the bank of the river, and near the field of battle. At the house of a
brewer they found a room over a stable where the heat was stifling, and
was rendered still more unendurable from the odor of the corpses by which
the house was surrounded.
But as no other place could be found, it was necessary to make the best
of it. The marshal bore the amputation of his limb with heroic courage;
but the fever which came on immediately was so violent that, fearing he
would die under the operation, the surgeons postponed cutting off his
other leg. This fever was caused partly by exhaustion, for at the time
he was wounded the marshal had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours.
Finally Messieurs Larrey,
[Baron Dominique Jean Larrey, eminent surgeon, born at Bagneres-de
-Bigorre, 1766. Accompanied Napoleon to Egypt. Surgeon-in-chief of
the grand army, 1812. Wounded and taken prisoner at Waterloo. In
his will the Emperor styles him the best man he had ever known.
Died 1842.]
Yvan, Paulet, and Lannefranque decided on the second amputation; and
after this had been performed the quiet condition of the wounded man made
them hopeful of saving his life. But it was not to be. The fever
increased, and became of a most alarming character; and in spite of the
attentions of these skillful surgeons, and of Doctor Frank, then the most
celebrated physician in Europe, the marshal breathed his last on the 31st
of May, at five o'clock in the morning, barely forty years of age.
During his week of agony (for his sufferings may be called by that name)
the Emperor came often to see him, and always left in deep distress. I
also went to see the marshal each day for the Emperor, and admired the
patience with which he endured these sufferings, although he had no hope;
for he knew well that he was dying, and saw these sad tidings reflected
in every face. It was touching and terrible to see around his house, his
door, in his chamber even, these old grenadiers of the guard, always
stolid and unmoved till now, weeping and sobbing like children. What an
atrocious thing war seems at such moments.
The evening before his death the marshal said to me, "I see well, my dear
Constant, that I must die. I wish that your master could have ever near
him men as devoted as I. Tell the Emperor I would like to see him." As
I was going out the Emperor entered, a deep silence ensued, and every one
retired; but the door of the room being half open we could hear a part of
the conversation, which was long and painful. The marshal recalled his
services to the Emperor, and ended with these words, pronounced in tones
still strong and firm: "I do not say this to interest you in my family; I
do not need to recommend to you my wife and children. Since I die for
you, your glory will bid you protect them; and I do not fear in
addressing you these last words, dictated by sincere affection, to change
your plans towards them. You have just made a great mistake, and
although it deprives you of your best friend you will not correct it.
Your ambition is insatiable, and will destroy you. You sacrifice
unsparingly and unnecessarily those men who serve you best; and when they
fall you do not regret them. You have around you only flatterers; I see
no friend who dares to tell you the truth. You will be betrayed and
abandoned. Hasten to end this war; it is the general wish. You will
never be more powerful, but you may be more beloved. Pardon these truths
in a dying man--who, dying, loves you."
The marshal, as he finished, held out his hand to the Emperor, who
embraced him, weeping, and in silence.
The day of the marshal's death his body was given to M. Larrey and M.
Cadet de Gassicourt, ordinary chemist to the Emperor, with orders to
preserve it, as that of Colonel Morland had been, who was killed at the
battle of Austerlitz. For this purpose the corpse was carried to
Schoenbrunn, and placed in the left wing of the chateau, far from the
inhabited rooms. In a few hours putrefaction became complete, and they
were obliged to plunge the mutilated body into a bath filled with
corrosive sublimate. This extremely dangerous operation was long and
painful; and M. Cadet de Gassicourt deserves much commendation for the
courage he displayed under these circumstances; for notwithstanding every
precaution, and in spite of the strong disinfectants burned in the room,
the odor of this corpse was so fetid, and the vapor from the sublimate so
strong, that the distinguished chemist was seriously indisposed.
Like several other persons, I had a sad curiosity to see the marshal's
body in this condition. It was frightful. The trunk, which had been
covered by the solution, was greatly swollen; while on the contrary, the
head, which had been left outside the bath, had shrunk remarkably, and
the muscles of the face had contracted in the most hideous manner, the
wide-open eyes starting out of their sockets. After the body had
remained eight days in the corrosive sublimate, which it was necessary to
renew, since the emanations from the interior of the corpse had
decomposed the solution, it was put into a cask made for the purpose, and
filled with the same liquid; and it was in this cask that it was carried
from Schoenbrunn to Strasburg. In this last place it was taken out of
the strange coffin, dried in a net, and wrapped in the Egyptian style;
that is, surrounded with bandages, with the face uncovered. M. Larrey
and M. de Gassicourt confided this honorable task to M. Fortin, a young
chemist major, who in 1807 had by his indefatigable courage and
perseverance saved from certain death nine hundred sick, abandoned,
without physicians or surgeons, in a hospital near Dantzic, and nearly
all suffering from an infectious malady. In the month of March, 1810
(what follows is an extract from the letter of M. Fortin to his master
and friend M. Cadet de Gassicourt), the Duchess of Montebello, in passing
through Strasburg, wished to see again the husband she loved so tenderly.
"Thanks to you and M. Larrey (it is M. Fortin who speaks), the embalming
of the marshal has succeeded perfectly. When I drew the body from the
cask I found it in a state of perfect preservation. I arranged a net in
a lower hall of the mayor's residence, in which I dried it by means of a
stove, the heat being carefully regulated. I then had a very handsome
coffin made of hard wood well oiled; and the marshal wrapped in bandages,
his face uncovered, was placed in an open coffin near that of General
Saint-Hilaire in a subterranean vault, of which I have the key. A
sentinel watches there day and night. M. Wangen de Gueroldseck, mayor of
Strasburg, has given me every assistance in my work.
"This was the state of affairs when, an hour after her Majesty the
Empress's arrival, Madame, the Duchess of Montebello, who accompanied her
as lady of honor, sent M. Cretu, her cousin at whose house she was to
visit, to seek me. I came in answer to her orders; and the duchess
questioned and complimented me on the honorable mission with which I was
charged, and then expressed to me, with much agitation, her desire to see
for the last time the body of her husband. I hesitated a few moments
before answering her, and foreseeing the effect which would be produced
on her by the sad spectacle, told her that the orders which I had
received would prevent my doing what she wished; but she insisted in such
a pressing manner that I yielded. We agreed (in order not to compromise
me, and that she might not be recognized) that I would-go for her at
midnight, and that she would be accompanied by one of her relatives.
"I went to the duchess at the appointed hour; and as soon as I arrived,
she rose and said that she was ready to accompany me. I waited a few
moments, begging her to consider the matter well. I warned her of the
condition in which she would find the marshal, and begged her to reflect
on the impression she would receive in the sad place she was about to
visit. She replied that she was well, prepared for this, and felt that
she had the necessary, courage, and she hoped to find in this last visit
some amelioration of the bitter sorrow she endured. While speaking thus,
her sad and beautiful countenance was calm and pensive. We then started,
M. Cretu giving his arm to his cousin. The duchess's carriage followed
at a distance, empty; and two servants followed us.
"The city was illuminated; and the good inhabitants were all taking
holiday, and in many houses gay music was inspiriting them to the
celebration of this memorable day. What a contrast between this gayety
and the quest in which we were engaged! I saw that the steps of the
duchess dragged now and then, while she sighed and shuddered; and my own
heart seemed oppressed, my ideas confused.
"At last we arrived at the mayor's residence, where Madame de Montebello
gave her servants orders to await her, and descended slowly, accompanied
by her cousin and myself, to the door of the lower hall. A lantern
lighted our way, and the duchess trembled while she affected a sort of
bravery; but when she entered a sort of cavern, the silence of the dead
which reigned in this subterranean vault, the mournful light which filled
it, the sight of the corpse extended in its coffin, produced a terrible
effect on her; she gave a piercing scream, and fainted. I had foreseen
this, and had watched her attentively; and as soon as I saw her strength
failing, supported her in my arms and seated her, having in readiness
everything necessary to restore her. I used these remedies, and she
revived at the end of a few moments; and we then begged her to withdraw,
but she refused; then rose, approached the coffin, and walked around it
slowly in silence; then stopping and letting her folded hands fall by her
side, she remained for some time immovable, regarding the inanimate
figure of her husband, and watering it with her tears. At last she in a
measure regained her self-control and exclaimed in stifled tones through
her sobs, Mon Dieu, mon Dieu! how he is changed!' I made a sign to M.
Cretu that it was time to retire; but we could drag the duchess away only
by promising her to bring her back next day,--a promise which could not
be kept. I closed the door quickly, and gave my arm to the duchess,
which she gratefully accepted. When we left the mayoralty I took leave
of her; but she insisted on my entering her carriage, and gave orders to
carry me to my residence. In this short ride she shed a torrent of
tears; and when the carriage stopped, said to me with inexpressible
kindness, 'I shall never forget, Monsieur, the important service you have
just rendered me.'"
Long after this the Emperor and Empress Marie Louise visited together
the manufacture of Sevres porcelain, and the Duchess of Montebello
accompanied the Empress as lady of honor. The Emperor, seeing a fine
bust of the marshal, in bisque, exquisitely made, paused, and, not
noticing the pallor which overspread the countenance of the duchess,
asked her what she thought of this bust, and if it was a good likeness.
The widow felt as if her old wound was reopened; she could not reply, and
retired, bathed in tears, and it was several days before she reappeared
at court. Apart from the fact that this unexpected question renewed her
grief, the inconceivable thoughtlessness the Emperor had shown wounded
her so deeply that, her friends had much difficulty in persuading her to
resume her duties near the Empress.