In the early days of our sojourn at Fontainebleau, those by whom we were surrounded were far from believing that the Emperor would presently cease to reign over France. It seemed obvious to everybody that the Austrian Emperor would not consent to the dethronement of his son-in-law, his daughter, and his grandson; but this was a strange mistake. I remarked during those first days that more petitions than usual were addressed to His Majesty; but I do not know whether they received favorable responses, or even whether the Emperor replied to them at all. He often picked up the gazettes, but after glancing at them he would throw them down with evident ill-temper, then take them up again and again reject them, and those who remember what horrible insults were then permitted themselves by writers, several of whom had often lavished praises on him, can readily understand that such transitions were well calculated to excite His Majesty's disgust. The Emperor very often remained alone, and the person he saw most frequently was the Duc de Bassano, the only one of his ministers who was then at Fontainebleau; for the Duc de Vicenza, who was continually charged with missions, was there only casually, as it were, especially while His Majesty still hoped to see his own government succeeded by a regency in favor of his son. In seeking to recall the different expressions whose signs I was constantly observing on the Emperor's countenance, I think I may confidently affirm that he was far more violently affected when finally obliged to renounce the throne for his son than when he relinquished it for himself. When the marshals or the Duc de Vicenza spoke to His Majesty of arrangements concerning his own person, it was easy to see that he only listened to them with extreme repugnance. One day when some one was speaking of the island of Elba, with I forget what yearly income, I heard His Majesty sharply reply: "It is too much, far too much for me. If I am no longer anything more than a soldier, I do not need more than a louis a day."

However, the moment arrived when, pressed on every side, His Majesty resigned himself to signing the act of abdication, pure and simple, which was demanded of him. This memorable act was thus expressed:

"The allied powers having proclaimed that the Emperor Napoleon was the sole obstacle to the reestablishment of peace in Europe, the Emperor Napoleon, faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces, for himself and his heirs, the throne of France and Italy, and that there is no personal sacrifice, even that of life, which he is not ready to make in the interest of France.

"Done at the palace of Fontainebleau, April 11, 1814.

And now I entreat the reader to lend his whole attention to the event I am about to relate; at this moment I become a historian, since I have to retrace the painful souvenir of a fact of capital importance in the grand history of the Emperor, a fact which has been the subject of innumerable controversies, a fact concerning which surmises only were possible, and of which I alone could know all the painful details, - the poisoning of the Emperor at Fontainebleau. I do not need, I hope, to asseverate my veracity; I feel the importance of such a revelation too deeply to permit myself either to retrench or to add the least circumstance to the truth; I will tell the things therefore as they occurred, as I saw them, as the painful recollection of them will be eternally impressed upon my memory.

April 11, I put the Emperor to bed as usual; I think that it was even a little earlier than was customary, for, if I do not mistake, it was not quite half-past ten o'clock. At his couchee I thought he seemed better than during the day, and nearly in the state in which I had seen him on previous evenings. I slept in a chamber of the entresol, just above that of the Emperor, with which it communicated by a small private staircase. For some time I had taken care to go to bed all dressed, so as to reach His Majesty the more promptly when he summoned me. I was sleeping soundly enough when, at midnight, I was awakened by M. Pelard, who was on duty. He said the Emperor was asking for me, and on opening my eyes I saw such an expression of alarm on his countenance that it threw me into consternation. However, I jumped out of bed, and as we were going down stairs Pelard said: "The Emperor has mixed something in a glass and drunk it." I entered His Majesty's chamber in a state of anguish of which it is impossible to form an idea. The Emperor had lain down again, but on approaching the bed, I saw on the floor in front of the chimney-piece the fragments of a sachet of skin and black taffeta, the same that I have mentioned once before. It was, in fact, that which he wore around his neck during the Spanish campaign, and which I had kept for him so carefully in the intervals between those that succeeded it. Ah! if I could have suspected what it contained! At this fatal moment the frightful truth was suddenly revealed to me!

Meanwhile I was at the head of the Emperor's bed. "Constant," said he to me in a voice that was sometimes feeble and sometimes violently shaken, "Constant, I am going to die! . . . I cannot endure the torments I experience, especially the humiliation of seeing myself surrounded presently by agents of the foreigner! They have dragged my eagles in the dirt! . . . They have misunderstood me! . . . My poor Constant, they will regret me when I shall be no more! Marmont gave me the last blow. The unhappy wretch! . . . I loved him! . . . Berthier's desertion has broken my heart! . . . My old friends, my former companions in arms! . . ." The Emperor said several other things to me, which I fear to report in an unfaithful manner, and it may easily be conceived that, a prey as I was to the most violent despair, I was not trying to imprint on my memory the words that escaped at intervals from the Emperor's lips; for he did not talk consecutively, and the complaints I have reported were uttered after moments of repose, or rather of prostration. My eyes were fixed upon the Emperor's face, and through my tears I could see that it was drawn by convulsive movements, the symptoms of a crisis which caused me the greatest alarm; fortunately this crisis brought on a slight vomiting which gave me some hope. The Emperor had not lost his sang-froid in this complication of physical and moral sufferings; he said to me after this first relief: "Constant, have Caulaincourt and Yvan summoned." I half opened the door, so as to communicate this order to M. Pelard without leaving the Emperor's chamber. On returning to his bedside, I begged and entreated him to take a soothing potion; all my efforts were in vain, he rejected all my persuasions, so firm was his will to die, even in the presence of death.

In spite of the obstinate refusals of the Emperor, I was still supplicating him when M. de Caulaincourt and M. Yvan entered his chamber. His Majesty beckoned the Duc de Vicenza to approach his bed, and said to him: "Caulaincourt, I recommend my wife and child to you; serve them as you have served me. I have not long to live! . . ." At this moment the Emperor was interrupted by another fit of vomiting, but still slighter than the first one. Meantime I was trying to tell the Duc de Vicenza that the Emperor had taken poison; he divined rather than understood me, for my voice was so stifled by sobs that I could not pronounce a word distinctly. M. Yvan having drawn near, the Emperor said to him: "Do you think the dose was strong enough?" These words were really enigmatical for M. Yvan, for he had never known the existence of the sachet, at least to my knowledge; hence he responded: "I do not know what Your Majesty means;" a response to which the Emperor made no reply.

All three of us, the Duc de Vicenza, M. Yvan, and I, having united our entreaties to the Emperor, we were fortunate enough, but not without a great deal of trouble, to induce him to take a cup of tea; and even then he refused it after I had made it with all haste, saying: "Let me alone, Constant, let me alone." But on our renewing our entreaties, he finally drank, and the vomitings ceased. Soon after taking this cup of tea the Emperor seemed quieter; he became drowsy; the gentlemen softly withdrew, and I remained alone in his chamber, where I waited for him to awake.

After a slumber of several hours, the Emperor awoke, very much as usual, although his face still bore traces of what he had suffered, and when I assisted him to rise, he did not say a single word which referred, even in the most indirect manner, to the fearful night we had just passed. He breakfasted as usual, only a little later than common; his appearance was perfectly calm, and he even seemed more cheerful than he had done for a long time. Was this a result of his satisfaction at having escaped the death which a moment of discouragement had caused him to desire, or was it not rather because he had acquired the certainty of not dreading it more in his bed than on the field of battle? However that may be, I attribute the fortunate recovery of the Emperor to the fact that the poison contained in the fatal sachet had lost its efficacy.

When everything had returned to its usual order, without any one in the palace but those I have named having had cause to suspect what had occurred, I learned that M. Yvan had quitted Fontainebleau. Distressed by the question addressed him by the Emperor in presence of the Duc de Vicenza, and fearing lest he might be suspected of having furnished His Majesty with the means of attempting his life, this skilful surgeon, so long attached to the person of the Emperor, seems to have lost his head in thinking of the responsibility that might weigh upon him. Hence, after hastily descending from the Emperor's room, as he found a horse all saddled and bridled in one of the courts of the palace, he leaped upon it and made all haste to Paris. It was in the morning of the same day that Roustan quitted Fontainebleau.

April 12, the Emperor also received the last adieux of Marshal Macdonald. When he was introduced, the Emperor was still suffering from the consequences of the night, and I think the Duc de Tarente must have noticed, but possibly without divining the cause, that His Majesty was not in his usual condition. When he came, he was accompanied by the Duc de Vicenza, and at that moment the Emperor was still very despondent, and appeared so absorbed in his reflections that at first he did not see these gentlemen, although he was already up. The Duc de Tarente brought to the Emperor His Majesty's treaty with the allies, and I left his chamber just as he was preparing to sign it. Some minutes later, the Duc de Vicenza came to call me, and the Emperor said: "Constant, go and find the sabre that was given me by Murad Bey in Egypt. Do you know which it is?" "Yes, Sire." I went out, and almost immediately returned with this magnificent sabre, which the Emperor had worn at the battle of Mount Tabor, as I have often heard him say. I gave it to the Duc de Vicenza, from whose hands the Emperor took it and presented it to Marshal Macdonald; and as I was retiring, I heard the Emperor speak to him with deep affection and call him his worthy friend.

If I remember rightly, these gentlemen were present at His Majesty's breakfast, where, as I have said already, he seemed more composed and cheerful than he had been for a long time; we were even much surprised to find the Emperor chatting familiarly and in the most amiable manner with persons to whom of late his words had been brief and occasionally even harsh. However, this cheerfulness did not last long; and, as a rule, the moods of the Emperor varied almost momentarily during the whole duration of our stay at Fontainebleau. In the course of a single day I have seen him plunged for hours into the most frightful sadness; an instant later he would be striding back and forth in his apartment whistling or humming La Monaco; then he would suddenly relapse into a sort of stupor so profound that he saw nothing that was around him and forgot the orders he had given me. Another point on which I cannot lay too much stress, is the inconceivable effect produced on the Emperor by the mere sight of the letters sent him from Paris; as soon as he perceived them his agitation became extreme, I might even say convulsive without dread of being taxed with exaggeration.

In support of what I have said of the strange preoccupation of the Emperor, I may cite a fact which occurs to my memory. During our stay at Fontainebleau, Countess W———,of whom I have already spoken, came there, and having called for me, she told me how greatly she desired to see the Emperor. Thinking that this would be a distraction for His Majesty, I spoke to him about it that very evening, and was ordered to have her come at about ten o'clock. Madame W———, as may be readily believed, was punctual at the rendezvous, and I entered the chamber of the Emperor to announce her arrival. He was lying on his bed, and meditating so profoundly that I had to tell him twice before he answered : "Beg her to wait." She waited therefore in the room adjoining that of His Majesty, and I also waited there to keep her company. Meanwhile the night wore on; the hours seemed long to the fair traveller, and she was so distressed on finding that the Emperor did not send for her that I took pity on her. I re-entered the chamber to apprise him of her visit for the second time. He was not asleep; but he was so profoundly absorbed in his thoughts that he made no reply. At last day began to break, and the Countess, fearing to be seen by the members of her household, retired heartbroken at having been unable to bid adieu to the object of her affections. She had been gone for more than an hour when the Emperor remembered that she was waiting, and asked for her. I told His Majesty what had happened, not concealing the despair of the Countess 1 at the moment of her departure. The Emperor was deeply affected by it: "Poor woman," said he to me, "she felt humiliated Constant, I am truly sorry; if you see her again, be sure and tell her so. But I have so many things there!" he added in a very energetic tone, striking his forehead with his hand.

This visit of a lady to Fontainebleau reminds me of another of nearly the same kind; an account of it will oblige me to go back a little.

When the Emperor had been married for some time to the Archduchess Marie-Louise, although he found in her a young and beautiful woman and really loved her very much, yet he scarcely pretended to a more scrupulous conjugal fidelity than in the days of the Empress Josephine. During one of our sojourns at Saint-Cloud, he entertained a caprice for one Demoiselle L———, whose mother was married for the second time to a chief of squadron. These ladies lived then at Bourg-la-Reine, where they had been discovered by M. de ———, one of the most zealous protectors of pretty women near the Emperor. He had spoken to him of this young person, who was then seventeen. She was a brunette of medium height but very well made, with pretty feet and hands, and so graceful in every way that her appearance was enchanting; moreover, to the most tantalizing coquetry she united every pleasing accomplishment; dancing with much grace, playing on various instruments, and full of wit; in a word, she had received that brilliant education which makes the most delightful mistresses and the worst wives. The Emperor told me one evening, at eight o'clock, to go for her to her mother's house, and return by eleven o'clock at latest. My visit occasioned no surprise, and I saw that these ladies had been notified, doubtless by their obliging patron; for they were awaiting me with an impatience they did not try to hide. The young person's finery was dazzling and so was her beauty, and the mother beamed with joy at the mere idea of the honor intended for her daughter. It was plain that they fancied the Emperor could not fail to be captivated by so many charms, and would be smitten by a grand passion; but that was only a dream, for the Emperor was never amorous but at his ease. We arrived at Saint-Cloud at eleven o'clock, and entered the château through the orangery, fearing to be regarded as indiscreet. However, as I had a pass key to every door in the château, I conducted her unseen to the Emperor's chamber, where she remained for some three hours. At the end of that time I took her back to her home, using the same precautions for our exit from the palace.

This young person, whom the Emperor saw only three or four times at most, also came to Fontainebleau, accompanied by her mother; but having been unable to see His Majesty, they determined, like Countess W———, to make a voyage to the island of Elba, where, I have been told, the Emperor married Mademoiselle L——— to a colonel of artillery.

What has just been read has carried me back, almost involuntarily, toward happier times. We must return, however, to the melancholy sojourn at Fontainebleau; and from what I have said of the state of depression in which the Emperor was living, it is not surprising that he was disinclined to gallantry while under the infliction of such overwhelming blows. I seem to see again the traces of that sombre melancholy which was preying on him; and, amidst such anguish, the goodness of the man, which seemed to increase simultaneously with the tortures of the fallen sovereign. With what amenity he talked to me in those latter days. Frequently he would deign to ask what people said of the final events. With my ordinary and very simple candor, I repeated to him exactly what I had been told, and I remember one day saying what I bad heard said to many other persons, that the continuance of the last wars, which had been so fatal to us, was generally attributed to the Duc de Bassano. "That is a great mistake," he returned. "Poor Maret! They accuse him very wrongfully! . . . He never did anything but execute my orders." Then, as was his habit whenever he had spoken to me for a moment about serious things, he added: "What shame; what humiliation! Was it necessary that I should have a crowd of foreign commissioners in my palace?"