This seemed to be a year of fetes, and I dwell upon it with pleasure

because it preceded one filled with misfortunes. The years 1811 and 1812

offered a striking contrast to each other. All those flowers lavished on

the fetes of the King of Rome and his august mother covered an abyss, and

all this enthusiasm was changed to mourning a few months later. Never

were more brilliant fetes followed by more overwhelming misfortunes. Let

us, then, dwell a little longer upon the rejoicings which preceded 1812.

I feel that I need to be fortified before entering upon reminiscences of

that time of unprofitable sacrifices, of bloodshed without preserving or

conquering, and of glory without result. On the 25th of August, the

Empress's fete was celebrated at Trianon; and from early in the morning

the road from Paris to Trianon was covered with an immense number of

carriages and people on foot, the same sentiment attracting the court,

the citizens, the people, to the delightful place at which the fete was

held. All ranks were mingled, all went pell-mell; and I have never seen

a crowd more singularly variegated, or which presented a more striking

picture of all conditions of society. Ordinarily the multitude at fetes

of this kind is composed of little more than one class of people and a

few modest bourgeois that is all; very rarely of people with equipages,

more rarely still people of the court; but here there were all, and there

was no one so low that he could not have the satisfaction of elbowing a

countess or some other noble inhabitant of the Faubourg St. Germain, for

all Paris seemed to be at Versailles. That town so beautiful, but yet so

sadly beautiful, which seemed since the last king to be bereft of its

inhabitants, those broad streets in which no one was to be seen, those

squares, the least of which could hold all the inhabitants of Versailles,

and which could hardly contain the courtiers of the Great King, this

magnificent solitude which we call Versailles, had been populated

suddenly by the capital. The private houses could not contain the crowd

which arrived from every direction. The park was inundated with a

multitude of promenaders of every sex and all ages; in these immense

avenues one walked on foot, one needed air on this vast plateau which was

so airy, one felt cramped on this theater of a great public fete, as at

balls given in those little saloons of Paris built for about a dozen

persons, and where fashion crams together a hundred and fifty.

Great preparations had been made for four or five days in the delightful

gardens of Trianon; but the evening before, the sky became cloudy, and

many toilets which had been eagerly prepared were prudently laid aside;

but the next day a beautiful blue sky reassured every one, and they set

out for Trianon in spite of the recollections of the storm which had

dispersed the spectators at the fete of Saint Cloud. Nevertheless, at

three o'clock a heavy shower made every one fear for a short while that

the evening might end badly. "Afternoon shower making its obeisance," as

the proverb says; but, on the contrary, this only made the fete

pleasanter, by refreshing the scorching air of August, and laying the

dust which was most disagreeable. At six o'clock the sun had reappeared,

and the summer of 1811 had no softer or more agreeable evening.

All the outlines of the architecture of the Grand Trianon were ornamented

with lamps of different colors. In the gallery could be seen six hundred

women, brilliant with youth and adornments; and the Empress addressed

gracious words to several among them, and all were charmed by the cordial

and affable manners of a young princess who had lived in France only

fifteen months.

At this fete, as at all the fetes of the Empire, there were not wanting

poets to sing praises of those in whose honor they were given. There was

a play which had been composed for the occasion, the author of which I

remember perfectly was M. Alissan de Chazet; but I have forgotten the

title. At the end of the piece, the principal artists of the opera

executed a ballet which was considered very fine. When the play was

over, their Majesties commenced a promenade in the park of the

Petit-Trianon, the Emperor, hat in hand, giving his arm to the Empress,

and being followed by all his court. They first visited the Isle of

Love, and found all the enchantments of fairyland and its illusions

there united. The temple, situated in the midst of the lake, was

splendidly. illuminated, and the water reflected its columns of fire.

A multitude of beautiful boats furrowed this lake, which seemed on fire,

manned by a swarm of Cupids, who appeared to sport with each other in

the rigging. Musicians concealed on board played melodious airs; and

this harmony, at once gentle and mysterious, which seemed to spring from

the bosom of the waves, added still more to the magic of the picture and

the charms of the illusion. To this spectacle succeeded scenes of

another kind, taken from rural life,--a Flemish living picture, with its

pleasant-faced, jolly people, and its rustic ease; and groups of

inhabitants from every province of France, giving an impression that all

parts of the Empire were convened at this fete. In fine, a wonderful

variety of attractions in turn arrested the attention of their

Majesties. Arrived at the saloon of Polhymnie, they were welcomed by a

charming choir, the music composed, I think, by Paer, and the words by

the same M. Alissan de Chazet. At last, after a magnificent supper,

which was served in the grand gallery, their Majesties retired at one

o'clock in the morning.

There was only one opinion in this immense assembly as to the grace and

perfect dignity of Marie Louise. This young princess was really

charming, but with peculiarities rather than traits of character. I

recall some occurrences in her domestic life which will not be without

interest to the reader.

Marie Louise talked but little with the people of her household; but

whether this arose from a habit brought with her from the Austrian court,

whether she feared to compromise her dignity by her foreign accent before

persons of inferior condition, or whether it arose from timidity or

indifference, few of these persons could remember a word she had uttered.

I have heard her steward say that in three years she spoke to him only

once.

The ladies of the household agreed in saying that in private she was kind

and agreeable. She did not like Madame de Montesquieu. This was wrong;

since there were no cares, endearments, attentions of all sorts, which

Madame de Montesquieu did not lavish on the King of Rome.

The Emperor, however, appreciated highly this excellent lady who was so

perfect in every respect. As a man he admired the dignity, perfect

propriety, and extreme discretion of Madame de Montesquieu; and as a

father he felt an infinite gratitude for the cares she lavished on his

son. Each one explained in his own way the coolness which the young

Empress showed to this lady; and there were several reasons assigned for

this, all more or less untrue, though the leisure moments of the ladies

of the palace were much occupied with it. What appeared to me the most

likely solution, and most in accordance with the artless simplicity of

Marie Louise, was this: The Empress had as lady of honor Madame de

Montebello, a charming woman of perfect manners. Now, there was little

friendship between Madame de Montesquieu and Madame de Montebello, as the

latter feared it is said to have a rival in the heart of her august

friend; and, in fact, Madame de Montesquieu would have proved a most

dangerous rival for this lady, as she combined all those qualities which

please and make one beloved. Born of an illustrious family, she had

received a distinguished education, and united the tone and manners of

the best society with a solid and enlightened piety. Never had calumny

dared to attack her conduct, which was as noble as discreet. I must

admit that she was somewhat haughty; but this haughtiness was tempered by

such elegant politeness, and such gracious consideration, that it might

be considered simple dignity. She was attentive and assiduous in her

devotion to the King of Rome, and was entitled to the deep gratitude of

the Empress; for she afterwards, actuated by the most generous devotion,

tore herself from her country, her friends, her family, to follow the

fate of a child whose every hope was blasted.

Madame de Montebello was accustomed to rise late. In the morning when

the Emperor was absent, Marie Louise went to converse with her in her

room; and in order not to go through the saloon where the ladies of the

palace were assembled, she entered the apartment of her lady of honor

through a very dark closet, and this conduct deeply wounded the feelings

of the other ladies. I have heard Josephine say that Madame de

Montebello was wrong to initiate the young Empress into the scandalous

adventures, whether true or false, attributed to some of these ladies,

and which a young, pure, simple woman like Marie Louise should not have

known; and that this was one cause of her coldness towards the ladies of

her court, who on their side did not like her, and confided their

feelings to their neighbors and friends.

Josephine tenderly loved Madame de Montesquieu, and when they were parted

wrote to her often; this correspondence lasted till Josephine's death.

One day Madame de Montesquieu received orders from the Emperor to take

the little king to Bagatelle, where Josephine then was. She had obtained

permission to see this child, whose birth had covered Europe with fetes.

It is well known how disinterested Josephine's love for Napoleon was, and

how she viewed everything that could increase his glory and render it

more durable; and there entered into the prayers she made for him since

the burning disgrace of the divorce, even the hope that he might be happy

in his private life, and that his new wife might bear this child, this

firstborn of his dynasty, to him whom she herself could not make a

father.

This woman of angelic goodness, who had fallen into a long swoon on

learning her sentence of repudiation, and who since that fatal day had

dragged out a sad life in the brilliant solitude of Malmaison; this

devoted wife who had shared for fifteen years the fortunes of her

husband, and who had assisted so powerfully in his elevation, was not the

last to rejoice at the birth of the King of Rome. She was accustomed to

say that the desire to leave a posterity, and to be represented after our

death by beings who owe their life and position to us, was a sentiment

deeply engraved in the heart of man; that this desire, which was so

natural, and which she had felt so deeply as wife and mother, this desire

to have children to survive and continue us on earth, was still more

augmented when we had a high destiny to transmit to them; that in

Napoleon's peculiar position, as founder of a vast empire, it was

impossible he should long resist a sentiment which is at the bottom of

every heart, and which, if it is true that this sentiment increases in

proportion to the inheritance we leave our children, no one could

experience more fully than Napoleon, for no one had yet possessed so

formidable a power on the earth; that the course of nature having made

her sterility a hopeless evil, it was her duty to be the first to

sacrifice the sentiments of her heart to the good of the state, and the

personal happiness of Napoleon sad but powerful reasoning, which policy

invoked in aid of the divorce, and of which this excellent princess in

the illusion of her devotion thought herself convinced in the depths of

her heart.

The royal child was presented to her. I know nothing in the world which

could be more touching than the joy of this excellent woman at the sight

of Napoleon's son. She at first regarded him with eyes swimming in

tears; then she took him in her arms, and pressed him to her heart with a

tenderness too deep for words. There were present no indiscreet

witnesses to take pleasure in indulging irreverent curiosity, or observe

with critical irony the feelings of Josephine, nor was there ridiculous

etiquette to freeze the expression of this tender soul; it was a scene

from private life, and Josephine entered into it with all her heart.

From the manner in which she caressed this child, it might have been said

that it was some ordinary, child, and not a son of the Caesars, as

flatterers said, not the son of a great man, whose cradle was surrounded

with so many honors, and who had been born a king. Josephine bathed him

with her tears, and said to him some of those baby words with which a

mother makes herself understood and loved by her new born. It was

necessary at last to separate them. The interview had been short, but it

had been well employed by the loving soul of Josephine. In this scene

one could judge from her joy of the sincerity of her sacrifice, while at

the same time her stifled sighs testified to its extent. Madame de

Montesquieu's visits were made only at long intervals, which distressed

Josephine greatly; but the child was growing larger, an indiscreet word

lisped by him, a childish remembrance, the least thing, might offend

Marie Louise, who feared Josephine. The Emperor wished to avoid this

annoyance, which would have affected his domestic happiness; so he

ordered that the visits should be made more rarely, and at last they were

stopped. I have heard Josephine say that the birth of the King of Rome

repaid her for all sacrifices, and surely never was the devotion of a

woman more disinterested or more complete.

Immediately after his birth the King of Rome was confided to the care of

a nurse of a healthy, robust constitution, taken from among the people.

This woman could neither leave the palace nor receive a visit from any

man; the strictest precautions were observed in this respect. She was

taken out to ride for her health in a carriage, and even then she was

accompanied by several women.

These were the habits of Marie Louise with her son. In the morning about

nine o'clock the king was brought to his mother; she took him in her arms

and caressed him a few moments, then returned him to his nurse, and began

to read the papers. The child grew tired, and the lady in charge took

him away. At four o'clock the mother went to visit her son; that is to

say, Marie Louise went down into the king's apartments, carrying with her

some embroidery, on which she worked at intervals. Twenty minutes after

she was informed that M. Isabey or M. Prudhon had arrived for the lesson

in painting or drawing, whereupon the Empress returned to her apartments.

Thus passed the first months which followed the birth of the King of

Rome. In the intervals between fetes, the Emperor was occupied with

decrees, reviews, monuments, and plans, constantly employed, with few

distractions, indefatigable in every work, and still not seeming to have

anything to occupy his powerful mind, and happy in his private life with

his young wife, by whom he was tenderly beloved. The Empress led a very

simple life, which suited her disposition well. Josephine needed more

excitement; her life had been also more in the outside world, more

animated, more expansive; though this did not prevent her being very

faithful to the duties of her domestic life, and very tender and loving

towards her husband, whom she knew how to render happy in her own way.

One day Bonaparte returned from a hunt worn out with fatigue, and begged

Marie Louise to come to him. She came, and the Emperor took her in his

arms and gave her a sounding kiss on the cheek. Marie Louise took her

handkerchief and wiped her cheek. "Well, Louise, you are disgusted with

me?"--"No," replied the Empress, "I did it from habit; I do the same with

the King of Rome." The Emperor seemed vexed. Josephine was very

different; she received her husband's caresses affectionately, and even

met him half way. The Emperor sometimes said to her, "Louise, sleep in

my room."--"It is too warm there," replied the Empress. In fact, she

could not endure the heat, and Napoleon's apartments were constantly

warmed. She had also an extreme repugnance to odors, and in her own

rooms allowed only vinegar or sugar to be burnt.

VOLUME III.

CHAPTER I.

In September, 1811, the Emperor decided to make a journey into Flanders

in company with the Empress, that he might personally ascertain if his

orders had been carried out in all matters concerning both the civil and

religious administration. Their Majesties left Compiegne on the 19th,

and arrived at Montreuil-sur-Mer at nine o'clock in the evening.

I accompanied the Emperor on this journey. I have read in O'Meara's

Memorial that M. Marchand was at that time in the service of Napoleon.

This is incorrect; for M. Marchand did not enter the Emperor's private

service until 1814, at Fontainebleau. His Majesty at that time ordered

me to select from the domestics of the service an intelligent young man

to assist me in my duties near his person, since none of the ordinary

'valets de chambre' were to remain on the island of Elba. I mentioned

the name of M. Marchand, son of a nurse of the King of Rome, as a

suitable person for the place. He was accepted by his Majesty, and from

that time M. Marchand formed a part of the private service of the

Emperor. He may have been on this journey to Holland; but Napoleon was

not aware of it, as his duties did not bring him near his Majesty's

person.

I will now relate some of the circumstances which occurred on this

journey, and are not generally known to the public, and at the same time

take advantage of the opportunity to refute other assertions similar to

those I have just mentioned, and which I have read with surprise,

sometimes mixed with indignation, in the Contemporary Memoirs. I deem

it important that the public should have correct information as to

everything pertaining to this journey, in order that light may thus be

thrown on certain incidents, by means of which calumny has attacked the

honor of Napoleon, and even my own. A devoted though humble servant of

the Emperor, it is natural that I should be deeply interested in

explaining all that seems doubtful, in refuting all falsehoods, and in

giving minute corrections of many incorrect statements which might

influence the judgment of the public concerning my master and myself.

I shall fulfil this duty with perfect frankness, as I have sufficiently

proved in the foregoing volumes of these Memoirs.

A little incident occurred at Montreuil, which I take pleasure in

narrating, since it proves how carefully Napoleon examined both the

fortifications and improvements being made in the towns, either by his

personal orders, or from the impulse given by him to these important

departments of public service. After investigating the work done in the

past year on the fortifications of Montreuil, and having made a tour of

all the ramparts, the Emperor returned to the citadel, whence he again

emerged to visit the exterior works. An arm of the river Canche, which

lies at the foot of the wall on one side of the city, intercepted his

route. The whole suite set to work to construct a temporary bridge of

planks and logs; but the Emperor, impatient at the delay, walked through

the stream in water up to his knees. The owner of a mill on the opposite

shore took his Majesty by the arm to assist him in mounting the bank, and

profited by this opportunity to explain to the Emperor that his mill,

being in the line of the projected fortifications, would necessarily be

torn down; whereupon the Emperor turned to the engineers and said, "This

brave man must be indemnified for any loss he may sustain." He then

continued his rounds, and did not re-enter his carriage until he had

examined everything at leisure, and held a long interview with the civil

and military authorities of Montreuil. On the route a soldier who had

been wounded at Ratisbon was presented to him; and his Majesty ordered

that a present should be made him on the spot, and that his petition

should be presented to him on his arrival at Boulogne on the 20th.

This was the second time Boulogne had received the Emperor within its

walls. Immediately on his arrival he went on board the flotilla and held

a review. As an English frigate was evidently preparing to approach in

order to observe more closely what was taking place in the roadstead, his

Majesty immediately sent out a French frigate under full sail against the

hostile ship, whereupon the latter, taking the alarm, at once

disappeared. On the 29th of September his Majesty reached Flushing, and

from Flushing went to visit the fortifications at Tervueren. As he was

overlooking the various works at that place, a young woman threw herself

at his feet, her cheeks wet with tears, .and extended a petition to the

Emperor with a trembling hand. Napoleon most graciously assisted her to

rise, and inquired the object of her petition. "Sire," said the poor

woman between her sobs, "I am the mother of three children, whose father

is conscripted by your Majesty; the children and the mother are in the

deepest distress."--"Monsieur," said his Majesty to some one of his

suite, "make a note of this man's name; I will make him an officer." The

young woman tried to express her gratitude, but her emotion and tears

prevented the utterance of a word, and the Emperor went on his way.

Another kind act marked his departure from Ostend. On leaving that town

he followed the course of the Estrau, and as he did not care to pass

through the locks, in order to cross the Swine, entered a fishing-boat in

company with the Duke of Vicenza, his grand equerry, Count Lobau, one of

his aides-de-camp, and two chasseurs of the guard. This boat, which was

owned by two poor fishermen, was worth only about one hundred and fifty

florins, including its equipment, and was their only source of wealth.

The crossing required about half an hour, and his Majesty alighted at

Fort Orange, on the island of Cadsand, where the prefect with his suite

awaited him; and as he was wet and suffering with the cold, a large fire

was kindled, by which he warmed himself with evident enjoyment. The

fishermen were then asked how much they charged for the passage, and upon

their replying a florin for each passenger, Napoleon ordered that a

hundred napoleons should be counted out to them, and they should be

granted a pension of three hundred francs for life. It is impossible to

give an idea of the joyful surprise of these poor men, who had not in the

least suspected the exalted rank of their passenger; but no sooner were

they informed than the whole country was told, and thus many hearts were

won for Napoleon; while at the same time the Empress Marie Louise was

being welcomed on his account at the theater, and whenever she appeared

on the streets, with sincere and vociferous applause.

Preparations had been made everywhere in Holland two months before the

arrival of their Majesties, in order that they might be suitably

received; and there was no village on the Emperor's route so small that

it was not eager to earn his approbation by the proportional magnificence

of the welcome accorded his Majesty. Almost the whole court of France

accompanied him on this journey, and grand dignitaries, ladies of honor,

superior officers, aides-de-camp, chamberlains, equerries, ladies of

attire, quartermasters, valets de chambre, regulators of soldiers'

quarters, the kitchen service--nothing was wanting. Napoleon intended to

dazzle the eyes of the good Dutchmen by the magnificence of his court;

and, in truth, his gracious manner, his affability, and the recital of

the numerous benefits he scattered around his path, had already had their

effect in conquering this population, in spite of the frowning brows of a

few, who, as they smoked their pipes, murmured against the impediments to

commerce caused by the Continental system.

The city of Amsterdam, where the Emperor had decided to remain some time,

found itself suddenly in a condition of peculiar embarrassment, owing to

the following circumstance: This town had a very extensive palace, but no

coaches nor stables attached to them, which for the suite of Napoleon was

a prime necessity; and the stables of King Louis, besides their

insufficiency, were placed too far from the palace to be occupied by even

a portion of the Emperor's service. Consequently there was great

embarrassment in the city, and much difficulty was experienced in

quartering the Emperor's horses; since to improvise stables in a few

days, almost in a moment, was impossible, and to build carriage-houses in

the midst of courts would have had a ludicrous effect. But fortunately

this difficult situation was ended by one of the quartermasters of the

palace named M. Emery, a man of great intelligence, and an old soldier,

who, having learned from Napoleon and the force of circumstances never to

be overcome by difficulties, conceived the happy thought of converting

the flower-market into stables and coach-houses, and placing the

equipages of the Emperor there under immense tents.

The Emperor at last rejoined his august spouse at Brussels, where the

enthusiasm excited by his presence was unanimous. On a suggestion from

him, which was as delicate as politic, Marie Louise during her stay

bought laces to the value of one hundred and fifty thousand francs, in

order to encourage the manufacturers. The introduction into France of

English merchandise was at that time severely prohibited, and all that

was found was indiscriminately burned.

Of the whole system of offensive policy maintained by Napoleon against

the maritime tyranny of England, nothing more nearly aroused open

opposition than the vigorous observance of prohibitory decrees. Belgium

then contained a quantity of English merchandise, which was most

carefully concealed, and which every one was anxious to obtain, as is

ever the case with forbidden fruit. All the ladies in the suite of the

Empress made large purchases of these articles; and one even filled

several carriages with them, not without fear, however, that Napoleon

might be informed of this, and might seize everything on its arrival in

France. These carriages, bearing the arms of the Emperor, passed the

Rhine filled with this precious luggage, and arrived at the gates of

Coblentz, which furnished an occasion of painful uncertainty to the

officers of the custom-house, while they deliberated whether they should

arrest and examine the carriages, or should permit a convoy to pass

unmolested because it professed to belong to the Emperor. After mature

deliberation, the majority adopted this alternative; and the carriages

successfully passed the first line of French custom-houses, and reached

port in safety,--that is to say, Paris,--with its cargo of prohibited

merchandise. If the carriages had been stopped, it is probable that

Napoleon would have highly applauded the courage of the inspectors of

customs, and would have pitilessly burned the confiscated articles.

Their Majesties arrived at Utrecht the 6th of October, and found every

house on the quays as well as the streets decorated with ribbons and

garlands. The rain was falling in torrents; but this did not prevent the

authorities being on foot from early in the morning, and the population

filling the streets. As soon as he alighted from his carriage, Napoleon,

in spite of the weather, mounted his horse, and went to hold a review of

several regiments stationed at the gates of Utrecht, accompanied by a

numerous staff, and a large number of curious persons, most of them wet

to the skin. After the review Napoleon entered the palace, where the

entire deputation awaited him in an immense hall, still unfurnished,

though it had been built by King Louis, and without changing his clothing

gave audience to all who were eager to congratulate him, and listened

with most exemplary patience to the harangues addressed to him.

The entrance of their Majesties into Amsterdam was most brilliant.

The Empress, in a chariot drawn by splendid horses, was a few hours in

advance of the Emperor, who made his entry on horseback, surrounded by

a brilliant staff, glittering with gold and embroideries, who advanced

at a slow pace amid shouts of admiration and astonishment from the good

Hollanders. Through his simple and unaffected bearing there shone a

profound satisfaction, and perhaps even a natural sentiment of pride, in

seeing the welcome accorded to his glory here as elsewhere, and the

universal sympathy aroused in the masses by his presence alone. Drapery

in three colors, which produced a very fine effect, hung from posts

erected at regular intervals and formed the decoration of the streets

through which his Majesty was to pass; and he who three years later was

to enter the palace of the Tuileries by night, and as a fugitive, after

having with much difficulty gained admission through the gates of the

chateau, passed then under arches of triumph, with a glory yet unsullied

by defeat, and a fortune still faithful. These reminiscences are painful

to me, but they recur to my mind even against my will; for no year of the

Empire was marked by more fetes, more triumphant entries, or more popular

rejoicings, than that which preceded the disastrous year of 1812.

Some of the actors of the French Theater at Paris had accompanied the

court to Holland, and Talma there played the roles of Bayard and

d'Orosmane; and M. Alissan de Chazet directed at Amsterdam the

performance by French comedians of a vaudeville in honor of their

Majesties, the title of which I have forgotten. Here, again, I wish to

refute another assertion no less false made by the author of these

'Contemporary Memoirs', concerning a fictitious liaison between the

Emperor and Mademoiselle Bourgoin. I cite the passage in question:

"Mademoiselle Bourgoin, one of the delegates from the court of Thalia,

in order to be permitted to accompany the party on this journey, had

thoughtlessly succumbed to the temptation of making indiscreet

revelations; even boasting aloud that she attracted the Emperor to the

theater in which she played; and these boasts, which were by no means

virtuous, having reached the Emperor's ears, he would no longer attend

the theater. He charged Talma, for whom he had much consideration, to

urge the pretty actress to be silent; and to inform her that on the

slightest indiscretion she would be reconducted to France under good

escort."

This by no means agrees with what his Majesty said one day in regard to

this actress while at Erfurt. These words, which the author of the

Memoirs would do well to recall, prove that the Emperor had no views in

regard to her; and the most important proof of all, is the great

discretion which the Emperor always exercised in regard to his amours.

During the entire passage through Holland, the Emperor showed himself

cordial and affable, welcoming every one most kindly, and accosting each

in a suitable manner, and at no time was he ever more amiable or anxious

to please. He visited the manufactures, inspected dock-yards, reviewed

troops, addressed the sailors, and attended the ball's given in his honor

in all the towns through which he passed; and amid this life of seeming

pleasure and distraction, he exerted himself almost more than in the

quiet, monotonous life of the camp, and was affable, gracious, and

accessible to all his subjects. But in these processions, in the very

midst of these fetes, amid all this acclamation of whole cities rushing

out to meet him, eager to serve as his escort, under these arches of

triumph which were erected to him sometimes even at the entrance of an

obscure village, his abstraction was deeper than ever, and his heart more

oppressed with care; for his thoughts were from this time filled with the

expedition to Russia. And perhaps into this amenity of manner, this

friendliness, and these acts of benevolence, most of which were foreign

to his character, there entered the design of lessening in advance the

discontent which this expedition would produce; and perhaps in attaching

all hearts to himself, in exhausting every means of pleasing, he imagined

he was obtaining pardon in advance, by means of the enthusiasm of his

subjects, for a war which, whatever might be the result, was to cost the

Empire so much blood and so many tears.

During their Majesties' stay at Amsterdam, there was placed in the

apartments of the Empress a piano so constructed as to appear like a desk

with a division in the middle, and in this space was placed a small bust

of the Emperor of Russia. Soon after, the Emperor wished to see if the

apartments of the Empress were suitable, and while visiting them

perceived this bust, which he placed under his arm without a word.

He afterwards said to one of the ladies of the Empress, that he wished

this bust removed; and he was obeyed, though this caused considerable

astonishment, as it was not then known that any coolness had arisen

between the two Emperors.

A few days after his arrival at Amsterdam, the Emperor made several

excursions into the country, accompanied by a somewhat numerous suite.

He visited at Saardam the thatched cottage which sheltered Peter the

Great when he came to Holland under the name of Pierre Michaeloff to

study ship-building; and after remaining there half an hour, the Emperor,

as he left, remarked to the grand marshal of the palace. "That is the

finest monument in Holland." The evening before, her Majesty the Empress

had visited the village of Broek, which is the pride of the whole north

of Holland. Almost all the houses of the village are built of wood, and

are of one story, the fronts ornamented with numerous paintings in

accordance with the caprice of the owners. These paintings are cared for

most zealously, and preserved in a state of perfect freshness. Through

the windows of clearest glass are seen curtains of embroidered China

silk, and of painted muslin and beautiful India stuffs. The streets are

paved with brick and very clean, and are washed and rubbed daily, and

covered with fine white sand, in which various figures are imitated,

especially flowers. Placards at the end of each street forbid the

entrance of carriages into the village, the houses of which resemble

children's toys. The cattle are cared for by hirelings at some distance

from the town; and there is, outside the village, an inn for strangers,

for they are not permitted to lodge inside. In front of some houses I

remarked either a grass plot or an arrangement of colored sand and

shells, sometimes little painted wooden statues, sometimes hedges oddly

cut. Even the vessels and broom-handles were painted various colors, and

cared for like the remainder of the establishment; the inhabitants

carrying their love of cleanliness so far as to compel those who entered

to take off their shoes, and replace them with slippers, which stood at

the door for this singular purpose. I am reminded on this subject of an

anecdote relating to the Emperor Joseph the Second. That prince, having

presented himself in boots at the door of a house in Broek, and being

requested to remove them before entering, exclaimed, "I am the Emperor!"

--"Even if you were the burgomaster of Amsterdam, you should not enter in

boots," replied the master of the dwelling. The good Emperor thereupon

put on the slippers.

During the journey to Holland their Majesties were informed that the

first tooth of the King of Rome had just made its appearance, and that

the health of this august child was not impaired thereby.

In one of the little towns in the north of Holland, the authorities

requested the Emperor's permission to present to him an old man aged one

hundred and one years, and he ordered him brought before him. This more

than centenarian was still vigorous, and had served formerly in the

guards of the Stadtholder; he presented a petition entreating the Emperor

to exempt from conscription one of his grandsons, the support of his old

age. His Majesty assured him, through an interpreter, that he would not

deprive him of his grandson, and Marshal Duroc was ordered to leave with

the old man a testimonial of Imperial liberality. In another little town

in Friesland, the authorities made the Emperor this singular address:

"Sire, we were afraid you would come with the whole court; you are almost

alone, and thereby we see you the better, and the more at our ease." The

Emperor applauded this loyal compliment, and honored the orator by most

touching thanks. After this long journey, passed in fetes, reviews, and

displays of all kinds, where the Emperor, under the guise of being

entertained, had made profound observations on the moral, commercial, and

military situation of Holland, observations which bore fruit after his

return to Paris, and even while in the country, in wise and useful

decrees, their Majesties left Holland, passing through Haarlem, The

Hague, and Rotterdam, where they were welcomed, as they had been in the

whole of Holland, by fetes. They crossed the Rhine, visited Cologne and

Aix-la-Chapelle, and arrived at Saint-Cloud early in November, 1811.

CHAPTER II.

Marie Louis was a very handsome woman. She had a majestic figure and

noble bearing, fresh complexion, blond hair, and blue eyes full of

expression; her hands and feet were the admiration of the court.

Her figure was, perhaps, a trifle too stout; but she lost some of this

superfluous flesh during her stay in France, though thereby she gained as

much in grace and beauty. Such was her appearance. In her intercourse

with those immediately around her she was affable and cordial; and the

enjoyment she felt in the freedom of these conversations was depicted on

her countenance, which grew animated, and took on an infinite grace.

But when she was obliged to appear in public she became extremely timid;

formal society served of itself to isolate her; and as persons who are

not naturally haughty always appear so with a poor grace, Marie Louise,

being always much embarrassed on reception days, was often the subject of

unjust criticism; for, as I have said, her coldness in reality arose from

an excessive timidity.

Immediately after her arrival in France, Marie Louise suffered from this

embarrassment to a very great degree, which can be easily understood in a

young princess who found herself so suddenly transported into an entirely

new society, to whose habits and tastes she felt obliged to conform, and

in which, although her high position must naturally attract the world to

her, the circumstances of this position rendered it necessary that she

should take the initiative in any advances made, a fact which explains

the awkwardness of her early relations with the ladies of her court.

After intimacies had been formed, and the young Empress had chosen her

friends with all the abandon of her young heart, then haughtiness and

constraint vanished, or reappeared only on occasions of ceremony.

Marie Louise was of a calm, thoughtful character; it took little to

arouse her sensitive spirit; and yet, although easily moved, she was by

no means demonstrative. The Empress had received a very careful

education, her mind was cultivated and her tastes very simple, and she

possessed every accomplishment.

She detested the insipid hours passed in idleness, and liked occupation

because it suited her tastes, and also because in a proper employment of

her time she found the only means of driving away ennui. I think she

was, in fact, a most congenial wife for the Emperor. She was too much

interested in the concerns of her own private life to ever mingle in

political intrigues, and, although she was both Empress and Queen, very

often was in entire ignorance of public affairs, except what knowledge

she obtained from the journals. The Emperor at the end of days filled

with agitation could find a little relaxation only in a quiet domestic

hearth, which restored to him the happiness of family life; and,

consequently, an intriguing woman or a talkative politician would have

annoyed him exceedingly.

Nevertheless, the Emperor sometimes complained of the want of affability

the Empress showed to the ladies of her court, and said that this

excessive reserve was injurious to him in a country where the opposite

extreme is most common.

This was because he was recalling the past somewhat, and thinking of the

Empress Josephine, whose constant gayety was the chief charm of the

court. He was necessarily struck by the contrast; but was there not some

injustice at the foundation of this? The Empress Marie Louise was the

daughter of an Emperor, and had seen and known only courtiers, and,

having no acquaintance with any other class, knew nothing of any world

outside the walls of the palace of Vienna. She arrived one fine day at

the Tuileries, in the midst of a people whom she had never seen except as

soldiers; and on this account the constraint of her manner towards the

persons composing the brilliant society of Paris seems to me to a certain

point excusable. It seems to me, besides, that the Empress was expected

to show a frankness and simplicity which were entirely misplaced; and,

by being cautioned over and over again to be natural, she was prevented

from the observance of that formality also suitable on the part of the

great, who should be approached only when they themselves give the

signal. The Empress Josephine loved the people because she had been one

of them; and in mounting a throne her expansive nature had everything to

gain, for she found it was only extending her friendship among a larger

circle. Inspired by her own kind heart, the Empress Marie Louise sought

to make those around her happy; and her benevolent deeds were long the

subject of conversation, and, above all, the delicate manner in which

they were performed. Each month she took from the sum allotted for her

toilet ten thousand francs for the poor, which was not the limit of her

charities; for she always welcomed with the greatest interest those who

came to tell her of distresses to be alleviated. From the eagerness with

which she listened to those soliciting aid, it would seem that she had

been recalled suddenly to a duty; and yet it was simply an evidence that

the chords of her sensitive heart had been touched. I do not know if any

one ever received from her a refusal of a demand of this sort. The

Emperor was deeply touched each time that he was informed of a benevolent

act of the Empress. At eight o'clock in the morning the curtains and

blinds were half opened in the apartments of the Empress Marie Louise,

and the papers were handed her; after reading which, chocolate or coffee

was served, with a kind of pastry called tongue. This first breakfast

she took in bed. At nine o'clock Marie Louise arose, made her morning

toilet, and received those persons privileged to attend at this hour.

Every day in the Emperor's absence, the Empress ascended to the apartment

of Madame de Montebello, her lady of honor, followed by her service,

composed of the chevalier of honor, and some of the ladies of the palace;

and on her return to her apartments, a light breakfast was served,

consisting of pastry and fruits. After her lessons in drawing, painting,

and music, she commenced her grand toilet. Between six and seven o'clock

she dined with the Emperor, or in his absence with Madame de Montebello,

the dinner comprising only one course. The evening was spent in

receptions, or at concerts, plays, etc.; and the Empress retired at

eleven o'clock. One of her women always slept in the room in front of

her bedroom, and it was through this the Emperor was obliged to pass when

he spent the night in his wife's room.

This customary routine of the Empress was changed, however, when the

Emperor was at the chateau; but when alone she was punctual in all her

employments, and did exactly the same things at the same hours. Her

personal domestics seemed much attached to her; for though cool and

distant in her manner, they always found her good and just.

In the Emperor's absence the portrait of the Duchess of Montebello

ornamented the Empress's room with those of the entire Imperial family of

Austria; but when the Emperor returned, the portrait of the duchess was

removed; and during the war between Napoleon and the Emperors of Austria

and Russia, the portrait of Francis II. was removed from his daughter's

room, by order of his Majesty, and was, I think, consigned to some secret

spot.

The King of Rome was a very fine child; and though he resembled the

Emperor less than the son of Hortense had done, his features were an

agreeable union of those of his father and mother. I never knew him

except in his infancy, and what was most remarkable in him at that age

was the great kindness and affection he showed to those around him. He

was much devoted to a young and pretty person named Fanny Soufflot,

daughter of the first lady of the bedchamber, who was his constant

companion; and, as he liked to see her always well dressed, he begged of

Marie Louise, or his governess, Madame the Countess of Montesquiou, any

finery that struck his fancy, which he wished to give to his young

friend. He made her promise to follow him to the war when he was grown,

and said many charming things which showed his affectionate disposition.

There was chosen as companion for the little king (as he styled himself)

a young child named Albert Froment, I think, the son of one of the ladies

of honor. One morning as they were playing together in the garden on

which the apartments of the king opened at Saint-Cloud, Mademoiselle

Fanny was watching them without interfering with their games, Albert

tried to take the king's wheelbarrow; and, when the latter resisted,

Albert struck him, whereupon the king exclaimed, "Oh, suppose some one

had seen you! But I will not tell!" I consider this a fine evidence of

character.

One day he was at the windows of the chateau with his governess, amusing

himself by looking at the passers-by, and pointing out with his finger

those who attracted his attention. While standing there he saw below a

woman in deep mourning, holding by the hand a little boy also dressed in

mourning. The little child carried a petition, which he waved from a

distance to the prince, and seemed to be entreating him to receive.

Their black clothing made a deep impression on the prince, and he asked

why the poor child was dressed all in black. "Doubtless because his papa

is dead," replied the governess, whereupon the child expressed an earnest

desire to speak to the little petitioner. Madame de Montesquiou, who

especially desired to cultivate in her young pupil this disposition to

mercy, gave orders that the mother and child should be brought up. She

proved to be the widow of a brave man who had lost his life in the last

campaign; and by his death she had been reduced to poverty, and compelled

to solicit a pension from the Emperor. The young prince took the

petition, and promised to present it to his papa. And next day when he

went as usual to pay his respects to his father, and handed him all the

petitions presented to him the evening before, one alone was kept apart;

it was that of his little protege. "Papa," said he, "here is a petition

from a little boy whose father was killed on your account; give him a

pension." Napoleon was deeply moved, and embraced his son, and orders

for the pension were given that day. This conduct in so young a child

gives undeniable evidence of an excellent heart.

His early training was excellent; as Madame de Montesquiou had an

unbounded influence over him, owing to the manner at once gentle and

grave in which she corrected his faults. The child was generally docile,

but, nevertheless, sometimes had violent fits of anger, which his

governess had adopted an excellent means of correcting, which was to

remain perfectly unmoved until he himself controlled his fury. When the

child returned to himself, a few severe and pertinent remarks transformed

him into a little Cato for the remainder of the day. One day as he was

rolling on the floor refusing to listen to the remonstrances of his

governess, she closed tie windows and shutters; and the child, astonished

by this performance, forgot what had enraged him, and asked her why she

did this. "I did it because I was afraid you would be heard; do you

suppose the French people would want you as their prince, if they knew

that you gave way to such fits of anger?"--"Do you think they heard me?"

he inquired; "I would be very sorry if they had. Pardon, Mamma Quiou

[this was his name for her], I will not do it again."

The Emperor was passionately devoted to his son; took him in his arms

every time he saw him, and jumped him up and down most merrily, and was

delighted with the joy he manifested. He teased him by carrying him in

front of the glass and making grimaces, at which the child laughed till

he cried. While at breakfast he took him on his knee, dipped his finger

in the sauce and made him suck it, and smeared his face with it; and when

the governess scolded, the Emperor laughed still more heartily, and the

child, who enjoyed the sport, begged his father to repeat it. This was

an opportune moment for the arrival of petitions at the chateau; for they

were always well received at such times, thanks to the all-powerful

credit of the little mediator.

The Emperor in his tender moods was sometimes even more childish than his

son. The young prince was only four months old when his father put his

three-cornered hat on the pretty infant.

The child usually cried a good deal, and at these times the Emperor

embraced him with an ardor and delight which none but a tender father

could feel, saying to him,

"What, Sire, you crying! A king weeping; fie, then, how ugly that is!"

He was just a year old when I saw the Emperor, on the lawn in front of

the chateau, place his sword-belt over the shoulders of the king, and his

hat on his head, and holding out his arms to the child, who tottered to

him, his little feet now and then entangled in his father's sword; and it

was beautiful to see the eagerness with which the Emperor extended his

arms to keep him from falling.

One day in his cabinet the Emperor was lying on the floor, the king

riding horseback on his knee, mounting by jumps up to his father's face,

and kissing him. On another occasion the child entered the council

chamber after the meeting had ended, and ran into his father's arms

without paying attention to any one else, upon which the Emperor said to

him, "Sire, you have not saluted these gentlemen." The child turned,

bowed most gracefully, and his father then took him in his arms.

Sometimes when going to visit the Emperor, he ran so fast that he left

Madame de Montesquiou far behind, and said to the usher, "Open the door

for me, I want to see papa." The usher replied, "Sire, I cannot do it."

--"But I am the little king."--"No, Sire, I cannot open it." At this

moment his governess appeared; and strong in her protection he proudly

repeated, "Open the door, the king desires it."

Madame de Montesquiou had added to the prayers which the child repeated

morning and evening, these words: "My God, inspire papa to make peace for

the happiness of France." One evening the Emperor was present when his

son was retiring, and he made the same prayer, whereupon the Emperor

embraced him in silence, smiling most kindly on Madame de Montesquiou.

The Emperor was accustomed to say to the King of Rome when he was

frightened at any noise or at his grimaces, "Come, come! a king should

have no fear."

I recall another anecdote concerning the young son of the Emperor, which

was related to me by his Majesty himself one evening when I was

undressing him as usual, and at which the Emperor laughed most heartily.

"You would not believe," said he, "the singular reward my son desired of

his governess for being good. Would she not allow him to go and wade in

the mud?" This was, true, and proves, it seems to me, that the greatness

which surrounds the cradle of princes cannot eradicate from their minds

the singular caprices of childhood.

CHAPTER III.

All the world is familiar with the name of the Abbe Geoffroy of satirical

memory, who drove the most popular actors and authors of the time to

desperation. This pitiless Aristarchus must have been most ardently

enamored of this disagreeable profession; for he sometimes endangered

thereby, not his life, which many persons would have desired earnestly

perhaps, but at any rate his health and his repose. It is well,

doubtless, to attack those who can reply with the pen, as then the

consequences of the encounter do not reach beyond the ridicule which is

often the portion of both adversaries. But Abbe Geoffroy fulfilled only

one of the two conditions by virtue of which one can criticise,--he had

much bitterness in his pen, but he was not a man of the sword; and every

one knows that there are persons whom it is necessary to attack with both

these weapons.

An actor whom Geoffroy had not exactly flattered in his criticisms

decided to avenge himself in a piquant style, and one at which he could

laugh long and loud. One evening, foreseeing what would appear in the

journal of the next day, he could think of nothing better than to carry

off Geoffroy as he was returning from the theater, and conduct him with

bandaged eyes to a house where a schoolboy's punishment would be

inflicted on this man who considered himself a master in the art of

writing.

This plan was carried out. Just as the abbe regained his lodging,

rubbing his hands perhaps as he thought of some fine point for tomorrow's

paper, three or four vigorous fellows seized him, and conveyed him

without a word to the place of punishment; and some time later that

evening, the abbe, well flogged, opened his eyes in the middle of the

street, to find himself alone far from his dwelling. The Emperor, when

told of this ludicrous affair, was not at all amused, but, on the

contrary, became very angry, and said that if he knew the authors of this

outrage, he would have them punished. "When a man attacks with the pen,"

he added, "he should be answered with the same weapon." The truth is also

that the Emperor was much attached to M. Geoffroy, whose writings he did

not wish submitted to censure like those of other journalist. It was

said in Paris that this predilection of a great man for a caustic critic

came from the fact that these contributions to the Journal of the Empire,

which attracted much attention at this period, were a useful diversion to

the minds of the capital. I know nothing positively in regard to this;

but when I reflect on the character of the Emperor, who wished no one to

occupy themselves with his political affairs, these opinions seem to me

not devoid of foundation.

Doctor Corvisart was not a courtier, and came rarely to the Emperor,

except on his regular visit each Wednesday and Saturday. He was very

candid with the Emperor, insisted positively that his directions should

be obeyed to the letter, and made full use of the right accorded to

physicians to scold their negligent patient. The Emperor was especially

fond of him, and always detained him, seeming to find much pleasure in

his conversation.

After the journey to Holland in 1811, M. Corvisart came to see the

Emperor one Saturday, and found him in good health. He left him after

the toilet, and immediately went to enjoy the pleasures of the chase, of

which he was exceedingly fond. He was in the habit of not announcing

where he was going, solely in order that he might not be interrupted for

some slight cause, as had happened to him sometimes, for the doctor was

most obliging and considerate. That day after his breakfast, which,

according to custom, he had devoured rapidly, the Emperor was taken

suddenly with a violent colic, and was quite ill. He asked for M.

Corvisart, and a courier was dispatched for him, who, not finding him in

Paris, hastened to his country house; but the doctor was at the chase, no

one knew where, so the courier was obliged to return without him. The

Emperor was deeply vexed, and as he continued to suffer extremely, at

last went to bed, and Marie Louise came and spent a few moments with him;

at last M. Yvan was summoned, and administered remedies which soon

relieved the Emperor.

M. Corvisart, somewhat anxious perhaps, came on Monday instead of

Wednesday; and when he entered Napoleon's room, the latter, who was in

his dressing-gown, ran to him, and taking him by both ears, said, "Well,

Monsieur, it seems that if I were seriously ill, I should have to

dispense with your services." M. Corvisart excused himself, asked the

Emperor how he had been affected, what remedies he had used, and promised

always to leave word where he could be found, in order that he might be

summoned immediately on his Majesty's orders, and the Emperor was soon

appeased. This event was really of advantage to the doctor; for he thus

abandoned a bad habit, at which it is probable his patients rejoiced.

M. Corvisart had a very great influence with the Emperor, so much so that

many persons who knew him gave him the soubriquet of doctor of petitions;

and it was very rarely he failed to obtain a favorable answer to his

requests. Nevertheless, I often heard him speak warmly in favor of M. de

Bourrienne, in order to impress upon the Emperor's mind that he was much

attached to his Majesty; but the latter always replied, "No, Bourrienne

is too much of an Englishman; and besides, he is doing very well; I have

located him at Hamburg. He loves money, and he can make it there."

It was during the year 1811 that Cardinal Fesch came most frequently to

the Emperor's apartments, and their discussions seemed to me very

animated. The cardinal maintained his opinions most vehemently, speaking

in a very loud tone and with great volubility. These conversations did

not last more than five moments before they became very bitter, and I

heard the Emperor raise his voice to the same pitch; then followed an

exchange of harsh terms, and each time the cardinal arrived I felt

distressed for the Emperor, who was always much agitated at the close of

these interviews. One day as the cardinal was taking leave of the

Emperor, I heard the latter say to him sharply, "Cardinal, you take

advantage of your position."

A few days before our departure for Russia the Emperor had me summoned

during the day, and ordered me to bring from the treasury the box of

diamonds, and place it in his room, and not to go far away, as he had

some important business for me. About nine o'clock in the evening I was

again summoned, and found M. de Lavalette, director-general of the post,

in the Emperor's room. His Majesty opened the box in my presence, and

examined the contents, saying to me, "Constant, carry this box yourself

to the count's carriage, and remain there till he arrives." The carriage

was standing at the foot of the grand staircase in the court of the

Tuileries; and I opened it, took my seat, and waited until half-past

eleven, when M. de Lavalette arrived, having spent all this time in

conversation with the Emperor. I could not understand these precautions

in delivering the diamonds to M. de Lavalette, but they were certainly

not without a motive.

The box contained the sword, on the pommel of which was mounted the

regent diamond, the handle also set with diamonds of great value; the

grand collar of the Legion of Honor; the ornaments, hatcord,

shoulder-piece, and buttons of the coronation robes, with the

shoe-buckles and garters, all of which were of immense value.

A short time before we set out for the Russian campaign, Josephine sent

for me, and I went at once to Malmaison, where this excellent woman

renewed her earnest recommendations to watch most carefully over the

Emperor's health and safety; and made me promise that if any accident,

however slight, happened to him, I would write to her, as she was

exceedingly anxious to know the real truth concerning him. She wept

much; talked to me constantly about the Emperor, and after a conversation

of more than an hour, in which she gave full vent to her emotions,

presented me with her portrait painted by Saint on a gold snuff-box. I

felt much depressed by this interview; for nothing could be more touching

than to see this woman disgraced, but still loving, entreating my care

over the man who had abandoned her, and manifesting the same affectionate

interest in him which the most beloved wife would have done.

On entering Russia, a thing of which I speak here more according to the

order of my reminiscences than in the order of time, the Emperor sent

out, on three different roads, details of select police to prepare in

advance lodgings, beds, supplies, etc. These officers were Messieurs

Sarrazin, adjutant-lieutenant, Verges, Molene, and Lieutenant Pachot. I

will devote farther on an entire chapter to our itinerary from Paris to

Moscow.

A short time before the battle of La Moskwa, a man was brought to the

camp dressed in the Russian uniform, but speaking French; at least his

language was a singular mixture of French and Russian. This man had

escaped secretly from the enemy's lines; and when he perceived that our

soldiers were only a short distance from him, had thrown his gun on the

ground, crying in a very strong Russian accent, "I am French," and our

soldiers had at once taken him prisoner.

Never was prisoner more charmed with his change of abode. This poor

fellow, who seemed to have been forced to take arms against his will in

the service of the enemies of his country, arrived at the French

camp, called himself the happiest of men in finding again his

fellow-countrymen, and pressed the hand of all the soldiers with an

ardor which delighted them. He was brought to the Emperor, and appeared

much over-awed at finding himself in the presence of the King of the

French, as he called his Majesty. The Emperor questioned him closely,

and in his reply he declared that the noise of the French cannon had

always made his heart beat; and that he had feared only one thing, which

was that he might be killed by his compatriots. From what he told the

Emperor it appeared that he belonged to that numerous class of men who

find themselves transplanted by their family to a foreign land, without

really knowing the cause of their emigration. His father had pursued at

Moscow an unremunerative industrial profession, and had died leaving him

without resources for the future, and, in order to earn his bread, he

had become a soldier. He said that the Russian military discipline was

one of his strongest incentives to desert, adding that he had strong

arms and a brave heart, and would serve in the French army if the

general permitted. His frankness pleased the Emperor, and he endeavored

to obtain from him some positive information on the state of the public

mind at Moscow; and ascertained from his revelations, more or less

intelligent, that there was much disturbance in that ancient capital.

He said that in the street could be heard cries of, "No more of Barclay!

[Prince Michael Barclay de Tolly, born in Livonia, 1755, of

Scottish extraction; distinguished himself in wars against Sweden,

Turkey, and Poland, 1788 and 1794, and against the French, 1806;

commanded Russian army against Napoleon in 1812, until superseded,

after battle of Smolensk, by Kutusoff, and commanded the right wing

at Borodino; afterwards commanded at Bautzen and Leipsic; died

1818]

Down with the traitor! dismiss him! Long live Kutusoff!" The merchant

class, which possessed great influence on account of its wealth,

complained of a system of temporizing which left men in uncertainty, and

compromised the honor of the Russian arms; and it was thought

unpardonable in the Emperor that he had bestowed his confidence on a

foreigner when old Kutusoff, with the blood and the heart of a Russian,

was given a secondary position. The Emperor Alexander had paid little

attention to these energetic complaints, until at last, frightened by the

symptoms of insurrection which began to be manifest in the army, he had

yielded, and Kutusoff had been named generalissimo, over which important

event there had been rejoicings and illuminations at Moscow. A great

battle with the French was talked of; enthusiasm was at its height in the

Russian army, and every soldier had fastened to his cap a green branch.

The prisoner spoke with awe of Kutusoff, and said that he was an old man,

with white hair and great mustaches, and eyes that struck him with

terror; that he lacked much of dressing like the French generals; that he

wore very ordinary clothes--he who could have such fine ones; that he

roared like a lion when he was angry; that he never started on a march

without saying his prayers; and that he crossed himself frequently at

different hours of the day. "The soldiers love him because they say he

so much resembles Suwarrow. I am afraid he will do the French much

harm," said he. The Emperor, satisfied with this information, dismissed

the prisoner, and gave orders that he should be allowed the freedom of

the camp; and afterwards he fought bravely beside our soldiers. The

Emperor made his entrance into Gjatsk with a most singular escort.

Some Cossacks had been taken in a skirmish; and his Majesty, who was at

this time very eager for information from every quarter, desired to

question these savages, and for this purpose had two or three brought to

his headquarters. These men seemed formed to be always on horseback, and

their appearance when they alighted on the ground was most amusing.

Their legs, which the habit of pressing their horses' sides had driven

far apart, resembled a pair of pincers, and they had a general air of

being out of their element. The Emperor entered Gjatsk, escorted by two

of these barbarians on horseback, who appeared much flattered by this

honor. I remarked that sometimes the Emperor could with difficulty

repress a smile as he witnessed the awkward appearance made by these

cavaliers from the Ukraine, above all when they attempted to put on airs.

Their reports, which the interpreter of the Emperor had some difficulty

in comprehending, seemed a confirmation of all his Majesty had heard

concerning Moscow. These barbarians made the Emperor understand by their

animated gestures, convulsive movements, and warlike postures, that there

would soon be a great battle between the French and the Russians. The

Emperor had brandy given them, which they drank like water, and presented

their glasses anew with a coolness which was very amusing. Their horses

were small, with cropped manes and long tails, such as unfortunately can

be seen without leaving Paris.

It is a matter of history that the King of Naples made a most favorable

impression on these barbarians. When it was announced to the Emperor one

day that they desired to appoint him their hetman, the Emperor was much

amused by this offer, and said jestingly that he was ready to indorse

this choice of a free people. The King of Naples had something

theatrical in his appearance which fascinated these barbarians, for he

always dressed magnificently. When his steed bore him in front of his

column, his beautiful hair disordered by the wind, as he gave those grand

saber strokes which mowed down men like stubble, I can well comprehend

the deep impression he made on the fancy of these warlike people, among

whom exterior qualities alone can be appreciated. It is said that the

King of Naples by simply raising this powerful sword had put to flight a

horde of these barbarians. I do not know how much truth there is in this

statement, but it is at least possible.

The Cossacks, in common with all races still in their infancy, believe in

magicians. A very amusing anecdote was told of the great chief of the

Cossacks, the celebrated Platoff. Pursued by the King of Naples, he was

beating a retreat, when a ball reached one of the officers beside him, on

which event the hetman was so much irritated against his magician that he

had him flogged in presence of all his hordes, reproaching him most

bitterly because he had not turned away the balls by his witchcraft.

This was plain evidence of the fact that he had more faith in his art

than the sorcerer himself possessed.

On the 3d of September, from his headquarters at Gjatsk, the Emperor

ordered his army to prepare for a general engagement. There had been for

some days much laxity in the police of the bivouacs, and he now redoubled

the severity of the regulations in regard to the countersigns. Some

detachments which had been sent for provisions having too greatly

prolonged their expedition, the Emperor charged the colonels to express

to them his dissatisfaction, adding that those who had not returned by

the next day could not take part in the battle. These words needed no

commentary.

The country surrounding Gjatsk was very fertile, and the fields were now

covered with rye ready for the sickle, through which we saw here and

there broad gaps made by the Cossacks in their, flight. I have often

since compared the aspect of these fields in November and September.

What a horrible thing is war! A few days before the battle, Napoleon,

accompanied by two of his marshals, made a visit of inspection on foot in

the outskirts of the city.

On the eve of this great event he discussed everything in the calmest

manner, speaking of this country as he would have done of a beautiful,

fertile province of France. In hearing him one might think that the

granary of the army had here been found, that it would consequently

furnish excellent winter quarters, and the first care of the government

he was about to establish at Gjatsk would be the encouragement of

agriculture. He then pointed out to his marshals the beautiful windings

of the river which gives its name to the village, and appeared delighted

with the landscape spread before his eyes. I have never seen the Emperor

abandon himself to such gentle emotions, nor seen such serenity

manifested both in his countenance and conversation; and at the same time

I was never more deeply impressed with the greatness of his soul.

On the 5th of September the Emperor mounted the heights of Borodino,

hoping to take in at a glance the respective positions of the two armies;

but the sky was overcast. One of those fine, cold rains soon began to

fall, which so often come in the early autumn, and resemble from a

distance a tolerably thick fog. The Emperor tried to use his glasses;

but the kind of veil which covered the whole country prevented his seeing

any distance, by which he was much vexed. The rain, driven by the wind,

fell slanting against his field-glasses, and he had to dry them over and

over again, to his very great annoyance. The atmosphere was so cold and

damp that he ordered his cloak, and wrapped himself in it, saying that as

it was impossible to remain there, he must return to headquarters, which

he did, and throwing himself on the bed slept a short while. On awaking

he said, "Constant, I hear a noise outside; go see what it is." I went

out, and returned to inform him that General Caulaincourt had arrived; at

which news the Emperor rose hastily, and ran to meet the general, asking

him anxiously, "Do you bring any prisoners?" The general replied that

he had not been able to take prisoners, since the Russian soldiers

preferred death to surrender. The Emperor immediately cried, "Let all

the artillery be brought forward." He had decided that in his

preparations to make this war one of extermination, the cannon would

spare his troops the fatigue of discharging their muskets.

On the 6th, at midnight, it was announced to the Emperor that the fires

of the Russians seemed less numerous, and the flames were extinguished at

several points; and some few said they had heard the muffled sound of

drums. The army was in a state of great anxiety. The Emperor sprang

wildly from his bed, repeatedly exclaiming, "It is impossible!"

I tried to hand him his garments, that he might clothe himself warmly, as

the night was so cold; but he was so eager to assure himself personally

of the truth of these statements, that he rushed out of the tent with

only his cloak wrapped around him. It was a fact that the fires of the

bivouac had grown paler, and the Emperor had reason for the gravest

suspicions. Where would the war end if the Russians fell back now? He

re-entered his tent much agitated, and retired to bed again, repeating

many times, "We will know the truth to-morrow morning."

On the 7th of September, the sun rose in a cloudless sky, and the Emperor

exclaimed, "It is the sun of Austerlitz!" These words of the Emperor were

reported to the army, and repeated by them amid great enthusiasm. The

drums were beaten, and the order of the day was read as follows:

SOLDIERS,--Behold the battle you have so long desired! Henceforth

that victory depends on you which is so necessary to us, since it

will furnish us abundant provisions, good winter quarters, and a

prompt return to our native land. Conduct yourselves as at

Austerlitz, at Friedland, at Witepsk, at Smolensk, and let the most

remote posterity refer with pride to your conduct on this day; let

it be said of you, "He took part in the great battle under the walls

of Moscow."

The army replied by reiterated acclamations. The Emperor, a few hours

before the battle, had dictated this proclamation, and it was read in the

morning to the soldiers. Napoleon was then on the heights of Borodino;

and when the enthusiastic cries of the army struck his ear, he was

standing with folded arms, the sun shining full in his eyes, reflected

from the French and Russian bayonets. He smiled, then became more

serious until the affair was terminated.

On that day the portrait of the King of Rome was brought to Napoleon. He

needed some gentle emotion to divert his mind from this state of anxious

suspense. He held this portrait long on his knees, contemplating it with

delight, and said that it was the most agreeable surprise he had ever

received, and repeated several times in a low tone, "My good Louise!

This is a charming attention!" On the Emperor's countenance there rested

an expression of happiness difficult to describe, though the first

emotions excited were calm and even melancholy. "The dear child," was

all that he said. But he experienced all the pride of a father and an

Emperor when by his orders officers, and even soldiers, of the old guard

came to see the King of Rome. The portrait was placed on exhibition in

front of the tent; and it was inexpressibly touching to see these old

soldiers uncover themselves with respect before this image, in which they

sought to find some of the features of Napoleon. The Emperor had at this

moment the expansive joy of a father who knows well that next to him his

son has no better friends than his old companions in endurance and glory.

At four o'clock in the morning, that is to say one hour before the battle

opened, Napoleon felt a great exhaustion in his whole person, and had a

slight chill, without fever, however, and threw himself on his bed.

Nevertheless, he was not as ill as M. de Segur states. He had had for

some time a severe cold that he had somewhat neglected, and which was so

much increased by the fatigue of this memorable day that he lost his

voice almost entirely. He treated this with the soldier's prescription,

and drank light punch during the whole night, which he spent working in

his cabinet without being able to speak. This inconvenience lasted two

days; but on the 9th he was well, and his hoarseness almost gone.

After the battle, of every six corpses found, one would be French and

five Russian. At noon an aide-de-camp came to inform the Emperor that

Count Auguste de Caulaincourt, brother of the Duke of Vicenza, had been

struck by a ball. The Emperor drew a deep sigh, but said not a word; for

he well knew that his heart would most likely be saddened more, than once

that day. After the battle, he expressed his condolences to the Duke of

Vicenza in the most touching manner.

Count Auguste de Caulaincourt was a young man full of courage, who had

left his young wife a few hours after his marriage to follow the French

army, and to find a glorious death at the battle of La Moskwa. He was

governor of the pages of the Emperor, and had married the sister of one

of his charges. This charming person was so young that her parents

preferred that the marriage should not take place until he returned from

the campaign, being influenced in this decision by the fate of Prince

Aldobrandini after his marriage with Mademoiselle de la Rochefoucault

before the campaign of Wagram. General Auguste de Caulaincourt was

killed in a redoubt to which he had led the cuirassiers of General

Montbrun, who had just been fatally wounded by a cannon-ball in the

attack on this same redoubt.

The Emperor often said, in speaking of generals killed in the army,

"Such an one is happy in having died on the field of honor, while I shall

perhaps be so unfortunate as to die in my bed." He was less

philosophical on the occasion of Marshal Lannes's death, when I saw him,

while at breakfast, weeping such large tears that they rolled over his

cheeks, and fell into his plate. He mourned deeply for Desaix,

Poniatowski, and Bessieres, but most of all for Lannes, and next to him

Duroc.

During the whole of the battle of the Moskwa the Emperor had attacks

resembling stone in the bladder. He had been often threatened with this

disease unless he was more prudent in his diet, and suffered much,

although he complained little, and only when attacked by violent pain

uttered stifled groans. Now, nothing causes more anxiety than to hear

those complain who are unaccustomed to do so; for then one imagines the

suffering most intense, since it is stronger than a strong man. At

Austerlitz the Emperor said, "Ordener is worn out. There is only one

time for military achievement in a man's life. I shall be good for six

years longer, and after that I shall retire."

The Emperor rode over the field of battle, which presented a horrible

spectacle, nearly all the dead being covered with wounds; which proved

with what bitterness the battle had been waged. The weather was very

inclement, and rain was falling, accompanied by a very high wind. Poor

wounded creatures, who had not yet been removed to the ambulances, half

rose from the ground in their desire not to be overlooked and to receive

aid; while some among them still cried, "Vive l'Empereur!" in spite of

their suffering and exhaustion. Those of our soldiers who had been

killed by Russian balls showed on their corpses deep and broad wounds,

for the Russian balls were much larger than ours. We saw a color-bearer,

wrapped in his banner as a winding-sheet, who seemed to give signs of

life, but he expired in the shock of being raised. The Emperor walked

on and said nothing, though many times when he passed by the most

mutilated, he put his hand over his eyes to avoid the sight. This calm

lasted only a short while; for there was a place on the battlefield where

French and Russians had fallen pell-mell, almost all of whom were wounded

more or less grievously. And when the Emperor heard their cries, he

became enraged, and shouted at those who had charge of removing the

wounded, much irritated by the slowness with which this was done. It was

difficult to prevent the horses from trampling on the corpses, so thickly

did they lie. A wounded soldier was struck by the shoe of a horse in the

Emperor's suite, and uttered a heartrending cry, upon which the Emperor

quickly turned, and inquired in a most vehement manner who was the

awkward person by whom the man was hurt. He was told, thinking that it

would calm his anger, that the man was nothing but a Russian. "Russian

or French," he exclaimed, "I wish every one removed!"

Poor young fellows who were making their first campaign, being wounded to

the death, lost courage, and wept like children crying for their mothers.

The terrible picture will be forever engraven on my memory.

The Emperor urgently repeated his orders for removing the wounded

quickly, then turned his horse in silence, and returned to his

headquarters, the evening being now far advanced. I passed the night

near him, and his sleep was much disturbed; or, rather, he did not sleep

at all, and repeated over and over, restlessly turning on his pillow,

"Poor Caulaincourt! What a day! What a day!"

CHAPTER IV.

As I have announced previously, I shall endeavor to record in this

chapter some recollections of events personal to the Emperor which

occurred during the journey between the frontiers of France and Prussia.

How sad a contrast results, alas! as we attempt to compare our journey to

Moscow with that of our return. One must have seen Napoleon at Dresden,

surrounded by a court of princes and of kings, to form an idea of the

highest point which human greatness can reach. There more than ever

elsewhere the Emperor was affable to all; fortune smiled upon him,

and none of those who enjoyed with us the spectacle of his glory could

even conceive the thought that fortune could soon prove unfaithful to him

and in so striking a manner. I remember, among other particulars of our

stay at Dresden, a speech I heard the Emperor make to Marshal Berthier,

whom he had summoned at a very early hour. When the marshal arrived,

Napoleon had not yet risen, but I received orders to bring him in at

once; so that while dressing the Emperor, I heard between him and his

major-general a conversation of which I wish I could remember the whole,

but at least I am sure of repeating correctly one thought which struck

me. The Emperor said in nearly these words:--

"I wish no harm to Alexander; it is not on Russia that I am making war,

no more than on Spain; I have only one enemy,--England, and it is her I

am striving to reach in Russia; I will pursue her everywhere." During

this speech the marshal bit his nails, as was his constant habit. On

that day a magnificent review was held, at which all the princes of the

Confederation were present, surrounding their chief as great vassals of

his crown.

When the various army-corps marshaled from the other side of the Elbe had

advanced to the confines of Poland, we left Dresden, meeting everywhere

the same enthusiasm on the advent of the Emperor. We were as a result

sumptuously entertained in every place at which we halted, so anxious

were the inhabitants to testify their regard for his Majesty, even in the

person of those who had the honor of serving him.

At this time there was a general rumor in the army, and among the persons

of the Emperor's household, that his intention was to re-establish the

kingdom of Poland. Ignorant as I was, and from my position should

naturally be, of all political matters, I heard no less than others the

expression of an opinion which was universal, and which was discussed

openly by all. Sometimes the Emperor condescended to ask me what I

heard, and always smiled at my report, since I could not tell the truth

and say anything that would have been disagreeable to him; for he was

then, and I do not speak too strongly, universally adored by the Polish

population.

On the 23d of June we were on the banks of the Niemen, that river already

become so famous by the interview between the two Emperors, under

circumstances very different from those in which they now found

themselves.

The passage of the army began in the evening, and lasted for forty-eight

hours, during which time the Emperor was almost constantly on horseback,

so well he knew that his presence expedited matters. Then we continued

our journey to Wilna, the capital of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, and on

the 27th arrived in front of this town, occupied by the Russians; and it

may truly be said that there, and there alone, military operations began,

for up to this time the Emperor had traveled as he would have done in the

departments of the interior of France. The Russians, being attacked,

were beaten and fell back, so that two days after we entered Wilna, a

town of considerable size, which seemed to me to contain about thirty

thousand inhabitants. I was struck with the incredible number of

convents and churches which are there. At Wilna the Emperor was much

gratified by the demand of five or six hundred students that they should

be formed into a regiment. It is needless to say that such solicitations

were always eagerly granted by his Majesty.

We rested for some time at Wilna; the Emperor thence followed the

movement of his armies, and occupied himself also with organizing the

Grand Duchy of Lithuania, of which this town, as is well known, is the

capital. As the Emperor was often on horseback, I had sufficient leisure

to acquaint myself thoroughly with the town and its environs. The

Lithuanians were in a state of enthusiasm impossible to describe; and

although I have seen during my life many fetes, I shall never forget the

joyous excitement of the whole population when the grand national fete of

the regeneration of Poland was celebrated, which owing either to a

singular coincidence, or the calculation of the Emperor, was appointed

for the 14th of July. The Poles were still uncertain as to the ultimate

fate which the Emperor reserved for their country; but a future bright

with hope shone before their eyes, until these visions were rudely

dispelled by the Emperor's reply to the deputation from the Polish

confederation established at Warsaw. This numerous deputation, with a

count palatine at its head, demanded the integral re-establishment of the

ancient kingdom of Poland. This was the Emperor's reply:--

"Messieurs, deputies of the Confederation of Poland, I have heard with

interest what you have just said. Were I a Pole, I should think and act

as you have done, and I should have voted like you in the assembly at

Warsaw; for love of country is the first virtue of civilized man.

"In my position I have many opposing interests to reconcile, and many

duties to fulfill. If I had reigned at the time of the first, second,

or third division of Poland, I would have armed all my people to sustain

you. As soon as victory permitted me to restore your ancient laws to

your capital and to a part of your provinces, I have done so readily,

without, however, prolonging a war which would have shed the blood of my

subjects.

"I love your nation. For sixteen years I have seen your soldiers by my

side on the fields of Italy as on those of Spain.

"I applaud all that you have done; I authorize the efforts you wish to

make; and all that depends on me to carry out your resolutions shall be

done.

"If your efforts are unanimous, you may indulge the hope of forcing your

enemies to recognize your rights. But in these countries, so distant and

so extensive, any hope of success can be founded only on the unanimous

efforts of the population which occupies them.

"I have maintained the same position since my first appearance in Poland.

I should add here that I have guaranteed to the Emperor of Austria the

integrity of his States, and I could authorize no movement tending to

disturb him in the peaceful possession of what remains to him of the

Polish provinces. Let Lithuania, Samogitia, Witepsk, Polotsk, Mohilow,

Wolhynia, Ukraine, and Podolia be animated by the same spirit I have seen

in great Poland, and Providence will crown with success the holiness of

your cause; it will recompense this devotion to your native country which

has made you such an object of interest, and has obtained for you the

right to my esteem and protection, on which you may rely under all

circumstances."

I have thought it best to give here the entire reply of the Emperor to

the deputies of the Polish confederation, as I was a witness of the

effect it produced at Wilna. A few Poles with whom I was associated

spoke to me of it with sorrow; but their consternation was not loudly

expressed, and the air did not the less resound with cries of "Vive

l'Empereur!" each time the Emperor showed himself in public, which is to

say almost every day.

During our stay at Wilna some hopes were entertained that a new peace was

about to be concluded, as an envoy had arrived from the Emperor

Alexander. But these hopes were of short duration; and I have since

ascertained that the Russian officer, M. Balochoff, fearing, like almost

all of his nation, a reconciliation between the two emperors, delivered

his message in such a manner as to rouse the pride of his Majesty, who

sent him back after a cool reception. Everything smiled on the Emperor.

He was then at the head of the most numerous as well as most formidable

army he had ever commanded. On M. Balachoff's departure everything was

set in order for the execution of his Majesty's plans.

When on the point of penetrating into the Russian territory, his Majesty

no longer maintained his customary serenity; at least, I had occasion to

remark that he was unusually silent at the hours I had the honor to

approach him; and, nevertheless, as soon as his plans were made, and he

had brought his troops from the other side of the Vilia, the river on

which Wilna is situated, the Emperor took possession of the Russian

territory with the enthusiastic ardor one would expect in a young man.

One of the escort which accompanied him related to me that the Emperor

spurred his horse to the front, and made him run at his utmost speed

nearly a league through the woods alone, and notwithstanding the numerous

Cossacks scattered through these woods which lie along the right bank of

the Vilia.

I have more than once seen the Emperor much annoyed because there was no

enemy to fight. For instance, the Russians had abandoned Wilna, which we

had entered without resistance; and again, on leaving this town scouts

announced the absence of hostile troops, with the exception of those

Cossacks of whom I have spoken. I remember one day we thought we heard

the distant noise of cannon, and the Emperor almost shuddered with joy;

but we were soon undeceived, the noise was the sound of thunder, and

suddenly the most frightful storm I have ever seen burst over the army.

The land for a space of more than four leagues was so covered with water

that the road could not be seen; and this storm, as fatal as a battle

could have been, cost us a large number of men, several thousand horses,

and a part of the immense equipments of the expedition.

It was known in the army that the Russians had done an immense amount of

work at Drissa, where they had constructed an enormous intrenched camp;

and the number of troops collected there, the considerable sums expended

in the works, all gave reason to believe that the Russian army would

await the French at this point; and this belief was all the more

reasonable since the Emperor Alexander, in his numerous proclamations

disseminated through the army, and several of which fell into our hands,

boasted of conquering the French at Drissa, where (said these

proclamations) we should find our grave. It was otherwise ordained by

destiny; for the Russians, constantly falling back towards the heart of

Russia, abandoned this famous camp of Drissa on the approach of the

Emperor: I heard it said by many general officers that a great battle

would have been at that time a salutary event for the French army, in

which discontent was beginning to increase, first, for want of enemies to

fight, and second; because privations of every kind became each day more

unendurable. Whole divisions lived, so to speak, by pillage. The

soldiers devastated the dwellings and cottages found at rare intervals in

the country; and, in spite of the severe orders of the Emperor against

marauding and pillaging, these orders could not be executed, for the

officers themselves lived for the most part on the booty which the

soldiers obtained and shared with them.

The Emperor affected before his soldiers a serenity which he was far from

feeling; and from a few detached words which I heard him pronounce in

this grave situation, I am authorized to believe that the Emperor desired

a battle so ardently, only in the hope that the Emperor Alexander would

make him new overtures leading to peace. I think that he would then have

accepted it after the first victory; but he would never have consented to

retrace his steps after such immense preparations without having waged

one of those great battles which furnish sufficient glory for a campaign;

at least, that is what I heard him say repeatedly. The Emperor also

often spoke of the enemies he had to combat with an affected disdain

which he did not really feel; his object being to cheer the officers and

soldiers, many of whom made no concealment of their discouragement.

Before leaving Wilna, the Emperor established there a kind of central

government, at the head of which he had placed the Duke of Bassano, with

the object of having an intermediate point between France and the line of

operations he intended to carry on in the interior of Russia.

Disappointed, as I have said, by the abandonment of the camp of Drissa by

the Russian army, he marched rapidly towards Witepsk, where the greater

part of the French forces were then collected: but here the ire of the

Emperor was again aroused by a new retreat of the Russians; for the

encounters of Ostrovno and Mohilev, although important, could not be

considered as the kind of battle the Emperor so ardently desired. On

entering Witepsk, the Emperor learned that the Emperor Alexander, who a

few days before had his headquarters there, and also the Grand Duke

Constantine, had quitted the army, and returned to St. Petersburg.

At this period, that is to say, on our arrival at Witepsk, the report was

spread abroad that the Emperor would content himself with taking position

there, and organizing means of subsistence for his army, and that he

would postpone till the next year the execution of his vast designs on

Russia. I could not undertake to say what his inmost thoughts were on

this subject; but what I can certify is that, being in a room adjoining

his, I one day heard him say to the King of Naples, that the first

campaign of Russia was ended, and that he would be the following year at

Moscow, the next at St. Petersburg, and that the Russian war was a three

years' campaign. Had it pleased Providence that his Majesty had executed

this plan, which he outlined to the King of Naples so earnestly, so many

of the brave would not have laid down their lives a few months after in

the frightful retreat, the horrors of which I shall hereafter describe.

During our stay at Witepsk, the heat was so excessive that the Emperor

was much exhausted, and complained of it incessantly; and I have never

seen him under any circumstances so oppressed by the weight of his

clothing. In his room he rarely wore his coat, and frequently threw

himself on his bed to rest. This is a fact which many persons can attest

as well as I; for he often received his general officers thus, though it

had been his custom never to appear before them without the uniform which

he habitually wore. Nevertheless, the influence which the heat had on

his physical condition had not affected his great soul; and his genius

ever on the alert embraced every branch of the administration. But it

was easily seen by those whose positions enabled them best to know his

character that the source of his greatest suffering at Witepsk was the

uncertainty whether he should remain in Poland, or should advance without

delay into the heart of Russia. While he was hesitating between these

two decisions he was nearly always sad and taciturn.

In this state of vacillation between repose and motion, the Emperor's

preference was not doubtful; and at the end of a council where I heard it

said that his Majesty met with much opposition, I learned that we were to

move forward and advance on Moscow, from which it was said that we were

only twenty days' march distant. Among those who opposed most vehemently

this immediate march on Moscow, I heard the names cited of the Duke of

Vicenza and the Count of Lobau; but what I can assert of my own

knowledge, and which I learned in a manner to leave no room for doubt, is

that the grand marshal of the palace tried on numerous occasions to

dissuade the Emperor from this project. But all these endeavors were of

no avail against his will.

We then directed our course towards the second capital of Russia, and

arrived after a few days march at Smolensk, a large and beautiful city.

The Russians, whom he thought he had caught at last, had just evacuated

it, after destroying much booty, and burning the greater part of the

stores.

We entered by the light of the flames, but it was nothing in comparison

to what awaited us at Moscow. I remarked at Smolensk two buildings which

seemed to me of the greatest beauty,--the cathedral and the episcopal

palace, which last seemed to form a village in itself, so extensive are

the buildings, and being also separated from the city.

I will not make a list of the places with barbarous names through which

we passed after leaving Smolensk. All that I shall add as to our

itinerary during the first half of this gigantic campaign is that on the

5th of September we arrived on the banks of the Moskwa, where the Emperor

saw with intense satisfaction that at last the Russians were determined

to grant him the great battle which he so ardently desired, and which he

had pursued for more than two hundred leagues as prey that he would not

allow to escape him.

CHAPTER V.

THE day after the battle of the Moskwa, I was with the Emperor in his

tent which was on the field of battle, and the most perfect calm reigned

around us. It was a fine spectacle which this army presented, calmly

re-forming its columns in which the Russian cannon had made such wide

gaps, and proceeding to the repose of the bivouac with the security

which conquerors ever feel. The Emperor seemed overcome with fatigue.

From time to time he clasped his hands over his crossed knees, and I

heard him each time repeat, with a kind of convulsive movement, "Moscow!

Moscow!" He sent me several times to see what was going on outside, then

rose himself, and coming up behind me looked out over my shoulder. The

noise made by the sentinel in presenting arms each time warned me of his

approach. After about a quarter of an hour of these silent marches to

and fro, the sentinel advanced and cried, "To arms!" and like a

lightning flash the battalion square was formed around the Emperor's

tent. He rushed out, and then re-entered to take his hat and sword. It

proved to be a false alarm, as a regiment of Saxons returning from a

raid had been mistaken for the enemy.

There was much laughter over this mistake, especially when the raiders

came in sight, some bearing quarters of meat spitted on the ends of their

bayonets, others with half-picked fowls or hams which made the mouth

water. I was standing outside the tent, and shall never forget the first

movement of the sentinel as he gave the cry of alarm. He lowered the

stock of his gun to see if the priming was in place, shook the barrel by

striking it with his fist, then replaced the gun on his arm, saying,

"Well, let them come; we are ready for them." I told the occurrence to

the Emperor, who in his turn related it to Prince Berthier; and in

consequence the Emperor made this brave soldier drink a glass of his best

Chambertin wine.

It was the Duke of Dantzic who first entered Moscow, and the Emperor came

only after him. This entry was made in the night, and never was there a

more depressing scene. There was something truly frightful in this

silent march of an army halted at intervals by messages from inside the

city, which seemed to be of a most ominous character. No Muscovite

figures could be distinguished except those of a few beggars covered with

rags, who watched with stupid astonishment the army file past; and as

some few of these appeared to be begging alms, our soldiers threw them

bread and a few pieces of money. I cannot prevent a sad reflection on

these unfortunate creatures, whose condition alone remains unchanged

through great political upheavals, and who are totally without affection

and without national sympathies.

As we advanced on the streets of the faubourgs, we looked through the

windows on each side, and were astonished to perceive no human being; and

if a solitary light appeared in the windows of a few houses, it was soon

extinguished, and these signs of life so suddenly effaced made a terrible

impression. The Emperor halted at the faubourg of Dorogomilow, and spent

the night there, not in an inn, as has been stated, but in a house so

filthy and wretched that next morning we found in the Emperor's bed, and

on his clothes, vermin which are by no means uncommon in Russia. We were

tormented by them also to our great disgust, and the Emperor did not

sleep during the whole night he passed there. According to custom, I

slept in his chamber; and notwithstanding the precaution I had taken to

burn vinegar and aloes wood, the odor was so disagreeable that every

moment the Emperor called me.

"Are you asleep, Constant?"--"No, Sire."--"My son, burn more vinegar, I

cannot endure this frightful odor; it is a torment; I cannot sleep."

I did my best; but a moment after, when the fumes of the vinegar were

evaporated, he again recommended me to burn sugar or aloes wood.

It was two o'clock in the morning when he was informed that a fire had

broken out in the city. The news was received through Frenchmen residing

in this country, and an officer of the Russian police confirmed the

report, and entered into details too precise for the Emperor to doubt the

fact. Nevertheless, he still persisted in not believing it. "That is

not possible. Do you believe that, Constant? Go, and find out if it is

true." And thereupon he threw himself again on his bed, trying to rest a

little; then he recalled me to make the same inquiries.

The Emperor passed the night in extreme agitation, and when daylight came

he knew all. He had Marshal Mortier called, and reprimanded both him and

the young guard. Mortier in reply showed him, houses covered with iron

the roofs of which were uninjured, but the Emperor pointed out to him the

black smoke which was issuing from them, pressed his hands together, and

stamped his heels on the rough planks of his sleeping-room.

At six o'clock in the morning we were at the palace of the Kremlin, where

Napoleon occupied the apartment of the Czars, which opened on a vast

esplanade reached by a broad stone staircase. On this same esplanade

could be seen the church in which were the tombs of the ancient

sovereigns, also the senatorial palace, the barracks, the arsenal, and a

splendid clock tower, the cross on which towers above the whole city.

This is the gilded cross of Ivan. The Emperor threw a satisfied glance

over the beautiful scene spread out before him; for no sign of fire was

yet seen in all the buildings which surrounded the Kremlin. This palace

is a mixture of Gothic and modern architecture, and this mingling of the

two styles gives it a most singular appearance.

Within these walls lived and died the old dynasties of the Romanoff and

Ruric; and this is the same palace which has been so often stained with

blood by the intrigues of a ferocious court, at a period when all

quarrels were settled with the poniard. His Majesty could not obtain

there even a few hours of quiet sleep.

In fact, the Emperor, somewhat reassured by the reports of Marshal

Mortier, was dictating to the Emperor Alexander words of peace, and a

Russian flag of truce was about to bear this letter, when the Emperor,

who was promenading the length and breadth of his apartment, perceived

from his windows a brilliant light some distance from the palace. It was

the fire, which had burst out again fiercer than ever; and as the wind

from the north was now driving the flames in the direction of the

Kremlin, the alarm was given by two officers who occupied the wing of the

building nearest the fire. Wooden houses of many various colors were

devoured in a few moments, and had already fallen in; magazines of oil,

brandy, and other combustible materials, threw out flames of a lurid hue,

which were communicated with the rapidity of lightning to other adjoining

buildings. A shower of sparks and coals fell on the roofs of the

Kremlin; and one shudders to think that one of these sparks alone falling

on a caisson might have produced a general explosion, and blown up the

Kremlin; for by an inconceivable negligence a whole park of artillery had

been placed under the Emperor's windows.

Soon most incredible reports reached the Emperor; some said that Russians

had been seen stirring the fire themselves, and throwing inflammable

material into the parts of houses still unburned, while those of the

Russians who did not mingle with the incendiaries, stood with folded

arms, contemplating the disaster with an imperturbability which cannot be

described. Except for the absence of cries of joy and clapping of hands

they might have been taken for men who witness a brilliant display of

fireworks. It was soon very evident to the Emperor that it was a

concerted plot laid by the enemy.

He descended from his apartment by the great northern staircase made

famous by the massacre of the Strelitz. The fire had already made such

enormous progress that on this side the outside doors were half burned

through, and the horses refused to pass, reared, and it was with much

difficulty they could be made to clear the gates. The Emperor had his

gray overcoat burned in several places, and even his hair; and a moment

later we were walking over burning firebrands.

We were not yet out of danger, and were obliged to steer clear of the

burning rubbish which encumbered our path. Several outlets were tried,

but unsuccessfully, as the hot breezes from the fire struck against our

faces, and drove us back in terrible confusion. At last a postern

opening on the Moskwa was discovered, and it was through this the Emperor

with his officers and guard succeeded in escaping from the Kremlin, but

only to re-enter narrow streets, where the fire, inclosed as in a

furnace, was increased in intensity, and uniting above our heads the

flames thus formed a burning dome, which overshadowed us, and hid from us

the heavens. It was time to leave this dangerous place from which one

means of egress alone was open to us,--a narrow, winding street

encumbered with debris of every kind, composed of flaming beams fallen

from the roofs, and burning posts. There was a moment of hesitation

among us, in which some proposed to the Emperor to cover him from head to

foot with their cloaks, and transport him thus in their arms through this

dangerous passage. This proposition the Emperor rejected, and settled

the question by throwing himself on foot into the midst of the blazing

debris, where two or three vigorous jumps put him in a place of safety.

Then ensued a touching scene between the Emperor and the Prince of

Eckmuhl, who, wounded at the Moskwa, had himself borne back in order to

attempt to save the Emperor, or to die with him. From a distance the

marshal perceived him calmly emerging from so great a peril; and this

good and tender friend by an immense effort hastened to throw himself

into the Emperor's arms, and his Majesty pressed him to his heart as if

to thank him for rousing such gentle emotions at a moment when danger

usually renders men selfish and egotistical.

At length the air itself, filled with all these flaming masses, became so

heated that it could no longer be breathed. The atmosphere itself was

burning, the glass of the windows cracked,' and apartments became

untenable. The Emperor stood for a moment immovable, his face crimson,

and great drops of perspiration rolling from his brow, while the King of

Naples, Prince Eugene, and the Prince de Neuchatel begged him to quit the

palace, whose entreaties he answered only by impatient gestures. At this

instant cries came from the wing of the palace situated farthest to the

north, announcing that the walls had fallen, and that the fire was

spreading with frightful rapidity; and seeing at last that his position

was no longer tenable, the Emperor admitted that it was time to leave,

and repaired to the imperial chateau of Petrovskoi.

On his arrival at Petrovskoi the Emperor ordered M. de Narbonne to

inspect a palace which I think had belonged to Catherine. This was a

beautiful building, and the apartments handsomely furnished. M. de

Narbonne returned with this information; but almost immediately flames

burst from every side, and it was soon consumed.

Such was the fury of these wretches who were hired to burn everything,

that the boats which covered the Moskwa laden with grain; oats, and other

provisions, were burned, and sunk beneath the waves with a horrible

crackling sound. Soldiers of the Russian police had been seen stirring

up the fire with tarred lances, and in the ovens of some houses shells

had been placed which wounded many of our soldiers in exploding.

In the streets filthy women and hideous, drunken men ran to the burning

houses and seized flaming brands, which they carried in every direction,

and which our soldiers were obliged repeatedly to knock out of their

hands with the hilts of their swords before they would relinquish them.

The Emperor ordered that these incendiaries when taken in the act should

be hung to posts in the public squares; and the populace prostrated

themselves around these gallows, kissing the feet of those executed,

praying, and signing themselves with the sign of the cross. Such

fanaticism is almost unparalleled.

One incident of which I was a witness proves that those hired to carry

out this vast plot acted, evidently, according to instructions given by

higher authorities. A man covered with a sheepskin, old and tattered,

with a miserable capon his head, boldly mounted the steps of the Kremlin.

Under this filthy disguise an elegant costume was concealed; and when a

stricter surveillance was instituted, this bold beggar himself was

suspected, arrested, and carried before the police, where he was

questioned by the officer of the post. As he made some resistance,

thinking this proceeding somewhat arbitrary, the sentinel put his hand

on his breast to force him to enter; and this somewhat abrupt movement

pushing aside the sheepskin which covered him, decorations were seen,

and when his disguise was removed he was recognized as a Russian officer.

He had on his person matches which he had been distributing to the men of

the people, and when questioned admitted that he was specially charged to

keep alive the fire of the Kremlin. Many questions were asked, each

eliciting new confessions, all of which were made in the most indifferent

manner, and he was put in prison, and was, I think, punished as an

incendiary; but of this I am not certain. When any of these wretches

were brought before the Emperor, he shrugged his shoulders, and with

gestures of scorn and anger ordered that they should be removed from his

sight, and the grenadiers sometimes executed justice on them with their

bayonets; but such exasperation can be well understood in soldiers thus

driven by these base and odious measures from a resting-place earned by

the sword.

In Petrovskoi, a pretty residence belonging to one of Alexander's

chamberlains, a man was found concealed in one of the apartments his

Majesty was to occupy; but not being armed he was released, as it was

concluded that fright alone had driven him into this dwelling. The

Emperor arrived during the night at his new residence, and waited there

in intense anxiety till the fire should be extinguished at the Kremlin,

intending to return thither, for the pleasure house of a chamberlain was

no suitable place for his Majesty. Thanks to the active and courageous

actions of a battalion of the guard, the Kremlin was preserved from the

flames, and the Emperor thereupon gave the signal for departure.

In order to re-enter Moscow it was necessary to cross the camp, or rather

the several camps, of the army; and we wended our way over cold and miry

ground, through fields where all was devastation and ruin. This camp

presented a most singular aspect; and I experienced feelings of bitter

melancholy as I saw our soldiers compelled to bivouac at the gates of a

large and beautiful city of which they were the conquerors, but the fire

still more than they. The Emperor, on appointing Marshal Mortier

governor of Moscow, had said to him, "Above all, no pillage; you will

answer for it with your head." The order was strictly enforced up to the

moment the fire began; but when it was evident that the fire would devour

everything, and that it was useless to abandon to the flames what would

be of much value to the soldiers, liberty was given them to draw largely

from this great storehouse of the north.

It was at once sad and amusing to see around poor plank sheds, the only

tents our soldiers had, the most magnificent furniture, silk canopies,

priceless Siberian furs, and cashmere shawls thrown pell-mell with

silver dishes; and then to see the food served on these princely

dishes,--miserable black gruel, and pieces of horseflesh still bleeding.

Good ammunition-bread was worth at this time treble all these riches,

and there came a time when they had not even horseflesh.

On re-entering Moscow the wind bore to us the insufferable odor of

burning houses, warm ashes filled our mouths and eyes, and frequently we

drew back just in time before great pillars which had been burned in two

by the fire, and fell noiselessly on this calcined soil. Moscow was not

so deserted as we had thought. As the first impression conquest produces

is one of fright, all the inhabitants who remained had concealed

themselves in cellars, or in the immense vaults which extend under the

Kremlin; and driven out by the fire like wolves from their lairs, when we

re-entered the city nearly twenty thousand inhabitants were wandering

through the midst of the debris, a dull stupor depicted on faces

blackened with smoke, and pale with hunger; for they could not comprehend

how having gone to sleep under human roofs, they had risen next morning

on a plain. They were in the last extremity of want; a few vegetables

only remained in the gardens, and these were devoured raw, while many of

these unfortunate creatures threw themselves at different times into the

Moskwa, endeavoring to recover some of the grain cast therein by

Rostopchin's orders;

[Count Feodor Rostopchin, born 1765; died 1826. He denied that

Moscow was burnt by his authority. He claimed that it was burnt

partly by the French, and partly by Russians without orders.]

and a large number perished in the water in these fruitless efforts.

Such was the scene of distress through which the Emperor was obliged to

pass in order to reach the Kremlin.

The apartments which he occupied were spacious and well lighted, but

almost devoid of furniture; but his iron bedstead was set up there, as in

all the chateaux he occupied in his campaigns. His windows opened on the

Moskwa, and from there the fire could still be plainly seen in various

quarters of the city, reappearing on one side as soon as extinguished on

the other. His Majesty said to me one evening with deep feeling, "These

wretches will not leave one stone upon another." I do not believe there

was ever in any country as many buzzards as at Moscow. The Emperor was

annoyed by their presence, and exclaimed, "Mon Dieu! will they follow us

everywhere?"

There were a few concerts during our stay at the Emperor's residence in

Moscow; but Napoleon seemed much dejected when he appeared at them, for

the music of the saloons made no impression on his harassed mind, and the

only kind that ever seemed to stir his soul was that of the camp before

and after a battle.

The day after the Emperor's arrival, Messieurs Ed---- and V---- repaired

to the Kremlin in order to interview his Majesty, and after waiting some

time without seeing him, were expressing their mutual regret at having

failed in this expectation, when they suddenly heard a shutter open above

their heads, and, raising their eyes, recognized the Emperor, who said,

"Messieurs, who are you?"--"Sire, we are Frenchmen!" He requested them

to mount the stairs to the room he occupied, and there continued his

questions. "What is the nature of the occupation which has detained you

in Moscow?"--"We are tutors in the families of two Russian noblemen,

whom the arrival of the French troops have driven from their homes. We

have submitted to the entreaties made by them not to abandon their

property, and we are at present alone in their palaces." The Emperor

inquired of them if there were still other Frenchmen at Moscow, and asked

that they should be brought to him; and then proposed that they should

charge themselves with maintaining order, appointing as chief, M. M----,

whom he decorated with a tri-colored scarf. He recommended them to

prevent the pillage of the French soldiers in the churches, and to have

the malefactors shot, and enjoined them to use great rigor towards the

galley-slaves, whom Rostopchin had pardoned on condition that they would

set fire to the city.

A part of these Frenchmen followed our army in its retreat, seeing that a

longer stay at Moscow would be most disagreeable to them; and those who

did not follow their example were condemned to work on the streets.

The Emperor Alexander, when informed of the measures of Rostopchin,

harshly rebuked the governor, and ordered him at once to restore to

liberty these unfortunate Frenchmen.

CHAPTER VI.

We re-entered the Kremlin the morning of the 18th of September. The

palace and the hospital for foundlings were almost the only buildings

remaining uninjured. On the route our carriages were surrounded by a

crowd of miserable Muscovites begging alms. They followed us as

far as the palace, walking through hot ashes, or over the heated stones,

which crumbled beneath their feet. The poorest were barefoot; and it was

a heart-rending sight to see these creatures, as their feet touched the

burning debris, give vent to their sufferings by screams and gestures of

despair. As the only unencumbered part of the street was occupied by our

carriages, this swarm threw themselves pell-mell against the wheels or

under the feet of our horses. Our progress was consequently very slow,

and we had so much the longer under our eyes this picture of the greatest

of all miseries, that of a people burned out of their homes, and without

food or the means to procure it. The Emperor had food and money given

them.

When we were again established at the Kremlin, and had resumed our

regular routine of living, a few days passed in perfect tranquillity.

The Emperor appeared less sad, and in consequence those surrounding him

became somewhat more cheerful. It seemed as if we had returned from the

campaign, and taken up again the customary occupations of city life; but

if the Emperor sometimes indulged in this illusion, it was soon dispelled

by the sight Moscow presented as seen from the windows of his apartments,

and each time Napoleon's eyes turned in that direction it was evident

that he was oppressed by the saddest presentiments, although he no longer

manifested the same vehement impatience as on his first stay at the

palace, when he saw the flames surrounding him and driving him from his

apartments. But he exhibited the depressing calm of a careworn man who

cannot foresee how things will result. The days were long at the Kremlin

while the Emperor awaited Alexander's reply, which never came. At this

time I noticed that the Emperor kept constantly on his table Voltaire's

history of Charles XII.

The Emperor was a prey to his genius for administration, even in the

midst of the ruins of this great city; and in order to divert his mind

from the anxiety caused by outside affairs, occupied himself with

municipal organization, and had already arranged that Moscow should be

stocked with provisions for the winter.

A theater was erected near the Kremlin, but the Emperor never attended.

The troupe was composed of a few unfortunate French actors, who had

remained in Moscow in a state of utter destitution; but his Majesty

encouraged this enterprise in the hope that theatrical representations

would offer some diversion to both officers and soldiers. It was said

that the first actors of Paris had been ordered to Moscow, but of that I

know nothing positively. There was at Moscow a celebrated Italian singer

whom the Emperor heard several times, but only in his apartments, and he

did not form part of the regular troupe.