studies on the part of a special commission, and long discussions in which
Napoleon took as interested a part as he did in the preparation of the
civil code, all the wheels of etiquette had been arranged, and the
machinery worked with perfect regularity. The Emperor attached great
importance to the subject, from both a political and a social point of
view. In his eyes, etiquette had the great advantage of drawing between
him and those who had recently been his superiors, a distinct line of
separation. He looked upon it as a useful tool of government, as an
accompaniment of glory absolutely essential for a sovereign, especially
for one of recent origin. He was very proud of his court, of the wealth it
displayed, and of the vast results he obtained at a comparatively small
expense, and at Saint Helena he liked to recall its agreeable memory.
"The Emperor's court," we read in the _Memorial_, "was in every respect
much more magnificent than anything that had been seen up to that time,
and cost infinitely less. The suppression of abuses, order and regularity
in the accounts, made the great difference. His hunting, with the
exception of a few useless or absurd particulars, such as the use of
falcons, was as splendid and as crowded as that of Louis XIV., and it cost
only four hundred thousand francs a year, while the King's cost seven
millions. It was the same way with the table; Duroc's order and severity
wrought wonders. Under the kings, the palaces were not permanently
furnished; the same furniture was transported from one palace to another;
there were no accommodations for the people of the court; every one had to
provide for himself. Under him, however, there was no one in attendance,
who, in the room allotted him, was not as comfortable as at home, or even
more comfortable, so far as what was essential and proper was concerned."
The court moved as smoothly as a well-drilled regiment. Napoleon would
have shown no mercy to the slightest disregard of the rules he had himself
drawn up after long meditation. The courtiers were expected to be as
familiar with the code of etiquette as were the officers with the manual
of arms. The Emperor noticed the minutest details, busied himself with
everything, saw everything. There had been much more latitude at court
under the old monarchy, and those of the old régime who entered the
Emperor's court were soon wearied by the inflexible severity of its
discipline. The court, moreover, was very splendid. The Faubourg Saint
Germain brought to it its politeness and conversational charm. For his
part, Napoleon speedily assumed the manners of a European sovereign, while
preserving his martial character. He was at the same time Emperor and
commander-in-chief. Yet the military element did not control his court;
the civil element was more powerful there than in other European courts,
the Russian, for example. Napoleon would never have suffered in his
presence the faintest sign of the familiarity of the camp; every one who
crossed the threshold of the Tuileries was compelled to preserve the
manners, the bearing, the language of a courtier.
The levees and couchees of the sovereign were restored as in the time of
the Bourbons; though under the monarchy they were real things, and a mere
imitation under the Empire. These moments were not devoted to the petty
details of toilette, but rather to receiving, morning and evening, those
members of the civil and military household who had to receive his direct
orders or enjoyed the right of "paying their court at these privileged
hours." At Saint Helena, Napoleon boasted that at the Tuileries he had
suppressed in the matter of etiquette "all that was real and commonplace,
and had substituted what was merely nominal and decorative." "A king," he
said, "is not a natural product; he is a result of civilization. He does
not exist nakedly, but only when dressed."
Let us try to retrace the lines of etiquette as they existed in 1805, at
the same time indicating the principal members of the Emperor's household
and the nature of their duties. There were many separate duties, each
under the control of a high officer of the Crown, with their provinces
carefully defined and sedulously distinguished from one another. There
were six high officers of the Crown; the Grand Almoner (Cardinal Fesch);
the Grand Marshal of the Palace (General Duroc); the Grand Equerry
(General de Caulaincourt); the Grand Chamberlain (M. de Talleyrand); the
Grand Master of Ceremonies (M. de Ségur).
The colonels-general were: Marshal Davout, commanding the foot grenadiers;
Marshal Soult, commanding the chasseurs-à-pieds; Marshal Bessières,
commanding the cavalry; Marshal Mortier, commanding the artillery and
sailors. These colonels-general of the Imperial Guard formed part of the
Emperor's household, and enjoyed the prerogatives as the high officers of
the Crown.
The Grand Almoner was the bishop of the court, wherever that might be. He
gave the Emperor and his court a dispensation from fasting. He accompanied
him to church ceremonies and gave him his prayer-book. At grand dinners he
said grace. He set free the prisoners whom the Emperor pardoned on certain
holy days.
The Grand Marshal of the palace had charge of the military command in the
Imperial residences; of their maintenance, decoration, and furnishing; of
the assignment of rooms, the supply of food, the heating, lights, silver,
and livery. He commanded the detachments of the Imperial Guard on duty in
the Imperial palaces. He gave orders to beat the reveillé and the tattoo,
to open and shut the palace gates. When the Emperor was with the army, or
travelling, he had to find him quarters. In 1805 the Grand Marshal's
budget amounted to 2,338,167 francs. In 1806 it reached the sum of
2,770,841 francs. There were four tables in the palace,--that of the
officers and ladies-in-waiting, that of the officers of the guard and the
pages, that of the ladies who read to the Empress and introduced visitors.
The Grand Marshal had under his orders the prefects of the palace: M. de
Luçay, M. de Bausset, and M. de Saint Didier. They had charge of the
provisions, lighting, heating, the silver, and the liveries. They
inspected the kitchens, pantries, cellars, and linen-closet to see that
everything was in order. There was always one prefect of the palace on
duty for a week at a time. He also carried word to the Emperor and the
Empress when a meal was ready, conducted them to the table, and back to
their rooms afterwards.
The Grand Marshal had also under his orders the governor of the palaces
and the marshals; these last were charged with choosing apartments for the
Emperor and the Empress, and quarters for their suite in the Imperial
residences and on journeys. They had for assistants the quartermasters of
the palace.
The Master of the Hounds had charge of all the coursing and hunting in the
woods and forests belonging to the Crown.
The Grand Equerry looked after the stables, the pages, the couriers, and
the Emperor's arms; he also had the supervision of the horses at Saint
Cloud. He walked just before the Emperor when he came forth from his rooms
to ride, gave him his whip, held his reins and the left stirrup. He was
responsible for the good condition of the carriages, the intelligence and
skill of the huntsmen, coachman, and the postilions, the safety and the
training of the horses. In a procession, or on a journey, he was in the
carriage just before the Emperor's. He accompanied the Emperor to the
army, if the sovereign's horse was killed or disabled, it was his duty to
pick the Emperor up and to offer him his own horse.
The Grand Equerry had four equerries under his orders: Colonels Durosnel,
Defrance, Lefebvre, Vatier, and two equerries in ordinary, M. de Canisy
and M. de Villoutrey. An equerry on duty always accompanied the Emperor,
whether he was driving or riding. If the Emperor drove, the equerry on
duty rode by the right-hand door of the carriage, unless the colonel-
general on duty happened to be on horseback, in which case the equerry
rode on the other side. The equerry on duty walked before the Emperor when
he left or returned to his apartment; he never left the waiting-room
during the day, and slept in the palace.
The pages, whose governor was General Gardane, were also under the orders
of the Grand Equerry. They were appointed when between fourteen and
sixteen, and held the position until they were eighteen. At grand dinners
and in the apartments of honor, they waited on the Emperor and Empress,
and on the Princes and Princesses. When the Emperor rode out, one followed
on horseback; if he drove, the page got up behind the carriage. When the
sovereign went forth in his state-coach, as many pages as possible
clambered up behind it and upon the box by the side of the coachman. At
receptions, and on days when mass was said, there were eight pages on
duty. They stood in a row when the Emperor returned to his apartment, and
walked before him when he left it. If the Emperor had not returned to the
palace by nightfall, the pages would wait at the entrance-door to walk
before him, carrying lights. The pages, too, served as messengers, and
when they carried letters of the Emperor, the doors were thrown wide open
before them.
The impression produced by the pages, when they were first on duty at the
Tuileries in 1804, is thus described by a contemporary: "They have been
much noticed, especially in the evening, by the ladies. The fact is, they
are all good-looking boys, particularly the oldest; they have good figures
and wear a new and becoming uniform, and since they are in the service of
a severe master, and of a most kind and indulgent mistress, they have to
be very attentive and considerate. Their full dress differs from livery
only by the lace of their coat which imitates embroidery, by the knot on
their left shoulder, and by the lace frill above their waistcoat, Besides,
in full dress they wear, like footmen, a green coat with all the seams
laced with gold, gold shoe-buckles, a hat with a white feather, but they
have no sword. Perhaps this is well, for they would be playing with it.
They have all been chosen among the sons of generals of divisions and of
high dignitaries of the Empire."
At Saint Helena Napoleon said, speaking of the pages and the Imperial
stables: "The Emperor's stables cost him three million francs; the horses
cost three thousand francs apiece per year. A page, from six to eight
thousand francs; this last was perhaps the heaviest expense of the palace;
but there was every reason to be satisfied with the education they
received, and with the care taken with them. All the first families of the
Empire sought to get the places for their sons; and they were right."
The Grand Chamberlain had charge of all the honors of the palace, the
regular audiences, the oaths taken in the Emperor's study, the admissions,
the levees and couchees, the festivities, receptions, theatrical
performances, the music, the boxes of the Emperor and Empress at the
different theatres, the Emperor's wardrobe, his library; he also looked
after the ushers and valets de chambre.
The Grand Chamberlain had under his orders (this refers to 1805), a First
Chamberlain, M. de Rémusat, and thirteen chamberlains: MM. d'Arberg, A. de
Talleyrand, de Laturbie, de Brigode, de Viry, de Thiard, Garnier de
Lariboisière, d'Hédouville, de Croy, de Mercy-Argenteau, de Zuidwyck, de
Tournon, de Bondy. In the Imperial Almanack of 1805, these men are not
named with their titles, even the _de_ is in all cases omitted or joined
with the name, thus: M. Rémusat, M. Darberg, A. Talleyrand, Laturbie,
Tournon, Dethiard, Deviry, Hédouville, etc., etc.
The chamberlain on duty was called the chamberlain of the day. At the
palace there were always two chamberlains of the day, one for the grand
apartment, the other for the Emperor's apartment of honor. They were
relieved every week. The principal duties of the chamberlains were to have
charge of introductions to the Emperor, to give orders to the ushers and
valets de chambre, to see that the orders about the receptions were
carried out, and to attend upon the sovereign's levees and couchees.
Either a chamberlain or one of the Emperor's aides-de-camp served as
Master of the Wardrobe. He had charge of the clothes, the linen, the lace,
the boots and shoes, and of the ribbons of the Legion of Honor. If he
assisted at the Emperor's toilet, he had to hand him his coat, fasten his
ribbon or collar, give him his sword, hat, and gloves, in the Grand
Chamberlain's absence.
The Grand Master of Ceremonies determined questions of rank and
precedence, drew up and enforced the rules for public, formal ceremonies,
for the reception of sovereigns and hereditary princes, and, foreign
ambassadors and ministers.
The colonels-general of the Imperial Guard and the Emperor's aides also
made part of the household.
At ceremonies when the Emperor was in his state-coach, there were two
colonels-general of the Guard at the left door. When he rode, all four
followed close behind. The Grand Equerry, or his substitute, had a place
among them.
The colonel-general on duty received directly the Emperor's orders
relative to the different requirements of the Imperial Guard, and
transmitted them directly to the other colonels-general. He was quartered
in the palace, in preference to any other officer of the Crown, and as
near as possible to the Emperor's apartment, whether at the residence or
when travelling. In the field he slept in the Emperor's tent.
Napoleon had twelve aides-de-camp. The one on duty was called the aide-de-
camp of the day, He always had a horse saddled or a carriage harnessed
ready in the stable, to carry any messages the Emperor might give. As soon
as the Emperor had gone to bed, the aide-de-camp on duty was especially
entrusted with guarding him, and he slept in an adjoining room. In the
field the Emperor's aides served as chamberlains.
There were two distinct elements in the Emperor's household: the military,
and the aristocratic. Some men owed their position entirely to their
merit; others entirely to their birth; these were both patriots of 1792
and émigrés, but it must be confessed the Imperial Almanack shows that the
aristocratic element was the more prominent. Napoleon, though certain
writers persist in representing him as the crowned champion of democracy
and the emperor of the lower classes, had a more aristocratic court than
Louis XVIII. He was more impressed by great manners than were the old
kings. Even after he had been betrayed, abandoned, denied, insulted by the
aristocracy, he had a weakness for it. In 1816 he said: "The democracy may
become furious; it has a heart; it can be moved. The aristocracy always
remains cold and never pardons." Yet even after this, he blamed himself
for not having done enough for the French nobility. "I see clearly," he
went on, "that I did either too much or too little for the Faubourg Saint
Germain. I did enough to make the opposition dissatisfied, and not enough
to win it to my side. I ought to have secured the émigrés when they
returned. The aristocracy would have soon adored me; and I needed it; it
is the true, the only support of a monarchy, its moderator, its lever, its
resisting point; without it, the state is like a ship without a rudder, a
balloon in mid-air. Now, the strength, the charm of the aristocracy lies
in its antiquity, the only thing I could not create." It must be confessed
that from an old Republican general, for the man who had sent Augereau to
execute the coup d'état of the 18th Fructidor, and who the 13th
Vendémiaire, from the steps of the Church of Saint Roch had crushed the
Paris conservatives, this was a very aristocratic way of talking,
reminding one of the old régime. In 1816 Napoleon said again: "Old and
corrupt nations cannot be governed like the virtuous peoples of antiquity.
For one man nowadays who would sacrifice everything for the public
welfare, there are thousands who take no thought of anything except their
own interests, pleasures, and vanity. Now to pretend to regenerate a
people off-hand would be madness. The workman's genius is shown by his
knowing how to make use of the materials under his hand, and that is the
secret of the restoration of all the forms of the monarchy, of the return
of titles, crosses, and ribbons."
The old Republicans of 1796, who used to denounce kings, "drunk with blood
and pride," would not have readily recognized their old general under the
golden canopies of the Tuileries, where he dined in state. His table stood
on a platform, beneath a canopy, and there were two chairs, one for
himself, the other for the Empress. As he entered the banquet-hall, he was
preceded by a swarm of pages, masters-of-ceremonies, and prefects of the
palace; he was followed by the colonel-general on duty, the Grand
Chamberlain, the Grand Equerry, and the Grand Almoner. The Grand Almoner
advanced to the table and blessed the dinner. A general of division, the
Grand Equerry Caulaincourt, offered a chair to Bonaparte. Another general
of division, Duroc, the Grand Marshal of the Palace, handed him his napkin
and poured out his wine. Not merely high dignitaries, but the Princes of
the Empire themselves, deemed it an honor to wait upon him as servants. If
a Prince of the Imperial family happened to be in the Emperor's room, any
article of dress that he asked for was given by the chamberlain-in-waiting
to the Prince, and by the Prince to the Emperor. The time of the Sun King
seemed to have returned.
The Imperial apartment at the Tuileries consisted of two distinct parts,
the grand state apartments and the Emperor's private apartment. The state
apartment contained the following rooms: 1, a concert hall (the Hall of
the Marshals); 2, a first drawing-room (under Napoleon III. called the
Drawing-room of the First Consul); 3, a second drawing-room (that of
Apollo); 4, a throne room; 5, a drawing-room of the Emperor (afterwards
called that of Louis XIV.); 6, a gallery (of Diana). The private apartment
was itself composed of the apartment of honor, containing a hall of the
guards and a first and second drawing-room, and an interior apartment
containing a bedroom, a study, an office, and topographic bureau. The
ushers had charge of the apartment of honor; the valets de chambre of the
other. A rigid etiquette determined the right of entrance into the
different rooms composing the state apartment, according to a carefully
studied system. The pages were authorized to enter the Hall of the
Marshals; members of the household of the Emperor and Empress could enter
the first and second drawing-rooms; the Princes and Princesses of the
Imperial family, the high officers of the Crown, the presidents of the
great bodies of the state, had admission to the throne room. Men and women
had to bow to the throne whenever they passed it. The Emperor and the
Empress alone had the right of entering the Emperor's drawing-room. No one
else could go in except by the Emperor's summons.
An absurd importance was attached to these trivialities, to these empty
nothings, to the right of entering this room or that, of walking before
this or that person, of handing the Emperor this or that article of dress.
"An honest, reasonable man," said Madame de Rémusat, "is often overcome
with shame at the pleasures and pains of a courtier's life, and yet it is
hard to escape from them. A ribbon, a slight difference of dress, the
right of way through a door, the entrance into such and such a drawing-
room, are the occasion, contemptible in appearance, of a host of ever new
emotions. Vain is the struggle to acquire indifference to them.... In
vain, do the mind and the reason revolt against such an employment of
human faculties; however dissatisfied one is with one's self, it is
necessary to humiliate one's self before every one and to desert the
court, or else to consent to take seriously all the nonsense that fills
the air and breathes there."
Vanity of human events! What has become of these drawing-rooms of the
Tuileries, which it was such an honor to enter, which were trod with such
respectful awe? Look at the lamentable ruins of this ill-fated palace.
There may still be seen, blackened with petroleum and stained by the rain,
some of those drawing-rooms, once so brilliant, once thronged with an
eager and showy crowd. What an instructive spectacle! When is one more
urgently reminded of the emptiness of human glory and greatness? This
nothingness fills the soul with melancholy when one thinks that soon these
crumbling fragments will be razed and that soon one can say with the poet:
The ruins themselves have perished, _Etiam periere ruinae_! [Footnote: The
ruins have since been removed.--TR.]
IX.
HOUSEHOLD OP THE EMPRESS.
We have just studied the civil and the military household of the Emperor
in 1805; let us now study the Empress's household at the same period.
The Empress's First Almoner was a bishop, a great lord, Ferdinand de
Rohan. Her Maid of Honor was a relative of her first husband, the Duchess
de La Rochefoucauld, called in the Imperial Almanack of 1805 simply Madame
Chastulé de La Rochefoucauld. She was short and deformed, but
distinguished, for her intelligence, tact, and wit, void of ambition, with
no taste for intrigue, who only reluctantly accepted the position of Maid
of Honor, and often wanted to hand in her resignation. The Lady of the
Bedchamber was Madame de Lavalette, a Beauharnais, an able and
affectionate woman, who immortalized herself, in the early days of the
Restoration, by saving her husband's life by her heroism.
To the four Ladies of the Palace at the beginning of the Empire, Madame de
Luçay, Madame de Rémusat, Madame de Talhouët, Madame de Lauriston, were
added thirteen other ladies: Madame Duchâtel, Madame de Séran, Madame de
Colbert, Madame Savary, Madame Octave de Ségur, Madame de Turenne, Madame
de Montalivet, Madame de Bouillé, Madame de Vaux, Madame de Marescot.
The Maid of Honor was for the Empress what the Grand Chamberlain was for
the Emperor. The Lady of the Bedchamber's duties corresponded to those of
the Keeper of the Wardrobe. The Ladies of the Palace were, so to speak,
female chamberlains.
"We were all," said the Duchess of Abrantès, "at that time radiant with a
sort of glory which women seek as eagerly as men do theirs, that of
elegance and beauty. Among the young women composing the court of the
Empress and that of the Princesses it would have been hard to find a
single ill-favored woman, and there were very many whose beauty made, with
no exaggeration, the greatest ornament of the festivities held every day
in that fairy-like time."
All the Ladies of the Palace were young, and almost all were remarkable
for their beauty. Among the most conspicuous was Madame Ney, a niece of
Madame Campan; Madame Lannes, whose face recalled the most charming
pictures of Raphael, and above all, the wife of an already aged Councillor
of State, Madame Duchâtel (whose son was Minister of the Interior in the
reign of Louis Philippe, and whose grandson was Ambassador of the Republic
at Vienna). The Duchess of Abrantès thus describes this famous beauty:
"There is one woman in the Imperial court who made her appearance in
society shortly before the coronation, whose portrait is drawn in all the
contemporary memoirs, especially in those written by a woman, and that is
Madame Duchâtel. Madame Duchâtel would not serve as a model for a
sculptor, because her features lack the regularity which his art requires.
The indefinable charm of her face, a charm which words are unable to
convey, lay in dark blue eyes, with long, silken, lashes, in a delicate,
gracious, refined smile, which, disclosed teeth of ivory whiteness, and,
moreover, beautiful light hair, small hands and feet, a general elegance
which matched a really remarkable mind. All these things formed a
combination which first attracted and then attached every one to her."