Napoleon: A Life

Napoleon was aware that his companions were making notes and recording events for posterity, and he made sure they did not lack material. He reminisced about his childhood, his family, his love for Corsica, his time as a cadet and his later military and political exploits. He expounded his views on everything from religion to music, from women to war, reflected on what he had done and why, and discoursed on what he would have done if he had not been prevented. His monologues contain a deal of self-justification and blame of those who had supposedly failed or betrayed him, of circumstances and of ‘fate’. He returned time and again to subjects such as his Russian campaign, blaming treachery and bad luck. He denigrated most of his marshals and dismissed the women he had loved with coarse comments on their attractions and desires. Unpleasant as much of it is, to anyone who does not know better the overall image that emerges from the material noted down by his four ‘evangelists’ is that of a man who meant well, tried to achieve the impossible, and was being horribly punished, indeed martyred, for it. Waterloo is reinvented as a kind of expiatory moral victory. And St Helena was the ideal Golgotha.

They nevertheless constituted a court around Napoleon, observing imperial etiquette and routine. Unless he was receiving a formal visit, during the day he usually wore his green hunting coat or a ‘colonial’ costume of white linen coat and trousers. In the evenings the company assembled for dinner in full uniform, the ladies in court dresses and bejewelled, and after dinner they played cards, conversed, or listened as Napoleon read from a book. He revisited his old favourites—Paul et Virginie, Racine, and Corneille—discussed other works, and went over his life in endless monologues on what he should have done or not done, passing severe judgement on people, making unpleasant comments about the women in his life, blaming others and particularly bad luck, treachery, or ‘fate’ for his failures. The house was furnished with whatever had come to hand, but shards of splendour were on display—imperial silver, a magnificent Sèvres coffee set depicting the salient events of his life, a few portraits and miniatures.

The matter was resolved when on 9 April a Russian officer sent by Francis arrived at Blois and took her off to Orléans, where she was robbed first by roving cossacks and then by a government official who tried to tear from her throat the diamond necklace she was wearing. Dr Corvisart, who examined her, wrote a report that she was suffering from breathing difficulties, rashes on her face, and fever and prescribed the waters of Aix. On 12 April she was taken to Rambouillet, where on 14 April she met Metternich and a couple of days later her father. ‘It is impossible for me to be happy without you,’ she wrote to Napoleon, but she appeared to be little concerned at his fate, according to Anatole de Montesquiou, whom he had sent to her. Whatever her feelings, she was easily persuaded to follow her father’s wishes (which, unbeknown to her, were that she and her son should never see Napoleon again).

On 13 March Napoleon routed an isolated Russian corps at Reims. He then went after Schwarzenberg and caught up with him at Arcis-sur-Aube, but when the Austrian turned about and brought his 90,000 men to bear against Napoleon’s 20,000 the following day, Napoleon had to withdraw. He saved the day when retreating French cavalry had threatened to cause panic in the ranks; when a shell landed in front of them and they drew back, he rode forward and stopped his horse over it, and although the horse was killed he escaped unscathed. Some believed he may have been seeking death; there were other moments in this campaign when he led from the front, sword in hand, apparently courting a glorious end.