Mercury brings a crown from Olympus;
The king of the gods sends it to the hero of the French
As the reward of his success.
Ye whom he guided a hundred times in the fields of glory,
Phalanx of warriors, children of victory,
Braving the impotent fury of the English,
Sing Napoleon, sing your Emperor."
December 3 the public rejoicings organized by the government extended from
the Place de la Concorde to the Arsenal. Heralds-at-arms walked through
the city, distributing medals struck to commemorate the coronation. These
medals bore on one side the head of the Emperor, his brow wearing the
crown of the Caesars; on the other, the image of a magistrate, and of an
ancient warrior, supporting on a buckler a crowned hero, wearing an
Imperial mantle. Beneath was the inscription: "The Senate and the People."
As soon as the heralds-at-arms had passed by, the merry-making began,
continuing till late in the night. There was a distribution of food, as
well as sports of all kinds, reminding one of the times of the Roman
Emperors: _panem et circenses_. On the Place de la Concorde had been built
four large wooden halls for public balls. The cold was severe; there was a
hard frost, but this did not check the universal enjoyment. On the
boulevards there were at every step puppet shows, wandering singers, rope
dancers, greased poles, bands of music. From the Place de la Concorde to
the end of the boulevard Saint Antoine sparkled a double row of colored
lights arrayed like garlands. The Garde Meuble and the Palace of the
Legislative Body were ablaze with lights. The arches of Saint Denis and of
Saint Martin were all covered with lights; the crowd was enraptured with
the fireworks, which had never been so fine.
The people of Paris had been invited to illuminate the fronts of their
houses, and moved either by enthusiasm or self-interest, they had spent
large sums for this purpose. Among the notable illuminations was that of
the engineer Chevalier, on the Pont Neuf. There was a transparency in
which, amid encircling laurels and myrtles, was to be seen an optician
turning his glass up to the sky towards a bright star, around which was
this inscription: "_In hoc signo salus_!"--"In this sign is safety!"
December 3 was the first day of the coronation festivities. The third day
was devoted to what the _Moniteur_ called, "arms, valor, fidelity." This
was the day when Napoleon formally presented to the army and to the
National Guard of the Empire the eagles, "which they were always to find
on the field of honor." This ceremony took place on the Champ de Mars. To
quote once more from the _Moniteur_: "This vast field, crowded with
deputations representing France and the army, bore the aspect of a brave
family assembled under the eyes of its chief." The main front of the
Military School had been decorated with a huge gallery, with several tents
as high as the apartments on the first floor. The middle one, resting on
four columns which supported winged victories, covered the thrones of the
Emperor and the Empress. The Princes, the high dignitaries, the ministers,
the marshals of the Empire, the high officers of the crown, the civil
officers, the ladies of the court, were to take their places at the right
of the throne. The gallery, in the middle of which was the Imperial tent,
was in front of the Military School, and was divided into sixteen parts,
eight on each side, representing the sixteen cohorts of the Legion of
Honor. A broad staircase led from this gallery to the Champ de Mars; the
first step was for the presidents of cantons, the prefects, sub-prefects,
and the members of the municipal councils. On the other steps, there
stationed themselves colonels of regiments and presidents of the electoral
colleges of the departments, holding flags surmounted with eagles. On each
side of the staircase were colossal figures of France, one at war, the
other at peace. Twenty-five thousand soldiers, in faultless trim, had been
under arms since six in the morning.
Unfortunately, the weather was terrible; a thaw had begun and it was
raining in torrents. The Champ de Mars was a sea of mud. The courtiers
who, on the 2d of December, had so belauded the sun, representing it as a
sharer in the festival, a docile slave of the Emperor, were obliged to
acknowledge that it was raining. Madame de Rémusat made a very true remark
about this; she said with truth that one of the commonest, though one of
the absurdest, flatteries of every time, was that of pretending that a
sovereign's need of fine weather was sure to bring it. "At the Tuileries,"
she said, "I noticed the opinion that the Emperor needed only to appoint a
review or a hunt for a certain day, and that day would be pleasant.
Whenever that happened, a great deal was said about it, while silence was
kept about rainy or foggy weather. This is exactly what used to happen
under Louis XIV. For the honor of sovereigns I should prefer that they
accepted this childish flattery with indifference or disgust, and that no
one would think of offering it. It was impossible to deny that it rained
during the distribution of the eagles at the Champ de Mars; but how many
people I met the next day, who assured me that the rain had not wet them!"
In spite of the bad weather, an enormous crowd lined the road through
which the Imperial procession was to pass. The terraces of the Tuileries,
the Place de la Concorde, the _quais_ were thronged. Numberless spectators
covered the slopes of the Champ de Mars. The ever obsequious _Moniteur_,
in its official account of the ceremony, said; "If the spectators were
uncomfortable, there was not one who was not consoled by the feeling that
held him there, and by the expression of his wishes which the applause
made very clear."
At noon the Emperor and the Empress, followed by their suite, left the
Tuileries in the order observed at the coronation, passed down the broad
road, over the Pont Tournant, through the Place de la Concorde, to the
Champ de Mars. Before their carriage rode the Chasseurs of the Guard and a
squadron of Mamelukes; behind it came the mounted grenadiers and the
chosen Legion. On reaching the Military School, Napoleon and Josephine
received the compliments of the Diplomatic Body; then they put on their
coronation robes, and took their place in the gallery in front of the
building. As soon as the Emperor had seated himself on the throne, cannon
were fired, drums beat, bands played. The deputations from the army, who
were assembled in the Champ de Mars, formed in close columns and came
forward. Then Napoleon arose and said in a loud voice: "Soldiers! These
are your flags; these eagles will always be your rallying point; they will
be wherever your Emperor may think necessary for the defence of his throne
and of his people. You will swear to offer your life in their defence, and
by your courage to keep them always on the path to victory. You swear it?"
Officers and men replied: "We swear it!"
Alas! these flags were to be always on the path of honor, but not always
on the path of victory, for victory is a female goddess and a fickle one.
Against how many enemies these flags were to be defended, beneath
scorching suns, under avalanches of ice and snow! What heroism, what
miracles of bravery, were to be witnessed by these standards on many a
battle-field! What fatigue, what suffering, what sacrifices, dangers,
wounds, how many glorious deaths, what seas of blood, to come at last to
the most lamentable disasters I Had the future been seen, those drums
would have been draped in black. But the army imagined itself invincible.
The thought of defeat would have called forth a smile of pity. Proud of
itself, of its commander, it shouted with joy and pride as it passed
before the throne.
A single incident disturbed this martial ceremony. Suddenly an unknown
young man approached the Imperial gallery, and shouted: "Down with the
Emperor! Liberty or death!" This ardent Republican was at once arrested.
His voice had been lost in the music and clatter of arms.
The rain continued, and soon soaked through the canvas and stuffs
sheltering the throne, The Empress was obliged to leave, with her
daughter, who had recently given birth to a child. The other Princesses
followed this example, with the exception of Madame Murat, who, although
lightly clad, remained exposed to the showers. She said that she was
learning how to endure the inevitable discomforts of the highest rank.
At five o'clock Napoleon and Josephine were once more at the Tuileries
where a state dinner was given in the Gallery of Diana. In the middle of
this gallery the table of the Emperor and the Empress was placed beneath a
magnificent canopy, on a platform. The Empress sat there with the Emperor
on the right and the Pope on her left. The high officers of the crown, as
well as a colonel-general of the Guard and a prefect of the palace,
remained standing near the Imperial table.
Pages waited on the tables. The Archchancellor of the German Empire took
his place at that of the Emperor. In the same gallery were set other
tables for the French Princes and for the hereditary Prince of Baden, for
the ministers, for the ladies and officers of the Imperial household.
After the dinner was a concert, at which the Pope consented to be present.
When that was over Pius VII. withdrew, and the evening ended with a ballet
danced by the dancers of the opera in the great hall called since the
Empire the Hall of the Marshals.
VII.
THE FESTIVITIES.
The winter of 1804-5 was very brilliant. Napoleon was anxious to give the
beginning of his reign an air of splendor. He allowed his officials
generous salaries, but he insisted on their spending all they received in
sumptuous living, in entertaining freely, and receiving distinguished
foreigners. Luxury became compulsory, and trade flourished beyond all
expectations. Paris had never, even in the grandest days of the old
monarchy, known greater social animation. This martial generation,
accustomed to desire a short but merry life, aware that the festivities of
day would be interrupted by the battles of the next, were as eager in the
ball-room as on the battlefield. They hastened to enjoy their present
prosperity as if they foresaw the disasters to come. French gallantry,
which had been forgotten during the Revolution, resumed its sway. The
women were like the fair mistresses of castles in the Middle Ages who gave
their hearts to the bravest knights. Love and glory both became the
fashion. The former Lady of the Bedchamber to Marie Antoinette, Madame
Campan, who taught most of the young women of the court in her school at
Saint Germain, had formed a group of beauties, trained in aristocratic
manners, at the head of whom was her ablest, most intelligent pupil,
Hortense de Beauharnais, who had been married to Prince Louis Bonaparte.
The Grand Chamberlain, M. de Talleyrand, a poor bishop but an excellent
specimen of a grand lord, and the Grand Master of Ceremonies, M. de Ségur,
whose success as ambassador of Louis XVI. at the court of Catherine was
very great, set the tone in the households of the Emperor and the Empress.
Napoleon set an example of luxury and elegance. Grand dinners, concerts,
official entertainments succeeded one another with startling rapidity.
Josephine, who was wildly fond of dress, was glad of an excuse to indulge
her extravagant tastes. The Emperor's three sisters lived like real
princesses, rivalling one another in magnificence. Princes Joseph and
Louis displayed the pomp of future kings.
Almost all the women of the court were young and pretty. It would have
been hard to confer on any one, to the exclusion of the rest, the palm of
beauty. There were three who were especially distinguished: Madame Maret
(later the Duchess of Bassano); Madame Savary (later the Duchess of
Rovigo); and Madame de Canisy (later the Duchess of Vicenza). The last
named had married M. de Canisy, the Emperor's equerry. Later, she got a
divorce and married M. de Caulaincourt, Duke of Vicenza and Grand Equerry.
At Saint Helena Napoleon thus recounted the origin of this famous beauty:
"Madame de Loméne, the Cardinal's niece, before being put to death in the
Revolution, entrusted to Father Patrault her two young daughters. When the
terror was over, Madame de Brienne, their aunt, who had weathered the
storm and still possessed a large fortune, demanded them of Father
Patrault, who refused to give them up for a long time, on the ground that
their mother had urged him to bring them up as peasants." And Napoleon
went on: "I was then General of the Army of the Interior; and was able to
secure the return of the two children, though with some difficulty, for
Patrault resisted in every way in his power. They were the women whom you
afterwards knew as Madame de Marnésia, and as the beautiful Madame de
Canisy."
The Duchess of Abrantès, in recalling the brilliant winter of 1804-5,
says, in her Memoirs: "One especially impressive beauty, particularly in
the ball-room, was Madame de Canisy, I have often compared her to a muse.
It would be impossible for a single face to present a fuller combination
of charms than hers: she possessed regular features, a delightful
expression, an attractive smile; her hair was silky and glossy. Seldom
have I seen anything more charming than Madames de Canisy, Maret, and
Savary in entering a ball-room together,"
There was no lack of entertainments at which these beauties shone. The one
given at the Hotel de Ville, December 16, 1804, to the Emperor and the
Empress, was so costly that it kept the city of Paris for many years in
debt. Napoleon, Josephine, Princes Joseph and Louis drove to it in the
coronation coach. Batteries of artillery, stationed on the Pont Neuf,
announced the moment of their arrival, while tables covered with poultry,
and fountains of wine, attracted an enormous crowd to the place; almost
every one had a share in this distribution of food, thanks to the
precautions taken by the authorities of delivering it only to those who
presented a ticket. The front of the Hotel de Ville was illuminated with
colored lanterns. When the Empress entered the apartments reserved for
her, she found there a complete and magnificent gold toilet-service: it
was a present from the City Council. The President of the Council thus
addressed her: "Madame: How could the Parisians, who are so capable of
distinguishing what is good, delicate, and noble, let slip this
opportunity of paying their homage to the profound tenderness, the
touching grace, the true dignity that characterize Your Majesty? The happy
influence of these rare qualities already makes itself felt in all classes
of society, and while your august spouse elevates France in glory, you
inspire it to resume the first rank among the races most renowned for
urbanity." The hall in which the Imperial banquet was to be given was
called the Hall of Victories. On the door was the inscription _Fasti
Napoleoni_, and at intervals, separated by military trophies and
standards, were Latin inscriptions in honor of Napoleon. Before dinner he
was presented with a table-service of silver-gilt by the city of Paris.
Then he took his seat, with the Empress, on a platform beneath a canopy,
and the meal began. During dinner, a band, hidden behind green foliage,
played a symphony of Haydn's, and then was sung a cantata full of flattery
for the Emperor and the Empress.
After the dinner there were magnificent fireworks. As the first rockets
rose, a second cantata was sung. One of the pieces of fireworks
represented a man-of-war with eighty guns: its decks, masts, sails, and
rigging were represented by glowing lights. Another, which the Emperor
himself set off, represented Mount Saint Bernard sending forth a volcanic
eruption from snow-covered rocks. In the centre appeared the image of
Napoleon at the head of his army, riding up the steep slope of the
mountain.
This entertainment, which closed with a ball at which seven hundred
persons were present, was a real apotheosis. Madame de Rémusat, speaking
of the extravagant adulation devised for this occasion, says: "A great
deal has been said about the fulsome flatteries of Louis XIV. during his
reign; I am sure that altogether they would not amount to a tenth part of
those that Bonaparte received. I remember that at another festivity given
by the city to the Emperor a few years later, since all inscription had
been exhausted, there were placed above the throne on which he was to sit,
these words from Scripture, in gold letters: _Ego sum qui sum_,--and no
one was shocked."
The Senate and the Legislative Body also gave grand entertainments in
honor of the coronation. That of the Legislative Body was particularly
brilliant. This assembly, which rivalled the Senate in obsequiousness, had
decided that a marble statue should be raised to the Emperor in the room
where it sat, in honor of the drawing up of the civil code. The day when
this statue was to be inaugurated was chosen for the festivity. The
Empress, followed by a magnificent suite, reached the Palace of the
Legislative Body at about seven in the evening. As she entered, musicians
intoned Glück's famous chorus, which used to be sung on formal occasions
in the reign of Louis XVI., in honor of Marie Antoinette:--
"What charms! What majesty!"
Unanimous applause emphasized the allusions. Then on the President's
invitation, Marshals Murat and Masséna raised the veils that covered the
statue, and all eyes beheld the figure of Napoleon, wearing on his brow a
laurel wreath, in which were mingled oak and olive leaves. Later, at the
time of his abdication at Fontainebleau, Napoleon expressed a regret that
he had permitted his statue to be made during his lifetime.
Then M. de Vaublanc ascended the tribune, and made a speech full of
extravagant praise; it ended thus: "You live, all of you, threatened by
the perils of the times; you live, and you owe your life to him whose
statue you behold. You return unfortunate exiles; you breathe once more
the delicious air of your own country; you embrace your fathers, your
children, your wives, your friends; all this you owe to him whose statue
you behold. There is no longer any question of his glory; I say nothing
about it; I invoke humanity on one side, gratitude on the other; I ask you
to whom you are indebted for this great, extraordinary, unexpected good
fortune. You all answer with me, It is to the great man whose statue you
behold." Throughout the whole speech, a perfect masterpiece of official
composition, adulation came in like a chorus. The President in his turn
uttered a similar eulogy: "Very few at the time," says Constant, who
describes this occasion, "found this praise extravagant; possibly their
opinions have changed since then."
After the speeches, dinner was served to three hundred guests, followed by
a magnificent ball. Though, in the middle of the winter, there was a great
show of shrubs and flowers. The Halls of Lucretia and of the Reunion, in
which there was dancing, were like one large bed of roses, laurels,
lilacs, jonquils, lilies, and jasmine.
Perhaps the finest of all the entertainments was that given to the Emperor
and Empress by the marshals of the Empire in the Opera House. It cost
each, marshal ten thousand francs. The Opera House at that time was in the
rue de Richelieu, where it had been since 1794. (It was the one torn down
during the Restoration, on account of the murder of the Duke of Berry, who
was killed on the threshold.) By means of a floor placed level with the
stage over the orchestra and the pit, there was made a magnificent ball-
room. Twenty-four chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and candelabra were
set on each side of every box. The decorations consisted of silver gauze,
and wreaths of flowers. The uniforms of the men and the dresses of the
women were almost equally magnificent. The eyes of the spectators were
dazzled by dresses trimmed with precious stones. Never had there been seen
such profusion of light, flowers, perfumes, and diamonds. In this magical
setting, fashionable beauties, with their dresses worked with silver and
gold foil, their turbans of Eastern stuffs, their jewels and ancient
cameos, appeared like sultanas. It was a most sumptuous and fairy-like
show.
The marshals arrived at eight in the evening, the Empress at ten, the
Emperor at eleven; as he entered the ball-room, the applause was so
violent that it was feared that the candles would be put out. A military
march was played, and then there was a concert, closing with the Abbé
Rose's _Vivat Imperator_, which had made such an impression on the
Coronation Day. After the concert, Prince Louis Bonaparte, Marshal Murat,
Eugene de Beauharnais, and Marshal Berthier opened the ball with the
Princesses. The Emperor walked twice around the hall, as if he were
reviewing troops. Then he sat down by the side of the Empress on a raised
platform, and withdrew before the end of the ball.
Besides all these entertainments there were the grand levees and concerts
at the Tuileries. The Hall of the Marshals was an impressive sight on
those evenings, filled, as it was, with young and pretty women, in
gorgeous dresses, and with men resplendent with stars, epaulettes,
feathered hats, and sword-belts set with diamonds. After the concert the
company would go to the Gallery of Diana, where the supper-tables were
set: that of the Empress, those of the Princesses, of the Lady of Honor,
of the Lady of the Bedchamber, of the Ladles of the Palace. "All these
tables," says the Duchess of Abrantès, "were occupied by women with roses
on their heads, and smiles on their lips, and often with tears in their
eyes; for vanity, everywhere triumphant, holds its court especially at
court. There, favor is everything, disgrace is everything. A chance word
or glance of the Emperor or Empress is a blow and a serious one. What,
then, must be the result of an invitation sent or withheld?"
During the concert the Empress made up the supper-table; that is to say,
chose the women who were to sit at her table, commissioning her
chamberlain to notify those she had selected. The Princesses did the same,
and the officers of their households likewise informed the women whom they
had chosen. There were but twelve places at the Empress's table; eight or
ten at those of the Princesses. When the chamberlains came to bring these
most welcome invitations, there fluttered through the eight hundred or
thousand women present at the concerts and grand levees an anxious emotion
which amused observers. The aspect of the Gallery of Diana was most
impressive. On the Empress's table shone a golden service amid glass and
Sèvres ware. During the supper the men strolled up and down the gallery,
but as soon as the Emperor appeared, awe and fear appeared on every face.
It seemed as if the times of Louis XIV. had returned, of which La Bruyère
said: "Nothing so disfigures certain courtiers as the presence of their
Prince; I can sometimes scarcely recognize them, so altered are their
features, so degraded their faces. The proud and haughty ones are the most
disturbed, for they change the most; and the upright and modest man comes
out best; he has nothing to change." The Duchess of Abrantès, recalling
the intimidation caused by Napoleon's approach, wrote: "Even those who
nowadays talk about the Corsican with a great show of scorn, those very
ones (I have seen them, and I am not the only one,) were the most timid
before the very shadow of his hat." The women trembled even more. They
dreaded the questions the Emperor might put to them, and, according to
Madame de Rémusat, there was not one who would not gladly have been
anywhere else. During the First Empire, everything, even the festivities,
wore a military air. The sovereign always had the air of a commanding
general. Discipline prevailed, at a ball as well as in a camp, and the
young men took part in those pleasures only to return with renewed zeal
and courage to the battle-field.
VIII.
THE ETIQUETTE OF THE IMPERIAL PALACE.