[Illustration: “MY POOR JOSEPHINE, I CANNOT LEAVE YOU”]
M E M O I R S O F
T H E E M P R E S S J O S E P H I N E
BY MADAME DE RÉMUSAT
_Lady-in-Waiting to the Empress_
V O L U M E I I
_With a Special Introduction_
_and Illustrations_
[Illustration]
N E W Y O R K
P F C O L L I E R & S O N
P U B L I S H E R S
Copyright 1879
BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Copyright 1910
BY P. F. COLLIER & SON
CONTENTS
VOLUME II
PAGE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 408
CHAPTER XVI
(1805-1806.)
State of Paris during the War—Cambacérès—Le Brun—Mme. Louis
Bonaparte—Marriage of Eugène de Beauharnais—Bulletins and
Proclamations—Admiration of the Emperor for the Queen of
Bavaria—Jealousy of the Empress—M. de Nansouty—Mme. de
——.—Conquest of Naples—Position and Character of the Emperor 409
CHAPTER XVII
(1806.)
The Death of Pitt—Parliamentary Debates in England—Public
Works—Industrial Exhibition—New Etiquette—Performances at the
Opéra House and at the Comédie Française—Monotony of the
Court—Opinions of the Empress—Mme. Louis Bonaparte—Mme.
Murat—The Bourbons—New Ladies-in-Waiting—M. Molé—Mme.
d’Houdetot—Mme. de Barante 428
CHAPTER XVIII
(1806.)
The Emperor’s Civil List—His Household and its Expenses—Dress of
the Empress and of Mme. Murat—Louis Bonaparte—Prince
Borghese—Fêtes at Court—The Empress’s Family—Marriage of
Princess Stéphanie—Jealousy of the Empress—Theatricals at
Malmaison 452
CHAPTER XIX
The Emperor’s Court—His Ecclesiastical Household—His Military
Household—The Marshals—The Ladies—Delille—Chateaubriand—Mme. de
Genlis—Romances—Literature—Arts 474
CHAPTER XX
(1806.)
_Senatus Consultum_ of the 30th of March—Foundation of Monarchies
and Duchies—Queen Hortense 506
CHAPTER XXI
(1806.)
I go to Cauterets—The King of Holland—Factitious Tranquillity of
France—M. de Metternich—The New Catechism—The Germanic
Confederation—Poland—Death of Mr. Fox—War is declared—Departure
of the Emperor—M. Pasquier and M. Molé—Session of the
Senate—The Opening of Hostilities—The Court—Reception of
Cardinal Maury 528
CHAPTER XXII
(1806-1807.)
Death of Prince Louis of Prussia—Battle of Jena—The Queen of
Prussia and the Emperor Alexander—The Emperor and the
Revolution—Court Life at Mayence—Life in Paris—Marshal
Brune—Taking of Lubeck—The Princess of Hatzfeld—The Auditors of
the State Council—Sufferings of the Army—The King of
Saxony—Battle of Eylau 553
CHAPTER XXIII
(1807.)
The Return of the Empress to Paris—The Imperial
Family—Junot—Fouché—The Queen of Holland—Levy of the Conscripts
of 1808—Theatricals at Court—Letter from the Emperor—Siege of
Dantzic—Death of the Empress of Austria—Death of Queen
Hortense’s Son—M. Decazes—The Emperor’s Want of Feeling 576
CHAPTER XXIV
(1807.)
The Duke of Dantzic—Fouché’s Police—Battle of Friedland—M. de
Lameth—Treaty of Tilsit—Return of the Emperor—M. de
Talleyrand—The Ministers—The Bishops 595
CHAPTER XXV
(1807.)
Vexations at Court—Friendship with M. de Talleyrand—General
Rapp—General Clarke—Session of the Legislative Bodies—The
Emperor’s Speech—Fêtes of the 15th of August—Marriage of Jérôme
Bonaparte—Death of Le Brun—The Abbé Delille—M. de
Chateaubriand—Dissolution of the Tribunate—The Court removes to
Fontainebleau 613
CHAPTER XXVI
(1807.)
The Power of the Emperor—Resistance of the English—The Emperor’s
Life at Fontainebleau—Plays—Talma—King Jérôme—The Princess of
Baden—The Grand Duchess of Berg—Princess
Borghese—Cambacérès—Foreign Princes—Spanish Affairs—Previsions
of M. de Talleyrand—M. de Rémusat is made Superintendent of
Theatres—The Fortunes and the Difficulties of the Marshals 635
CHAPTER XXVII
(1807-1808.)
Projects of Divorce 674
CHAPTER XXVIII
(1807-1808.)
Return from Fontainebleau—The Emperor’s Journey in Italy—The
Youth of M. de Talleyrand—Fêtes at the Tuileries—The Emperor
and the Artists—The Emperor’s Opinion of the English
Government—The Marriage of Mlle. de Tascher—Count
Romanzoff—Marriage of Marshal Berthier—The University—Affairs
of Spain 693
CHAPTER XXIX
(1808.)
The War with Spain—The Prince of the Peace—The Prince of the
Asturias—The Abdication of King Charles IV.—The Departure of
the Emperor—His Sojourn at Bayonne—Letter of the
Emperor—Arrival of the Princes in France—Birth of the Second
Son of the Queen of Holland—Abdication of the Prince of the
Asturias 723
CONCLUSION 742
POSTSCRIPT 760
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
VOLUME II
“MY POOR JOSEPHINE, I CANNOT LEAVE YOU”
_from the painting by L. J. Pott_
“FOR TWELVE HOURS THEY FOUGHT WITHOUT EITHER SIDE
BEING ABLE TO CLAIM THE VICTORY”
_from the painting by F. Schommer_
QUEEN LOUISE TRYING TO WIN FAVOR FROM NAPOLEON FOR PRUSSIA
_from the painting by R. Eichstadt_
MEMOIRS OF THE
EMPRESS JOSEPHINE
CHAPTER XVI
(1805-1806.)
I HAVE already described the dullness and depression of Paris during
this campaign, and the sufferings of every class of society from the
renewal of war. Money had become still more scarce; in fact, it attained
such a price that, being obliged to send some in haste to my husband, I
had to pay ninety francs merely for obtaining gold for a thousand-franc
bank-note. Such an opportunity of spreading and increasing the general
anxiety was, of course, turned to advantage by the malcontents. Warned
by former experience, and alarmed by the imprudence of certain
utterances, I held aloof from every one, seeing only my own friends and
persons who could not involve me in any difficulty.
When the Princes or Princesses of the Imperial family held their
receptions, I went, as did others, to pay my respects to them, and also
to the Arch-Chancellor Cambacérès, who would have been highly displeased
at any neglect. He gave grand dinners, and held receptions twice a week.
He resided in a large house on the Carrousel, which has since been
converted into the Hôtel des Cent Suisses.[1] At seven in the evening a
line of carriages would generally stretch across the Carrousel, and
Cambacérès would note its length from his window with delight. Some time
was occupied in getting into the courtyard and reaching the foot of the
staircase. At the door of the first reception-room an attendant
announced the guest’s name in a loud voice; this was repeated until the
presence-chamber was reached. There an immense crowd would be collected;
there were two or three rows of women; the men stood close together,
forming a sort of passage from one angle of the room to the opposite
corner. Up and down this walked Cambacérès with great gravity, covered
with decorations, and usually wearing all his orders and diamonds; on
his head an enormous powdered wig. He kept on making civil little
speeches right and left. When we felt quite sure he had seen us,
especially if he had spoken, it was the custom to retire, and thus make
room for others. We frequently had to wait a long time for our
carriages, and the surest way to be agreeable to Cambacérès was to tell
him, the next time, of the inconvenience caused by the numberless
vehicles in the Place all crowding toward his house.
Fewer persons went to the receptions of the Arch-Treasurer Le Brun, who
seemed to attach less importance to these outward observances, and lived
quietly. But, although he had not the foibles of his colleague, he was
also deficient in some of his qualities. Cambacérès was a kind-hearted
man; he received petitions graciously, and, if he promised to support
them, his word could be relied on. Le Brun’s only care was to amass a
fortune, which became considerable. He was a selfish, cunning old man,
who never did any good to anybody.
The member of the Imperial family whom I saw most frequently was Mme.
Louis Bonaparte. People came to her house of an evening to hear the
news.
In December, 1805, a report having been spread that the English were
likely to descend on the Dutch coast, Louis Bonaparte received commands
to travel through Holland, and to inspect the Army of the North. His
absence, which gave a little more freedom to his wife, and was a relief
to his household, who held him in awe and aversion, enabled Mme. Louis
to pass her evenings pleasantly. Music and drawing at a large table in
the center of the _salon_ were the chief amusements. Mme. Louis had a
great taste for the arts: she composed charming ballads; she painted
well; she liked the society of artists. Her only fault, perhaps, was in
not maintaining the ceremonious demeanor in her house demanded by the
rank to which she had been elevated. She always remained on intimate
terms with her school-fellows, and with the young married women who
habitually visited her, and her manners retained something of the
freedom of those school-days. This gave rise to remark and censure.
After a long silence respecting the movements of the army, which
produced general uneasiness, Le Brun, aide-de-camp to the Emperor, and a
son of the Arch-Treasurer, was dispatched from the battle-field of
Austerlitz, and arrived one evening with news of the victory, of the
succeeding armistice, and of the well-founded hope of peace. The news
was announced at all the theatres, and posted up everywhere on the
following day. It produced a great effect, and dispelled the gloom and
apathy of Paris.
It was impossible not to be elated by so great a success, and not to
take the side of glory and of fortune. The French were carried away by
the description of the victory, to which nothing was wanting, since it
terminated the war; and this time again there was no need to prescribe
public rejoicing: the nation identified itself with the success of its
army.
I look upon this period as the zenith of Bonaparte’s good fortune, for
his mighty deeds were made their own by the bulk of his people.
Afterward, doubtless, he increased in power and in authority, but he had
to bespeak enthusiasm, and, though he sometimes succeeded in enforcing
it, the efforts he was obliged to make must have lessened the value of
the applause.
In the midst of the pride and delight displayed by the city of Paris, it
may well be believed that the great bodies of the State and the public
officers did not neglect the opportunity of expressing the general
admiration in high-flown language. When we now read the speeches
delivered on the occasion in the Senate and the Tribunate, the orations
of prefects and mayors, the pastoral letters of bishops, one wonders if
it be possible that a human head should not be turned by such excess of
praise. Every glory of the past was to fade before that of Bonaparte;
the greatest names were to drop into obscurity; fame would thenceforth
blush at what she had formerly proclaimed, etc., etc.
On the 31st of December the Tribunate was assembled, and Fabre de
l’Aude, the President, announced the return of a deputation which had
been sent to the Emperor. Its members had brought back a glowing account
of the marvels they had witnessed. A great number of flags had also
arrived. The Emperor bestowed eight on the city of Paris, eight on the
Tribunate, and fifty-four on the Senate; the entire Tribunate was to
present the latter.
On the conclusion of the President’s speech, a crowd of tribunes rushed
forward to propose what was called _des motions de vœux_. One of them
moved that a gold medal should be struck; another, that a public
monument should be erected; that the Emperor should receive the honors
of a triumph, after the old fashion of imperial Rome; that the whole
city of Paris should go forth to meet him. “Language,” said one member,
“can not attain such height of grandeur, nor express the emotions it
calls forth.”
Carrion-Nisas proposed that, on the proclamation of the general peace,
the sword worn by the Emperor at the battle of Austerlitz should be
solemnly consecrated. Each speaker endeavored to surpass the others, and
certainly, during this sitting, which lasted several hours, all that
flattery could suggest to the imagination was exhausted. And yet this
very Tribunate was a source of anxiety to the Emperor, because it
contained in itself a semblance of liberty; and he subsequently
abolished it in order to consolidate his despotic power, even in the
smallest outward signs. When Bonaparte “eliminated” the Tribunate (this
was the technical expression for that measure), he did not shrink from
using these words: “This is my final break with the Republic.”
The Tribunate, having arranged to carry the flags to the Senate on the
1st of January, 1806, decided that on the same occasion it should be
proposed to erect a column. The Senate hastened to pass a decree to this
effect, and also decreed that the Emperor’s letter, which had
accompanied the flags, should be engraved on marble and placed in the
Hall of Assembly. The senators on this occasion rose to the height
attained by the tribunes.
Preparations were now made for the rejoicings which were to take place
on the return of the Emperor. M. de Rémusat sent orders, through me, for
the performance of various pieces containing appropriate passages at the
theatres. The Théâtre Français having selected “Gaston et Bayard,” some
slight changes were made by the police in certain lines that were deemed
inadmissible. The Opéra House prepared a new piece.
Meanwhile the Emperor, after receiving the signature of the peace, was
preparing to quit Vienna, and addressed its inhabitants in a
proclamation full of compliments, both to themselves and to their
sovereign. It ended thus:
“I have shown myself little among you, not from disdain or a
vain pride, but I did not wish to interfere with the feelings
due to your sovereign, with whom it was my intention to make a
prompt peace.”
We have already seen what were the Emperor’s real motives for remaining
in retirement at Schönbrunn.
Although, in point of fact, the French army had been kept under
tolerable discipline while in Vienna, there can be no doubt that the
inhabitants were overjoyed at the departure of the guests they had been
obliged to receive, to lodge, and to feed liberally. To give an idea of
the consideration with which our vanquished enemies were forced to treat
us, it will be sufficient to state that Generals Junot and Bessières,
who were quartered on Prince Esterhazy, were daily supplied from Hungary
with every delicacy of the table, including Tokay. This was due to the
generosity of the Prince, who defrayed the whole cost.
I recollect hearing M. de Rémusat relate that, on the arrival of the
Emperor at Vienna, the Imperial cellars were explored in search of this
same Tokay, and much surprise was expressed that not a single bottle was
forthcoming; all had been carefully removed by the orders of Francis.
The Emperor reached Munich on the 31st of December, and on the next day
proclaimed the Elector of Bavaria King. He announced this in a letter to
the Senate, in which he also made known his adoption of Prince Eugène,
and the marriage of the latter, which was to take place before the
Emperor’s return to Paris.
Prince Eugène hastened to Munich, having first taken possession of the
States of Venice, and reassured his new subjects, as far as possible, by
dignified and moderate proclamations.
The Emperor felt himself bound also to bestow some praise on the army of
Italy. A bulletin says: “The Italians have displayed great spirit. The
Emperor has frequently said: ‘Why should not my Italian people appear
gloriously on the world’s stage? They are full of intelligence and
passion; it will be easy henceforth to give them soldierly qualities.’”
He made a few more proclamations to his army, in his usual turgid style,
but they are said to have produced a great effect on the army.
He issued one decree which would have been good if it had been put into
execution. “We adopt,” he said, “the children of those generals,
officers, and privates who lost their lives at the battle of Austerlitz.
They shall be brought up at Rambouillet and at St. Germain, and placed
out in the world, or suitably married by our care. To their own names
they shall add that of Napoleon.”
The Elector, or rather the King, of Bavaria, is a younger son of the
house of Deux-Ponts, who came to the Electorate through the extinction
of that branch of his family which was governing Bavaria. In the reign
of Louis XVI. he was sent to France and placed in the King’s service. He
soon obtained a regiment, and resided for a considerable time either in
Paris or in garrison at one of our towns. He became attached to France,
and left behind him the recollection of much kindness of disposition and
cordiality of manner. He was known as Prince Max. He declined, however,
to marry in France. The Prince de Condé offered him his daughter; but
his father and his uncle, the Elector, objected to the match on the
grounds that Prince Max, not being rich, would probably have to make
canonesses of some of his daughters, and that the admixture in their
veins of the blood of Louis XIV. with that of Mme. de Montespan would be
an obstacle to their admittance into certain chapters.
When, at a later period, this Prince succeeded to the Electorate, he
always retained an affectionate remembrance of France, and a sincere
attachment to her people. Having become King by the will of the Emperor,
he took pains to prove his gratitude by a splendid welcome, and he
received all the French with extreme kindness. It may well be imagined
that not for one moment did he dream of declining the proposed marriage
for his daughter. The young Princess was then seventeen or eighteen
years of age, and possessed attractive qualities, as well as personal
charms. The marriage, which was due to political reasons, became the
source of uninterrupted happiness to Eugène. Princess Augusta of Bavaria
attached herself warmly to the husband chosen for her; she aided him in
no small measure to win the hearts of the Italians. With beauty, sense,
piety, and amiability, she could not fail to be tenderly beloved by
Prince Eugène, and at the present day they are settled in Bavaria, and
enjoy the happiness of a perfect union.
During the Emperor’s stay at Munich, he took it into his head, by way of
recreation after his labors of the past months, to indulge a fancy,
partly political, partly amorous, for the Queen of Bavaria. That
Princess, who was the King’s second wife, without being very beautiful,
was of an elegant figure and pleasing though dignified manners. I think
the Emperor pretended to be in love with her. The lookers-on said it was
amusing to watch the struggle between his imperious temper and rude
manners and the desire to please a Princess accustomed to that kind of
etiquette which is never relaxed in Germany on any occasion whatever.
The Queen of Bavaria contrived to exact respect from her strange
admirer, and yet seemed to be amused with his devotion. The Empress
considered her to be more coquettish than was desirable, and the whole
business made her anxious to get away quickly from the Bavarian Court,
and spoilt the pleasure she would otherwise have felt in her son’s
marriage.
At the same time, Mme. Murat took offense because the new Vice-Queen,
who had become the adopted daughter of Napoleon, took precedence of her
on ceremonial occasions. She feigned illness in order to avoid what
seemed to her an affront, and her brother was obliged to get into a rage
with her, to prevent her from too plainly exhibiting her discontent. Had
we not actually witnessed the rapid rise of certain pretensions in those
who are the favorites of fortune, we should have been astonished at
these sudden bursts of temper in princes of so recent a date that they
could scarcely yet have become accustomed to the advantages and rights
appertaining to their rank. This spectacle we have, however, beheld so
frequently that we are not surprised, but merely admit that no human
passion is so easily aroused, or grows so rapidly, as vanity.
Bonaparte had always been well aware of this, and he used the knowledge
as his surest method of governing. While at Munich, he made many
promotions in the army. He gave a regiment of Carbineers to his
brother-in-law, Prince Borghese. He rewarded several officers by
promotion, or by the Legion of Honor. Among others, he created M. de
Nansouty, my brother-in-law, grand officer of the order. He was a brave
man, esteemed in the army, straightforward, and endowed with a keen
sense of duty, not very common, unfortunately, among our military
chiefs. He left behind him in a foreign country a reputation which is
very honorable to his family.
The Emperor’s military Court, encouraged by their master’s example, and,
like him, flushed with victory, took great pleasure in the society of
the ladies who had accompanied the Empress. It seemed as if Love was now
to have his share of power in a world which had hitherto somewhat
neglected him; but it must be admitted that not much time was allowed to
him for the establishment of his reign, and his attacks were of
necessity rather brisk.
We may date from this period the passion which the beautiful Mme. de
C—— inspired in M. de Caulaincourt. She had been appointed
Lady-in-Waiting in the summer of 1805. When quite young she had married
her cousin, who was at that time equerry to the Emperor, and she drew
all eyes on herself by her striking beauty. M. de Caulaincourt fell
desperately in love with her, and this feeling, which was for several
years more or less reciprocal, deterred him from thinking of marriage.
Mme. de C—— became more and more estranged from her husband, and at
last took advantage of the law of divorce. When the return of the King
condemned M. de Caulaincourt, otherwise the Duke of Vicenza, to a life
of obscurity, she resolved to share his ill fortune, and married him.
I have already said that the Emperor announced during this campaign his
consent to the evacuation of the kingdom of Naples by our troops; but
before long he again quarreled with the sovereign of that kingdom,
either because the King did not exactly carry out the treaty that had
been concluded with him, and was too much under the influence of the
English, who were continually threatening his ports, or because the
Emperor wished to accomplish his project of subjecting the whole of
Italy to his own authority. He also thought, no doubt, that it would be
his best policy to eject the house of Bourbon by degrees from the
thrones of the Continent. Be this as it may, according to custom, and
without any previous communication, France learned by an order of the
day, dated from the Imperial camp at Schönbrunn, 6th Nivôse, year 14,
that the French army was marching to the conquest of the kingdom of
Naples, and would be under the command of Joseph Bonaparte, who
accordingly repaired thither.
“We will pardon no longer,” so runs the proclamation. “The dynasty of
Naples has ceased to reign. Its existence is incompatible with the
repose of Europe and the honor of my crown. Soldiers, forward! . . . and
delay not to tell me that all Italy is subject to my laws or those of my
allies.”
It is in this summary tone that Bonaparte, fresh from signing treaties
of peace, began another war, gave new offense to the sovereigns of
Europe, and incited the English Government to stir up fresh enemies
against himself.
On the 25th of January the Court of Naples, under the pressure of a
skillful and victorious enemy, embarked for Palermo, abandoning the
capital to its new sovereign, who would soon take possession of it.
Meanwhile the Emperor, having been present at the marriage of Prince
Eugène on the 14th of January, left Munich, and, having received on his
way through Germany the honors that were invariably offered him in every
place, reached Paris on the night of the 26th to the 27th of January.
I have thought it well to conclude here the history of what was to me
Bonaparte’s second epoch, because, as I said before, I look upon the
close of this first campaign as the highest pitch of his glory; and for
this reason, that now the French people again consented to bear their
share in it.
Nothing, perhaps, in the history of circumstances and of men, can be
compared to the height of power to which he attained after the peace of
Tilsit; but, if at that time all Europe bent before him, the spell of
victory had been strangely weakened in France, and our armies, although
consisting of our own citizens, were beginning to be aliens to us.
The Emperor, who often appreciated things with mathematical accuracy,
was well aware of this; for, on his return from concluding the above
treaty, I heard him say, “Military glory, which lasts so long in
history, is that which fades the quickest among its contemporaries. All
our recent battles have not produced in France half the effect of the
one victory of Marengo.”
Had he carried his reflections further, he would have seen that the
people who are governed need eventually a glory that will be of solid
use, and that admiration for that which bears but a barren brilliancy is
soon exhausted.
In 1806 England was again accused, rightly or wrongly, of inciting
enmity against us. Supposing her to be with justice jealous of our
returning prosperity, we did not think it impossible that she might
endeavor to molest us, even if we had in perfect good faith shown every
sign of intended moderation. We did not think the Emperor had been the
cause of the last rupture which had destroyed the treaty of Amiens; and,
as it seemed impossible for a long time to come to compete with the
naval power of the English, it did not appear to us to be politically
wrong to endeavor to balance the weight which commerce gave to our
enemies by the constitution given to Italy—that is, by a powerful
influence on the Continent.
With such feelings as these, the marvels of this three months’ campaign
could not fail to impress us deeply. Austria had been conquered; the
united armies of the two greatest sovereigns of Europe had fled before
ours; the Czar had retreated; the Emperor Francis had personally sued
for peace—a peace as yet bearing signs of moderation; kings had been
created by our victories; the daughter of a crowned sovereign had been
given in marriage to a mere French gentleman; finally, the prompt return
of the conqueror, which gave hopes of permanent peace, and perhaps also
a desire to retain our illusions respecting our master—a desire
inspired by human vanity, for men do not like to blush for him by whom
they are ruled—all these things again roused national admiration, and
were only too favorable to the ambition of the victor. The Emperor
perceived the progress he had made in popularity, and he concluded, with
some appearance of probability, that glory would make up to us for all
the losses we were about to sustain at the hands of despotism. He
believed that Frenchmen would not murmur were but their slavery
brilliant, and that we would willingly barter all the liberty that the
Revolution had so hardly won for us, for his dazzling military success.
Finally, and this was the worst, he saw in war a means of stifling the
reflections which his mode of government was sure sooner or later to
evoke, and he reserved it to dazzle us, or at least to reduce us to
silence. As he felt himself perfectly master of the science of war, he
had no fear of its results; and, when he could engage in it with such
immense armies and such formidable artillery, he felt there was scarcely
any danger to himself. Although in this I may be mistaken, I do believe
that, after the campaign of Austerlitz, war was rather the result of his
system than the gratification of his taste. The first, the real ambition
of Napoleon was for power, and he would have preferred peace if it could
have increased his authority. There is a tendency in the human mind to
bring to perfection anything with which it is exclusively occupied. The
Emperor, who was continually bent on increasing his power by every
possible means, and who was becoming accustomed to the exercise of his
own will on every occasion, became more and more impatient of the
slightest opposition. The European phalanxes were gradually giving way
before him, and he began to believe that he was destined to regulate the
affairs of every continental kingdom. He looked with disdain on the
progress of the age, regarding the French Revolution, which was so
solemn a warning to sovereigns, only as an event whose results he might
use to his own advantage; and he came to despise the cry for liberty
which for twenty years had been uttered at intervals by the people. He
was persuaded that he could, at any rate, trick them by accomplishing
the destruction of what had existed, and replacing it by sudden
creations, which would appear to satisfy that longing for equality which
he believed with reason to be the ruling passion of the time.
He tried to turn the French Revolution into a mere freak of fortune, a
useless disturbance which had merely upset individuals. How often has he
not made use of these specious words, in order to allay apprehension:
“The French Revolution need fear nothing, since the throne of the
Bourbons is occupied by a soldier!” And at the same time he would assume
toward kings the attitude of a protector of thrones—“for,” he would
say, “I have abolished republics.” Meanwhile he was dreaming of I know
not what half-feudal project, the execution of which must inevitably be
full of danger, since it drove him to war, and had besides the
deplorable effect of diminishing the interest he ought to have taken in
France itself. Our country soon ceased to be anything more to him than
one large province of that empire which he desired to bring under his
rule. Less interested in our prosperity than in our grandeur, which, in
point of fact, was only his own, he conceived the idea of making every
foreign sovereign a feudatory of his own power. He believed he should
attain to this by placing members of his family on the various thrones
which at the time actually sprang from himself; and we may assure
ourselves that this was really his project, by attentively reading the
form of oath which he exacted from the kings or princes created by him.
He sometimes said: “It is my intention to reach such a point that the
kings of Europe shall be forced, each one of them, to have a palace in
Paris; and, at the time of the coronation of an Emperor of the French,
they shall take up their residence in it, be present at the ceremony,
and render it more imposing by their homage.” This, it seems to me, was
a sufficiently plain declaration of his intention of renewing in 1806
the empire of Charlemagne.
But times were changed, and, as the light of knowledge spread, the
people became capable of forming a judgment as to the mode in which they
ought to be governed. Besides this, the Emperor perceived that the
nobles could never again exercise influence over the people, which had
often been an obstacle to the authority of our kings; and he conceived
the idea that it was from popular encroachment he must defend himself,
and that the spirit of the age required him to take a contrary course to
that which for centuries past had been the custom of kings.
It was the fact that, whereas formerly the nobles had almost always
hampered the royal authority, at the present time some intermediary
creation was needed by that very authority, which, in this age of
liberal opinions, would naturally lean to the side of the sovereign, and
retard the march of pretensions which, from being merely popular, had
now become national. From this came the reëstablishment of a nobility,
and the renewal of certain privileges which were always prudently
distributed among distinguished members of the ancient nobility, and
plebeians who had been ennobled by an act of the Imperial will.
All these things are a proof that the Emperor entertained this project
of a new kind of feudality fashioned in accordance with his own ideas.
But, besides the obstacles which England continually placed in his way,
there was another, absolutely inherent in his own character. There would
seem to have been in him two different men. The one, rather gigantic
than great, but nevertheless prompt to conceive and also prompt to
execute, laid from time to time some of the foundations of the plan he
had formed. This man, actuated by one single idea, untouched by any
secondary impression likely to interfere with his projects, had he but
taken for his aim the good of mankind, would, with such abilities as he
displayed, have become the one greatest man of the earth; even now he
remains, through his perspicacity and his strength of will, the most
extraordinary.
The other Bonaparte, forming a kind of uneasy conscience to the first,
was devoured by anxiety, agitated by continual suspicion, a slave to
passions which gave him no rest, distrustful, fearing every rival
greatness, even that which he had himself created. If the necessity of
political institutions was made plain to him, he was struck at the same
moment by the rights which they must confer on individuals, and then,
gradually becoming afraid of his own handiwork, he could not resist the
temptation to destroy it piecemeal. He has been heard to say, after he
had restored titles of nobility and given inalienable possessions[2] to
his marshals: “I have made these people independent; but I shall know
how to reach them and prevent them from being ungrateful.” When seized
upon by this spirit of distrust of other men, he gave himself up to it
entirely, and thought only of how to create divisions among them. He
weakened family ties, and applied himself to promote individual rather
than general interests. Sole center of an immense circle, he would have
liked it to contain as many radii as he had subjects, that they might
meet nowhere save in him. This suspicious jealousy, which incessantly
pursued him, fastened like a canker on all his undertakings, and
prevented him from establishing on a solid foundation any of the schemes
which his prolific imagination was continually inventing.
After the campaign of Austerlitz he was so inflated with success, and
with the worship which the people, half dazzled and half subjugated,
paid to him, that his despotism became more than ever intensified. Every
citizen felt the yoke that was laid on him heavier; heads were bowed
almost perforce before his glory, but it was discovered afterward that
he had taken means to prevent their being lifted again. He surrounded
himself with new splendor in order to put a greater distance between
himself and other men. He copied, from German customs which he had
carefully observed, the whole etiquette of courts, which he made a daily
slavery, and no one was exempt from minute observances which he brought
to the utmost perfection.
It must be owned, however, that immediately after a campaign he was
almost obliged to take measures which would silence the clamorous
pretensions of his followers; and, when he had put these down, it did
not occur to him that he ought to treat with greater consideration the
other classes of citizens, of far less importance in his eyes. Military
men, still flushed with victory, would assume a haughty position from
which it was difficult to bring them down. I have kept a letter from M.
de Rémusat, written from Schönbrunn, which describes very exactly the
inflation of the generals, and the prudence that was required in order
to live peaceably with them. “The military profession,” he writes,
“gives to a man’s character a certain blunt sincerity, so that he does
not try to hide the meanest passions. Our heroes, who are accustomed to
open war with their enemies, acquire a habit of disguising nothing, and
see a battle-field in any opposition they may meet with, of whatever
kind. It is curious to hear them speak of civilians, and indeed,
afterward, to hear them discuss each other—each depreciating the deeds
of the others, attributing a large share of their success to luck;
blackening reputations which we outsiders had thought firmly
established; and, in their behavior to us, so puffed up with their newly
acquired glory that one needs much tact and many sacrifices of pride,
even of proper pride, to procure toleration from them.”
The Emperor noticed this somewhat belligerent attitude of the officers
of his army. He cared little that it was annoying to civilians, but he
would not have it reach a point which might be inconvenient to himself.
Therefore, while still at Munich, he thought proper to rebuke the
arrogance of his marshals, and on this occasion self-interest induced
him to use the language of reason. “Recollect,” he said, “that you are
to be soldiers only when with the army. The title of marshal is merely a
civil distinction, which gives you the honorable rank at my Court that
is your due, but it carries with it no authority. On the battle-field
you are generals; at Court be merely great nobles, belonging to the
State by the civil position I created for you when I bestowed on you the
title which you bear.”
This warning would have produced a greater effect had the Emperor ended
it with such words as these: “In camp or in Court, recollect that your
first duty everywhere is to be good citizens.” He should have held
similar language to all classes, to whom he was bound to be a protector
as well as a master; he should have spoken the same words to all
Frenchmen, and so have united them in a new equality, not adverse to
distinctions won by valor. But Bonaparte, as we have seen, was always in
dread of natural and generous ties, and the iron chain of despotism is
the only bond he employed, because it binds each man, as it were,
separately, leaving him no commerce with his fellows.
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[1] This hotel was pulled down in the reign of Louis Philippe.—P. R.
[2] Majorats.