(1807.)
WHEN the Emperor reached Paris on the 27th of July, 1807, I was still
at Aix-le-Chapelle, and was beginning to feel anxious as to the temper
in which he had returned. I have already said that this was a prevailing
uneasiness at Court whenever he was expected. I could make no inquiries,
for none dared to write openly to their correspondents; thus it was only
when I myself returned that I could learn any particulars.
The Emperor came back elated at his inconceivable good fortune, and it
soon became evident that his imagination exaggerated the distance
between himself and every other person. He showed, moreover, increased
indignation at what he called the “gossip of the Faubourg Saint
Germain.” The first time that he saw M. de Rémusat, he rebuked him for
not having given information respecting the persons in society in Paris,
in some letters he wrote to Duroc, Grand Marshal of the Palace. “You are
in a position,” said he, “to know what is said in a number of
drawing-rooms, and it is your duty to keep me informed. I can not accept
the slight excuses on which you have withheld information from me.” To
this M. de Rémusat replied that there was very little to withhold,
because people were naturally careful as to what they said before him,
and that he would have been loath to attach any importance to idle
words, which might have caused serious consequences to those who had
uttered them, often without any really hostile feeling. On such an
answer being made to him, the Emperor would shrug his shoulders, turn on
his heel, and say to Duroc or to Savary: “I am very sorry, but Rémusat
will not get on; he is not devoted to me as I understand devotion.”
It may be thought, at least, that a man of honor, who was determined
rather to mar his prospects than to purchase fortune by a sacrifice of
his self-respect, would have been placed by that very resolution out of
danger of those quarrels which result from what, alike in city and
Court, is called tittle-tattle. But such was not the case; Bonaparte
liked nobody to be at peace, and he knew admirably well how to
compromise or embroil those who most desired to live in quiet.
It will be remembered that, during the stay of the Empress at Mayence,
some ladies of the Court, of whom Mme. de la Rochefoucauld was the
chief, had ventured to criticise the Prussian war with some severity,
and to compassionate Prince Louis, and still more the beautiful and
cruelly insulted Queen. The Empress, displeased by their freedom, had
written full accounts to her husband of this movement of sympathy,
begging him never to let it be known that she had mentioned the matter
to him. That she had done so she confided to M. de Rémusat, who
expressed his disapproval, but kept her secret. When M. de Talleyrand
joined the Emperor, he too related what had been taking place at
Mayence, but more with the intention of amusing Napoleon than from any
hostility toward the Lady of Honor, whom he neither liked nor disliked.
Bonaparte was, however, greatly displeased with her, and the first time
they met he reproached her with his usual violence for her opinions and
her utterances. Mme. de la Rochefoucauld was taken by surprise, and, for
want of a better excuse, denied everything. The Emperor rejoined by a
positive reiteration, and, when she inquired who had made this fine
report about her, he instantly named M. de Rémusat. On hearing this,
Mme. de la Rochefoucauld was astounded. She was friendly to my husband
and to me; and, believing rightly that she might rely on our discretion,
she had often confided her most secret thoughts to us. She felt,
therefore, extreme surprise and anger, the more so that she herself was
a sincere person, and incapable of such baseness as that attributed to
my husband.
Being thus prejudiced against him, she avoided any opportunity of
explanation, but was cold and constrained in her demeanor. For a long
time he could not understand the reason of the estrangement; but, a few
months afterward, some circumstances connected with the divorce rendered
certain interviews and conversations between Mme. de la Rochefoucauld
and ourselves necessary, and she questioned my husband on the matter
which I have just related, and then learned the whole truth. She had
made an opportunity of speaking freely to the Empress, who did not
undeceive her, but allowed suspicion still to rest on M. de Rémusat,
adding only that M. de Talleyrand had probably said more than he. Mme.
de la Rochefoucauld was an intimate friend of M. de Ségur, Grand Master
of Ceremonies, and she confided her feelings to him. For a time this
caused a coolness between him and us; it also set him against M. de
Talleyrand, the sharpness and occasional bitterness of whose satire
leagued all commonplace people together against him, and he amused
himself mercilessly at their expense. They took their revenge when and
how they could. The Emperor did not confine his reproaches to persons of
the Court; he complained likewise of high society in Paris. He rebuked
M. Fouché for the imperfection of his supervision; he sent certain
ladies into exile, threatened some persons of distinction, and implied
that, to avoid the effects of his displeasure, former acts of
indiscretion must be repaired by steps which would show that his
authority was recognized. Many persons felt themselves in consequence
obliged to be presented at Court; some few made their own safety a
pretext for this, and the splendor of his Court was increased.
As he always took care to make his presence felt by disturbing
everybody, he did not spare his own family. He severely, though very
ineffectually, scolded his sister Pauline for her lightness of conduct,
which Prince Borghese beheld with real or affected indifference. Nor did
he hide from his sister Caroline that he was aware of her secret and
ambitious projects. She bent before the inevitable storm with her usual
suppleness, and brought him by degrees to own that, with such blood
running in her veins, she was not very guilty in desiring a superior
rank, while she took care to make her defense with all her usual charm.
When he had thus, to use his own expression, roused up everybody all
round, he felt satisfied with the terror he had excited, and, appearing
to forget what had passed, resumed his customary way of life.
M. de Talleyrand, whose return occurred a little later, expressed great
pleasure at meeting M. de Rémusat. He now took up a habit of frequently
coming to see me, and our intimacy became closer. I recollect that, at
first, notwithstanding the gratitude with which his kindness inspired
me, and the great pleasure I felt in his conversation, I was for a long
time ill at ease in his company. M. de Talleyrand was justly reckoned as
a very clever man; he was a very important personage; but he was said to
be hard to please and of a sarcastic disposition. His manners, although
highly polished, seem to place the person whom he is addressing in a
relatively inferior position. Nevertheless, as the customs of society in
France always accord to women a certain importance and liberty, they
could, if they chose, hold their own with M. de Talleyrand, who likes
women and is not afraid of them. Yet few of them chose to do so; the
desire of pleasing restrained them. They hold themselves in a sort of
bondage to him, and, in fact, to use a common expression, they have
_spoiled him_. Lastly, as he is reserved, _blasé_ on a multitude of
subjects, indifferent on many others, and with feelings difficult to
touch, a woman who designs to conquer or retain him, or even only to
amuse him, undertakes a hard task.
All that I knew about him, all that I discovered in becoming more
intimate with him, made me constrained in his presence. I was gratified
by his friendliness, but I did not venture to tell him so; I was afraid
of disclosing my habitual thoughts and anxieties, because I imagined
they would excite his sarcasm. I asked him no questions either about
himself or on public affairs, for fear he might think me curious. My
mind was strained in his presence, so that I sometimes experienced
actual fatigue. I listened to him with the greatest attention, in order
that, even if I could not always reply fittingly, at least I should have
procured him the pleasure of an attentive auditor; for I own that pride
was flattered by his preference for me. When I think it all over now, I
am amused at the mingled distress and pleasure which I experienced when
my folding-doors were opened (on both sides) and the Prince of Benevento
was announced. Large drops sometimes stood on my forehead from the
efforts I made to express myself wittily, and there is no doubt that I
was in consequence less agreeable than had I behaved more naturally,
when, at any rate, I should have had the advantage of sincerity and of
harmony in my whole deportment. Although naturally grave and inclined to
deep feeling, I tried to emulate the lightness with which he could pass
from one subject to another. I was kind-hearted by nature, and averse to
malicious talk, and yet I was always ready to smile at his jests. At the
beginning, then, he exerted over me the influence which was customary to
him; and, had our intimacy continued on the same footing, I should have
seemed to him but one woman the more to swell the ranks of those
worshippers who rivalled each other in applauding his defects and
encouraging the worst points of his character. He would probably have
ended by breaking with me, for I should have ill sustained a rôle for
which I was so little suited. I will presently relate the painful
circumstances which made me resume my natural character, and which
caused me to conceive a sincere affection for him, which has never
wavered.
Our new-formed intimacy was soon remarked at Court, and the Emperor did
not at first seem displeased. M. de Talleyrand was not without influence
over him; the opinions he pronounced in speaking of M. de Rémusat were
of service to us; a few words let us perceive that we were held in
increased esteem. The Empress, who found in most things a subject for
fear, showed me great kindness, thinking I might serve her cause with M.
de Talleyrand. His enemies at Court watched us, but, as he was powerful,
we were treated with great consideration. His numerous circle of
acquaintance began to look with curious eyes on a quiet,
straightforward, and taciturn man, who never flattered and was incapable
of intrigue, yet whose abilities were praised, and whose society was
courted by M. de Talleyrand. I myself, a little person of twenty-seven
years of age, ordinary-looking, cold and reserved, in nowise remarkable,
devoted to the duties of a pure and virtuous life, thus distinguished by
the notice of so eminent a personage, also became an object of
attention! It was probable that M. de Talleyrand, being just then in
want of amusement, found something novel and attractive in gaining the
affection of two persons completely outside his own sphere of ideas, so
that, when wearied by the constraint of his existence, he turned
sometimes with relief to a companionship which he knew he could trust;
while our attachment to him, openly professed at a time when his
disgrace shook our own position, caused a solid friendship to succeed to
mutual liking.
It was then that, visiting oftener at his house, which we had not before
this been in the habit of frequenting, I became acquainted with a
section of society hitherto almost unknown to me. There were always a
number of people at M. de Talleyrand’s—foreigners who paid him
obsequious attention, great nobles of the former order of things, and
men of the new, all wondering at finding themselves under the same
roof—all remarkable for some reason or other, but whose character was
not always equal to their celebrity. Well-known women were there also,
of whom it must be said he had in general been rather the lover than the
friend, and who were on the kind of terms with him that he preferred.
His wife must be named first among the persons to whom I allude. Her
beauty was daily waning on account of her increasing size. She was
always handsomely dressed, and occupied by right the place of honor, but
was unacquainted with most of the company. M. de Talleyrand never seemed
to perceive that she was present; he never spoke to her, still less did
he listen to what she said, and I believe he suffered acutely, but with
resignation, for the error which had forced him into this extraordinary
marriage. His wife seldom went to Court: the Emperor treated her coldly,
and she received no consideration there. It never occurred to M. de
Talleyrand to complain of this, nor yet of the compensation she was said
to seek in the attentions of certain strangers. Bonaparte would
sometimes jest on this subject with M. de Talleyrand, who would answer
with indifference and let the matter drop. Mme. de Talleyrand habitually
disliked all her husband’s friends, whether men or women. It is probable
that she made no exception in my favor, but I always behaved to her with
such ceremonious civility, I held myself so totally aloof from her
private affairs, that we scarcely came into contact.
In these reception-rooms I also met some old friends of M. de
Talleyrand, who began to regard me with curiosity, much to my amusement.
Among these were the Duchesse de Luynes and the Princesse de Vaudemont,
both of them excellent women. They were sincerely attached and true to
him, and very kind to me because they saw that my regard for him was
sincere, straightforward, and without any ulterior design. The
Vicomtesse de Laval was less well pleased, and, being rather
ill-natured, she judged me with some severity. The Princesse de
Lieskiewitz, sister of Prince Poniatowski, had lately made the
acquaintance of M. de Talleyrand at Warsaw, and had followed him to
Paris. This poor lady, notwithstanding her forty-five years and her
glass eye, was unfortunately passionately in love with him; and her
attachment, of which he was manifestly weary, made her alive to the
least preference shown by him. It is possible she may have honored me
with a little jealousy. The Princesse de X—— yielded to the same
infirmity, for it was truly an infirmity to “love” M. de Talleyrand. I
also met the Duchesse de Fleury, a very clever woman, who had obtained a
divorce from her husband, M. de Montrond; Mesdames de Bellegarde, whose
only claim to importance in society was their extreme license of speech;
Mme. de K——, to whom M. de Talleyrand paid attention, in order to keep
on good terms with the Grand Equerry; Mme. de Brignoli, one of the
Ladies-in-waiting—a very agreeable and elegant Genoese; and Mme. de
Souza, formerly Mme. de Flahaut—a talented woman, who had been in her
early youth a friend of M. de Talleyrand, and for whom he still retained
much regard. She had written several pretty tales, and was, at the time
of which I speak, the wife of M. de Souza, who had been ambassador to
Portugal. Lastly, I met the ambassadresses, the foreign princesses then
in Paris, and a great number of all the distinguished people in Europe.
I was entertained by this social magic lantern; but, warned by an
instinctive feeling to make no friendships among the crowd, I always
stood on the strictest ceremony, and much preferred receiving M. de
Talleyrand at my own fireside. My own circle felt some surprise at his
so frequently joining us—some of my friends were even alarmed; for he
inspired a general apprehension lest, immersed in important affairs as
he was, he might find himself in a dangerous position and drag us down
in his fall. We did not share the alarm of these friends, as perhaps we
ought to have done. M. de Rémusat’s office as First Chamberlain brought
us into contact with M. de Talleyrand, and it was pleasanter that our
intercourse should be friendly; we held aloof from all serious affairs,
and had no thought of benefiting by his influence. Disinterested persons
are apt to deceive themselves on this head; they imagine that others
must know, or at any rate must perceive, what their real motives are,
and as they act with simple sincerity they do not apprehend that they
will be suspected of double-dealing. It was a great blunder, at that
time, to expect to be estimated at one’s real worth.
The Emperor saw Louis’s second son when he went to Saint Cloud, and
treated him affectionately, so that the Empress began to hope he would
think of this child as his heir, as he had formerly thought of the elder
boy. Bonaparte had been impressed by the extreme rapidity of the
progress of the disease that had so suddenly carried off the elder
brother, and he offered a competitive prize of twelve thousand francs
for essays upon the malady called croup. Some valuable works were
published in consequence.
The pacification of Europe did not at once bring back the whole army to
France. In the first place, the King of Sweden, prevailed on by the
English Government, and in spite of the opposition of his people,
announced the rupture of his armistice with us. Thirteen days after the
signature of peace at Tilsit, a partial war broke out in Pomerania.
Marshal Martier was at the head of this expedition; he entered
Stralsund, and obliged the King of Sweden to take ship and escape. On
this the English sent a considerable fleet to the Baltic, and, having
attacked Denmark, laid siege to Copenhagen, of which they soon obtained
possession. These various events were chronicled in the “Moniteur,”
accompanied with notes attacking the English as usual, while the
aberration of mind of the King of Sweden was proclaimed to Europe.
Speaking of the subsidy which the English Government allowed the Swedes
for carrying on the war, the Emperor expressed himself as follows in the
“Moniteur”: “Gallant and unfortunate Swedes, this subsidy costs you
dear! If England could only repair the harm she does to your trade and
to your honor, or could replace the blood she has already cost and still
costs you! But you must feel that you are to be pitied for having lost
all your privileges and all consideration, and for being, thus
defenseless and disorganized, subject to the caprices of an invalid
King.”
General Rapp remained at Dantzic as governor, with a garrison. He was a
brave and honest man—rather rough in his ways, faithful, frank,
careless of what went on about him, and of everything except the orders
he received. He served his master with great fidelity, more than once
nearly losing his life for him, without having ever made the least
inquiry into the qualities or the vices of his character.
The Emperor also considered himself bound to support the new
constitution established in Poland by the King of Saxony, and sent a
considerable garrison thither to be added to the Polish garrison.
Marshal Davoust had the command of this cantonment. By thus dispersing
his troops through Europe, Bonaparte secured his influence over his
allies, kept his soldiers in practice, and relieved France from the
burden of supporting so many armed men. His aggressive policy obliged
him to be always in readiness; and, moreover, to insure the entire
devotion of his army, it was necessary to keep the men far from their
homes. He succeeded in so completely altering the nature of his troops
that they became unreservedly devoted to his service; they lost all
national sentiment, and cared only for their chief, for victory, and for
plunder, which in the eyes of a soldier is a great embellishment of
danger. They drew down by degrees on the fatherland which they had
forgotten those feelings of hatred and revenge which resulted in the
European crusade against us in 1813 and 1814.
Fresh adulation awaited the Emperor on his return. Language was
exhausted for formulas of praise, to which he listened with disdainful
composure. There is little doubt, however, that his indifference was
feigned; for he loved praise from no matter what lips, and more than
once he was duped by it. There were men who had influence over him only
because their compliments were inexhaustible. Unfailing admiration, even
though somewhat foolishly expressed, never failed to please him.
On the 10th of August he sent a message to the Senate, announcing the
elevation of M. de Talleyrand to the dignity of Vice-Grand Elector, and
that of Marshal Berthier to the rank of Vice-Grand Constable. General
Clarke succeeded to the latter as Minister of War, and found
opportunities for displaying the devoted admiration to which I have
alluded, even more fully than before. The Emperor’s habitual attention
to all war matters, the high intelligence of Berthier, Major-General of
the army, and the careful administration of General Dejean, the chief of
the Commissariat, made any great abilities in General Clarke
unnecessary. Punctual, upright, and submissive, he fulfilled all the
requirements of his position. MM. Champagny and Cretét obtained the two
ministerial posts of which I have spoken, and State Councilor Regnault
was made State Secretary to the Imperial Family.
Meanwhile we read every day of fresh military promotions, of the
distribution of rewards, of the creation of official posts—in fact, of
everything that tends to keep ambition, covetousness, and vanity on the
alert. Then the Corps Législatif opened its session. M. de Fontanes,
who, as usual, was named President, made, as usual, a fine speech on the
truly brilliant position of France. A very great number of laws
appertaining to rule and order were brought before the Assembly for its
sanction, as was likewise a budget which proclaimed our finances to be
in a flourishing condition; and, lastly, an account of the public works
of all kinds in contemplation, or begun, or already terminated, in all
parts of the Empire. The cost of all these was defrayed by the
contributions exacted throughout Europe, and all France might witness
improvements which nevertheless did not augment a single tax. The
Emperor, in addressing the legislative bodies, spoke to the whole French
nation; gave them an account of his victories; mentioned the 5,179
officers and the 123,000 subalterns and privates taken prisoners in this
war; spoke of the complete conquest of Prussia, of his soldiers encamped
on the banks of the Vistula, of the fall of the power of England, which,
he said, must be the result of so many victories; and ended by an
expression of satisfaction with the nation, which had so faithfully
served him in gaining for him such triumphant success. “Frenchmen,” he
said, “I am well pleased with you; you are a good and a great people.”
The opening of the Corps Législatif was an imposing ceremony. The hall
had been lavishly decorated; the dress of the deputies was handsome,
that of the courtiers surrounding the Emperor was magnificent, and he
himself was resplendent in gold and diamonds on that day. Although in
every ceremonial he was too precipitate, the great pomp he insisted upon
took the place of that dignity which was wanting. When Bonaparte, in the
course of any ceremony, had to walk toward the throne prepared for him,
he always seemed to rush at it. One could not but feel, on observing
him, that this was no legitimate sovereign taking peaceful possession of
the royal seat bequeathed to him by his ancestors; but an all-powerful
master, who, each time that he wore the crown, seemed to reiterate the
words he had once uttered at Milan, “Guai à chi la toccherà.”
On these state occasions Bonaparte’s incorrect pronunciation was a great
drawback. In general he had his speech drawn up for him. M. Maret, I
believe, most frequently undertook that task, but sometimes it fell to
M. Vignaud, or even to M. de Fontanes; and he would try to learn it by
heart, but with little success; for the least constraint was
insupportable to him. He always ended by resolving to read his speech,
and it was copied out for him in a large hand; for he was little
accustomed to read writing, and could have made nothing out of his own.
Then he would be instructed in the proper pronunciation of the words;
but when he came to speak he forgot his lesson, and in a muffled voice,
with lips scarcely parted, would read the speech in an accent more
strange even than it was foreign, most unpleasant, and indeed vulgar. I
have heard numbers of persons say that they always felt a painful
sensation on hearing him speak in public. The indisputable testimony of
his accent to the fact that he was a foreigner struck painfully on the
ear and the mind alike. I have myself sometimes experienced this
involuntary sensation.
The fêtes of the 15th of August were splendid. The whole Court,
glittering with precious stones, was present at a concert in the palace,
and at the ballet which followed it. The reception-rooms of the
Tuileries were thronged with a brilliant and gorgeous company; there
were ambassadors, the greatest nobles of all Europe, princes, and many
kings who, although new-made, appeared in becoming state. There, too,
were lovely women, magnificently attired, who, together with the first
musicians in the world, and all that the opera-ballets could lend of
grace and elegance, combined to form a scene of Oriental splendor.
Public games and rejoicings were given to the city of Paris. The
Parisians, who are naturally gay when gathered together, and eager to
join any crowd, hurried into the streets to see the illuminations and
the fireworks, and showed the delight they felt in scenes of pleasure
and in the beauty of the season. But there were no acclamations in honor
of the Emperor. There seemed to be no thought of him, as the people
enjoyed the amusements he had provided for them; but every one diverted
himself according to his own character and taste, and these, perhaps,
make the French the least serious people in the world, but the most
pleasant.
English people who were present at these rejoicings were quite
astonished at the good order, the frank gayety, and the harmony which
reign on such occasions throughout all classes of society. Every one
enjoys himself, and does not think of interfering with his neighbor’s
enjoyment; there is no quarreling nor ill humor, no revolting and
dangerous drunkenness. Women and children may mix with impunity in the
crowd, and are protected. People who are strangers to each other take
their pleasure together; they sing and laugh in chorus, though they have
never met before. On such occasions an unobservant sovereign might
easily be misled. This constitutional hilarity, temporarily called forth
by extraneous circumstances, may be mistaken for the expression of the
feelings of a contented and loyal people. But, if the sovereigns who are
destined to reign over Frenchmen do not want to be deceived, they will
interrogate their own conscience rather than the popular cry, if they
would learn whether they inspire affection and give happiness to their
people.
In this respect the flattery of a Court is really astonishing; numbers
of courtiers, in describing the behavior of the Parisian public,
endeavored to represent it to the Emperor as a proof of the people’s
gratitude toward him! I will not affirm that he was never deceived by
this, but for the most part he remained stolidly unmoved. Bonaparte
seldom listened to others, and joyousness was foreign to his nature.
During the month of August several of the German princes arrived in
Paris—some in order to visit the Emperor, others to solicit some favor,
or some liberty in behalf of their petty states.
The Prince Primate of the Confederation of the Rhine came at about this
time, to celebrate the marriage of Princess Catherine of Würtemberg, who
herself arrived on the 21st of August. She was, I think, about twenty
years of age, and was a nice-looking girl; her figure was already rather
stout, and seemed to indicate that she would take after her father,
whose size was so enormous that he could only sit on chairs specially
constructed for him, and had to dine at a table which had been hollowed
out in a semicircle to make room for his unwieldy figure.
This King of Würtemberg was a very able man, but had the reputation of
being the most worthless prince in Europe. He was hated by his subjects,
who, it is said, more than once tried to rid themselves of him. He is
now dead.
The marriage of Princess Catherine and the King of Westphalia took place
at the Tuileries with great splendor. The civil ceremony was performed
in the Gallery of Diana, as in the case of the Princess of Baden’s
wedding; and on Sunday, the 23d, at eight in the morning, the religious
marriage was solemnized at the Tuileries, in presence of the whole
Court.
The Prince and Princess of Baden had also come to Paris. She was
prettier than ever. The Emperor did not appear to notice her
particularly. I will speak of her again presently.
The King and Queen of Holland arrived at the end of August. They seemed
to be on good terms, but still depressed on account of their loss. The
Queen was thin, and suffering all the _malaise_ of an early stage of
pregnancy. She had been a very short time in Paris when seeds of the old
distrust and disquiet were once more sown in the mind of her husband.
Evil tongues insinuated falsehoods respecting the life that the unhappy
woman had led at the Pyrenean watering-place. Her grief, the tears that
were still flowing, her downcast air, her too evident ill health, failed
to disarm her enemies. She talked of the excursions she had made among
the mountains, and of the soothing effects of the mountain scenery. She
told how she had met M. Decazes, and pitied the profound grief into
which his wife’s death had plunged him. All this she related in the most
frank and simple manner, but calumny laid hold of it, and the suspicions
of Louis were reawakened. He wished, naturally but selfishly, to take
his wife and son back to Holland. Mme. Louis was as submissive as he
could require her to be; but the Empress, alarmed by the declining state
of her daughter, insisted on a consultation of physicians being held.
The doctors were unanimous in pronouncing the climate of Holland unfit
for a woman in the Queen’s situation, whose chest was already delicate;
and the Emperor settled the question by announcing that he intended to
keep his step-daughter and her child with himself for the present. The
King submitted sullenly, and bitterly resented to his wife a decision
which she had not solicited, but which, I believe, was in accordance
with her wishes. Discord once more reigned in that wretched household;
and Queen Hortense, profoundly offended this time by the jealous
suspicions of her husband, lost for ever the interest which she had
recently felt in him, and conceived a positive aversion toward him.
“From that time forth,” she has often said to me, “I was fully aware
that my unhappiness must always be irremediable. I regarded my hopes as
entirely and irrevocably ruined. All grandeur inspired me with horror.
As for the throne, and what so many people called my ‘luck,’ I cursed
them many a time. I was a stranger to every enjoyment of life. All my
dreams had vanished; I was wellnigh dead to all that was passing around
me.”
About this time the Academy lost two of its most distinguished members:
Le Brun the poet, who has left some beautiful odes and the reputation of
great poetical talent, and M. Dureau de la Malle, the esteemed
translator of Tacitus and the intimate friend of Delille.
M. Delille lived peaceably in the enjoyment of a moderate fortune,
surrounded by friends, popular in society, left to his repose and his
freedom by the Emperor, who had given up the idea of conquering him. He
published certain works from time to time, and reaped the reward of his
natural amiability in the favor with which they were received. His life
was indeed a peaceful one, untroubled by any bitter thoughts or hostile
opinions. M. Delille was a professor at the College of France, and
received the salary of a chair of literature, but Le Gouvé did its work
for him. This was the only boon which he consented to accept from
Bonaparte. He prided himself on preserving a faithful remembrance of
Queen Marie Antoinette, whom he called his benefactress. It was known
that he was composing a poem in honor of her, the King, and the
_émigrés_, but no one resented this to him. A Government which was
always anxious to efface such memoirs respected them in Delille, and
would not have ventured to incur the odium of persecuting the amiable,
grateful, and generally beloved old man.
The two vacant seats in the Academy were much discussed in the salons of
Paris. M. de Chateaubriand was mentioned for one of them. The Emperor
was angry with him, and the young writer—who was pursuing a course
which gained him celebrity, procured him the support of a party, and
nevertheless did not expose him to any real danger—kept up an
opposition which gained strength from the fact that it excited the
Emperor’s anger. The French Academy, imbued at that time with the
revolutionary and would-be philosophical incredulity that had come into
fashion in the last century, opposed the choice of a man who had hoisted
religious colors as the banner of his genius. It was said by those who
most frequented M. de Chateaubriand’s society, that the habits of his
life were by no means in harmony with the precepts that adorned his
compositions. Excessive pride was imputed to him. Women, captivated by
his talents, his peculiar manner, his handsome face, and his reputation,
vied with each other in admiring and petting him, and he showed himself
by no means insensible to their advances. His extreme vanity, the
exalted opinion of himself which he entertained, made us all believe
that, if the Emperor had only coaxed him a little, he would have
succeeded in gaining him over to his side, although, of course, he would
have to pay the high price at which M. de Chateaubriand himself would
have rated his partisanship.
The silent labors of the Corps Législatif were continued. It ratified
all the laws that emanated from the Council of State, and the
administrative organization of the power of the Emperor was completed
without opposition. It was now certain that he could rule France, by the
strength of his own genius and by the proved ability of the members of
this Council of State, with an appearance of legality which reduced the
country to silence and pleased his orderly mind; and, regarding the
remains of the Tribunate as merely a center of opposition, which,
however feeble, might be troublesome to him, he resolved to make an end
of it. The Tribunate had been considerably lessened in number under the
Consulate. By a _senatus consultum_ the tribunes were transferred to the
Corps Législatif, and the session was immediately closed. The speeches
delivered at the last sitting of the Tribunate are remarkable. It is
surprising that men should mutually consent to act such a farce, and yet
we had become so much accustomed to that sort of thing, that nobody
noticed it particularly at the time.
First, M. Béranger, Councilor of State, appeared with certain of his
colleagues, and, after having recapitulated the services which the
Tribunate had rendered to France, he went on to say that the new decree
was about to confer on the Corps Législatif a plenitude of importance
which guaranteed national rights. The President replied, on behalf of
the entire Tribunate, that this resolution was received with respect and
confidence by them all, and that they appreciated its positive
advantages. Then a tribune (M. Carrion-Nisas) moved that an address
should be presented to the Emperor thanking him for the evidence of
esteem and regard which he had deigned to offer to the Tribunate; and
the speaker added that he believed himself to be the interpreter of the
feelings of each of his colleagues, in proposing to lay at the foot of
the throne, as the last act of an honorable existence, an address which
should impress the people with the idea that the tribunes, whose
attachment to the monarchy was unalterable, had received the act of the
Senate without regret, and without solicitude for the country. This
proposition was adopted with unanimity. The President of the Tribunate,
Fabre de l’Aude, was named Senator.
At this time the Emperor organized the Cour des Comptes, and, his
displeasure with M. Barbé-Marbois having passed away, he recalled him
and made him President of that Court.
In September the Emperor of Austria married for the second time. His
bride was his first cousin, the daughter of the old Archduke Ferdinand
of Milan. Shortly afterward his brother, the Grand Duke of Würzburg, who
is now Grand Duke of Tuscany, came to Paris.
The Court was increased from time to time by the arrival of a number of
great personages. Toward the end of September a sojourn at Fontainebleau
was announced. On this occasion the greatest magnificence was to be
displayed; fêtes were to take place in honor of the Queen of Westphalia;
the _élite_ of the actors and musicians of Paris were to be brought down
to the palace, and the Court received orders to appear in the utmost
splendor. The Princes and Princesses of the Imperial family brought a
portion of their households, and they, as well as the great dignitaries
and the Ministers who were to accompany the Emperor, were to have
separate tables.
On the 21st of September Bonaparte left Paris with the Empress, and
during the following days the Queen of Holland, the Queen of Naples, the
King and Queen of Westphalia, the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Berg,
the Princess Pauline, Madame Mère, the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of
Baden, the Prince Primate, the Grand Duke of Würzburg, the Princes of
Mecklenburg and Saxe-Gotha, M. de Talleyrand, the Prince de Neufchâtel,
Maret (Secretary of State), the great officers of the Imperial houses,
several Ministers of the kingdom of Italy, and a number of Marshals,
arrived at Fontainebleau. M. de Rémusat, several Chamberlains, the
Ladies of Honor, the Ladies-in-Waiting, and the Women of the Bedchamber
were included in the traveling party. We were all summoned by a letter
from the Grand Marshal Duroc, which announced to each that she had been
selected by the Emperor. I had just come from Aix-la-Chapelle, and,
being comprised in the list, I rejoined the Court and my husband at
Fontainebleau, after the delay of a few days in Paris with my mother and
my children.
Marshal Lannes had been nominated Colonel-General of the Swiss Guard on
the 20th of September.