While the court was staying at Fontainebleau, the inhabitants made themselves ample amends for His Majesty's long absences by the high prices they set on all articles of consumption. Their profits then were simply a scandalous booty; and many a foreigner, making an excursion to Fontainebleau, must have believed himself held for ransom by a troop of Bedouins. During the sojourn of the court, a wretched folding bed, in a miserable inn, cost twelve francs a night; an absurd price was charged for the least repast, and then it was detestable, a real extortion, in fact, was practiced upon travellers. Cardinal Caprara, whose strict economy was known to all Paris, went to Fontainebleau one day to pay his court to the Emperor. All he took in the hotel at which he alighted was a single cup of broth, and the six persons of his suite contented themselves with a very light repast. Three hours after his arrival the Cardinal made ready to depart. Just as he was about entering his carriage, the host had the impudence to present him with a bill for six hundred francs! The indignant prince of the Church exclaimed, got angry, threatened, etc., but all to no use, and he ended by paying it. But such a revolting abuse came to the Emperor's ears; he was very angry, and ordered that a tariff should be drawn up on the spot, fixing prices which the innkeepers were forbidden to vary from. This measure put an end to the exactions of the leeches of Fontainebleau.

August 21, the Princess Catherine of Würtemberg, future spouse of Prince Jérôme, King of Westphalia, arrived at Paris. This princess was about twenty-four years old, and very beautiful, with the noblest and most affable air. The marriage was brought about by politics alone; but love and a free mutual choice never could have made a happier one. The courageous conduct of Her Majesty the Queen of Westphalia in 1811 is well known,—her devotion to her dethroned husband, and her admirable letters to her father, who wished to tear her from the arms of King Jérôme. I have heard say that this prince had never ceased, even after this marriage, so flattering to his ambition, to correspond with his first wife, Miss Patterson, and that he often sent his first valet de chambre, Rico, to America to bring him news of this lady and the child he had by her. If this is true, it is not less so that these attentions, not merely excusable, but, to my mind, very laudable in Prince Jérôme toward his first wife, did not prevent Her Majesty the Queen of Westphalia, who probably was not ignorant of them, from being happy with her husband. On this point no authority can be more credible than the Queen, who thus expresses herself in the second of her letters to her father, His Majesty the King of Würtemberg:

"Forced by political reasons to espouse the King, my husband, fate willed that I should find myself the happiest woman in existence. I bear toward my husband all sentiments united,—love, tenderness, esteem. In this painful moment, would the best of fathers destroy my internal happiness, the sole happiness, indeed, which remains to me? I dare say to you, my dear father, that you, and all my family misunderstand the King, my husband. A time will come, I hope, when you will be convinced that you have misjudged him, and then you will always find in both him and me the most respectful and the most affectionate children."

Her Majesty goes on to speak of a frightful event to which she says she had been exposed; this event, frightful indeed, was nothing other than the violence and robbery indicted upon a fugitive woman, defenceless, and without an escort, by a band, at the head of which was the famous Marquis de Maubreuil, who had been equerry to the King of Westphalia. I shall return to this shameful ambush when treating of the events of 1804, and give some details concerning the authors and actors in this deed of barefaced brigandage which I believe to be very little known.

In the following September, a courier from the Russian cabinet, arriving from Saint Petersburg, presented His Majesty with a letter from the Emperor Alexander, and many magnificent gifts; among others, two most beautiful pelisses of black fox and sable.

During the stay of Their Majesties at Fontainebleau, the Emperor often rode out with the Empress in an open carriage through the streets of the town, without guards or attendants. One day, as they were passing in front of the hospice of Mont-Pierreux, Her Majesty the Empress perceived, at a window, an ecclesiastic of very great age, who saluted Their Majesties. Having returned the old man's salute with her usual grace, the Empress called the Emperor's attention to him, and he also bowed. At the same time the Emperor stopped the carriage, and sent one of the footmen to ask the venerable priest, on behalf of Their Majesties, if it would be too troublesome for him to leave his room for a moment, and come and speak to them. The old man, who could still walk with ease, made haste to descend; and, to spare him a few steps, the Emperor had his carriage brought close to the door of the hospice.

His Majesty conversed with the good ecclesiastic, showing him the most touching marks of benevolence and respect. He told Their Majesties that before the Revolution he had been the regular priest of one of the parishes of Fontainebleau; that he had done all he could to avoid emigrating, but that the Terror had forced him to expatriate himself, although he was then more than seventy-five years old; that he had returned to France when the Concordat was proclaimed, and lived on a modest retiring pension, barely sufficient to pay his board in the hospice. "Monsieur Abbe," said His Majesty, after having listened to the old priest with attention, "I will order your retiring pension to be doubled; and if that should not suffice, I hope you will address yourself to the Empress or to me." There were tears in the eyes of the good ecclesiastic as he thanked the Emperor.

"Unfortunately, Sire," said he among other things, "I am too old to see the reign of Your Majesty very long, and to profit by your bounty." "You?" replied the Emperor, smiling, " why, you are a young Man. Look at M. de Belloy; he is much older than You, and we hope to keep him this long time yet." Their Majesties then took leave of the moved old man, leaving him in the midst of a crowd of the Townspeople who had assembled before the door of the hospice during this interview, and who had been profoundly affected by this interesting scene and the generous bounty of the Emperor.

M. de Belloy, Cardinal and Archbishop of Paris, whose name the Emperor had mentioned in the conversation I have just reported, was then ninety-eight years old. His health was excellent, and he often appeared in public. I have never seen any old man whose appearance was so venerable as that of this worthy prelate. The Emperor had the profoundest respect for him, and lost no occasion of displaying it. During this same month of September, a large number of the faithful assembled as usual on Mont-Valérien, and Monseigneur the Archbishop also went thither and heard the Mass. As he was about to go away, seeing that many pious persons were awaiting his blessing, he addressed them, before giving it, in words that depict his goodness and his evangelical simplicity: "My children, I feel that I am very old by the diminution of my strength, but not by that of my zeal and my affection for you. Pray to God, my children, for your old archbishop, who never fails to pray for you every day."

During this stay at Fontainebleau the Emperor hunted more frequently than he had ever done before. The obligatory costume, for a man, was a green French coat, with gilt gimp and buttons, breeches of white cashmere, and riding boots without flaps; this was the style for the grand hunt: the deer hunt. The shooting costume was a simple green French coat without any sort of ornament but white buttons, on which were engraved some characteristics of the species. The costume was the same for all persons, without distinction, who took part in His Majesty's hunt, and also for His Majesty himself.

The princesses started from the rendezvous in the Spanish fashion, in an open carriage drawn by four ro six horses, and followed in this way the different directions of the chase. Their costume was an elegant amazon, and a hat surmounted by black or white plumes.

One of His Majesty's sisters (I don't remember which) never failed to follow the hunt, taking with her several charming ladies, who were habitually invited to breakfast at the rendezvous, as always happened on such occasions to persons belonging to the court. One of these ladies, beautiful and witty, attracted the Emperor's attention. At first there were some billets doux exchanged; finally, the Emperor ordered me one evening to take another letter. In the palace of Fontainebleau there is an inner garden called the garden of Diana, to which none but Their Majesties had access. This garden is surrounded on all four sides by buildings. On the left, the chapel with its sombre gallery and its gothic architecture; on the right the grand gallery (as well as I can recollect). The middle building contained the apartments of Their Majesties; opposite, finally, and completing the square, were great arcades, behind which were the buildings intended for the various persons attached either to the princes or to the imperial household.

Madame de B——, the lady whom the Emperor had noticed, lodged in an apartment situated behind these arcades, on the ground-floor. His Majesty forewarned me that I would find a window open, by which I could enter with precaution; and that in the darkness I must hand his letter to a person who would ask me for it. This obscurity was necessary because the open window, behind the arcades but looking on the garden, might be noticed if there were any light. Not knowing the interior of these apartments, I went there and entered by the window; thinking that I could then go straight ahead, I got a noisy fall, caused by a high step which was in the embrasure of the window. At the racket I made in tumbling, I heard a cry and a door closing suddenly. I was slightly bruised on the knee, the elbow, and the head.

Being in much pain, I rose with difficulty, and began to grope around this dark apartment; but hearing nothing further, and fearing to make another noise, which might be heard by persons who ought not to know that I was there, I at last concluded to return to the Emperor, to whom I related my misadventure. Finding that none of my injuries was severe, the Emperor began to laugh heartily; then he added: "Oh! it seems there is a step; that is a good thing to know. Let us wait until Madame de B—— has got over her fright; then I will go to her rooms, and you along with me." At the end of an hour, the Emperor went out with me by the door of his apartment opening on the garden; I silently conducted him toward the window, which was still open. I assisted him to enter, and this time, having gained aquaintance with the place at my own expense, I directed him so that he escaped such a fall as I had had. His Majesty, having entered the chamber without accident, told me to withdraw; I was rather uneasy, and told His Majesty so, but he replied that I was a baby, and that he could not be in any danger. It seems that His Majesty succeeded better than I did in finding an exit, for he did not come back until daybreak. On coming in, he joked me again about my awkwardness, admitting, however, that if I had not warned him, a similar mishap might have befallen him.

Although Madame de B—— was worthy of a real attachment, her liaison with the Emperor did not last long. It was only a whim. I think that the difficulty of his nocturnal visits cooled the Emperor considerably; for he was not so amorous that he would brave everything to see his fair mistress. His Majesty told me how she had been frightened by my fall, and of this beautiful lady's anxiety on my account. The Emperor had reassured her, but that did not prevent her from sending a confidential person the next day to know how I was, and I had a renewed account of the interest which Madame de B—— took in my misfortune.

We often had plays at the court of Fontainebleau. The actors of the principal theatres received orders to come and perform pieces chosen from their different repertories in presence of Their Majesties. Mademoiselle Mars was to play on the very evening of her arrival; but at Essonnes, where she was obliged to stop for a moment on account of the road being thronged with cows going or coming from Fontainebleau, her trunk was stolen, and she did not observe it until very far away. Not only was she minus her costumes, but she was even without other clothes than those she had on her back. It would take at least twelve hours to bring from Paris all that she required. It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and she was to appear that very evening in the brilliant role of Célimène. Although distressed by this mishap, Mademoiselle Mars did not lose her head; she ran through every shop in the town, and had a complete costume cut and made in a few hours, and her loss was entirely repaired.