(1806.)
WHEN the Emperor arrived in Paris, at the end of January, 1806, the
death of Pitt, at the age of forty-seven, had just occurred in England.
His loss was deeply felt by the English, and a truly national regret did
honor to his memory. Parliament, which had just opened, voted a large
sum to defray his debts, for he died leaving no fortune, and he was
splendidly buried in Westminster Abbey. When the new Ministry was
formed, Mr. Fox, his opponent, was made Foreign Secretary. The Emperor
looked upon the death of Pitt as a fortunate event for him, but he soon
perceived that English policy had not changed, and that the British
Government would not relax its endeavors to excite enmity against him
among the continental Powers.
During the month of January, 1806, the debates in the English Parliament
had been very warm. The Opposition, led by Mr. Fox, asked the Government
for explanations as to the carrying out of the late war; it asserted
that the Emperor of Austria had not been faithfully assisted, and that
he had been left to the mercy of the conqueror. The Ministers then laid
on the table the text of the conditions of the treaty between the
various Powers at the beginning of the campaign. This treaty proved that
subsidies had been granted to the coalition which had undertaken to
drive the Emperor from Hanover, Germany, and Italy, to replace the King
of Sardinia on the throne of Piedmont, and to secure the independence of
Holland and Sweden. The rapid victories of our troops had upset these
plans. The Emperor of Austria was blamed for having begun the campaign
too precipitately, without waiting for the arrival of the Russians; and
the King of Prussia, whose neutrality had been the principal cause of
the failure of the coalition, was especially blamed. The Czar’s anger
was roused, and he might have been tempted to punish this fatal
inaction, had not the lovely and fascinating Queen of Prussia interceded
between the two sovereigns. A rumor then arose in Europe that her beauty
had disarmed the Emperor of Russia, and that to it he had sacrificed his
just displeasure. Napoleon, who had subdued the King of Prussia by the
fear of his arms, thought it well to reward him for his neutrality by
handing over Hanover to him until the very uncertain epoch of general
peace. On his side, the King ceded Anspach to Bavaria, and abandoned in
favor of France his claims to the duchies of Berg and of Cleves, which
were bestowed shortly afterward on Prince Joachim, otherwise Murat.
The report laid before the English Parliament on the treaty of which I
speak was published in our newspapers, and accompanied, as may be
imagined, by remarks hostile to the continental Powers. The weakness of
those kings who place themselves at the mercy of the _shopkeepers_ of
Europe was deplored.
“If England,” so ran the comment, “should succeed in forming a fourth
coalition, Austria, who lost Belgium by the first, Italy and the left
bank of the Rhine by the second, Tyrol, Swabia, and the Venetian States
by the third, would by the fourth lose her own crown.
“The influence of the French Empire on the Continent will secure
the well-being of Europe, for with it will have begun the age of
civilization, of science, of light, and of law. The Emperor of
Russia has imprudently embarked, like a young man, in a
dangerous policy. As to Austria, we must forget her faults,
since she has suffered for them. However, it is right to say
that if the treaty now made public in England had been known,
perhaps Austria might not have obtained the terms which have
been granted to her; and we may remark, in passing, that Count
de Stadion, who concluded this treaty of subsidies, is still at
the head of affairs under the Emperor Francis.”
These remarks, which were the expression of an ill-concealed irritation,
began to cause some little uneasiness in the early part of February, and
to make attentive observers fear that peace would not be of long
duration.
No treaty had been concluded with the Czar. Under pretext that he had
only acted as auxiliary to the Austrians, he refused to be included in
the negotiations; and I have heard it said that the Emperor, impressed
by this conduct, looked upon him, from that time forth, as the veritable
antagonist who would dispute with him the empire of the world. He always
endeavored to depreciate him as much as possible.
There is an order in Russia which can only be worn by a general whose
services have on some great occasion been useful to the empire. When
Alexander returned to his capital, the knights of this order came to
offer him the decoration. The Emperor declined it, replying that he had
not held the chief command during the campaign, and therefore had not
merited the honor, as he had only imitated the intrepidity of his brave
soldiers to the best of his ability.
While our journals praised his modesty, they added: “The Czar deserved
this decoration if, in order to wear it, it is sufficient to be in
command without being victorious. It is well known that it was not the
Emperor Francis who decided on joining battle at Austerlitz, still less
did he direct operations. Certainly, by accepting the decoration,
Alexander would have taken on himself the oversights of his generals;
but that would have been better than to attribute the defeat of the
Russians to a small number of Austrians, who fought with courage. They
did all that could have been expected of them by their allies.”
It was on the 2d of February that this article appeared in our public
prints; on the preceding day they had published the proclamation to the
Army of Italy, which announced the invasion of the kingdom of Naples.
Joseph Bonaparte, seconded by Marshal Masséna, was very shortly to
occupy the capital; Prince Eugène was taking possession of Venice. Thus
the whole of Italy was becoming dependent on the French Empire. On
another side, northern Germany was subject to us, the kings whom we had
set up bound themselves to our interests, and we were shortly to witness
another marriage, which would be likely to further the projects in which
the Emperor was secretly indulging.
On the occasion of his journey from Munich, he had made a few hours’
stay at Augsburg. While there, the former Elector of Trèves, uncle to
the King of Saxony, had presented to him the young Hereditary Prince of
Baden, who, confused and almost trembling in the presence of Napoleon,
had humbly implored the honor of alliance with him by a marriage with
some member of his family. The Emperor accepted this respectful request,
and promised to bear it in mind on his return to his own states.
Finally, he had just dispatched his brother Louis on an expedition to
Holland, in order to establish some acquaintanceship between the Prince
and a country which was soon to receive the Imperial command to erect a
throne for Louis on the wreck of the republic.
Such was the political situation of the Emperor. Such a position would
surely have satisfied any views less ambitious than his own, nor can it
be denied that he had made full use of the eighteenth month of his
reign, now just expired.
In France, party spirit seemed absolutely to have died out. All bent
under the yoke; no class could be indifferent to so much glory; and the
Emperor endeavored to increase the prestige which surrounded him still
further by numerous public works, simultaneously undertaken. As soon as
it became possible for him to divert his attention for a moment from
foreign affairs, he devoted it to the improvement of the finances of the
country, which had suffered during his absence. M. Barbé-Marbois,
Minister of the Treasury, having incurred his displeasure, was replaced
by M. Mollien, who was a skillful financier. The Emperor was ably
seconded by his Minister of Finance, Gaudin, whose perfect integrity and
sound knowledge sustained credit and improved the system of taxation.
Indirect taxes were ventured on to a greater extent than before; luxury,
which would render these taxes more productive, was encouraged; and the
heavy contributions which the Emperor had everywhere levied upon his
conquered enemies afforded him the means, without burdening his people,
of keeping up the strength of his army, and undertaking all the
improvements which were begun throughout France, as if by magic, at his
command.
Roads over Mont Cenis and the Simplon were actively pushed on; bridges
were built, roadways repaired; a town was founded in Vendée; canals were
dug at Ourcq and at Saint Quentin; telegraphs (i. e., signals) were
established to accelerate correspondence; Saint Denis was about to be
repaired; the Vendôme column and the triumphal arch at the Carrousel
were commenced. A plan for embanking the Seine with new quays, and for
embellishing the whole neighborhood lying between the Tuileries and the
Boulevards, was adopted, and the work of demolition had already made
some progress. The Rue de Rivoli was planned, the colonnade of the
Louvre nearly completed; Lemot, the sculptor, was intrusted with the
decoration of the pediment. We could observe the gradual rise of the
Pont des Arts, and the commencement of the bridge near the Jardin des
Plantes, which was to bear the name of Austerlitz. The conservatories in
these gardens had been enriched with spoils from those of Schönbrunn;
scientific men were encouraged in the pursuit of fresh discoveries;
painters received orders for pictures to commemorate our victories; the
Academy of Music was encouraged; the first musical artists in Italy came
to France to direct our vocal music; literary men received pensions, and
large grants were made to actors; military schools were founded at
Fontainebleau and at Saint Cyr; and the Emperor himself inspected the
public schools of Paris. Finally, in order that the industry of the
nation might be encouraged in every branch at once, he conceived the
idea of an exhibition, to be held in the spring, and in commemoration of
the campaign, in which every product of industry, of whatever kind,
should be represented.
M. de Champagny, the Minister of the Interior, wrote a circular letter
to all the prefects, directing them to inform the departments over which
they presided that, on the 1st of May, there would be exhibited on the
Place des Invalides, under tents erected for the occasion, everything
deserving of notice in articles of use and of luxury. Trade was in this
manner awakened from the torpor in which it had been plunged by the war.
The Emperor ordered the splendor and the cost of his Court to be
increased. He gave his approval to the growing elegance of the women’s
dress, to the sumptuous decoration of his own palaces, and to that of
the houses of his sisters and his great nobles. The French nation, which
is naturally prone to vanity and extravagance, gave itself up to the
comforts and luxuries of life; and as for us, whose fortunes were but
annuities depending not only on the life but on the caprice of our
master, with an utter disregard of prudence, influenced by the example
of others and by the fear of displeasing him, we were ruled by the will
of Bonaparte alone in the use to which we put the greater or less sums
he distributed to us, and which he gave with the intention of subduing
rather than of enriching us.
I say _we_, and yet at this time neither M. de Rémusat nor I had any
share in his gifts. The cross of Saint Hubert had been given to my
husband as a recompense for his recent journey, but he never stood in
the full light of Imperial favor. As for myself, I led an unobtrusive
life in the midst of the Court, whose numbers were greatly augmented. To
speak frankly, although I had taken pleasure in the prominence assigned
to me by my masters when I first entered their service, the little
experience I had acquired warned me not to endeavor to regain any
position of importance, now that the interior of the palace was no
longer the same. I shall devote the following chapter to the details of
Court life, as it was now regulated, but I will return for the present
to my narrative of events.
Immediately on the Emperor’s return to his capital, he was congratulated
by the respective bodies of the State.
During his stay at Munich he had witnessed a German ceremonial, in which
the King and Queen of Bavaria, having taken their places on the throne,
received all the persons belonging to their Court, who passed before
them in succession, each making a low salutation. He desired to
establish a similar custom in France, and we received orders to prepare
for this new “etiquette.”
The fact is that, at that time, everything had to be constructed afresh.
Revolutionary liberty had suppressed all the rules of politeness. People
no longer knew how to salute each other when they met, and all we court
ladies suddenly discovered that the art of making a courtesy had been
omitted in our education. Despréaux, who had been dancing-master to the
last Queen, was thereupon summoned to give us lessons. He taught us how
to walk and how to bow; and thus a little boundary-line, trifling enough
in itself, but which acquired some importance from its motive, was drawn
between the ladies of the Imperial Court and those belonging to other
circles. We took with us into society ceremonious manners, which
distinguished us everywhere; for a spirit of opposition caused those
women who kept aloof from the new Court to retain the free and rather
abrupt manners which the absence of the habits of society had given
them. In France, opinions make themselves felt everywhere; they now
showed themselves in the different way in which a lady-in-waiting and a
lady from the Faubourg Saint Germain would enter a drawing-room. But,
putting motives aside, it must be owned that the advantage was ours.
This was evident after the return of the King: those ladies who had a
real right to be about him, either from the habit of freedom of manner
which they had acquired, or from the relief they affected to feel at
finding themselves on what great people call _their own ground_,
introduced at the Tuileries a bold manner and loud tones of voice, which
contrasted sharply with the quiet and graceful behavior that Bonaparte’s
punctilious etiquette had made habitual to us.
On an appointed day, therefore, the Emperor placed himself on his
throne, having the Empress on his left, the Princesses and the Lady of
Honor seated on court tabourets, and the grand officers standing on
either side. The ladies-in-waiting, the wives of the marshals, of the
great officials, and of the ministers, all in full court dress, then
came in slow procession to the foot of the throne, where they courtesied
in silence. They were followed by the gentlemen.
The ceremony was very long. At first the Emperor was delighted. He took
pleasure in etiquette, especially when invented by himself; but he ended
by being mortally wearied. Toward the end, every one was hurried past;
there was some difficulty in inducing him to remain on the throne until
the close, and he was almost angry with us for our share in a ceremonial
which he himself had imposed on us, in the exercise of his own will.
A few nights afterward he went to the Opéra, and was received with
applause by an immense crowd. A piece by Esménard, author of the “Poème
de la Navigation,” was given.
The scenery at the Opéra represented the Pont Neuf. Persons of all
nationalities were rejoicing together, and singing verses in honor of
the conqueror. The pit joined in the choruses; branches of laurel were
distributed throughout the house, and waved aloft with cries of “Vive
l’Empereur!” He was touched, as well he might be. It was, perhaps, the
very last time that public enthusiasm for him was spontaneous.
Shortly afterward the Emperor received a similar ovation at the Comédie
Française, but an unforeseen circumstance threw a slight shadow over the
evening. Talma was acting the part of Abner in the tragedy of “Athalie.”
During the performance Bonaparte received a messenger bringing the news
of the entry of the French troops into Naples. He immediately dispatched
an aide-de-camp to Talma, with orders to interrupt the play, and to
announce the news from the foot-lights. Talma obeyed, and read the
bulletin aloud. The audience applauded, but I remember thinking that the
applause was not so spontaneous as that we had heard at the Opéra.
On the following day our newspapers announced the fall of her whom they
designated as the modern Athalie; and the vanquished Queen was grossly
insulted, with total disregard of the social propriety that generally
enforces respect toward misfortune.
It was remarked shortly afterward that, on the opening of the
Legislative Assemblies, M. de Fontanes displayed great tact, when he
praised Bonaparte, in avoiding any insult to the fallen sovereigns whom
he had dethroned. He dwelt chiefly, in his eulogium, on the moderation
which had promoted peace, and on the restoration of the tombs in St.
Denis. M. de Fontanes’s speeches during this reign are, on the whole,
distinguished by propriety and good taste.
After having thus shown himself to the public and exhausted every form
of adulation, the Emperor resumed his life of hard work at the
Tuileries, and we our life of etiquette, which was regulated with
extreme precision. He began from this period to surround himself with so
much ceremonial that none of us thenceforth could be said to have any
familiarity with him. In proportion as the Court became more numerous,
it assumed a greater appearance of monotony, each one doing his own task
by clockwork; but no one thought of emancipating himself from the one
groove of thought belonging to a narrow circle of small duties. A daily
growing despotism, the fear we all felt of it—a fear which consisted
simply in our dread of receiving a rebuke for the smallest fault—and
the silence we observed on every subject, placed the various inhabitants
of the Tuileries on the same level. It was useless to have either
opinions or talents, for there was never any possibility of experiencing
a feeling of any kind, nor of exchanging an idea.
The Emperor, feeling secure of France, gave himself up to his grand
projects, and kept his eyes fixed on Europe. His policy was no longer
directed to securing his power over the opinions of his fellow citizens.
In like manner, he disdained the little successes of private life, which
we have seen him at an earlier period anxious to obtain; and I may say
that he looked upon his Court with the indifference which a complete
conquest inspires, when compared with one as yet unattained. He was
always anxious to impose a yoke on every one, and to succeed in this he
neglected no means to his end; but, from the moment he perceived his
power to be established, he took no pains to make himself agreeable.
The dependence and constraint in which he held the Court had at least
this one advantage: anything resembling intrigue was almost unknown. As
each individual was firmly convinced that everything depended on the
sole will of the master, no one attempted to follow a different path
from that traced out by him; and in our dealings with each other there
was a feeling of security.
His wife was almost in the same position of dependence as others. In
proportion as Bonaparte’s affairs increased in magnitude, she became a
stranger to them. European politics, the destiny of the world, mattered
little to her; her thoughts did not reach to heights which could have no
influence on her own fate. At this period she was tranquil as to her own
lot, and happy in that of her son; and she lived a life of peaceful
indifference, behaving to all with equal graciousness, showing little or
no special favor to any one, but a general good will. She neither sought
for amusement nor feared _ennui_; she was always gentle and serene, and,
in fact, was indifferent to nearly all things. Her love for her husband
had greatly declined, and she no longer suffered from the jealousy which
had in former years so much disturbed her. Every day she judged him with
greater clearness, and, being convinced that her greatest source of
influence over him consisted in the sense of restfulness imparted to him
by the evenness of her temper, she took pains to avoid disturbing him. I
have said long ago that such a man as he had neither time nor
inclination for much display of affection, and the Empress at this
period forgave him all the fancies which sometimes take the place of
love in a man’s life; nay, more, she became his confidante in these
little affairs.
On his return from Austerlitz, he again met Mme. de X——, but seemed to
take no notice of her. The Empress treated her precisely as she treated
others. It has been said that Bonaparte occasionally returned to his
former fancy for this lady; but, if so, it was so temporarily that the
Court barely perceived the fact, and, as it gave rise to no new
incident, it awakened no interest. The Emperor, who was convinced that
the influence of women had harmed the kings of France, was irrevocably
resolved that they should never be more than an ornament to his Court,
and he kept his resolution. He had persuaded himself, I know not how,
that in France women are cleverer than men, or at any rate he often said
so, and that the education they receive develops a certain kind of
ability, against which one must be on one’s guard. He felt, therefore, a
slight fear of them, and kept them at a distance on this account. He
exhibited a dislike of certain women’s temper which amounted to
weakness.
He banished Mme. de Staël, of whom he was genuinely afraid, and shortly
afterward Mme. de Balbi, who had ventured on some jesting remarks
concerning himself. She had indiscreetly made these observations in the
hearing of a person whom I will not name, and who repeated all he had
heard. This individual was a gentleman and a Chamberlain. I mention the
fact in order to prove that the Emperor found persons in every class who
were willing to serve him in his own way.
We began to perceive, during the winter of this year, how unhappy Mme.
Louis was in her home life. Her husband’s tyranny was exercised in every
particular; his character, quite as despotic as his brother’s, made
itself felt throughout his household. Until now his wife had
courageously hidden the excess to which he carried his tyranny; but a
circumstance occurred which obliged her to confide some of her troubles
to her mother.
The health of Louis Bonaparte was very bad. Since his return from Egypt
he had suffered from frequent attacks of a malady which had so weakened
his legs and his hands that he walked with difficulty, and was stiff in
every joint. Every remedy known to medicine was tried in vain.
Corvisart, who was medical attendant to the whole family, advised him to
try, as a last resource, a disgusting remedy. He imagined that a violent
eruption on the skin would perhaps draw out the poison which had defied
other treatment. It was therefore decided that on the state bed of
Louis, under its embroidered canopy, should be spread the hospital
sheets of some patient suffering from the itch; and his Imperial
Highness placed himself between them, and even put on the sick man’s
night-shirt. Louis, who wished to hide this experiment from everybody,
insisted that nothing should be changed in the habits of his wife. They
usually slept in the same room, though not in the same bed; he had
always obliged her to pass the night near him on a small bed placed
under the same canopy. He imperatively commanded that she should
continue to occupy this bed, adding, in a spirit of strange jealousy,
that no husband should ever omit to take precautions against the natural
inconstancy of women. Mme. Louis, notwithstanding her disgust, submitted
in silence to this gross abuse of conjugal authority.
Meanwhile, Corvisart, who was in attendance on her, and who remarked a
change in her appearance, questioned her respecting the details of her
life, and obtained from her an admission of her husband’s strange fancy.
He thought it his duty to inform the Empress, and did not conceal from
her that, in his opinion, the atmosphere of Louis’s bedroom was very
unwholesome for his wife.
Mme. Bonaparte warned her daughter, who replied that she had thought as
much; but, nevertheless, she earnestly entreated her mother not to
interfere between her husband and herself. Then, no longer able to
restrain herself, she entered into particulars which showed how grinding
was the tyranny from which she suffered, and how admirable the silence
she had hitherto kept. Mme. Bonaparte appealed to the Emperor, who was
attached to his step-daughter, and he expressed his displeasure to his
brother. Louis coldly replied that, if his private affairs were
interfered with, he should leave France; and the Emperor, who could not
tolerate any open scandal in the family, and who was perhaps, like the
others, daunted by Louis’s strange and obstinate temper, advised Mme.
Louis to have patience. Happily for her, her husband soon gave up the
disgusting remedy in question, but he owed her a deep grudge for not
having kept his secret.
Had her daughter been happy, there was nothing at this time to disturb
the tranquillity of the Empress. The Bonaparte family, full of their own
affairs, no longer interfered with her; Joseph was absent and about to
ascend the throne of Naples; Lucien was exiled for ever from France; the
youthful Jérôme was cruising along our coasts; Mme. Bacciochi was
reigning at Piombino; and the Princess Borghese, alternating between
physic and dissipation, meddled with nobody. Mme. Murat only might have
caused annoyance to her sister-in-law, but she was engaged in promoting
her husband’s interests, to which the Empress made no opposition; for
she would have rejoiced greatly at Murat’s obtaining a principality
which would have removed him from Paris.
Mme. Murat used her utmost efforts, and was even importunate with the
Emperor, in order to attain her ends. She connived at his gallantries,
lent him her house on occasions when it was convenient to him to use it,
and tried to divert him by fêtes, and to please him by a display of
luxury according to his taste. She interested herself in every detail of
the etiquette that he wished to introduce, and assumed airs of dignity,
somewhat stilted perhaps, which induced him to declare that his sister
was in every respect fitted to be a queen. She neglected no means of
success, paid attention to Maret, who had gradually gained the sort of
influence that is acquired by assiduity, and flattered Fouché into a
zealous attachment to her interests. The understanding between Mme.
Murat and these two personages, who were both ill-disposed toward M. de
Talleyrand, increased the dislike of the latter to Murat; and, as at
this period he was in high favor, he often thwarted Mme. Murat’s plans.
Murat used to say, in the southern accent he never lost, “Would not
Moussu dé Talleyrand like me to be broken on the wheel!”
Murat, relying on his wife to further his interests, contented himself
with giving no cause of offense to the Emperor, behaved toward him with
entire submission, and bore his alternations of temper without
complaint. Brave to excess on the battle-field, he had not, it was said,
any great military talent; and when with the army he asked for nothing
but the post of danger. He was not wanting in quickness, his manners
were obliging; his attitudes and his dress were always rather
theatrical, but a fine figure and noble appearance saved him from
looking ridiculous. The Emperor reposed no confidence in him, but he
employed him, because he feared him in no wise, and because he could not
help believing in every kind of flattery. A certain sort of credulity is
not rarely combined in the same character with distrust; and those great
men who are the most suspicious by nature are not the least amenable to
flattery.
On his return from the campaign of Austerlitz the Emperor distributed
further rewards to his generals. To some he gave considerable sums of
money, to reimburse them for the expenses of the campaign. General
Clarke was made Grand Officer of the Legion of Honor, in recognition of
the manner in which he had fulfilled his duties as Governor of Vienna.
Hitherto Clarke had been treated with some coldness; the Emperor showed
him but little confidence, and accused him of retaining a secret
affection for the house of Orleans; but he succeeded in convincing
Bonaparte of his obsequious devotion. General Clarke, now Duc de Feltre,
has for the last three years played a somewhat conspicuous part, and it
may be well to give some particulars of his career.
His uncle, M. Shee, who was made Senator by the Emperor, and who is a
peer of France, was previous to the Revolution secretary-general to a
division of light cavalry, of which the Duke of Orleans was
colonel-general. He was accompanied by his nephew, Clarke, whom he had
sent for from the country. The young man found himself specially
attached to the house of Orleans, and it is on this account, perhaps,
that Bonaparte suspected him of private leanings toward that party. He
served the Revolution with zeal, and was even employed, in 1794 and
1795, by the Committee of Public Safety, in the war administration.
He accompanied Bonaparte into Italy, but haughty manners were
displeasing to the commander-in-chief. Later on he was sent as
ambassador to Tuscany, and remained there for a considerable time,
although he frequently applied for his recall and for employment in
France. On finally obtaining these, he applied himself to overcoming
Bonaparte’s prejudice against him: he flattered him assiduously,
solicited the favor of a post in his personal service, displayed the
absolute submission demanded by such a master, and was eventually made
Councilor of State and private secretary. He was very hard-working and
punctual, and never wanted recreation. He was narrow-minded and
unimaginative, but clear-headed. He accompanied the Emperor in the first
Vienna campaign, showed capacity as Governor of the city, and received a
first reward on his return. We shall hear of him later on as Minister of
War, and in every capacity as a man of second-rate ability. His
integrity has always been freely acknowledged; he amassed no fortune
except that which resulted from the savings of his various salaries.
Like M. Maret, he carried the language of flattery to its extreme
limits.
His first marriage was unhappy, and he obtained a divorce. He had one
daughter, a gentle and agreeable girl, whom he gave in marriage while he
was in office to the Vicomte Emery de Montesquiou-Fezensac, whose
military advancement, thanks to his father-in-law, was very rapid. This
young man is at the present time aide-major-general in the Royal Guards.
The Duc de Feltre’s second wife was an excellent but insignificant
woman. By her he had several sons.
Meanwhile, M. de Talleyrand’s friendliness toward M. de Rémusat brought
me into a closer acquaintance with him. He did not as yet visit at my
house, but I frequently met him, and wherever this occurred he took more
notice of me than formerly. He seldom missed an opportunity of praising
my husband, and thus he gratified the feelings dearest to my heart; and,
if I must speak the whole truth, he gratified my vanity also by seeking
me out on all occasions. He won me over to him by degrees, and my former
prejudice against him vanished. Yet he would sometimes alarm me by
certain expressions for which I was unprepared. One day I was speaking
to him of the recent conquest of Naples, and ventured to let him
perceive that I disapproved of our policy of universal dethronement. He
replied in the cold and deliberate tone that he knows so well how to
assume when he means to permit no reply, “Madame, we shall not desist
until there shall no longer be a Bourbon on a European throne.” These
words gave me pain. I thought little, I must admit, about our royal
family; but still, at the sound of the name of Bourbon, certain
recollections of my early days awakened former feelings that had faded
rather than disappeared.
I could not, at the present time, attempt to explain this feeling
without running the risk of being accused of insincerity, which is
absolutely foreign to my character. It may be thought that, remembering
the period at which I write, I want gradually to prepare the way for my
own return to those opinions which everybody now hastens to parade. But
this is not the case. In those days I admired the Emperor; I was still
attached to him, although less fascinated by him; I believed him to be
necessary to France; he appeared to me to have become her legitimate
sovereign. But all these feelings were combined with a tender reverence
for the heirs and all the kin of Louis XVI.; it pained me deeply when
fresh misfortunes were prepared for them and I heard them evil spoken
of. Bonaparte had often inflicted suffering of this kind on me. To a man
who only appreciated success, Louis XVI. must have seemed deserving of
little respect. He was entirely unjust toward him, and believed in all
the popular stories against him, which were the offspring of the
Revolution. When the conversation turned on that illustrious and
unfortunate King, I endeavored as soon as possible to change the
subject.
But to return. Such was M. de Talleyrand’s opinion at that time; I will
show by degrees, and when the time comes, how events subsequently
modified it.
During the winter the heir of the King of Bavaria came on a visit to our
Court. He was young, deaf, not very amiable; but he had very polished
manners, and he showed great deference toward the Emperor. He had
apartments at the Tuileries, two chamberlains and an equerry were placed
at his service, and every attention was paid to him.
On the 10th of February the list of ladies-in-waiting was increased by
the names of Mme. Maret, on the request of Mme. Murat, and of Mmes. de
Chevreuse, de Montmorency-Matignon, and de Mortemart.
M. de Talleyrand was an intimate friend of the Duchesse de Luynes, and
he induced her to make her daughter-in-law accept a place at Court. The
Duchess was greatly attached to Mme. de Chevreuse. The latter had very
pronounced opinions of her own, and every one of them distinctly opposed
to what was expected of her. Bonaparte threatened; M. de Talleyrand
negotiated, and, according to custom, obtained his way. Madame de
Chevreuse was pretty, although red-haired, and very witty, but
excessively spoiled by her family, willful and fantastic. Her health
even then was very delicate. The Emperor tried by coaxing to console her
for having forced her into the Court. At times he would appear to have
succeeded, and then at others she would take no pains to conceal her
dislike to her position. Her natural disposition gave her an attraction
for the Emperor, which others would have vainly endeavored to exert, the
charm of combat and of victory. For she would sometimes seem to be
amused with the fêtes and the splendor of the Court; and when she
appeared there in full dress and apparently in good spirits, then the
Emperor, who enjoyed even the smallest success, would laugh and say, “I
have overcome the aversion of Mme. de Chevreuse.” But, in reality, I do
not think he ever did.
The Baronne de Montmorency (now Duchesse de Montmorency), who was
extremely intimate with M. de Talleyrand, had been induced to join the
Court, partly by his persuasions, and partly by her wish to regain some
extensive forest-lands which were seized by Government during her
emigration, but had not yet been sold. Mme. de Montmorency was extremely
pleasant at Court; she demeaned herself without either pride or
subservience, appeared to enjoy herself, and made no pretense of being
there against her will. I think she found court life very agreeable, and
that possibly she may have regretted it. Her name gave her an advantage,
as it does in every place. The Emperor often said that he cared only for
the nobility of history, and he certainly paid it great honor.
This reminds me of an anecdote concerning Bonaparte. When he resolved on
reconstituting titles, he decided by a stroke of his pen that all the
ladies-in-waiting should be countesses. Mme. de Montmorency, who stood
in no need of a title, but found herself obliged to take one, asked for
the title of baroness, which, she said laughingly, suited her name so
well. “That can not be,” replied Bonaparte, laughing too; “you, madame,
are not a sufficiently good Christian.”
Some years later the Emperor restored to MM. de Montmorency and de
Mortemart a large portion of the fortune they had lost. M. de Mortemart,
declining to become an equerry on account of the too great fatigue of
the post, was made Governor of Rambouillet. We have all known the
Vicomte de Laval-Montmorency, father of the Vicomte Mathieu de
Montmorency, a Gentleman of Honor to Madame, Governor of Compiègne, and
one of the most ardent admirers of Bonaparte.
From this time forward there was increasing eagerness to belong to the
Emperor’s Court, and especially to be presented to him. His receptions
became very brilliant. Ambition, fear, vanity, love of amusement and
novelty, and the desire of advancement, caused a crowd of people to push
themselves forward, and the mixture of names and ranks became greater
than ever.
M. Molé joined the Government in the month of March of this year. He was
the heir and last descendant of Mathieu Molé, and was then twenty-six
years of age. He was born during the Revolution, and had suffered from
the misfortunes it caused. His father perished under the tyrannical rule
of Robespierre, and he became his own master at an early age. He made
use of his freedom to devote himself to serious and varied study. His
family and friends married him, at the age of nineteen, to Mlle. de la
Briche, heiress to a considerable fortune, and niece to Mme. d’Houdetot,
of whom I have already spoken. M. Molé, who was naturally of a grave
disposition, soon became weary of a merely worldly life, and, having no
profession, he sought to fill up his time by literary compositions,
which he showed to his friends. Toward the end of 1805 he wrote a short
treatise, extremely metaphysical and not very clear, on a theory of
authority and the will of man. His friends, who were surprised at the
research indicated by such a work, advised him to print the treatise.
His youthful vanity readily consented to this. The public looked
indulgently on the work on account of his youth; both depth and talent
were recognized in it, but, at the same time, a tendency to praise
despotic government, which gave rise to an impression that the author
aimed at attracting the attention of him who at that time held the
destinies of all in his hand. Whether this was really in the mind of the
writer, or whether he was horrified at the abuse of liberty, and for the
first time in his life believed his country to be at rest and in
security under the guidance of a strong will, I do not know. At any
rate, M. Molé gave his work to the public, and it made some sensation.
After the return from Vienna, M. de Fontanes, who had a great regard for
M. Molé, read the book to Bonaparte, who was greatly struck by it. The
opinions it advanced, the superior mind it attested, and the
distinguished name of Molé attracted his attention. He sent for the
author, and praised him as he well knew how; for he had great skill in
the use of words seductive to the young. He succeeded in persuading him
to enter into public life, promising him that his career should be rapid
and brilliant; and, a few days after this interview, M. Molé was
appointed one of the auditors attached to the Interior Section. He was a
familiar friend of M. d’Houdetot, his cousin, a grandson of her whom the
“Confessions” of J. J. Rousseau have made famous, and M. Molé persuaded
him to enter together with himself on the same career, M. d’Houdetot was
made auditor to the Naval Section. His father held a command in the
colonies, and was taken prisoner by the English on the capture of
Martinique. He had passed a part of his life in the Isle de France, and
returned, bringing with him a beautiful wife and nine children, five of
them girls. His daughters were all handsome; they are now living in
Paris. Some of them are married; one of them is Mme. de Barante, the
most beautiful woman in Paris at the present time.
The fusion that was spreading with so much rapidity brought about social
concord, by mingling the interests of all. M. Molé, for instance,
belonging on his own side to a very distinguished family, and on his
wife’s to people of rank—for Mme. Molé’s cousins were Mmes. de
Vintimille and de Fezensac—became a link between the Emperor and a
large circle of society. My intimacy with members of his family was of
old date, and I was glad to see them taking their share of the new
places which were within the reach of those who chose to take them.
Opinions abated in the face of self-interest; party spirit began to die
out; ambition, pleasure, and luxury drew people together; and every day
discontent was lessened.
If Bonaparte, who was so successful in conciliating individuals, had but
gone a step further, and, instead of governing by force alone, had
yielded to the reaction which longed for repose; if, now that he had
conquered the present moment, he had made himself master of the future,
by creating durable institutions independent of his own caprice—there
is little doubt but that his victory over our recollections, our
prejudices, and our regrets would have been as lasting as it was
remarkable. But it must be confessed that liberty, true liberty, was
wanting everywhere; and the fault of the nation consisted in not
perceiving this in time. As I have said before, the Emperor improved the
finances, and encouraged trade, science, and art; merit was rewarded in
every class; but all this was spoiled by the stamp of slavery. Being
resolved on ruling everything himself, and for his own advantage, he
always put himself forward as the ultimate aim. It is said that on
starting for the first campaign in Italy, he told a friend who was
editor of a newspaper: “Recollect in your accounts of our victories to
speak of _me_, always of _me_. Do you understand?” This “_me_” was the
ceaseless cry of purely egotistical ambition. “Quote _me_,” “Sing,
praise, and paint _me_,” he would say to orators, to musicians, to
poets, and to painters. “I will buy you at your own price; but you must
all be purchased.” Thus, notwithstanding his desire to make his reign
famous by gathering together every kind of prodigy, he neutralized his
efforts and ours by denying to talent that noble independence which
alone can develop invention or genius of any kind.