Memoirs of General Count Rapp, First aide-de-camp to Napoleon

CHAPTER I

I do not pretend to be an historical character; but I was long near a man who has been the object of base misrepresentations, and I commanded brave troops whose services have been disowned. The former overwhelmed me with favours; the latter would have laid down their lives for me: these things I cannot forget.

I served in the army for several years; and I was successful in some enterprises, though without gaining distinction, as is usual with those who hold subaltern rank. At length I was fortunate enough to engage the attention of General Desaix. Our advance guard, which had been thrown into disorder, was speedily rallied. I hastened forward with a hundred hussars; we charged the Austrians, and succeeded in putting them to flight. We were almost all covered with wounds; but for these we were amply rewarded by the praises that were bestowed on us. The General made me promise to take all requisite care of myself, and he delivered to me the most flattering attestation that ever a soldier obtained. I mention this circumstance, not because it procured me a pair of epaulettes, but because it obtained for me the friendship of that great man, and was the origin of my fortune. The attestation was as follows:

"I, the undersigned General of Division, commanding the right wing of the above mentioned army, certify that citizen Jean Rapp, lieutenant in the 10th regiment of Horse Chasseurs, has served under my command with the said regiment during the two last campaigns; that on all occasions he has given proofs of singular intelligence, presence of mind and courage; that he has been wounded three different times; and that, on the 9th Prairial of the year II, at the head of a company of chasseurs, he attacked a column of the enemy's hussars, whose number was five times greater than his own force, with such devoted intrepidity, that he cut them to pieces, covering the retreat of a portion of our troops, and bearing away the honour of the victory. It cannot be too deeply regretted that he has been the victim of his valour, and has been dangerously wounded in such a way as to be deprived of the use of his arm. He is a worthy object of national gratitude, and well deserves to be appointed to some honorable post, should he be rendered incapable of more active service. I attest that citizen Rapp bears with him the friendship and esteem of all who know him.

Having become the aide-de-camp of the modest conqueror of Offenburgh, I fought under him in the campaigns of Germany and Egypt. I was made the chief of a squadron at Sediman; where I had the happiness, at the head of two hundred brave troops, to carry off the last remnant of the Turkish artillery, and I was promoted to the rank of Colonel, at Samanhout, near the ruins of Thebes. I was severely wounded in this last affair; but I was honorably mentioned in the dispatches of the General-in-chief.

On the death of the brave Desaix, who was killed at Marengo, at the moment when he had decided the victory, the First Consul deigned to appoint me to a post about his own person. The favour which he would have conferred on the conqueror of Upper Egypt was extended to me. From that time I was in some manner permanently established, and my connexions became more extended.

Zeal, frankness, and some degree of military talent, procured for me the confidence of Napoleon. He frequently remarked to those about him, that few possessed a greater share of natural good sense and discernment than Rapp. These praises were repeated to me, and I must confess I was flattered by them: if this be weakness, I may be excused; every one has some foible. I would have sacrificed my life to prove my gratitude to the First Consul. He knew this; and he often repeated to my friends that I was a grumbler—that I had a poor head but a good heart. He treated both me and Lannes familiarly, using the pronoun thou when he spoke to us; if he addressed us by you or Monsieur le General, we became alarmed, we were sure that we were out of favour. He had the weakness to attach importance to a gossiping police system which for the most part deceived him by false reports. That odious system of police embittered the happiness of his life; it frequently incensed him against his best friends, his relations, and even his wife.

Napoleon attached but little importance to mere courage, which he regarded as an ordinary kind of merit, common to all Frenchmen: he set a higher value on intrepidity; and he was willing to pardon every fault in an intrepid soldier. When any one solicited a favour, either at an audience or a review, he never failed to enquire whether he had been wounded. He declared that every wound was a quarter of nobility. He honoured and rewarded the individuals who were thus distinguished, and he had good reasons for so doing. However, he soon perceived that they did not attend the antechambers, and he opened them to the old nobility. This preference offended us; he remarked this, and was displeased at our taking offence. "I see plainly," said he to me one day, "that these nobles whom I have placed in my household are disagreeable to you." I, however, very well deserved the privilege. I had erased several gentlemen from the list of emigrants; I had procured places for some, and had given money and pensions to others. Some have remembered these favours, but the majority have forgotten them; and consequently my purse has been closed since the return of the King. Though my object was to relieve misfortune, and not to obtain gratitude, yet I did not choose that the emigrants should interpose between us and the great man whom we had raised on the shield.

I had forgotten this disagreeable scene; but Napoleon did not forget any offensive observations that might escape him. In vain he sought to assume the mask of severity; his natural disposition subdued his efforts, and kind feelings always gained the ascendancy. He called me to him: he spoke to me of the nobles and the emigrants; and suddenly recurring to the scene above alluded to, he said: "You think, then, that I have a predilection for these people; but you are mistaken. I employ them, and you know why. Am I connected with nobility? I, who was a poor Corsican gentleman?"—"Neither I nor the army," I replied, "have ever inquired into your origin. Your actions are sufficient for us." I related this conversation to several of my friends, among others to Generals Mouton and Lauriston.

Most of these same nobles, however, allege that they had yielded only to compulsion. Nothing can be more false. I know of only two who received Chamberlain's appointments unsolicited. Some few declined advantageous offers; but with these exceptions, all solicited, entreated, and importuned. There was a competition of zeal and devotedness altogether unexampled. The meanest employment, the humblest offices, nothing was rejected; it seemed to be an affair of life and death. Should a treacherous hand ever find its way into the portfolios of M.M. Talleyrand, Montesquiou, Segur, Duroc, &c., what ardent expressions may be found to enrich the language of attachment. But the individuals who held this language now vie with each other in giving vent to hatred and invective. If they really felt for Napoleon the profound hatred which they now evince, it must be confessed that, in crouching at his feet for fifteen years, they did strange violence to their feelings. And yet all Europe can bear witness, that from their unrestrained manner, their never-varying smile, and their supple marks of obedience, their services seemed to be of their own free choice, and to cost them but little sacrifice.

CHAPTER II

Many persons have described Napoleon as a violent, harsh, and passionate man; this is because they have not known him. Absorbed as he was in important business, opposed in his views, and impeded in his plans, it was certainly natural that he should sometimes evince impatience and inequality of temper. His natural kindness and generosity soon subdued his irritation; but it must be observed that, far from seeking to appease him, his confidents never failed to excite his anger. "Your Majesty is right," they would say, "such a one deserves to be shot or broken, dismissed or disgraced: I have long known him to be your enemy. An example must be made; it is necessary for the maintenance of tranquillity."

If the matter in question had been to levy contributions on the enemy's territory, Napoleon, perhaps, would demand twenty millions; but he would be advised to exact ten millions more. He would be told by those about him, "it is necessary that your Majesty should spare your treasury, that you should maintain your troops at the expense of foreign countries, or leave them to subsist on the territory of the confederation."

If he entertained the idea of levying 200,000 conscripts, he was persuaded to demand 300,000. If he proposed to pay a creditor whose right was unquestionable, doubts were started respecting the legality of the debt. The amount claimed was perhaps reduced to one half, or one third; and it not unfrequently happened that the debt was denied altogether.

If he spoke of commencing war, the bold resolution was applauded. It was said war enriched France; that it was necessary to astonish the world, and to astonish it in a way worthy of the great nation.

Thus, by being excited and urged to enter upon uncertain plans and enterprises, Napoleon was plunged into continual war. Thus it was, that his reign was impressed with an air of violence contrary to his own character and habits, which were perfectly gentle.

Never was there a man more inclined to indulgence, or more ready to listen to the voice of humanity: of this I could mention a thousand examples; but I confine myself to the following.

Georges and his accomplices had been condemned. Josephine interceded for M.M. Polignac, and Murat for M. de Rivière, and both succeeded in their mediation. On the day of execution, the banker Scherer hastened to Saint-Cloud, bathed in tears, and asked to speak with me. He begged of me to solicit the pardon of his brother-in-law, M. de Russillon, an old Swiss Major, who had been implicated in the affair. He was accompanied by some of his countrymen, all relatives of the prisoner. They observed that they were conscious the Major merited his sentence; but that he was the father of a family, and that he was allied to the most distinguished houses in the Canton of Bern. I yielded to their entreaties, and I had no reason to regret having done so.

It was seven in the morning. Napoleon was up and in his closet with Corvisart, when I was announced. "Sire," said I, "it is not long since your Majesty settled the government of Switzerland by your mediation. But you know that the people are not all equally satisfied; the inhabitants of Bern in particular. You have now an opportunity of proving to them your magnanimity and generosity. One of their countrymen is to be executed this day. He is connected with the best families in the country; if you grant his pardon it will certainly produce a great sensation, and procure you many friends."—"Who is this man? What is his name?" inquired Napoleon.—"Russillon," I replied. On hearing this name, he became angry.—"Russillon," said he, "is more guilty than Georges himself."—"I am fully aware of all that your Majesty now does me the honour to tell me; but the people of Switzerland, his family, his children, will bless you. Pardon him, not on his own account, but for the sake of the many brave men who have suffered for his folly."—"Hark ye," said he, turning to Corvisart, while he took the petition from my hand, approved it, and hastily returned it to me; "immediately despatch a courier to suspend the execution." The joy of the family may be easily guessed: to me they testified their gratitude through the medium of the public papers. Russillon was imprisoned along with his accomplices; but he afterwards obtained his liberty. Since the return of the King, he has several times visited Paris, though I have not seen him. He thinks that I attached but little importance to the act of service I rendered him; and he is right.

CHAPTER III

No man possessed greater sensibility, or evinced more constancy in his affections than Napoleon. He tenderly loved his mother, he adored his wife, and he was fondly attached to his sisters, brothers, and other relatives. All, with the exception of his mother, caused him the bitterest vexation; yet he never ceased to overwhelm them with riches and honours. Of all his relations, his brother Lucien proved himself the most determined opposer of his views and plans. One day, while they were disputing warmly on a subject which has now escaped my recollection, Lucien drew out his watch, and dashing it violently on the ground, he addressed to his brother these remarkable words: "You will destroy yourself, as I have destroyed that watch; and the time will come when your family and friends will not know where to shelter their heads." He married a few days after, without obtaining his brother's consent, or even signifying his intention to him. This, however, did not prevent Napoleon from receiving him in 1815; though it was not without being urged to do so: Lucien was obliged to wait at the out-posts; but he was speedily admitted to the Emperor's presence.

Napoleon did not confine his generosity to his relatives; friendship, services, all met their due reward. On this I can speak from experience. I returned from Egypt, in the rank of aide-de-camp to the brave General Desaix, and with two hundred louis which I had saved, and which constituted my whole fortune. At the time of the abdication, I possessed an income of 400,000 francs, arising out of endowments, appointments, emoluments, extraordinary allowances, &c. I have lost five sixths of this income; but I do not regret it: that which I still possess forms a vast contrast to my early fortune. But what I regret is the glory acquired at the price of so much blood and exertion: it is for ever lost, and for that I am inconsolable.

I was not the only one who shared the bounty of Napoleon; a thousand others were in like manner overwhelmed with favours; and the injury which he suffered, through the misconduct of some, proved no bar to the exercise of his kindness. Whatever might be the depth of these injuries, they were forgotten as soon as he was convinced that the heart had no share in producing them. I could cite a hundred instances of his indulgence in this respect; but the following will suffice.

When he took the title of Emperor, the changes that were made in his household, which had been hitherto exclusively military, gave umbrage to several of us. We had been accustomed to enjoy the intimacy of the great man, and we felt displeased at the reserve imposed upon us by the imperial purple.

Generals Regnier and Damas were at that time in disgrace: I was intimate with both, and I was not in the habit of abandoning my friends in misfortune. I had exerted every effort to remove Napoleon's prejudices against these two general officers; but without success. I one day resumed my intercession in favour of Regnier; and Napoleon becoming impatient and out of humour, told me, dryly, that he wished to hear no more about him. I wrote to inform the brave General, that all my endeavours had proved unavailing: I entreated him to have patience; and added a few phrases dictated by the disappointment of the moment. I was so imprudent as to entrust my letter to the conveyance of the post; and the consequence was, that it was opened and sent to the Emperor. He read it over three or four times, ordered some of my writing to be brought to him for the purpose of comparing it, and could scarcely persuade himself that I had written it. He flew into a violent rage, and despatched a courier from Saint Cloud to the Tuileries, where I was lodged. I thought I was summoned for a mission, and set out immediately. I found Caulincourt in the saloon of the household with Cafarelli, and I asked him what was the news. He had heard the whole affair; he seemed much vexed by it: but he said not a word about it to me. I entered the apartments of Napoleon, who came out of his closet, with the letter in his hand, in a furious rage. He darted upon me those angry glances, which so often excited dismay. "Do you know this writing?" said he.—"Yes, Sire,"—"It is yours?"—"Yes, Sire."—"You are the last person I should have suspected of this. Is it possible that you can hold such language to my enemies? You, whom I have treated so well! You, for whom I have done so much! You, the only one of all my aides-de-camp, whom I lodged in the Tuileries!"—The door of his closet was ajar: he observed this, and he threw it wide open, in order that M. Menneval, one of the secretaries, might hear what passed. "Begone," said he, scanning me from head to foot, "begone; you are an ungrateful man!"—"Sire," I replied, "my heart was never guilty of ingratitude."—"Read this letter," said he, presenting it to me, "and judge whether I accuse you wrongfully."—"Sire, of all the reproaches that you can heap upon me, this is the most severe. Having lost your confidence, I can no longer serve you."—"Yes, you have indeed forfeited my confidence." I bowed respectfully, and withdrew.

I resolved to retire to Alsace, and I was making preparations for my departure, when Josephine sent to desire me to return and make my best apologies to Napoleon. Louis, however, gave me contrary advice, and I was not much inclined to obey the directions of the Empress, as my resolution was formed. Two days elapsed, and I heard no news from Saint Cloud. Some friends, among whom was Marshal Bessières, called on me. "You are in the wrong," said the Marshal, "you cannot but acknowledge it. The respect and gratitude you owe to the Emperor render it a duty to confess your fault." I yielded to these suggestions. No sooner had Napoleon received my letter, than he desired me to attend him in one of his rides on horseback. He was out of humour with me for some time; but one day he sent for me very early at Saint Cloud. "I am no longer angry with you," said he, with exceeding kindness of manner; "you were guilty of a great piece of folly; but it is all over—I have forgotten it. It is my wish that you should marry." He mentioned two young ladies, either of whom, he said, would suit me. My marriage was brought about; but unfortunately it did not prove a happy one.

Bernadotte was in the deepest disgrace, and he deserved it. I met him at Plombières, whither he had been permitted to go, accompanied by his wife and son, for the benefit of the waters; and I had visited the place for the same purpose. I had always admired Bernadotte's kind and amiable disposition. I saw him frequently at Plombières. He communicated to me the circumstance that most distressed him, and begged that I would use my influence to bring about his reconciliation with the Emperor, whom he said he had never ceased to admire, and who had been prepossessed against him by calumnious reports. On my return I learned that his friends, his brother-in-law, and Madame Julie herself, had uselessly interceded in his behalf. Napoleon would hear nothing they had to say; and his irritation against Bernadotte continually increased. But I had promised to do what I could for him; and I was bound to keep my word. The Emperor was preparing to set out for Villiers, where Murat was to give a fête: he was in high good-humour, and I determined to avail myself of this favourable circumstance. I communicated my design to Marshal Bessières, who, with myself, was to attend the Emperor: he tried to dissuade me from my intention. He informed me that Madame Julie had that very morning been at Malmaison, and that she had departed in tears for the ill success of her suit. This circumstance was not calculated to inspire me with confidence; but I nevertheless ventured on my mediation. I informed Napoleon that I had seen Bernadotte at Plombières, that he was dejected and deeply mortified by his disgrace. "He protests," added I, "that he has never failed in his love and devotion for your Majesty."—"Do not speak of him; he deserves to be shot," said Napoleon; and he set off at full gallop. At Murat's fête, I met Joseph and his wife; and I told them how unlucky I had been. The affair came to the knowledge of Bernadotte, who thanked me for my good intentions. Notwithstanding his numerous misunderstandings with Bernadotte, Napoleon subsequently forgave all his past offences, and loaded him with wealth and honours. The Prince Royal is now about to ascend the throne, while the author of his fortune is exiled to a rock in the midst of the ocean.

CHAPTER IV

It has been affirmed that Napoleon was not brave. A man who, from the rank of lieutenant of artillery, rose to be the ruler of a nation like France, could not surely be deficient in courage. Of this his conduct on the 18th Brumaire, on the 5th Nivose, and during the plot of Arena, are sufficient proofs, if proofs were wanting. He was well aware how numerous were his enemies among the jacobins and the chouans; yet every evening he walked out in the streets of Paris, and mingled with the different groups, never accompanied by more than two individuals. Lannes, Duroc, Bessières, or some of his aides-de-camp usually attended him in these nocturnal excursions. This fact was well known throughout Paris.

The affair of the infernal machine has never been properly understood by the public. The police had intimated to Napoleon that an attempt would be made against his life, and cautioned him not to go out. Madame Bonaparte, Mademoiselle Beauharnais, Madame Murat, Lannes, Bessières, the aide-de-camp on duty, and lieutenant Lebrun, now duke of Placenza, were all assembled in the saloon, while the First Consul was writing in his closet. Haydn's Oratorio was to be performed that evening: the ladies were anxious to hear the music, and we also expressed a wish to that effect. The escort picquet was ordered out; and Lannes requested that Napoleon would join the party. He consented; his carriage was ready, and he took along with him Bessières and the aide-de-camp on duty. I was directed to attend the ladies. Josephine had received a magnificent shawl from Constantinople, and she that evening wore it for the first time. "Allow me to observe, Madame," said I, "that your shawl is not thrown on with your usual elegance." She good humouredly begged that I would fold it after the fashion of the Egyptian ladies. While I was engaged in this operation, we heard Napoleon depart. "Come, sister," said Madame Murat, who was impatient to get to the theatre; "Bonaparte is going." We stepped into the carriage: the First Consul's equipage had already reached the middle of the Place Carrousel. We drove after it; but we had scarcely entered the Place when the machine exploded. Napoleon escaped by a singular chance. Saint-Regent, or his French servant, had stationed himself in the middle of the Rue Nicaise. A grenadier of the escort, supposing he was really what he appeared to be, a water-carrier, gave him a few blows with the flat of his sabre, and drove him off. The cart was turned round, and the machine exploded between the carriages of Napoleon and Josephine. The ladies shrieked on hearing the report; the carriage windows were broken, and Mademoiselle Beauharnais received a slight hurt on her hand. I alighted, and crossed the Rue Nicaise, which was strewed with the bodies of those who had been thrown down, and the fragments of the walls that had been shattered by the explosion. Neither the Consul nor any individual of his suite sustained any serious injury. When I entered the theatre Napoleon was seated in his box, calm and composed, and looking at the audience through his opera-glass. Fouché was beside him. "Josephine," said he, as soon as he observed me. She entered at that moment, and he did not finish his question. "The rascals," said he, very coolly, "wanted to blow me up. Bring me a book of the Oratorio."

The audience soon learned the danger he had escaped, and they saluted him with testimonies of the deepest interest. These, I think, are unequivocal proofs of courage. The men who have followed him on the field of battle, cannot be at a loss to quote many more.