MADAME MARSHAL LEFEVRE.
18th.—The Emperor continued indisposed. On his return from a drive in the calash, he took a bath, and sent for me. He shewed a cheerfulness of manner; and we conversed till half-past eight o’clock.[o’clock.] He ordered dinner in his own study; and he desired me to stay and dine with him. The place, the tête-a-tête, the elegance of the dinner service, and the neatness with which the table was laid out, gave me, I said, an idea of comfort; the Emperor smiled at my observation. He asked me many questions relative to London, my emigration, the French Princes, and the Bishop of Arras. He himself recurred to the principal events of his Consulship, and gave me some curious details and anecdotes on these subjects. We then began to talk about the old and new courts of France, &c. Many of the observations that were made would, if stated here, only be repetitions, for I believe I have mentioned them before. Other remarks that fell from the Emperor, and which are merely hinted at in my manuscript, must remain for ever lost.
I will transcribe only the following particulars as new. I was entertaining the Emperor with the anecdotes and ridiculous stories, that were related gratuitously, no doubt, of Madame Lefèvre, who long enjoyed the privilege of furnishing the drawing-rooms of Paris, and even the drawing-room of the Tuileries, with a subject for quizzing. “I joined in the ridicule,” said I, "like every body else, until one day I renounced it for ever, on hearing an anecdote which proved her nobleness of sentiment and goodness of heart.
"Madame Lefèvre, whose husband was once a private in the guards, and who consequently filled a humble station in life, seemed to take pleasure in reviving the recollection of circumstances connected with her former station, and even in alluding to the laborious occupations which she had been obliged to pursue. During their poverty, she and her husband had been engaged in a domestic capacity in the family of the Marquis de Valady, the Captain of the corps in which Lefèvre served. The Marquis, who stood godfather to Lefèvre’s child, played a conspicuous part in the desertion of the guards, nor was he less celebrated for his fanatical zeal in favour of republican liberty; he was nevertheless a man of generous sentiments. He was a member of the Convention, and he perished because he opposed the execution of Louis XVI., publicly declaring that he considered it as absolute murder, adding, that Louis had already been too unfortunate as a King to render the infliction of any additional punishment necessary.
"The wife of the Marquis on her return to France after her emigration, immediately received the kindest offers and attentions from the family of Lefèvre, who were then living in a style of considerable splendour.
"One day, Madame Lefèvre called upon her, and, in her usual strain of language, said, ‘How little kindness and goodness of heart there is among you people of quality. We, who have risen from the ranks, know our duty better. We have just heard that M——, one of our old officers, and your husband’s comrade, has returned from his emigration, and that he is dying for want! How shameful this is. We were fearful of offending him by offering him assistance; but the case is quite different with you. An act of service on your part will be gratifying to him. Pray give him this as coming from yourself.’ With these words, she presented to her friend a rouleau of 100 louis, or 1000 crowns. From that moment, Sire," said I, “I felt no inclination to join in the jokes against Madame Lefèvre; I no longer entertained towards her any other feeling than that of profound respect. I eagerly advanced to take her hand whenever I met her at the Tuileries, and I felt proud in escorting her through the drawing-room, in spite of the sneers that were buzzing around me.”
We then related a number of traits of generosity exercised by the new favourites of fortune towards the old ruined families. Among others, we adverted to an instance of courtesy, perhaps somewhat far-fetched, in a certain individual, who, being originally a private soldier, attained the rank of Marshal, or General-in-chief, I forget which. One day, during his newly acquired splendour, he assembled together at a family dinner his former colonel, and four or five officers of the regiment, whom he received in his original uniform of a private, and he addressed his guests in the same terms which he had been in the habit of employing before he attained his elevated rank.
“And this,” observed the Emperor, “was the only way to soften down the fury of the times; for such acts as these must necessarily have created mutual feelings of kindness between the opposite parties; and we may naturally suppose that, during recent events, the persons thus obliged will have returned the obligations they received, were it only for the sake of being quits.”
This word quits reminds me of a characteristic trait of the Emperor, which must be noticed here.
A General had been guilty of irregularities in his department, which, had they been brought before the tribunals, must have cost him his honour, and perhaps his life. Now, this general had rendered the most important services to Napoleon on the day of Brumaire. The Emperor sent for, and reproached him with his misconduct. “However,” said he, “you have laid me under obligations, which I have not forgotten. I am perhaps about to transgress the laws, and to fail in my duty. I pardon you, Sir; begone; but know that from this day forward we are quits. Take care of yourself for the future, I shall look sharply after you.”