I will recount a part of what I saw during this journey, the details of which are not generally known. Besides, it will give me an opportunity to criticise certain other assertions of the sort I have just referred to, and which I have read with surprise and often with indignation in the Mémoires Contemporains. It is important that the public should be perfectly acquainted with all that relates to this journey, and enlightened on certain incidents where calumny has sought to attack the character of Napoleon and occasionally mine. An obscure but strongly attached servant of the Emperor, I must have it at heart to explain all that is doubtful, to refute all that is false, to criticise all that is inexact in what concerns the judgments passed upon my master and myself. I shall fulfil my duty frankly; I have given some guarantees of that in what has already appeared in my Memoirs.

A little incident took place at Montreuil which it gives me pleasure to recall, because it demonstrates the alacrity with which Napoleon visited the fortifications or embellishments being made in the cities, either in consequence of his direct orders, or of the general impetus he had given to this important branch of public service. After having gone over the works executed during the year in the fortifications of Montreuil, and made the tour of the ramparts, the Emperor repaired to the citadel, afterwards leaving it to go and examine the exterior works. An arm of the river Canche, which laves one of the walls of the city, stopped his way. His entire suite set to work to form a bridge with planks and fascines, but the Emperor, growing impatient, crossed the river with the water up to his knees. The proprietor of a mill on the opposite bank took His Majesty under the arm to assist him in climbing the dike, and profited by the occasion to point out to His Majesty that as his mill was in the line of the projected fortifications, it would necessarily be torn down. His Majesty turned to the engineers and said: "This honest man must be reimbursed for the loss we occasion him." The Emperor continued his examination, and did not re-enter his carriage until he had seen everything at leisure, and talked for a long time with the civil and military authorities of Montreuil. On the way, a soldier wounded at Ratisbonne was presented to him. His Majesty instantly gave him a gratuity, and ordered that his claim should be presented to him at Boulogne, which he reached on the 20th.

This was the second time that Boulogne had received the Emperor within its walls. Immediately on his arrival he went aboard the fleet and made it go through its manœuvres. An English frigate making a show of coming near to watch what was passing in the roadstead, His Majesty instantly sent out a French frigate, which went full sail toward the unfriendly vessel, but the latter stood out to sea and disappeared. September 29, His Majesty was at Flushing. From Flushing he went to visit the fortifications of Terveere. As he was going through the different works at this place, a young woman threw herself at his feet; her eyes were bathed in tears; with a trembling hand she held out a petition to the Emperor. Napoleon had her kindly raised, and asked the object of her petition. "Sire," said the poor woman, sobbing, "I am the mother of three children whose father is one of Your Majesty's conscripts; the children and their mother are in distress." "Monsieur," said His Majesty to a member of his suite, "take the name of this man; I will make him an officer." The young woman tried to express her gratitude, but emotion and the tears she was shedding prevented her uttering a single word. The Emperor went on with his examination.

Another benevolent action had signalized his departure from Ostend. On leaving that city he followed the Estrau. Not wishing to make the tour by the locks, he jumped into a fishing-boat to cross the Swine, along with his grand equerry, the Duc de Vicenza, Count Lobau, one of his aides-de-camp, and two chasseurs of the guard. Two poor fishermen sailed the barque, which, with all its rigging, was worth five hundred florins. It was all they had. The passage lasted half an hour. His Majesty arrived at Fort Orange, in the island of Cadsan, where he expected the prefect and his suite. The Emperor was wet and had suffered from cold. A great fire was lighted, at which he was very glad to warm himself. The two fishermen were then asked what they would take for the passage, and they replied: "One florin for each passenger." Napoleon ordered them to be brought to him. He had a hundred napoleons counted out to them, and assigned them a life pension of three hundred francs. It would be difficult to imagine the joy of these poor fellows, who were far enough from suspecting what passenger they had taken aboard their barque. When they knew it, the whole country knew it, and it gained Napoleon not a few hearts. Already the Empress Marie-Louise was receiving on his account, at the theatre and in the streets of Brussels, the most animated and sincere applause.

Two months before the arrival of Their Majesties, the people all over Holland had begun to get ready to receive him worthily. There was no little village on the route selected by the Emperor that did not show itself eager to merit his good word by the proportionate magnificence of the welcome His Majesty received there. Nearly the whole court of France made this journey. Great dignitaries, ladies of honor, superior officers, aides-de-camp, chamberlains, equerries, ladies of the bedchamber, quartermasters, kitchen attendants, — none were lacking. Napoleon had wished to dazzle the honest Dutchmen by the magnificence of his court. And, in fact, it was not without its effect upon this population whom his good manners, his affability, and the recital of the benefits with which he strewed his pathway had already won, in spite of some scowling faces which murmured, pipe in mouth, against the trammels laid on commerce by the continental system.

The city of Amsterdam, where the Emperor had intended to remain for some time, suddenly found itself in a state of singular embarrassment. This city had a very extensive palace, but there was neither a coach-house nor a stable connected with it. Now for Napoleon's suite this was a matter of prime necessity. The stables of King Louis, apart from their insufficiency, were in a quarter too remote from the palace for any one to dream of putting up there even a section of the Emperor's carriages. There was great perplexity in the city, and people put themselves to much trouble to shelter the Emperor's horses. To improvise stables in a few days, at a minute's notice, was impossible. To put up sheds in the middle of the courtyards was ridiculous. Happily, a means of extricating everybody from embarrassment was found by one of the quartermasters of the palace, M. Emery, a very intelligent man, who had learned from Napoleon and from circumstances never to recoil before difficulties. To the great astonishment of the worthy Dutchmen, he hit upon the plan of converting their flower market into coach-houses and stables, and establishing there, under immense tents, the equipages of the Emperor.

I have read in the Mémoires Contemporains an anecdote to which it is my duty to give a formal contradiction; here it is:

"The controller of the service, who preceded Their Majesties, received from the Mayor of Breda a refusal to place at his disposal all that might be necessary in order to carry out his orders. The Mayor, who was entirely devoted to the English party, and somewhat suspicious of the visit of his new sovereign, would do absolutely nothing toward the reception of Napoleon, and the controller was about to draw up an official report of his disobligingness, when the notables of the city prevailed on their first magistrate to display a courtesy which policy imperiously required. It came about, therefore, that next day the Mayor, arrayed in his regalia, was charged with complimenting the Emperor on his arrival. Napoleon was on horseback, and the Mayor, dissembling his national ill-humor, delivered his municipal harangue with great pomposity, presenting him at the same time with the keys of the city. But the Emperor, who was aware of the political opinions of the Mayor of Breda, said to him very cavalierly, kicking the bottom of the plate containing the keys, which fell to the ground: 'Withdraw! Keep your keys to open the doors for your dear friends the English; for my part, I do not need them to enter your city, where I am master.' "

This anecdote is wholly false; the Emperor, brusque at times, never failed in dignity in a manner so strange, and, I may add, so ridiculous. This may appear an amusing invention to the author of those Mémoires, but I must avow that to me it seems as lacking in verisimilitude as in wit.

The Emperor finally rejoined his august spouse at Brussels. His presence there excited universal enthusiasm. By his advice, as delicate as it was politic, Marie-Louise spent one hundred and fifty thousand francs there in laces, in order to revive manufactures. The bringing of English goods into France was at this time strictly prohibited, and whenever they were seized they were burned without mercy. Of the whole system of offensive policy devised by Napoleon against the maritime tyranny of England, there was nothing he had more at heart than the rigorous observance of the decrees of prohibition. Belgium contained at this time a great quantity of English merchandise, which was carefully concealed, and which everybody was naturally very anxious to obtain, as is always the case with forbidden fruit. All the ladies in the suite of the Empress provided themselves with ample stores, and several carriages were laden with it, not without fear lest it might come to Napoleon's ears and the goods be seized on reaching France. The army carriages of the Emperor crossed the Rhine full of this precious baggage, and reached the gates of Coblentz at the same time. The custom-house officials were in a state of painful uncertainty: ought they to stop the carriages and examine them? ought they not to pass without examination a convoy which seemed to belong to the Emperor? After mature deliberation the majority adopted the latter opinion, and the vehicles freely crossed this first line of French custom houses and brought to a secure haven, Paris to wit, the cargo of prohibited merchandise. If the carriages had been stopped, it is probable that Napoleon would have applauded heartily the courage of the custom-house officers, and that he would have pitilessly burned the confiscated objects.

On the subject of these confiscated goods, I find in the Mémoires Contemporains another anecdote which, like the first one, seems to me a pure invention. It concerns me much to criticise this pretended anecdote, in which I am made to play a part unworthy of my character, and consequently to incur a disgrace which I never did incur. Although it costs me something to entertain the public with matters which concern me only, nevertheless truth demands that I should wholly deny assertions which would pervert the judgment of the reader, and not solely in what relates to Napoleon, whose character in these strange Mémoires is gratuitously altered in a thousand ways.

"Marie-Louise," it is there said, "without the Emperor's knowledge, sought to obtain English goods for her own toilets and to this end a lady of the bedchamber employed the cunningest and most crafty of the sons of Jacob, who made her pay a hundred times the value of all she bought, in order to indemnify themselves against the risks they ran in openly infringing the regulations under Napoleon's very eyes.

"Constant, the first valet de chambre of the Emperor, although he well knew that his master abhorred everything which came from England, was nevertheless so indiscreet as to purchase objects manufactured there; the Emperor was informed of it, and instantly ordered the grand chamberlain and grand marshal to send this smuggler back to France, and turn him out of his employment. Constant, who knew that Marie-Louise had also dabbled in smuggling, appealed to her kindliness to obtain his pardon from Napoleon. In granting it, but not without difficulty, he protested that in future he
would hang from the foremast of the first vessel in the roadstead anyone who should infringe his orders."

The whole of this is absolutely false from beginning to end. Is it reasonable to suppose that Marie-Louise should try to obtain English goods secretly, when she knew what a horror the Emperor had of them? Aside from the fact that the young Empress was not the sort of woman to displease her husband in that way, it would have been very difficult to deceive the Emperor, even if such a notion had occurred to Marie-Louise; for he was marvellously quick at distinguishing the places whence the different stuffs which composed her toilet came, and sometimes even presided at the choice she made among them. At that time it was not a little curious to see this man, so powerful and preoccupied with such vast ideas, descending from his lofty sphere even to the details of a chambermaid's business. It was because Bonaparte knew how to be both a great man and a man. Simplicity was as easy to him as grandeur. I never saw him awkward in anything whatever.

As to the paragraph which relates to me, I can only qualify it as a lie. I never smuggled: such a thing was not in my character or my tastes. To abuse my position near the Emperor in order to abandon myself to shameful speculations of that sort, would have been at once absurd and dangerous. Honored with an august good-will, it was more unbefitting for me to disobey my master than for any other, and it was, on the contrary, my principle to be the first to subject myself to the restrictions imposed on all, and the more readily if these restriations had been sacrifices. Hence I cannot do otherwise than formally contradict this passage of the Mémoires Contemporains, where the author seems to me to have given himself full swing with all the more complacency because, this anecdote being his own invention, he could indulge freely in developments, very pretty doubtless, but lacking in truth.

The author of these Mémoires, not satisfied with having invented a lying anecdote concerning me, and passing me off as a smuggler, has added an insulting note at the bottom of the page, in which he reproaches me with my conduct at Fontainebleau in 1814. He says in this note that after receiving a gratuity of fifty thousand francs from the Emperor to accompany him to the island of Elba, I shamefully abandoned him, while others, without any interested motive, made it a duty to share the fate of the fallen sovereign. In that part of my Memoirs I shall give copious details of what took place: the public will judge. It is not I who will recoil before the truth. Let it suffice me at present to protest loudly against the accusation of ingratitude; it is the only answer I shall make to the author of those Mémoires. I return to my narrative.

Their Majesties arrived at Utrecht October 6. All the houses on the quays and streets were decked with ribbons and garlands. It was raining in torrents. That did not prevent the authorities from being on foot from early morning, nor the people from thronging the streets. In spite of the bad weather, Napoleon had scarcely left the carriage when he mounted a horse and went to review several regiments which were at the gates of Utrecht. He was accompanied by a numerous staff and a rather large crowd of sight-seers, drenched to the bones for the most part. After the review Napoleon returned to the palace, where the entire deputation was awaiting him in an immense unfurnished hall, which had been erected by King Louis. Without changing his clothes, he gave audience to all who were eager to congratulate him, and listened with kindly patience to the harangues addressed to him.

Here again, the author of the Mémoires Contemporains has found means to attribute a stupid and gross impropriety to Napoleon. "Napoleon," he says, "returned to his apartments, and feeling fatigued by his ride, went to bed, although he was expected in the dining-hall, where important personages were assembled. He sent the Empress word to go to table without him, with the invited guests. Marie-Louise came to him and urged the embarrassment she would feel amidst so many unknown persons. Napoleon insisted, and the Empress was obliged to dine without the Emperor. They sat down at table, and Heaven knows whether the dinner was gloomy. The Empress could not hide her ill-humor, and the guests seemed to be scandalized by the Emperor's conduct. They were much more so when Napoleon appeared, after his siesta, in a simple morning coat and slippers." Then follow some very philosophic reflections and a citation of two lines, which I spare the reader. Like the former ones, the whole of this story is embellished with details; it is unfortunate that it should be so in vain, for the anecdote is as unlikely as ridiculous. At no time would the Emperor have permitted himself so gross a violation of the proprieties. In no country would he have so gratuitously embittered the superior classes by displaying an unbecoming disdain for high functionaries invited to his table by his chamberlain in his name. He had not merely too much tact, but also too much intelligence to forget himself in such a way. But above all in Holland, in a country which had just passed under his domination, and where he counted only subjects of a day; in Holland, where he had more need than anywhere else of that affability which attaches conquered peoples to their conqueror; in Holland, where he had spared nothing, made himself cheap, almost coquetted, in order to neutralize, by winning hearts, the distressing but inevitable effects of his commercial measures; is it credible that he would have permitted himself so unseasonable a discourtesy, that he would voluntarily have given rise to all the unfavorable interpretations which would infallibly have resulted from this strange conduct? Is it credible that he would have insulted, in the person of its high functionaries, a good but susceptible people, and one all the more sensitive to the insult because it knew that certain dandies of the French court laughed at its simplicity?

On the heels of this anecdote, we read that which follows: "Wherever Napoleon might be, the valet de chambre on duty was careful to see that a bath was ready for him at all hours, and for that purpose there was a furnace boy whose only business was to keep the water continually at the temperature known to suit the Emperor.

"At Utrecht, Napoleon occupied on the ground-floor the sleeping-room of his brother Louis, which adjoined the bath-room. The evening of his arrival, when the Emperor had gone to bed, the furnace boy, although worn out by fatigue, and drenched like most of the other servants, prepared the bath and then lay down in a cabinet next to that containing the bath-tub. During the night, he wanted to go out, but he did not know the localities; half-asleep, he caught a glimpse of a small door, turned the handle gently, entered, and there he was, groping about for another exit. He fell against a chair; at the noise he made a loud voice, which he recognized well as belonging to the Emperor, called out: 'Who is there?' His mistake confused the fellow, made him lose his head, and paralyzed his tongue. In the darkness he touched alla disarranged other pieces of furniture in the vain effort to find the door by which he entered. The Emperor repeated his question in a louder tone, and supposing that some one was trying to surprise him in his bed, he slipped out of it, seized a big silver watch that always hung at the head of his bedstead, and succeeded in taking by the collar the unlucky furnace boy, who was more dead than alive, and whom Napoleon, startled out of his first sleep, suspected of an attempt on his life, to say the least. He called, he shouted, he swore; at the noise he made, the valet de chambre on duty ran up with a light, and found the Emperor of the French almost at fisticuffs with a poor devil who, vigorously choked, yet without daring to defend himself, was trying to wriggle out of his adversary's hands. To the valet de chambre succeeded the chamberlain on duty, then the aide-de-camp, the grand marshal, a prefect of the palace, and in an instant the whole court was on foot. Before the truth was known, a thousand conjectures, one still more improbable than another, had been made concerning this event. Some one, it was said, had made an attempt to abduct Napoleon, and tried to kill him, but he had stifled the assassin. The fact is, that if he had had weapons, he would have tried to blow out the brains of the person who had awakened him in that style, and whom he really gave nothing but several blows with that big watch he had taken to defend himself with."

I scruple to gainsay an anecdote in which the laudable desire to be amusing makes itself felt in every phrase. But I am publishing these Memoirs to tell the truth in the slightest matters, and although that may cost the author of the Mémoires Contemporains a couple of pages, I take the liberty of contradicting him by this very simple response: In the first place, Roustan and a valet de chambre invariably slept in the room which led into the apartment of the Emperor, and through which he could be approached; in the second place, there was always a night lamp burning in His Majesty's sleeping chamber.

The entry of Their Majesties into Amsterdam was extremely brilliant. The Empress, in a chariot drawn by magnificent horses, preceded by several hours the Emperor, who was to make his entry on horseback. He presently made his appearance, surrounded by a brilliant staff, who advanced at a slow pace, glittering with embroideries, amidst the cries of astonishment and enthusiasm uttered by the honest Hollanders. Through the simplicity of his own dress there was perceptible a profound satisfaction, and perhaps a just sentiment of pride in beholding the welcome obtained for him by his glory, here as elsewhere, and the universal sympathy which his presence excited in the masses. A tricolored drapery of excellent effect, suspended from posts planted at intervals, decorated the streets through which Their Majesties were to pass, and he who, three years later, was to enter the palace of the Tuileries by night, as a fugitive, after a great deal of trouble in getting the doors opened for him, was still passing under triumphal arches with a glory yet virgin of defeats and a fortune that still was faithful. These comparisons make me sad; but they occur to my mind despite myself, no single year of the Empire having been signalized by more fêtes, more triumphal entries, more popular rejoicings, than the year which preceded the misfortunes of 1812.

A part of the actors of the Théâtre-Français of Paris had followed the court to Holland. Talma played there the roles of Bayard and Arosmane. M. Alissan de Chazet had a timely vaudeville in honor of Their Majesties performed by the French comedians of Amsterdam; I forget the title of it. Here again I must criticise an equally false assertion of the author of the Mémoires Contemporains relative to the pretended liaison between the Emperor and Mademoiselle Bourgoin. I cite the passage: "Mademoiselle Bourgoin, one of the delegates from the court of Thalia to the journey in Holland, Mademoiselle Bourgoin, being rattle-headed, had, so they say, succumbed to the temptation of making some indiscreet revelations, even loudly flattering herself on being able to attract the Emperor to the theatre when she should play. These little boasts, which were not at all those of virtue, came to the ears of the Emperor, who would not appear at the theatre. He charged Talma, for whom he had a great liking, to induce the fair actress to hold her tongue, and to assure her that on the slightest indiscretion she would be sent back to France under a good escort." This does not agree very well with what His Majesty said one day to the Emperor Alexander concerning this actress when they were staying at Erfurt. Those words, which the author of the Mémoires must have remembered, prove that the Emperor had no intentions with regard to her. There is another thing which proves it even better still, and that is the great discretion he always maintained on the chapter of amours.

Throughout the Holland voyage, the Emperor showed himself kindly, affable, receiving every one, and speaking to each in a suitable manner. Never did anybody behold him more amiable or more eager to please. He visited the manufactories, inspected the dockyards, reviewed the troops, made speeches to the sailors, and accepted the balls that were offered him in all the cities through which he passed. In this life of pleasures and seeming distractions he was almost more active than in the serious and unquiet atmosphere of camps. He was gracious and polite to his new subjects, and talked to everybody. But in these excursions, amidst these fêtes, in all this racket of the cities which came to meet him or acted as his escort, under these triumphal arches, erected for him sometimes at the entry of an obscure village, his mind was more serious than ever, and his soul more anxious, for from this time he was dreaming of his expedition to Russia. It may be that there entered into this amenity of manners, this graciousness, these benevolent actions, the better part of which, moreover, was characteristic of him, the design of preparing in advance some ameliorations of the discontent which this expedition must produce; perhaps, by attaching hearts to his person, by putting forth all his means of pleasing, he thought to win his pardon by enthusiasm for a war which, no matter how it resulted, must cost the Empire so much blood, so many tears.

During the sojourn of Their Majesties at Amsterdam, a piano had been placed in the cabinet of the Empress, which was so constructed as to give the effect of a secretary divided in the middle. In this space a small bust of the Emperor of Russia had been set. A few minutes afterward, the Emperor desired to see whether the Empress were well lodged. In examining the apartment, he perceived this bust, and taking it down, he put it under his arm without saying a word. He said afterwards to one of the Empress's ladies that he wished to have the bust removed. He was obeyed, but this created astonishment; for no one as yet believed that there was a misunderstanding between the two emperors.

Some days after his arrival at Amsterdam, the Emperor undertook to make several excursions in the country, accompanied by a not very numerous suite. At Saardam he visited the thatched cabin which for some time sheltered Peter the Great when he came to Holland, under the name of Peter Michaeloff, to study the art of construction. 1  After remaining there a quarter of an hour, the Emperor said, as he came out, to his grand marshal of the palace; "That is the finest monument in Holland." The day before, Her Majesty the Empress had been to visit the village of Broek, of which North Holland is as proud as if it were a marvel. Nearly all the houses in this village are built of wood and but one story high. The boards which garnish their fronts are adorned with different paintings according to the whim of the proprietors. These paintings are very well cared for, and remain in a state of perfect freshness. The window-panes, of very fine glass, allow one to see curtains of figured China silk, painted muslins, and other Indian stuffs. The streets are paved with bricks and very clean; they are washed and scoured regularly, and covered with very fine white sand, with which different figures are imitated, especially flowers. Posts set at the two ends of the village bear inscriptions forbidding vehicles to enter the village, the houses of which resemble from a distance the toys of children. Beasts are cared for by hirelings at a certain distance, and there is even, beyond the village, an inn for strangers, who are not allowed to lodge within its precincts. On the front of some of the houses, I noticed either a parterre, or a certain arrangement of colored sands and shells; sometimes little statues in painted wood, sometimes bushes cut into odd shapes. There is nothing, even to the dishes, and the handles of the brooms, which is not painted in diverse colors and attended to like the rest of the house. The inhabitants carry cleanliness so far as to oblige those who come into their houses to lay aside their shoes and put on the slippers which are at the door and intended for this singular use. This fact reminds one of an anecdote about the Emperor Joseph. This prince presented himself in boots at the door of a house in Broek, and being asked to change them before entering, he said: "I am the Emperor." "If you were the burgomaster of Amsterdam," replied the master of the house, "you could not come in here in boots." The good Emperor put on the slippers.

During the journey in Holland, Their Majesties were informed that the King of Rome had cut his first tooth. The health of the august infant had not suffered from this first labor of dentition.

In one of the small villages of North Holland the notables requested the Emperor's permission to present to him a man aged one hundred and one years. He ordered him to be brought. He was still vigorous and had formerly served in the guards of the Stadtholder. He presented a petition to the Emperor, asking him to exempt from the conscription one of his grandsons, the support of his old age. His Majesty replied through an interpreter that he would not deprive him of his grandson, and Marshal Duroc was charged to leave the poor old man a testimonial of the imperial liberality. In another little village of Friesland, the authorities made this singular address to the Emperor: "Sire! we were afraid to see you with all the court, you are almost alone; we can see you all the better and more at our ease. Long live the Emperor!" The Emperor applauded this loyal felicitation, and thanked the orator in an affecting manner. After this long journey, passed in festivities, reviews, and pomps of every description, the Emperor, meanwhile, though preserving an air of amusement, making profound observations on the moral, commercial, and military situation of Holland, — observations which resulted on his return to Paris, and even while in that country, in wise and useful decrees, — Their Majesties quitted Holland by way of Haarlem, the Hague, and Rotterdam, where they were welcomed, as elsewhere in the country, by fêtes. They crossed the Rhine, visited Cologne-la-Chapelle, and arrived at Saint-Cloud in the early part of November, 1811.