Deprived of all hope of a reconciliation with her family, Madame Dartois determined to comply with her husband’s request; and, although the war between Russia and Turkey rendered the roads very unsafe, she left Constantinople in the month of July, 1809.

After passing through Hungary and the midst of the Austrian camp, Madame Dartois bent her steps towards Vienna, where she had the sorrow to learn that her husband had been mortally wounded at the battle of Wagram, and was now in that town; she hastened to him, and he expired in her arms.

She mourned her husband deeply, but was soon compelled to think of the future, as the small amount of money remaining to her when she left Constantinople had been barely sufficient for the expenses of her journey, and M. Dartois had left no property.  Some one having advised the poor woman to go to Schoenbrunn and ask his Majesty’s assistance, a superior officer gave her a letter of recommendation to M. Jaubert, interpreting secretary of the Emperor.

Madame Dartois arrived as his Majesty was preparing to leave Schoenbrunn, and made application to M. Jaubert, the Duke of Bassano, General Lebrun, and many other persons who became deeply interested in her misfortunes.

The Emperor, when informed by the Duke of Bassano of the deplorable condition of this woman, at once made a special order granting Madame Dartois an annual pension of sixteen hundred francs, the first year of which was paid in advance.  When the Duke of Bassano announced to the widow his Majesty’s decision, and handed her the first year’s pension, she fell at his feet, and bathed them with her tears.

The Emperor’s fete was celebrated at Vienna with much brilliancy; and as all the inhabitants felt themselves obliged to illumine their windows, the effect was extraordinarily brilliant.  They had no set illuminations; but almost all the windows had double sashes, and between these sashes were placed lamps, candles, etc., ingeniously arranged, the effect of which was charming.  The Austrians appeared as gay as our soldiers; they had not feted their own Emperor with so much ardor, and, though deep down in their hearts they must have experienced a feeling of constraint at such unaccustomed joy, appearances gave no sign of this.

On the evening of the fete, during the parade, a terrible explosion was heard at Schoenbrunn, the noise of which seemed to come from the town; and a few moments afterwards a gendarme appeared, his horse in a gallop.  “Oh, oh!” said Colonel Mechnem, “there must be a fire at Vienna, if a gendarme is galloping.”  In fact, he brought tidings of a very deplorable event.  While an artillery company had been preparing, in the arsenal of the town, numerous fireworks to celebrate his Majesty’s fete, one of them, in preparing a rocket, accidentally set the fuse on fire, and becoming frightened threw it away from him.  It fell on the powder which the shop contained, and eighteen cannoneers were killed by the explosion, and seven wounded.