“And if these rumors, simultaneously spread about in foreign countries,

were intended to cause alarm on account of the ambition of the Emperor,

and at the same time to encourage any unbecoming and mistaken acts, by

leading people to hope that his Government is weak, we can but repeat

the words that a Minister was instructed to utter on leaving a certain

Court: ‘The Emperor of the French desires war with no one, whosoever he

may be; he dreads war with no one. He does not meddle with his

neighbors’ business, and he has a right to similar treatment. He has

always manifested a wish for a durable peace, but the history of his

life does not justify us in thinking that he will suffer himself to be

insulted or despised.’”

After a refreshing sojourn in the country, I came back once more to the

whirl of Court life, where the fever of vanity seemed every day to lay

stronger hold of us.

The Emperor now appointed the great officers of the household. General

Duroc was made Grand Marshal of the Palace; Berthier, Master of the Hunt

(_Grand Veneur_); M. de Talleyrand, Grand Chamberlain; Cardinal Fesch,

High Almoner; M. de Caulaincourt, Grand Equerry; and M. de Ségus, Grand

Master of the Ceremonies. M. de Rémusat received the title of First

Chamberlain. He ranked immediately next to M. de Talleyrand, who would

be chiefly occupied by foreign affairs, and was to depute my husband to

do the greater part of his duties. The matter was thus arranged at

first; but soon after the Emperor appointed Chamberlains in Ordinary.

Among them were the Baron de Talleyrand (a nephew of the Grand

Chamberlain), some senators, some Belgian gentlemen of high birth, and,

a little later, some French gentlemen also.

With these began little emulations as to precedence, and discontent on

account of distinctions which were withheld from them. M. de Rémusat

found himself exposed to continual envy, and as it were at war with

these personages. I am now ashamed when I recall the annoyance which all

this caused me; but whatever the Court in which one lives—and ours had

become a very real one—it is impossible not to attach importance to the

trifles of which it is composed. An honorable and sensible man is often

ashamed in his own eyes of the pleasure or annoyance which he

experiences in the profession of a courtier, and yet he can scarcely

avoid either the one or the other. A ribbon, a slight difference in

dress, permission to pass through a particular door, the _entrée_ to

such or such a _salon_—these are the pitiful causes of a constantly

recurring vexation. In vain do we try to harden ourselves against them.

The importance in which they are held by a great number of persons

obliges us, in spite of ourselves, to prize them. In vain do sense and

reason rebel against such a use of human faculties; however dissatisfied

we may feel with ourselves, we must needs become as small-minded as

everybody else, and either fly the Court altogether, or consent to take

seriously all the follies that fill the very air we breathe.

The Emperor added to the difficulties inseparable from the regulations

of a palace those of his own temper. He enforced etiquette with the

strictness of martial law. Ceremonies were gone through as though by

beat of drum; everything was done at double-quick time; and the

perpetual hurry, the constant fear that Bonaparte inspired, added to the

unfamiliarity of a good half of his courtiers with formalities of the

kind, rendered the Court dull rather than dignified. Every countenance

wore an expression of uneasiness and solicitude in the midst of all the

magnificence with which his ostentatious tastes led the Emperor to

surround himself.

Mme. de la Rochefoucauld, who was the Empress’s cousin, was appointed

her Lady of Honor, and Mme. de la Fayette Lady of the Bedchamber. Twelve

Ladies-in-Waiting were nominated, and by degrees the number of these was

augmented. Many great ladies from different parts of the country were

included in the list, persons who were much surprised at finding

themselves in each other’s society. Without entering into any details

here, which would now serve no good purpose, I may mention that

applications were then made by persons who now affect a strict royalism,

hardly compatible with the opinions they then professed. It ought to be

frankly admitted that all classes wanted to have their share of these

new creations, and I could point to several persons who, after having

blamed me because I came to the First Consul’s Court in consequence of

an old friendship, spared no efforts on their own part to obtain places

at that of the Emperor, from ambitious motives.

As for the Empress, she was delighted to find herself surrounded by a

numerous suite, and one so gratifying to her vanity. The victory she had

won over Mme. de la Rochefoucauld by attaching her to her person, the

pleasure of reckoning M. d’Aubusson de la Feuillade among her

Chamberlains, Mme. d’Arberg de Ségur and the Maréchales among her

Ladies-in-Waiting, intoxicated her a little; but I must admit that this

essentially feminine feeling deprived her of none of her accustomed

grace and kindliness. The Empress always knew perfectly well how to

preserve the supremacy of her own rank, while showing polite deference

toward those men or women who added to the splendor of her Court by

their personal distinction.

At this time the “Ministry of General Police” was reconstructed, and

Fouché was once more placed at its head.

The 18th Brumaire was the date at first fixed for the coronation, and in

the mean time, to show that the revolutionary epochs were not to be

disregarded, the Emperor repaired in great pomp to the Invalides on the

14th of July, and, after having heard mass, distributed the Cross of the

Legion of Honor to a number of persons selected from all classes

comprised in the Government, the army, and the Court. I must not omit to

record that on this occasion the Empress looked young and lovely among

all the youthful and handsome women by whom she was surrounded for the

first time in public. Her costume was admirably selected and in perfect

taste. The ceremony took place under burning sunshine. She appeared in

broad daylight, attired in a robe of rose-colored tulle, spangled with

silver stars, and cut very low, according to the fashion of the day. Her

headdress consisted of a great number of diamond wheat-ears. This

brilliant attire, the elegance of her bearing, the charm of her smile,

the sweetness of her countenance, produced such an effect, that I heard

many persons who were present at the ceremony say that the Empress

outshone all the ladies of her suite.

A few days afterward the Emperor set out for the camp at Boulogne, and,

if public rumor was to be believed, the English began to feel really

alarmed at the prospect of an invasion.

He passed more than a month in inspecting the coasts and reviewing the

troops in the various camps. The army was at that time numerous,

flourishing, and animated by the best spirit. He was present at several

engagements between the vessels which were blockading us and our

flotillas, which by this time had a formidable aspect.

While engaged in these military occupations, he fixed, by several

decrees, the precedence and the rank of the various authorities which he

had created; for his mind embraced every topic at once. He had already

formed a private intention of asking the Pope to crown him, and, in

order to carry this out, he neglected neither that address by which he

might amicably carry his point, nor certain measures by which he might

be able to render a refusal exceedingly difficult. He sent the Cross of

the Legion of Honor to Cardinal Caprara, the Pope’s legate, and

accompanied the distinction by words equally flattering to the Sovereign

Pontiff and promising for the reëstablishment of religion. These fine

phrases appeared in the “Moniteur.” Nevertheless, when he communicated

his project of confirming his elevation by so solemn a religious

ceremony to the Council of State, he had to encounter determined

opposition from certain of his councilors. Treilhard, among others,

resisted the proposal strongly. The Emperor allowed him to speak, and

then replied: “You do not know the ground we are standing on so well as

I know it. Let me tell you that religion has lost much less of its power

than you think. You do not know all that I effect by means of the

priests whom I have gained over. There are thirty departments in France

sufficiently religious to make me very glad that I am not obliged to

dispute with the Pope for power in them. It is only by committing every

other authority in succession to mine that I shall secure my own, that

is to say, the authority of the Revolution, which we all wish to

consolidate.”

While the Emperor was inspecting the ports, the Empress went to

Aix-la-Chapelle to drink the waters. She was accompanied by some of her

new household, and M. de Rémusat was ordered to follow her, and to await

the Emperor, who was to rejoin her at Aix. I was glad of this respite. I

could not disguise from myself that so many new-comers were effacing by

degrees her first estimate of my value to her, which had owed much to

the non-existence of comparisons; and, although I was yet young in

experience of the world, I felt that a short absence would be useful,

and that I should afterward take, if not the first place, that of my

choice, and hold it throughout securely.

Mme. de la Rochefoucauld, who attended the Empress, was then a woman of

between thirty-six and forty years old, short and ill-made, with a

striking countenance, but only ordinary abilities. She had a great deal

of assurance, like most plain women who have had some success

notwithstanding their defects. She was very lively, and not at all

ill-natured. She proclaimed her adherence to all the opinions of those

who were called “aristocrats” by the Revolution; and, as she would have

been puzzled to reconcile those views with her present position, she

made up her mind to laugh at them, and would jest about herself with the

utmost good humor. The Emperor liked her because she was quick,

frivolous, and incapable of scheming. Indeed, no Court in which women

were so numerous ever offered less opportunity for any kind of intrigue.

Affairs of state were absolutely confined to the cabinet of the Emperor

only; we were ignorant of them, and we knew that nobody could meddle

with them. The few persons in whom the Emperor confided were wholly

devoted to the execution of his will, and absolutely unapproachable.

Duroc, Savary, and Maret never allowed an unnecessary word to escape

them, confining themselves strictly to communicating to us without delay

such orders as they received. We were in their sight and in our own mere

machines, simply and solely doing those things which we were ordered to

do, and of about as much importance as the elegant articles of new

furniture with which the palaces of the Tuileries and Saint Cloud were

now profusely adorned.

I remarked at this time, with some amusement, that, as by degrees the

_grands seigneurs_ of former days came to Court, they all experienced,

no matter how widely their characters differed, a certain sense of

disappointment curious to observe. When at first they once more breathed

the air of palaces, found themselves again among their former associates

and in the atmosphere of their youth, beheld anew decorations,

throne-rooms, and Court costumes, and heard the forms of speech habitual

in royal dwellings, they yielded to the delightful illusion. They fondly

believed that they might conduct themselves as they had been accustomed

to do in those same palaces, where all but the master remained

unchanged. But a harsh word, a peremptory order, the pressure of an

arbitrary will, soon reminded them roughly that everything was new in

this unique Court. Then it was strange to see how, despite all their

efforts, they lost their presence of mind, feeling the ground uncertain

under their feet, and became constrained and uneasy in all their futile

little ways. They were too vain or too weak to substitute a grave

bearing, unlike the manners of their past, for their former customs, and

they did not know what course to adopt. The arts of the courtier availed

nothing with Bonaparte, and so profited them not at all. It was not safe

to remain a man in his presence—that is to say, to preserve the use of

one’s intellectual faculties; it was easier and quicker for everybody,

or nearly everybody, to assume the attitude of servility. If I chose, I

could tell exactly the individuals to whom such a course came most

readily; but, if I were to go more at length into this subject, I should

give my Memoirs the color of a satire, which is neither according to my

taste nor my intention.

While the Emperor was at Boulogne, he sent his brother Joseph to Paris,

where all the governing bodies presented addresses to him and his wife.

Thus, he assigned each person his own place, and dictated supremacy to

some and servitude to others. On the 3d of September he rejoined his

wife at Aix-la-Chapelle, and remained there some days, holding a

brilliant Court and receiving the German Princes. During this sojourn,

M. de Rémusat was directed to send to Paris for the company of the

second theatre, then managed by Picard, and several _fêtes_ were given

to the Electors, which, although they did not approach the magnificence

of later occasions, were very splendid. The Elector Arch-Chancellor of

the German Empire and the Elector of Baden paid assiduous court to our

sovereigns. The Emperor and Empress visited Cologne, and ascended the

Rhine as far as Mayence, where they were met by a crowd of princes and

distinguished foreigners. This excursion lasted until the month of

October.

On the 14th Mme. Louis Bonaparte gave birth to a second son. Bonaparte

arrived in Paris a few days later. This event was a great source of

happiness to the Empress. She believed that it would have a most

favorable effect upon her future, and yet at that very moment a new plot

was being formed against her, which she only succeeded in defeating

after much effort and mental suffering.

Ever since we had learned that the Pope would come to Paris for the

coronation of the Emperor, the Bonaparte family had been exceedingly

anxious to prevent Mme. Bonaparte from having a personal share in the

ceremony. The jealousy of our Princesses was strongly excited on this

point. It seemed to them that such an honor would place too great a

distance between themselves and their sister-in-law, and, besides,

dislike needs no motive of interest personal to itself to make anything

which is a gratification to its object distasteful. The Empress ardently

longed for her coronation, which she believed would establish her rank

and her security, and the silence of her husband alarmed her. He

appeared to be hesitating, and Joseph spared no argument to induce him

to make his wife merely a witness of the ceremony. He even went so far

as to revive the question of the divorce, advising Bonaparte to profit

by the approaching event to decide upon it. He pointed out the advantage

of an alliance with some foreign princess, or at least with the heiress

of a great name in France, and cleverly held out the hope that such a

marriage would give him of having a direct heir; and he spoke with all

the more chance of being listened to, because he insisted strongly on

the personal disinterestedness of advice which, if taken, might remove

himself from all chance of the succession. The Emperor, incessantly

harassed by his family, appeared to be impressed by his brother’s

arguments, and a few words which escaped him threw his wife into extreme

distress. Her former habit of confiding all her troubles to me now led

her to restore me to her confidence. I was exceedingly puzzled how to

advise her, and not a little afraid of committing myself in so serious a

matter. An unexpected incident was near bringing about the very thing

which we dreaded.

For some time Mme. Bonaparte had perceived an increase of intimacy

between her husband and Mme. de ——. In vain did I entreat her not to

furnish the Emperor with a pretext for a quarrel, which would be made

use of against her. She was too full of her grievance to be prudent,

and, in spite of my warning, she watched for an opportunity of

confirming her suspicions. At Saint Cloud the Emperor occupied the

apartment which opens upon the garden, and is on the same level. Above

this apartment was a small suite of rooms communicating with his own by

a back staircase, which he had recently had furnished, and the Empress

strongly suspected the purpose of this mysterious retreat. One morning,

when there were several persons in her drawing-room, the Empress, seeing

Mme. de —— (who was then resident at Saint Cloud) leave the room,

suddenly rose a few minutes afterward, and, taking me apart into a

window, said: “I am going to clear up my doubts this very moment; stay

here with all these people, and, if you are asked where I have gone, say

that the Emperor sent for me.” I tried to restrain her, but she was

quite ungovernable, and would not listen to me. She went out at the same

moment, and I remained, excessively apprehensive of what might be going

to happen. In about half an hour the Empress reëntered the room by the

opposite door. She seemed exceedingly agitated, and almost unable to

control herself, but took her seat before an embroidery frame. I

remained at a distance from her, apparently occupied by my needlework,

and avoiding her eye; but I could easily perceive her agitation by the

abruptness of all her movements, which were generally slow and soft. At

last, as she was incapable of keeping silence under strong emotion of

any kind, she could no longer endure this constraint, and, calling to me

in a loud voice, she bade me follow her. When we had reached her

bedroom, she said: “All is lost. It is but too true. I went to look for

the Emperor in his cabinet, and he was not there; then I went up the

back stairs into the upper room. I found the door shut, but I could hear

Bonaparte’s voice, and also that of Mme. de ——. I knocked loudly at

the door, and called out that I was there. You may imagine the start I

gave them. It was some time before the door was opened, and when at last

I was admitted, though I know I ought to have been able to control

myself, it was impossible, and I reproached them bitterly. Mme. de ——

began to cry, and Bonaparte flew into so violent a passion that I had

hardly time to fly before him and escape his rage. I am still trembling

at the thought of it; I did not know to what excess his anger might have

gone. No doubt he will soon come here, and I may expect a terrible

scene.” The emotion of the Empress moved me deeply. “Do not,” said I,

“commit a second fault, for the Emperor will never forgive you for

having admitted any one, no matter whom, to your confidence. Let me

leave you, Madame. You must wait for him; let him find you alone.” I

returned at once to the drawing-room, where I found Mme. de ——. She

glanced at me nervously; she was extremely pale, talked almost

incoherently, and tried hard to find out whether I knew what had passed.

I resumed my work as tranquilly as I could, but I think Mme. de ——,

having seen me leave the room, must have known that the Empress had told

me. Every one was looking at every one else and nobody could make out

what was happening.

A few minutes afterward we heard a great noise in the apartment of the

Empress, and of course I knew that the Emperor was there, and that a

violent quarrel was taking place. Mme. de —— called for her carriage,

and at once left for Paris. This sudden departure was not likely to mend

matters. I was to go to Paris in the evening. Before I left Saint Cloud

the Empress sent for me, and told me, with many tears, that Bonaparte,

after having insulted her in every possible way, and smashed some of the

furniture in his rage, had signified to her that she was at once to quit

Saint Cloud. He declared that, weary of her jealous spying, he was

determined to shake off such a yoke, and to listen henceforth only to

the counsels of his policy, which demanded that he should take a wife

capable of giving him children. She added that he had sent orders to

Eugène de Beauharnais to come to Saint Cloud in order to make

arrangements for the departure of his mother, and she added that she was

now lost beyond redemption. She then directed me to go and see her

daughter in Paris on the following day, and to inform her exactly of all

that had occurred.

Accordingly, I went to Mme. Louis Bonaparte. She had just seen her

brother, who had come from Saint Cloud. The Emperor had signified to him

his resolution to divorce his wife, and Eugène had received the

communication with his accustomed submission, but refused all the

personal favors which were offered to him as a consolation, declaring

that from the moment such a misfortune should fall upon his mother he

would accept nothing, but that he would follow her to any retreat which

might be assigned to her, were it even at Martinique, as he was resolved

to sacrifice all to her great need of comfort. Bonaparte had appeared to

be deeply impressed by this generous resolution; he had listened to all

that Eugène said in unbroken silence.

I found Mme. Louis less affected by this event than I expected. “I can

not interfere in any way,” she said. “My husband has positively

forbidden me to do so. My mother has been very imprudent. She is about

to forfeit a crown, but, at any rate, she will have peace. Ah! believe

me, there are women more unhappy than she.” She spoke with such profound

sadness that I could not fail to read her thoughts; but, as she never

allowed a word to be said about her own personal position, I did not

venture to reply in such a way as would make it evident that I had

understood her. “And, besides,” said she in conclusion, “if there be any

chance at all of setting this matter right, it is the influence of my

mother’s tears and her gentleness over Bonaparte. Believe me, it is

better to leave them to themselves—not to interfere at all between

them; and I strongly advise you not to return to Saint Cloud, especially

as Mme. N—— has mentioned you, and believes that you would give

hostile advice.”

I remained away from Saint Cloud for two days, in accordance with the

advice of Mme. Louis Bonaparte; but on the third I rejoined my Empress,

concerning whom I felt the deepest solicitude. I found her relieved from

one pressing trouble. Her submission and her tears had, in fact,

disarmed Bonaparte; his anger and its cause were no longer in question.

A tender reconciliation had taken place between them; but, immediately

afterward, the Emperor had thrown his wife into fresh agitation by

letting her see that he was seriously entertaining the idea of a

divorce. “I have not the courage,” he said to her, “to come to a final

resolution; and if you let me see that you are too deeply afflicted—if

you can render me obedience only—I feel that I shall never have the

strength to oblige you to leave me. I tell you plainly, however, that it

is my earnest desire that you should resign yourself to the interests of

my policy, and yourself spare me all the difficulties of this painful

separation.” The Empress told me that he wept bitterly while uttering

these terrible words. I remember well how, as I listened to her, I

conceived in my mind the plan of a great and generous sacrifice which

she might make to France.

Believing, as I then believed, that the fate of the nation was

irrevocably united with that of Napoleon, I thought there would be true

greatness of soul in devoting one’s self to all that might secure and

confirm that destiny. I thought, had I been the woman to whom such a

representation had been made, that I should have had courage to abandon

the brilliant position which, after all, was grudged to me, and retire

into a peaceful solitude, satisfied with the sacrifice that I had made.

But, when I saw in Mme. Bonaparte’s face what suffering the Emperor’s

words had caused her, I remembered that my mother had once said that

advice to be useful must be adapted to the character of the person to

whom it is offered, and I refrained from uttering the lofty sentiments

of which my mind was full. I bethought me in time of the dread with

which the Empress would contemplate retirement, of her taste for luxury

and display, and of the devouring _ennui_ to which she would inevitably

fall a prey when she had broken with the world; and I confined myself to

saying that I saw only two alternatives for her. The first of these was

to sacrifice herself bravely and with dignity; in which case she ought

to go to Malmaison on the following morning, and thence to write to the

Emperor, declaring that she restored his freedom to him; or to remain

where she was, acknowledging herself to be unable to decide upon her own

fate, and, though always ready to obey, positively determined to await

his direct orders before she should descend from the throne on which he

had placed her.

She adopted the second alternative. Assuming the attitude of a resigned

and submissive victim, she excited the jealous anger of all the

Bonapartes by her gentle demeanor. Yielding, sad, considerate of

everybody, entirely obedient, but also skillful in availing herself of

her ascendency over her husband, she reduced him to a condition of

agitation and indecision from which he could not escape.

At length, one memorable evening, after long hesitation, during which

the Empress suffered mortal anguish and suspense, the Emperor told her

that the Pope was about to arrive in Paris, that he would crown them

both, and that she had better at once begin to prepare for the great

ceremony. It is easy to picture to one’s fancy the joy with which such a

termination to all her misery filled the heart of the Empress, and also

the discomfiture of the Bonapartes, especially Joseph; for the Emperor

had not failed to acquaint his wife, according to his usual custom, with

the attempts that had been made to induce him to decide on a divorce,

and it is only reasonable to suppose that these revelations increased

the ill feeling already existing on both sides.

On this occasion the Empress confided to me the ardent desire she had

long felt to have her marriage, which had been civilly contracted,

confirmed by a religious ceremony. She said that she had sometimes

spoken of this to the Emperor, and that, although he had not evinced any

repugnance, he had objected that, even if a priest were brought into the

palace to perform the religious rite, it could not be done with

sufficient secrecy to conceal the fact that until then they had not been

married according to the Church. Either that was his real reason, or he

wanted to hold this means of breaking his marriage in reserve for future

use, should he consider it really advisable to do so; at any rate, he

had rejected his wife’s pleading firmly, but mildly. She therefore

determined to await the arrival of the Pope, being persuaded, very

reasonably, that his Holiness would espouse her interests on such a

point.

The entire Court was now occupied in preparations for the ceremony of

the coronation. The Empress was continually surrounded by all the best

artists in millinery in Paris, and the venders of the most fashionable

wares. With their assistance she decided on the new form of Court dress,

and on her own costume. As may be supposed, there was no thought of

resuming the hoop worn under the old _régime_; it was merely proposed

that to our ordinary garments the long mantle (which was still worn

after the return of the King) should be added, and also a very becoming

ruff of blonde, which was attached to the shoulders and came high up at

the back of the head, as we see it in portraits of Catherine de’ Medici.

The use of this ruff was afterward discontinued, although it was, in my

opinion, very pretty, and lent dignity and grace to the whole costume.

The Empress already possessed diamonds of considerable value, but the

Emperor not only made costly additions to her jewel-case, but also

placed the diamonds belonging to the national treasury in her hands, and

desired that she should wear them on the great day. A diadem of

brilliants, above which the Emperor was with his own hands to place the

closed crown upon her head, was made for her, and the ceremony was

privately rehearsed. David, who afterward painted the great picture of

the coronation of the Emperor and Empress, attended these rehearsals,

and arranged the positions of each. The coronation of the Emperor had

been eagerly discussed. The first idea was that the Pope should place

the diadem upon the head of the Emperor; but Bonaparte refused to

receive the crown from any hand but his own, and uttered on that

occasion the sentence which Mme. de Staël has quoted in her work: “I

found the crown of France upon the ground, and I picked it up.”

At length, after a great deal of discussion, it was arranged that the

Emperor was to crown himself, and that the Pope should only give his

benediction. Everything was done to make the _fêtes_ brilliant and

popular, and people began to flock into Paris. Considerable bodies of

troops were ordered up to the capital; all the chief authorities of the

provinces were invited; the Arch-Chancellor of the German Empire and a

great number of foreigners arrived. Party spirit slumbered for the time

being, and the whole city gave itself up to the excitement and curiosity

of so novel an incident, and a spectacle which would doubtless be

magnificent. The shopkeepers drove a thriving trade; workmen of all

kinds were employed, and rejoiced in the occasion that procured them

such a stroke of luck; the population of the city seemed to be doubled;

commerce, public establishments, and theatres all profited by the

occasion, and all was bustle and activity.

The poets were requested to celebrate this great event. Chénier was

ordered to compose a tragedy for the perpetual commemoration of it, and

he took Cyrus for his hero. The Opéra was to give splendid ballets. To

us dwellers in the palace money was given for our expenses, and the

Empress presented each of her Ladies-in-Waiting with handsome diamond

ornaments. The Court dress of the gentlemen about the Emperor was also

regulated. This becoming costume consisted of the French coat, in

different colors for those who belonged to the department of the Grand

Marshal, the Grand Chamberlain, and the Grand Equerry respectively;

silver embroidery for all; a cloak of velvet lined with satin, worn over

one shoulder; a sash, a lace cravat, and a hat turned up in front, with

a white plume. The Princes were to wear white coats embroidered in gold;

the Emperor was to wear a long robe somewhat resembling that worn by our

kings, a mantle of purple velvet sewn with golden bees, and his crown, a

golden wreath of laurels like that of the Cæsars.

It seems like a dream, or a story from the “Arabian Nights,” when I

recall the luxury that was displayed at that period, the perpetual

disputes about precedence, the claims of rank, and all the demands made

by everybody. The Emperor directed that the Princesses should carry the

Empress’s mantle; there was the greatest difficulty in inducing them to

consent to do this; and I remember well that, when at last they did

consent, they performed their office with so ill a grace that the

Empress, overpowered by the weight of her magnificent robe, could hardly

walk, for they would scarcely lift the folds off the ground. They

obtained permission to have their own trains borne by their respective

chamberlains, and this distinction somewhat consoled them for the

obligation that was imposed upon them.

In the mean time we learned that the Pope had left Rome on the 2d of

November. The slowness of his journey and the vast scale of the

preparations rendered it necessary to put off the coronation until the

2d of December; and on the 24th of November the Court went to

Fontainebleau to receive his Holiness, who arrived there on the

following day.

Before I close this chapter, I wish to mention a circumstance which

ought, it seems to me, to be recorded. The Emperor had for the moment

relinquished the idea of a divorce, but, being still extremely anxious

to have an heir, he asked his wife whether she would consent to

acknowledge a child of his as her own, and to feign pregnancy, so that

every one should be deceived. She consented to accede to any wish of his

on this point. Then Bonaparte sent for Corvisart, his chief physician,

in whom he had well-merited confidence, and confided his plan to him.

“If I succeed,” said he, “in making sure of the birth of a boy who shall

be my own son, I want you, as a witness of the pretended confinement of

the Empress, to do all that would be necessary to give the device every

appearance of reality.” Corvisart, who felt that his honor and probity

were injured by the mere proposition, refused to do what the Emperor

required of him, but promised inviolable secrecy. It was not until long

afterward, and since Bonaparte’s second marriage, that he confided this

fact to me, while at the same time he affirmed in the strongest terms

the legitimate birth of the King of Rome, concerning which some entirely

unfounded doubts had been raised.

CHAPTER X

THE Pope was probably induced to come to France solely by the

representations which were made to him of advantages and concessions to

be gained by such a gracious act. He arrived at Fontainebleau with the

intention of lending himself to all that might be required of him,

within legitimate bounds; and, notwithstanding the superiority on which

the conqueror who had forced him to take this unheard-of step plumed

himself, and the small respect in which the Court held a sovereign who

did not reckon the sword among the insignia of his royalty, he impressed

everybody by his dignity and the gravity of his bearing.

The Emperor went to meet him at a few leagues distance from the château,

and, when the carriages met, he alighted, as did his Holiness also. The

Pope and the Emperor embraced, and then got into the same carriage, the

Emperor entering first, in order, as the “Moniteur” of the day

explained, to give the Pope the right-hand seat, and so they came to the

palace.

The Pope arrived on Sunday, at noon; and having rested for a while in

his own apartment, to which he was conducted by the Grand Chamberlain

(i. e., M. de Talleyrand), the Grand Marshal, and the Grand Master of

Ceremonies, he visited the Emperor, who met him outside the door of his

cabinet, and, after an interview of half an hour’s duration, reconducted

him to the great hall, which was then called “The Hall of the Great

Officers.” The Empress had received instructions to place the Pope at

her right hand.

After these visits, Prince Louis, the Ministers, the Arch-Chancellor,

the Arch-Treasurer, Cardinal Fesch, and the great officers then at

Fontainebleau, were presented to the Pope, who received them all most

graciously. He afterward dined with the Emperor and retired early.

The Pope was at this time sixty-two years of age, tall and upright of

figure, and with a handsome, grave, benevolent face. He was attended by

a numerous suite of Italian priests—anything but impressive personages,

whose rough, noisy, and vulgar manners contrasted strangely with the

grave good breeding of the French clergy. The Palace of Fontainebleau

presented a strange spectacle just then, inhabited as it was by so

extraordinary a medley of persons—sovereigns, princes, military

officers, priests, women, all gathered together in the different

_salons_ at the prescribed hours. On the day after his arrival, his

Holiness received all those persons belonging to the Court who desired

that honor, in his own apartment. We had the privilege of kissing his

hand and receiving his blessing. His presence in such a place, and on so

great an occasion, affected me very deeply.

After these receptions, visits were again interchanged between the

sovereigns. On the occasion of her second interview with the Pope, the

Empress carried out the intention she had secretly formed, and confided

to him that her marriage had been a civil ceremony only. His Holiness,

after having commended her for the good use she made of her power, and

addressing her as “My daughter,” promised her that he would require of

the Emperor that his coronation should be preceded by the ceremony

necessary to legitimize his marriage with her; and, in fact, the Emperor

was obliged to consent to this. On their return to Paris Cardinal Fesch

married Bonaparte to Josephine, as I shall presently relate.

On the Monday evening a concert was to take place in the apartments of

the Empress. The Pope, however, declined to be present, and retired just

as the entertainment was about to begin.

At this time the Emperor took a fancy to Mme. de X——, and whether it

was that his budding passion had inspired him with a wish to please, or

that his satisfaction at the success of his plans kept him in good

humor, I can not say; certain it is, however, that while we were at

Fontainebleau he was more affable and approachable than usual. After the

Pope had retired, the Emperor remained in the Empress’s drawing-room,

and talked, not with the men, but, by preference, with the women who

were there. His wife, keen of perception where anything which aroused

her jealousy was in question, was struck by this departure from his

ordinary habits, and suspected that some new fancy was the cause of it.

She could not, however, discover the real object of his thoughts,

because he very adroitly paid marked attention to each of us in

succession; and Mme. de X——, who as yet conducted herself with great

reserve, did not seem to perceive that she was the particular object of

the general gallantries that the Emperor affected to distribute among

us. Some of those present believed that the Maréchale Ney was about to

receive his homage. The Maréchale is the daughter of M. Augué, formerly

Receiver-General of Finance, and her mother was one of the Bedchamber

Women to Queen Marie Antoinette. She was educated by her aunt, Mme.

Campan, and when in her establishment became the friend and companion of

Hortense de Beauharnais, now the Princess Louis. She was at this time

about twenty-two or twenty-three years old, and rather pretty, but too

thin. She knew very little of the world, was excessively shy, and had

not the slightest desire to attract the Emperor, whom she regarded with

extreme dread.

During our sojourn at Fontainebleau, a decree of the Senate was

published in the “Moniteur.” It was to the effect that, according to the

verification of the registers of the votes given upon the question of

the Empire, made by a commission of the Senate, Bonaparte and his family

were declared to be called to the throne of France. The general total of

voters amounted to 3,574,898. Of these, 3,572,329 were ayes, 2,569 noes.

The Court returned to Paris on Thursday, the 29th of November. The

Emperor and the Pope traveled in the same carriage, and his Holiness was

lodged in the Pavilion of Flora. Certain members of the household were

appointed to attend on him.

During the first few days of his residence in Paris, the Pope was not

treated by the inhabitants with all the respect which might have been

anticipated. A crowd, attracted by curiosity, thronged his path when he

visited the churches, and assembled under his balcony when he appeared

there to give his blessing. By degrees, however, the description of the

dignity of his manners given by those who had access to him, several

noble and affecting sayings of his on different occasions, and the

self-possession which he maintained in a position so new and strange to

the head of Christendom, produced a marked change even among the lower

classes of the people.

Every morning the terrace of the Tuileries was covered with a great

multitude, calling loudly for him, and kneeling to receive his blessing.

The people were admitted to the gallery of the Louvre at certain

specified times during the day, and then the Pope would walk from end to

end of it and bless the multitude. Mothers flocked thither with their

children, and were received with special kindness. One day an individual

who was a well-known enemy of religion was in the gallery when the Pope

arrived, and, as his curiosity urged him to stay, he held himself aloof,

as though to avoid the benediction. The Pope drew near him, divined his

secret hostility, and said to him, in the gentlest tone: “Why do you

avoid me, sir? Is there any danger in an old man’s blessing?”

Very soon all Paris resounded with praise of the Pope, and the Emperor’s

jealousy was excited. He made certain arrangements which obliged his

Holiness to deny himself to the too eager entreaties of the faithful;

and the Pope, who detected the Emperor’s uneasiness, adopted extreme

reserve, but without allowing the slightest sign of human pride to

appear in his manner or conduct.

Two days before the coronation, M. de Rémusat, who, in addition to being

Grand Chamberlain, was also Keeper of the Wardrobe, and therefore

charged with all the details of the Imperial costumes, submitted to the

Empress the superb diadem which had just been made for her. He found her

in a state of delight and satisfaction, which she could hardly conceal

from general notice. Presently she took my husband apart, and confided

to him that, on the morning of that same day, an altar had been erected

in the Emperor’s cabinet, and that Cardinal Fesch had performed the

marriage ceremony between herself and Bonaparte, in the presence of two

aides-de-camp. After the ceremony she had procured a written certificate

of the marriage from the Cardinal. She carefully preserved this

document, and, notwithstanding all the Emperor’s efforts to obtain it

from her, she never could be induced to part with it.

It has since been said that any religious marriage not witnessed by the

_curé_ of the parish in which it is celebrated is _de facto_ null and

void, and that a means of breaking the marriage was purposely reserved

by this expedient. In that case, Cardinal Fesch must have been a

consenting party to the fraud; and yet his subsequent conduct forbids

any such supposition. When violent quarrels arose on the subject of the

divorce, and the Empress went so far as to threaten her husband with the

publication of the certificate in her possession, Cardinal Fesch was

consulted upon the point. He repeatedly affirmed that the document was

in good form, and that his conscience obliged him to declare the

marriage so validly solemnized that it could not be broken otherwise

than by an act of arbitrary authority.

After the divorce the Emperor wanted to get possession of the document

in question; but the Cardinal advised the Empress not to part with it.

It is a remarkable proof of the extent to which suspicion and distrust

prevailed among all the members of the Bonaparte family, that the

Empress, while availing herself of advice that coincided with her own

feelings, told me she sometimes thought the Cardinal gave her that

advice in connivance with the Emperor, who wanted to drive her to some

outbreak which would give him an excuse for banishing her from France.

And yet, the uncle and nephew had quarreled, at that very time, about

the Pope’s affairs.

On the 2d of December the coronation took place. It would be difficult

to describe its splendor or to enter into the details of that day. The

weather was cold, but dry and bright; the streets of Paris were crowded

with people more curious than enthusiastic; the guard under arms

presented a fine spectacle.

The Pope preceded the Emperor by several hours, and waited with

admirable patience for the long-delayed arrival of the procession. He

sat upon the throne erected for him in the church, and made no complaint

either of cold or weariness. The Cathedral of Notre Dame was decorated

with taste and magnificence. At the far end was a splendid throne for

the Emperor, on which he was to appear surrounded by his entire Court.

Before setting out for Notre Dame, we were admitted to the apartment of

the Empress. Our attire was very brilliant, but it paled before the

magnificence of the costumes of the Imperial family. The Empress

especially, sparkling with diamonds, and wearing her hair in countless

curls, a style of the time of Louis XVI., did not look more than

twenty-five.[2] She wore a white satin gown, and a Court mantle of the

same material, both profusely embroidered in mingled gold and silver.

Her ornaments consisted of a diadem, a necklace, earrings, and a girdle

of diamonds of immense value; and all this gorgeous attire was worn with

her customary easy grace. Her sisters-in-law were also adorned with a

vast quantity of jewels. The Emperor inspected each of us in our turn,

smiling at this luxury, which was, like all the rest, a sudden creation

of his sovereign will.

His own costume was brilliant. He was to assume the Imperial robes at

Notre Dame, but for the present he wore a French coat of red velvet

embroidered in gold, a white sash, a short cloak sewn with bees, a

plumed hat turned up in front with a diamond buckle, and the collar of

the Legion of Honor in diamonds.

This superb dress became him well. The whole Court wore velvet cloaks

embroidered in gold. It must be acknowledged that we paraded ourselves a

little for our mutual amusement; but the spectacle was really beautiful.

The Emperor got into his carriage—it had seven glasses, and was

gorgeously gilded—with his wife and his two brothers, Joseph and Louis.

Then we all took our appointed places in the carriages which were to

follow, and the splendid _cortège_ proceeded at a foot-pace to Notre

Dame. There was no lack of shouting on our way; and, although the

acclamations of the people had not that ring of enthusiasm which a

sovereign jealous of his people’s love longs to recognize, they sufficed

to gratify the vanity of a haughty master, but one who was not

sensitive.

On his arrival at Notre Dame, the Emperor entered the archiepiscopal

palace, and there assumed his robes of state. They seemed almost to

crush him; his slight frame collapsed under the enormous mantle of

ermine. A simple laurel-wreath encircled his head; he looked like an

antique medallion, but he was extremely pale, and genuinely affected.

The expression of his countenance was stern and somewhat distressed.

The ceremony was grand and impressive. A general movement of admiration

was noticeable at the moment when the Empress was crowned. She was so

unaffected, so graceful, as she advanced toward the altar, she knelt

down with such simple elegance, that all eyes were delighted with the

picture she presented. When she had to walk from the altar to the

throne, there was a slight altercation with her sisters-in-law, who

carried her mantle with such an ill grace that I observed at one moment

the new-made Empress could not advance a step. The Emperor perceived

this, and spoke a few sharp short words to his sisters, which speedily

brought them to reason.

During the ceremony, the Pope bore an air of resignation of a noble

sort, the result of his own will, and for a purpose of great utility. It

was between two and three o’clock when the _cortège_ left Notre Dame,

and we did not reach the Tuileries until the short December day had

closed in. We were lighted by the general illuminations, and a number of

torches were carried along the line of vehicles. We dined at the

château, with the Grand Marshal, and after dinner the Emperor received

all the members of the Court who had not yet retired. He was in high

spirits, and delighted with the ceremony; he admired us all, jested

about the effect of finery on women, and said to us, laughingly, “You

owe it to me, mesdames, that you are so charming!” He had not allowed

the Empress to take off her crown, although she had dined _tête-à-tête_

with him, and he complimented her on the grace with which she wore it.

At length he dismissed us.

Innumerable fêtes and rejoicings took place during the ensuing month. On

the 5th of December the Emperor went to the Champ de Mars with the same

state as on the coronation day, and distributed eagles to a number of

regiments. The enthusiasm of the soldiers far surpassed that of the

people; but the bad weather spoiled the effect of this second great day.

It rained in torrents, but nevertheless an immense multitude thronged

the Champ de Mars. M. Maret devoted the following flowery passage in the

“Moniteur” to the rain of the 5th of December: “Although the situation

of the spectators was distressing, there was not one among them who did

not find ample compensation in the sentiment which induced him to remain

in his place, and in the utterance of aspirations (_vœux_), to which his

acclamations bore testimony.”

A common and absurd form of flattery, and one which has been resorted to

in every age, is the making believe that, because a king has need of

sunshine, he can secure its presence. I remember when it was a current

saying at the Tuileries that the Emperor had only to fix a certain day

for a review or a hunting-party, and the sky could not fail to be

cloudless. Whenever it was so, the fact was eagerly remarked; but

nothing was said about the days that were dull or rainy. A similar

device was adopted in the time of Louis XIV. It was not, indeed,

possible to say that it did not rain during the distribution of the

eagles at the Champ de Mars, but I met many people who gravely assured

me that the rain did not wet them.

A spacious platform had been constructed for the accommodation of the

Imperial family and the Court; on this the throne, protected as much as

possible from the rain, was placed. The canvas and hangings were

speedily wet through; the Empress was obliged to withdraw, with her

daughter—who was out for the first time after the birth of her second

child—and her sisters-in-law, excepting Mme. Murat, who continued to

brave the weather although she was lightly dressed. She was training

herself, as she said laughingly, “to endure the inevitable constraints

of royalty.”

On that day a sumptuous banquet was given at the Tuileries. A table was

laid in the Gallery of Diana, beneath a magnificent canopy, for the

Pope, the Emperor, the Empress, and the first Arch-Chancellor of the

German Empire. The Pope sat on the left of the Empress, and the Emperor

on her right. They were waited on by the great officers of the

household. Lower down, there was a table for the Princes, among whom was

the Hereditary Prince of Baden; a table for the Ministers; one for the

ladies and gentlemen of the Imperial household—all served with the

utmost luxury. Some fine music was performed during the repast. Then

came a largely attended reception, at which the Pope was present; and a

ballet, performed by dancers from the Opéra, in the great drawing-room.

The Pope withdrew before the ballet. The evening concluded with cards,

and the Emperor gave the signal for departure by retiring.

At the Emperor’s Court, play merely formed a portion of the ceremonial.

He never allowed money to be staked, and the games were whist and loto.

We used to make up the tables just for something to do, and generally

talked, while we held our cards without looking at them. The Empress was

fond of playing cards, even without money, and played whist in real

earnest. Her card-table and that of the Princesses were placed in the

room called the Emperor’s cabinet, at the entrance of the Gallery of

Diana. She played with the greatest personages present, foreigners,

ambassadors, or Frenchmen. The two ladies-in-waiting on duty for the

week occupied seats behind her; a chamberlain stood near her chair.

While she was playing, all who were in the rooms came, one after the

other, to make their bows and courtesies to her. Bonaparte’s brothers

and sisters also played, and sent invitations to join their card-tables,

by their respective chamberlains, to various persons. His mother, who

had been given a house and the title of Princess, but who was always

called Madame Mère, did the same. The Emperor walked about everywhere,

preceded by chamberlains who announced his presence. On his approach

every voice was hushed; no one left his place; the ladies stood up,

waiting for the insignificant, and frequently ungracious, remarks which

he would address to them. He never remembered a name, and his first

question almost invariably was, “And what do _you_ call yourself?” There

was not a woman present on those occasions who did not rejoice when he

moved away from her vicinity.

This reminds me of an anecdote about Gréty. As a member of the Institute

he frequently attended the Sunday receptions, and it happened several

times that the Emperor, who had come to recognize his face, approached

him almost mechanically and asked him his name. One day Grétry, who was

tired of this perpetual question, and perhaps a little annoyed at not

having produced a more lasting impression, answered to the Emperor’s

rudely uttered “And you! who are you?” in a sharp, impatient tone,

“Sire, I am still Grétry.” Ever afterward the Emperor recognized him

perfectly. The Empress, on the contrary, had an accurate memory for

names, and also for the smallest particulars concerning each individual.

For a long time the routine of the Court receptions continued to be what

I have described. Afterward, concerts, ballets, and even plays, were

added to the list of amusements; but I shall refer to this subject in

due order of time. The Emperor desired that special places should be

assigned to the ladies-in-waiting, and these small privileges excited

small jealousies which engendered great animosities, after the

invariable law of courts. At this period the Emperor indulged in

ceremonies of every kind; he liked them, especially because they were of

his own creation. He always spoiled their effect to some extent by the

habitual precipitation from which he could rarely refrain, and by the

apprehension lest all should not be exactly as he wished, with which he

inspired everybody. On one occasion, he gave audience, seated on his

throne and surrounded by the great officers of the household, the

Marshals, and the Senate, to all the Prefects, and to the Presidents of

the electoral colleges. He then granted a second audience to the former,

and strongly urged them to carry out the conscription. “Without that,”

said the Emperor (and these words were inserted in the “Moniteur”),

“there can be neither national power nor national independence.” No

doubt, he was then cherishing a project for placing the crown of Italy

upon his head, and felt that his designs must lead to war; and besides,

as the impossibility of an invasion of England had been made clear to

him, although the preparations were still carried on, the necessity for

employing an army which was becoming a burden to France was pressed upon

his attention. In the midst of these graver subjects of anxiety, he had

reason to be provoked with the Parisians. He had bespoken from Chénier a

tragedy to be acted on the occasion of the coronation. The poet had

selected Cyrus for his theme, and the fifth act of the tragedy (the

coronation of the hero of ancient history) represented the ceremony of

Notre Dame accurately enough. The piece was a poor production, and the

allusions in it were too palpable, too evidently written to order. The

Parisian audience hissed the tragedy from first to last, and laughed

aloud at the scene of the enthronement. The Emperor was much displeased;

he was as angry with my husband as if M. de Rémusat had been responsible

to him for the approbation of the public, and by the revelation of this

weak point the public learned to avenge themselves at the theatre for

the silence so rigorously imposed upon them elsewhere.

The Senate gave a magnificent fête, and the Corps Législatif followed

the example. On the 16th of December an entertainment took place, by

which the city of Paris incurred a debt, unpaid for many years, for a

grand public feast, fireworks, a ball, and the silver-gilt

toilet-services presented to the Emperor and Empress. Addresses and

laudatory inscriptions abounded in all directions. The flatteries

lavished upon Louis XIV. during his reign have been much commented upon;

I am sure, if they were all put together, they would not amount to one

tenth of those which were bestowed upon Bonaparte. Some years later, at

another fête given by the city of Paris to the Emperor, the repertory of

inscriptions being exhausted, a brilliant device was resorted to. Over

the throne which he was to occupy were placed the following words from

the Holy Scriptures, in letters of gold: “I am that I am.” And no one

seemed to be scandalized!

France was given up at this time to fêtes and merry-making. Medals were

struck and distributed profusely. The Marshals gave a great ball in the

Opéra House, at a cost of ten thousand francs to each. The pit was

boarded over, on a level with the stage; the boxes were festooned with

silver gauze, brilliantly lighted, and filled with ladies in full dress.

The Imperial family were seated apart on an estrade, and the company

danced in the vast inclosure. Flowers and diamonds in profusion,

splendid dresses, and the magnificence of the Court made this a most

brilliant entertainment. We were all put to great expense on these

occasions. A sum of ten thousand francs was allowed to the

ladies-in-waiting as compensation for their expenditure, but it was not

nearly sufficient. The cost of the coronation amounted to four millions

of francs.

The princes and distinguished foreigners staying in Paris paid an

assiduous court to our sovereign, and the Emperor did the honors of

Paris with a good grace. Prince Louis of Baden was then very young, and

rather shy; he kept himself in the background. The Prince Primate, who

was over sixty, was amiable, lively and garrulous. He was well

acquainted with France, and with Paris, where he had lived in his youth;

he was fond of literature, and friendly with the former Academicians,

who were admitted, with a few other persons, to the smaller receptions

held by the Empress. During this winter about fifty ladies and a number

of gentlemen used to be invited, once or twice a week, to sup at the

Tuileries. Eight o’clock was the hour named, and full dress, but not

Court dress, was worn. We played at cards in the drawing-room on the

ground-floor, which is now Madame’s drawing-room. On Bonaparte’s

appearance we used to pass into a music-room, where a musical

performance by Italian singers occupied half an hour; then we returned

to the drawing-room, and resumed our cards. The Emperor would move

about, either playing or talking. A sumptuous and elegant supper was

served at eleven o’clock, the ladies only being seated. Bonaparte’s

arm-chair would remain unoccupied; he would saunter round the table, but

eat nothing. When supper was over, he would take his departure. The

princes and princesses, the great officers of the Empire, two or three

ministers, a few marshals, some generals, senators, State councillors,

and their wives, were always invited to these small parties. There was

great rivalry in dress. The Empress, as well as her sisters-in-law,

always appeared in something new, with quantities of pearls and precious

stones. She was the possessor of pearls worth a million of francs. At

that time stuffs shot with gold or silver began to be worn. During the

winter turbans became the fashion at court; they were made either of

white or colored muslin, spotted with gold, or of a brilliant Turkish

material. By degrees our garments assumed an Eastern shape: over our

richly embroidered muslin gowns we used to wear short dresses of some

colored fabric, open in front, and our arms, shoulders, and bosoms

uncovered.

The Emperor, who, as I shall presently relate, was becoming more and

more deeply in love, sought to disguise the fact by paying attentions to

all the ladies, and seemed at his ease only when surrounded by them. The

gentlemen would then become aware that their presence embarrassed him,

and they would retire to an adjoining room. The scene was then not

unlike a harem, as I remarked one evening to Bonaparte. He was in a good

humor, and laughed; but my jest was far from pleasing to the Empress.

The Pope, who passed his evenings in retirement, visited the churches,

hospitals, and public institutions in the morning. He officiated on one

occasion at Notre Dame, and a great crowd was admitted to kiss his feet.

He visited Versailles and the suburbs of Paris, and was received with

such profound respect at the Invalides that the Emperor grew uneasy. And

yet I heard that, while his Holiness was most anxious to return to Rome,

the Emperor still detained him. I have never been able to discover his

motive.

The Pope was always dressed in white: having been a monk, he wore a

woolen habit, and over it a sort of surplice of cambric trimmed with

lace, which had a curious effect. His _calotte_, or skull-cap, was of

white woolen stuff.

At the end of December the Corps Législatif was opened in state; labored

speeches upon the importance and the happiness of the great event which

had just taken place were delivered, and a report, not only flourishing

but also true, on the prosperous condition of France, was presented.

Meanwhile, applications for places at the new Court were numerous, and

the Emperor acceded to some of them. He also named senators from among

the presidents of the electoral colleges. Marmont was made

colonel-general of the Mounted Chasseurs; and the Grand Cordon of the

Legion of Honor was bestowed on Cambacérès, Le Brun, the Marshals,

Cardinal Fesch, MM. Duroc, De Caulaincourt, De Talleyrand, De Ségur, and

also on several Ministers, the Chief Judge, and on MM. Gaudin and

Portalis, Ministers of Public Worship. These appointments and favors

kept every one in a state of expectation.

Thenceforth the impulse was given; people became accustomed to wishing,

to waiting, to seeing daily some new thing. Each day would bring forth

some little circumstance, unexpected in itself, but anticipated; for we

had acquired a habit of always being on the lookout for something.

Afterward the Emperor extended to the entire nation, to the whole of

Europe, the system of continually exciting ambition, curiosity, and

hope: this was not the least ingenious secret of his government.

-----

[2] She was forty-one, having been born at Martinique on the 23d of

June, 1763.

CHAPTER XI

(1807.)

THE Empress could not forbear from occasionally complaining in

private, that her son had no share in the promotions which were made

daily; but she had the good sense to conceal her dissatisfaction, and

Eugène himself maintained an easy attitude, which was highly honorable

to him, and in marked contrast with the jealous impatience of Murat.

Mme. Murat was continually importuning the Emperor to raise her husband

to a rank which would place him above the Marshals, among whom it

annoyed him to be included. During the winter both the husband and wife

contrived to profit by the weakness of the Emperor, and earned a claim

to his favor by making themselves useful in his new love affair, as we

shall presently see.

I have already said that Eugène was captivated by Mme. de X——. This

lady, who was then twenty-four or twenty-five years of age, was of fair

hair and complexion; her blue eyes could wear any expression she chose,

except indeed that of frankness; her disposition was habitually

deceitful. Her nose was aquiline and rather long, her mouth was lovely,

and her teeth, which she frequently displayed, were beautiful. She was

of middle height, with an elegant but too slender figure; she had small

feet, and danced to perfection. She had no remarkable ability, but was

not wanting in cleverness; her manners were quiet and cold. It was

difficult to excite her feelings, still more difficult to hurt them.

The Empress had at first treated her with marked distinction. She

praised her beauty, approved of her style of dress, and made more of her

than of others, for the sake of her son, Prince Eugène. This, perhaps,

led in the first instance to the Emperor’s taking notice of her. He

began to pay her attention during the sojourn to the Court at

Fontainebleau.

Mme. Murat, who was the first to discern her brother’s inclination,

tried to insinuate herself into the confidence of the lady, and

succeeded so far as to set her on her guard against the keen eyes of the

Empress. Murat, in accordance, I believe, with some private arrangement,

pretended to be an admirer of Mme. de X——, and thus for a time threw

the Court off the scent.

The Empress, who was well aware of the new passion of the Emperor, but

could not discover its object, at first suspected the Maréchale Ney, to

whom he was in the habit of talking a good deal; and for a few days that

poor lady was closely watched. As usual, the Empress confided her

jealous suspicions to me, but I saw nothing as yet to justify them.

The Empress complained to Mme. Louis of what she called the perfidy of

Mme. Ney. The latter was questioned, and, after having declared that her

own feeling toward the Emperor was simply fear, she admitted that he had

sometimes appeared to pay her attention, and that Mme. de X—— had

congratulated her on the grand conquest she was about to make. This was

a flash of light to the Empress. She at once discovered the truth, and

saw that Murat was feigning love for the lady only that he might be the

bearer of declarations from the Emperor.

In Duroc’s deference toward Mme. de X—— she also discerned a proof of

his master’s sentiments, and in the conduct of Mme. Murat a deeply laid

scheme against her own peace of mind. The Emperor began to pass more

time in his wife’s apartments. Nearly every evening he would come down,

and his looks and words betrayed the object of his preference. If

Josephine went privately to the theatre—for the Emperor did not like

her to appear in public without him—he would join her party

unexpectedly; and day by day he became more engrossed and less capable

of self-control. Mme. de X—— maintained an appearance of indifference,

but she made use of every art of feminine coquetry. Her dress became

more and more elegant, her smile more subtle, her looks more full of

meaning; and it was soon easy enough to guess what was going on. The

Empress suspected that Mme. Murat connived at secret interviews in her

own house, and she afterward became certain of the fact. Then, according

to her custom, she burst into tears and reproaches, and once more I

found myself obliged to listen to confidences which were dangerous to

receive, and to give advice which was never heeded.

The Empress attempted expostulations, but they were very badly taken.

Her husband lost his temper, reproached her with opposing his pleasures,

and ordered her to be silent; and while she, abandoned to her grief, was

sad and downcast in public, he, more gay, free, and animated than we had

yet seen him, paid attention to us all, and lavished rough compliments

on us. On the occasions of the Empress’s receptions, of which I have

already spoken, he looked really like a Sultan. He would sit down to a

card-table, often selecting his sister Caroline, Mme. de X——, and

myself to make up his game; and, scarcely noticing his cards, he would

start some sentimental discussion in his own style, with more wit than

sentiment, occasionally with doubtful taste, but with a great deal of

animation. On these occasions Mme. de X—— was very reserved, and,

being probably afraid lest I might make some discoveries, would answer

in monosyllables only.

Mme. Murat took but slight interest in these conversations; she always

went straight to her point, and cared little for detail. As for me, I

was amused by them, and I could take my part with a liberty of spirit

not possessed by the other three, who were all more or less preoccupied.

Sometimes, without naming any one, Bonaparte would commence a

dissertation on jealousy, and then it was easy to see that he applied it

to his wife. I understood him, and defended her gayly, as well as I

could, without plainly indicating her; and I could see that Mme. de

X—— and Mme. Murat gave me no thanks for that.

Mme. Bonaparte would keep a watch on us during these conversations,

which always made her uneasy, from the other end of the room, where she

was playing at cards. Although she had reason to know she might depend

on me, yet, as she was naturally suspicious, she sometimes feared that I

would sacrifice her to the desire of pleasing the Emperor, and she was

also vexed with me because I would not tax him with his conduct.

She would sometimes ask me to go to him and tell him of the harm which,

as she said, this new entanglement was doing him in the eyes of the

world; again, she wanted me to contrive that Mme. de X—— should be

watched in her own house, whither she knew Bonaparte sometimes went of

an evening; or else she would make me write, in her presence, anonymous

letters full of reproaches. These I wrote in order to satisfy her, and

to prevent her from getting other persons to write them; but I carefully

burned them afterward, although I assured her that I had sent them.

Servants whom she could trust were employed to discover the proofs she

sought for. The employees of her favorite tradespeople were taken into

her confidence, and I suffered the more from her imprudent conduct, when

I learned shortly afterward that Mme. Murat put down all the discoveries

made by the Empress to my account, and accused me of a mean espionage of

which I was incapable.

The Empress was the more distressed because her son was profoundly

grieved by this affair. Mme. de X——, who, either from coquetry,

inclination, or vanity, had at first listened favorably to him, avoided

even the slightest appearance of friendship with him since her new and

more brilliant conquest. She probably boasted to the Emperor of the

passion with which she had inspired Eugène; certain it is that the

latter was treated with coldness by his stepfather. The Empress showed

her anger at this; the Princess Louis was also distressed, but she

concealed her feelings; Eugène was sore at heart, but his outward

composure laid him little open to attack.

In all this the undying hatred between the Bonapartes and the

Beauharnais was displayed, and it was my fate to find myself entangled

in it, notwithstanding all my moderation. I have discovered by

experience that everything, or nearly everything, depends on chance at

Court. Human prudence is not a sufficient safeguard, and I know no means

of escaping from misconstruction, unless the sovereign himself be

incapable of suspicion. Far from this, however, the Emperor welcomed all

gossip, and believed everything that was ill-natured, on any subject.

The surest way to please him was to carry every rumor to him, and to

denounce everybody’s conduct; and therefore M. de Rémusat, who was

placed so near him, never obtained his favor. He declined to tread such

a path to success, although it was frequently pointed out to him by

Duroc.

One evening the Emperor, who was quite out of patience, owing to a scene

with his wife, in which, driven to desperation, she had declared she

would forbid the entry of her apartments to Mme. de X——, addressed

himself to M. de Rémusat, and complained that I did not use my influence

over her to dissuade her from acts of imprudence. He concluded by

telling him that he wished to speak to me in private, and that I was to

ask for an audience. M. de Rémusat conveyed this order to me, and

accordingly on the following day I asked for an audience, which was

fixed for the next morning.

A hunting-party had been arranged for that day. The Empress started

first with the foreign princes; she was to wait for the Emperor in the

Bois de Boulogne. I arrived just as the Emperor was entering his

carriage; his suite was assembled round him. He returned to his cabinet

in order to receive me, to the great astonishment of the Court, to whom

the merest trifle was an event.

He began by complaining bitterly of the discussions in his household,

and launched out into invectives against women in general, and his own

wife in particular. He reproached me with assisting her spies, and

accused me of many actions of which I knew nothing whatever, but which

had been reported to him. I recognized in all he said the ill offices of

Mme. Murat, and, what hurt me more, I perceived that in several

instances the Empress had used my name, and had attributed to me her own

words or thoughts, in order to strengthen her case. This, together with

the Emperor’s angry words, distressed me, and tears rose to my eyes. The

Emperor noticed them, and rudely rebuked my emotion with a saying which

he frequently used, and which I have already quoted: “Women have always

two ways of producing an effect—paint and tears.” Just then these

words, uttered in an ironical tone and with the intention of

disconcerting me, had the opposite effect; they angered me, and gave me

courage to answer: “No, Sire; but when I am unjustly accused, I can not

but weep tears of indignation.”

I must render this testimony to the Emperor: he was seldom hard upon any

one who displayed firmness; either because, meeting with it seldom, he

was unprepared for it, or because his natural sense of justice responded

to a feeling justly entertained.

He was not displeased with me. “Since you do not approve,” he said, “of

the watch set over me by the Empress, how is it your influence is not

sufficient to deter her? She humiliates both herself and me by

surrounding me with spies; she only furnishes weapons to her enemies.

Since you are in her confidence, you must answer for her, and I shall

hold you responsible for all her faults.” He smiled slightly as he spoke

these words. Then I represented to him that I was tenderly attached to

the Empress; that I was incapable of advising her to an improper course

of action; but that no one could gain much influence over a person of so

passionate a nature. I told him that he showed no tact in dealing with

her, and that, whether he was rightly or wrongly suspected, he was harsh

and treated her too roughly. I durst not blame the Empress for that

which was really blameworthy in her conduct, for I knew he would not

fail to repeat my words to his wife. I ended by telling him that I

should keep away from the palace for some time, and that he would see

whether things went on any better in consequence.

He then said that he was not, and could not be, in love; that he thought

no more of Mme. de X—— than of anybody else; that love was for men of

a different disposition from his own; that he was altogether absorbed in

politics; that he would have no women ruling in his Court; that they had

injured Henry IV. and Louis XIV.: that his own business was a much more

serious one than that of those kings, and that Frenchmen had become too

grave to pardon their sovereign for recognized _liaisons_ and official

mistresses. He spoke of his wife’s past conduct, adding that she had not

the right to be severe. I ventured to check him on this subject, and he

was not angry with me. Finally, he questioned me as to the individuals

who were employed as spies by the Empress. I could only answer that I

knew none of them. Then he reproached me with want of attachment to

himself. I maintained that I was more sincerely devoted than those who

carried worthless gossip to him. This conversation ended better than it

had begun; I could perceive that I had made a favorable impression.

This interview had lasted a long time; and the Empress, who grew tired

of waiting in the Bois de Boulogne, had sent a mounted servant to

discover what was detaining her husband. She was informed that he was

alone with me. Her uneasiness became very great; she returned to the

Tuileries, and, finding I was no longer there, she sent Mme. de Talhouet

to my house to learn all that had taken place. In obedience to the

Emperor’s commands, I replied that the conversation had been restricted

to certain matters relative to M. de Rémusat.

In the evening there was a dance at General Savary’s, at which the

Emperor had promised to be present. During the winter he took every

opportunity of appearing in society; he was in good spirits, and would

even dance, rather awkwardly. I arrived at Mme. Savary’s before the

Court party. The Grand Marshal (Duroc) came forward to meet me, and

offered his arm to conduct me to my place; and our host was full of

attentions. My long audience of that morning had given rise to

conjectures; I was treated with respect, as though I were in high favor,

or had received confidential communications. I could not help smiling at

the simple cunning of these courtiers.

Presently the Emperor and Empress arrived. In making his progress round

the room, Bonaparte stopped and spoke to me in a friendly manner. The

Empress was watching us, full of anxiety. Mme. Murat looked astonished

and Mme. de X—— nervous. All this amused me; I did not foresee the

consequences. The next day the Empress pressed me with questions which I

took care not to answer; she became offended, and declared that I was

sacrificing her to the Emperor, that I chose the safe side, and that I

no more than others cared for her. Her reproaches grieved me deeply.

I confided all my troubles to my dear mother. I was acquiring a bitter

experience, and was still young enough to shed tears over it. My mother

comforted me, and advised me to hold myself a little aloof, which I did;

but this did not help me. The Emperor obliged me to speak to him, and,

when he reproached his wife for her indiscreet behavior, pretended he

was repeating my opinions. The Empress treated me with coldness; I saw

that she avoided speaking to me, and, for my part, I did not consider

myself bound to seek her confidence.

The Emperor, who enjoyed sowing dissension between us, perceived the

coolness, and paid me, in consequence, all the more attention; but Mme.

de X——, who had been taught to dislike me, and was uneasy at the favor

in which I was held, and who also perhaps did me the honor of feeling a

little jealous, tried in every way to injure me. As everything in this

world works together for evil purposes only too readily, she found an

opportunity in which she was perfectly successful.

On the other hand, Eugène Beauharnais and the Princess Louis were

convinced that I had betrayed their mother, in order to further the

ambition of M. de Rémusat, who preferred the favor of the master to that

of the mistress. M. de Rémusat held himself entirely aloof from all

these matters; but, where ambition is concerned, the probable is always

the true in the belief of dwellers in a court. Eugène, who had been

friendly to my husband, now kept aloof from him. As courtiers, our

position was not an unfavorable one; but, as we were merely honorable

people and would not reap any disgraceful advantage from it, we were

both greatly distressed.

I have still to relate how Mme. de X—— contrived to strike the final

blow. Among my mother’s friends and mine was Mme. Charles de Damas,

whose daughter, the wife of the Count de Vogué, was the intimate friend

of my sister, and was also intimate, though in a less degree, with

myself. Mme. de Damas was an ardent Royalist, and in the habit of

expressing her opinions with some imprudence. She had even been accused,

after the affair of the 3d Nivôse (the infernal machine), of having

concealed certain Chouans who were implicated. In the autumn of 1804

Mme. de Damas was exiled to a distance of forty leagues from Paris, on

account of some foolish speeches. The act of severity sorely distressed

both the mother and the daughter: the latter was near her confinement,

and I, having witnessed their tears and shared their grief, went for

consolation to the Empress. She spoke to her husband, and he was good

enough to listen to my petition, and to grant me the revocation of the

sentence.

Mme. de Damas, in her impulsive and affectionate way, published abroad

the service I had rendered her, and, bound by feelings of gratitude to

the Empress, as well as alarmed at the risk she had run, she became

thenceforth more careful of her words. She never mentioned politics to

me, but respected my position as I respected her feelings.

It happened, however, that in the Marquise de C——, a lady who had

formerly been celebrated at Court and in society for her brilliancy of

repartee, Mme. de Damas had an enemy. Mme. de C—— was on friendly

terms with Mme. de X——, and, having discovered her _liaison_ with the

Emperor, she extorted an avowal of the facts from Mme. de X——. Then,

being of an active and scheming disposition, she undertook to advise her

friend in her capacity of mistress to the sovereign. They had some

conversation about me, and Mme. de C——, who always imagined the

intrigues of Versailles in the incidents of the Emperor’s Court,

concluded, with some show of probability, that it was my intention to

supplant the new favorite. As I was reputed to possess some talent, and

as my reputation on this point owed a great deal to my mother’s, it was

supposed that I must be fond of intrigue. Mme. de C——, intending to do

a bad turn to Mme. de Damas, and at the same time to injure me,

mentioned her to Mme. de X—— as a woman more devoted than ever to her

Royalist opinions, ready to enter into any secret correspondence, and to

abuse the indulgence with which she had been treated, by acting against

the Emperor whenever she could. My friendship with her was described as

more intimate than it really was; and this, being reported to the

Emperor, served to prejudice him against me. He no longer summoned me to

join him at the card-table, nor conversed with me; I was not invited to

Malmaison or to the hunting-parties; in short, I found myself in

disgrace without being able to guess at the cause, for, on account of my

failing health, I was living in comparative solitude and retirement. My

husband and I were too closely united for disgrace to fall on one

without including the other, and neither of us could understand why we

were thus treated.

As the Emperor’s friendship for me cooled, I regained the confidence of

his wife, who took me back into favor as lightly as she had given me up,

and without a word of explanation. By this time I knew her sufficiently

to understand that explanations would be useless. She enlightened me

respecting the Emperor’s displeasure. She had learned from him that Mme.

de C—— and Mme. de X—— had informed against me. He had gone so far

as to acknowledge to his wife that he was in love, and gave her to

understand that he must not be thwarted; adding, in order to console

her, that it was a passing fancy, which would only be increased by

opposition, but would soon pass away if it were not balked.

The Empress made up her mind to endurance; but she never addressed Mme.

de X——. The latter cared little for that, however, and regarded the

conjugal broils of which she was the cause with impudent indifference.

Besides, under the direction of Mme. Murat, she ministered to the

Emperor’s tastes by retailing to him a great deal of evil of a great

number of people. Many persons were ruined during her spell of favor,

and she fostered the worst qualities of the Emperor’s suspicious nature.

When I learned this new accusation against me, I again requested an

audience of him; but this time his manner was stern. He reproached me

with being friendly only with his enemies, with having defended the

Polignacs, with being an agent of the “aristocrats.” “I intended to make

a great lady of you,” he said—“to raise your fortunes to a great

height; but all that can only be the reward of entire devotion. You must

break with your former friends, and, the next time Mme. de Damas comes

to your house, you must refuse her admittance, and have her told that

you can not associate with my enemies. Then I shall believe in your

attachment.” I made no attempt to point out to him how contrary such a

mode of action would be to all my habits; but I consented to refrain

from seeing Mme. de Damas, whose conduct, at least since the pardon had

been granted her, I defended. He spoke to me very severely; he was

deeply prejudiced, and I saw that I must only trust to time to open his

eyes.

A few days later Mme. de Damas was again ordered into exile. She was ill

in bed; and the Emperor sent Corvisart to her, to certify whether, in

fact, she could not be removed. Corvisart was a friend of mine, and gave

his opinion according to my wishes; but at length Mme. de Damas

recovered and left Paris. It was long before she returned. I no longer

visited her, nor did she come to me, but she retained her former

affection for me, and perfectly understood the motives which constrained

me to act as I did. Count Charles de Damas, who was straightforward,

simple, and less indiscreet than his wife, was never annoyed by the

police, while they kept constant watch on Mme. de Damas. Some years

later, the Emperor gave Mme. de Vogué to understand that he wished her

to be presented at Court: this was during the reign of the Archduchess.

Meanwhile the Bonapartes triumphed. Eugène, the constant object of their

jealousy, was positively badly treated, and was a source of secret

trouble to the Emperor. Suddenly, toward the end of January, in very

severe weather, Eugène received orders to proceed with his regiment to

Italy within four and twenty hours. Eugène felt convinced that he was in

complete disgrace. The Empress, believing this to be the doing of Mme.

de X——, wept bitterly, but her son strictly forbade her to make any

appeal. He took leave of the Emperor, who received him with coldness,

and we heard the following day that the Guards’ Regiment of Guides had

departed, its colonel marching at its head, notwithstanding the

inclemency of the season.

The Princess Louis, in speaking to me of this harsh act, expressed her

pride in her brother’s obedience. “If the Emperor,” she said, “had

exacted such a thing from a member of his own family, you would have

seen what a noise would have been made; but not one word has been

uttered in this case, and I think Bonaparte must be impressed by such an

act of submission.” And in fact he was, but still more by the

ill-natured satisfaction of his brothers and sisters. He liked to

disappoint them; and although, in a fit of jealousy, he had sent away

his stepson, he immediately rewarded him for his good behavior. On the

1st of February, 1805, the Senate received two letters from the Emperor.

In one he announced the elevation of Marshal Murat to the rank of Prince

and Grand Admiral of the Empire. This was the reward of his recent acts

of complaisance, and the result of Mme. Murat’s importunities. In the

other letter, which was couched in flattering and affectionate terms

toward Eugène he was created Vice-Arch-Chancellor of State. This was one

of the great posts of the Empire. Eugène heard of his promotion when he

was a few miles from Lyons, where the courier found him on horseback at

the head of his regiment, covered with thickly falling snow.

Before I deal with the union of the crown of Italy with that of France,

a great event which afforded us a new spectacle, and was the cause of

the war that broke out in the autumn of this year, I will relate all

that remains to be told concerning Mme. de X——.

She seemed to engross the Emperor’s thoughts more and more; and, as she

became assured of her power, so she became less circumspect in her

conduct toward the Empress, and seemed to delight in her misery. During

a short stay which we made at Malmaison, appearances were more than ever

outraged. To the surprise of every one, the Emperor would walk about the

grounds with Mme. de X—— and young Mme. Savary—whose eyes and tongue

were not at all formidable—and he devoted less time than usual to

business. The Empress remained in her room, weeping, tortured with

apprehension, brooding upon recognized liasons, disgrace and oblivion

for herself, and possibly divorce, the continually recurring object of

her apprehensions. She no longer had courage for useless altercations;

but her sadness bore witness to her grief, and at last touched her

husband’s heart. Perhaps his love for her revived, or possession

weakened his passion for Mme. de X——, or he became ashamed of the sway

the latter exercised over him; but, whatever was the cause, that which

he had predicted of himself came to pass. One day, when he was alone

with his wife and saw her weeping at something he had said, he suddenly

resumed the affectionate manner of former times, and, admitting her to

the most intimate confidence, owned to her once more that he had been

very much infatuated, but said that it was all over. He added that he

had detected an attempt to govern him—that Mme. de X—— had told him a

number of very ill-natured stories; and he actually concluded by asking

the Empress to assist him to put an end to a liaison which he no longer

cared about.

The Empress was not in the least vindictive; it is but just to say that

for her. So soon as she found that she no longer had anything to fear,

her anger vanished. Delighted to be rid of her trouble, she showed no

severity toward the Emperor, but once more became the gentle and

indulgent wife, always ready to forgive him. She objected to any

publicity on this occasion, and even promised her husband that, if he

would alter his behavior to Mme. de X——, she, on her part, would alter

hers also, and would shield the lady from any annoyance which might

result from the change. She only claimed the right to an interview with

Mme. de X——. Accordingly, she sent for her, and spoke to her plainly

and frankly, pointing out the risk she had run, excusing her apparent

levity on the plea of her youth and imprudence, recommending greater

discretion for the future, and promising that the past should be

forgotten.

During this conversation Mme. de X—— remained perfectly

self-possessed, calmly denying that she deserved any such admonitions,

evincing no emotion, not a trace of gratitude. In sight of the whole

Court, which for some time continued to observe her, she maintained a

cool and self-contained demeanor, which proved that her heart was not

much concerned in the intimacy now broken off, and also that she could

keep her private feelings well in check—for it is difficult to believe

that her vanity, at any rate, was not deeply mortified. The Emperor,

who, as I have already said, dreaded the least appearance of being ruled

by anybody, ostentatiously exhibited his freedom. He was not even

commonly civil to Mme. de X——; he never looked at her; and he spoke

slightingly of her, either to Mme. Bonaparte, who could not deny herself

the pleasure of repeating his words, or to men with whom he was on

familiar terms. He was careful to explain that this had only been a

passing fancy, and would relate the successive phases of it with

indecent candor, most insulting toward her who had been its object. He

was ashamed of his infatuation, for it was a proof that he had submitted

to a power stronger than his own.

This behavior confirmed me in a belief which I had often expounded to

the Empress in order to console her. To be the wife of such a man might

be a grand and enviable position, gratifying to one’s pride at least;

but to be his mistress could never be otherwise than unsatisfactory, for

his was not a nature to compensate a weak and loving woman for the

sacrifices she would have to make for him, nor to afford an ambitious

one the means of exercising power.

With the short reign of Mme. de X—— the influence of Murat and the

Bonapartes came for the time being to an end; for, on the reconciliation

of the Emperor with his wife, his former confidence in her revived, and

he heard from her lips of all the petty schemes of which she had been

the victim and himself the object. I profited in a measure by the

change; yet the impression which had been made could not be altogether

effaced, and the Emperor retained his conviction that M. de Rémusat and

I were incapable of the sort of devotion that he required, a devotion

claiming the sacrifice both of personal inclinations and of those

_convenances_ which he despised. He had a right, perhaps, to expect the

former: one ought to renounce a Court life, unless one can make it the

only sphere of one’s thoughts and actions; and neither my husband nor I

was capable of doing so. I have always longed to attach myself with all

my heart to the duties of my state, and at this period I was too

heart-sore not to feel some constraint in performing those which

devolved on me. I began to see that the Emperor was not the man I had

taken him for. Already he inspired me with fear rather than with

affection; and, in proportion as my assiduity in obeying him increased,

I felt the sharp pain of vanishing illusions, and I suffered beforehand

from all that I foresaw. The quaking of the earth on which we stood

alarmed both M. de Rémusat and myself, and he especially resigned

himself with difficulty to a life which was extremely unpleasing to him.

When I recall these troubles now, how happy I am to see him, quiet and

contented, at the head of affairs in an important province, honorably

fulfilling the duty of a good citizen, and serving his country

usefully![3] Can there be a worthier employment of the faculties of an

enlightened and high-hearted man, or a greater contrast with the

restless, troublesome, not to say ridiculous life which has to be led,

without one moment’s intermission, in the courts of kings? I say court,

because they are all alike. No doubt the difference of character in

sovereigns has some influence over the lives of those who surround them;

there are shades of difference in the homage exacted by Louis XIV., our

own King Louis XVIII., the Emperor Alexander, or Bonaparte. But, though

masters may differ, courtiers are everywhere the same; the same passions

are in play, for vanity is invariably their secret spring. Jealousy, the

longing to supplant others, the fear of being stopped on the road, or

finding others preferred to one’s self—these do, and always will, cause

similar perturbations; and I am profoundly persuaded that any one, who,

dwelling in a palace, wishes to exercise his faculties of thinking and

of feeling, must be unhappy.

Toward the end of this winter the Imperial Court was again augmented. A

number of persons, among whom I could name some who are now inexorable

to all who ever were in the Emperor’s service, were eagerly bidding for

place. The Empress, M. de Talleyrand, and M. de Rémusat received their

requests, and handed long lists to Bonaparte, who would smile when he

saw in the same column the names of _ci-devant_ Liberals, of soldiers

who had been jealous of his promotion, and of gentlemen who, after

having jeered at what they called our farce of royalty, were now all

begging to be allowed to play parts in it. Some of these petitions were

granted. Mesdames de Turenne, de Montalivet, de Bouillé, Deveaux, and

Marescot were appointed Ladies-in-Waiting; MM. Hédouville, de Croij, de

Mercy d’Argenteau, de Tournon, and de Bondy were made Chamberlains to

the Emperor; MM. de Béarn, de Courtomer, and the Prince de Gavre,

Chamberlains to the Empress; M. de Canisy, Equerry; M. de Bausset,

Prefect of the Palace, etc.

This numerous Court consisted of various elements foreign to each other,

but all were brought to one level by fear of the all-powerful master.

There was little rivalry among the ladies; they were strangers to each

other, and did not become intimate. The Empress treated them all alike.

Mme. de la Rochefoucauld, light-hearted and easy-tempered, showed no

jealousy toward any one. The Mistress of the Robes was amiable, silent,

and nothing more. Day by day I drew back from the somewhat dangerous

friendship of the Empress; but I must own that such was her evenness of

temper, so gracious was her bearing, that the Court circle by which she

was surrounded was free from disturbance or jealousy.

It was not so in the case of the Emperor—but then he himself designedly

kept up a state of disquiet. For instance, M. de Talleyrand, who had

slightly diminished the importance of M. de Rémusat’s position, not with

the intention of injuring him, but in order to satisfy some new-comers

who were jealous of my husband, was brought into closer contact with him

afterward, and began to appreciate his worth and to show some interest

in him. Bonaparte perceived this. The slightest appearance of private

friendship alarmed him, and he took the minutest precautions to prevent

anything of the kind; so he spoke to my husband one day in a tone of

unusual cordiality. “Take care,” said he, “M. de Talleyrand seems to be

making advances to you; but I know to a certainty that he bears you no

good will.”

“And why should M. de Talleyrand bear me ill will?” said my husband to

me, on repeating these words. We could not tell why, but this speech

gave us a feeling of distrust, which was all that the Emperor wanted.

Such was the state of things at the Emperor’s Court in the spring of

1805. I will now retrace my steps and give an account of the momentous

resolution that was come to concerning the crown of Italy.

-----

[3] At the time I write, September 1818, my husband is Prefect of the

Départment du Nord.

[Illustration: The Palace of Fontainebleau presented a strange spectacle

just then, inhabited as it was by so extraordinary a medley of

persons—sovereigns, princes, military officers, priests, women.]

BOOK II

CHAPTER XII

(1805.)

ON the 4th of February, 1805, we were informed by the “Moniteur” that

the King of England had intimated, in his speech on the opening of

Parliament on the 16th of January, that the Emperor had made fresh

propositions of reconciliation. The Government had replied that nothing

could be agreed upon without previously conferring with the other Powers

of the Continent, and especially with the Emperor Alexander.

According to custom, some sharp comments were made upon this speech,

which, while they put forward the friendly relations that existed—at

least, outwardly—between ourselves and the sovereigns of Europe, yet

admitted a certain coolness between the Emperors of Russia and of

France, and attributed this coolness to the intrigues of MM. de Marcoff

and de Voronzoff, who were both partisans of the English policy. The

King’s speech also announced war between England and Spain.

On the same day, the 4th of February, the Senate having been assembled,

M. de Talleyrand presented a report, very ably drawn up, in which he

expounded the system of conduct adopted by Bonaparte toward the English.

He described it as a constant effort for peace, while entertaining no

fear of war. He drew attention to the state of our preparations which

threatened the English coasts, many flotillas being equipped and ready

in the harbors; and to the army, large in numbers and high in heart. He

gave an account of the means of defense which the enemy had gathered

together on the coasts, and which proved that the landing of the French

was not looked upon as impossible; and, after bestowing the highest

praise on the conduct of the Emperor, he read to the assembled Senate

the following letter, addressed to the King of England:

“SIR AND BROTHER:

“Having been called by Providence, and by the voice of the

Senate, the people, and the army, to the throne of France, my

first feeling is a desire for peace.

“France and England are wasting their prosperity. They may

contend for centuries; but are their Governments rightfully

fulfilling their most sacred duty, and does not their conscience

reproach them with so much blood shed in vain, for no definite

end? I am not ashamed to take the initiative. I have, I think,

sufficiently proved to the whole world that I do not fear the

chances of war. Indeed, war can bring me nothing to fear. Peace

is my heartfelt wish, but war has never been adverse to my

renown. I implore your Majesty not to deprive yourself of the

happiness of bestowing peace on the world. Do not delegate so

consolatory an action to your children. Never was there a better

occasion, nor a more favorable moment for imposing silence on

passion, and for listening only to the voice of humanity and

reason. If this opportunity be lost, what term can be assigned

to a war which all my endeavors might fail to terminate? In the

last ten years your Majesty’s kingdom has increased in magnitude

and wealth by more titan the whole extent of Europe; your nation

has reached the highest point of prosperity. What do you hope to

gain by war? The coalition of some continental powers? The

Continent will remain tranquil. A coalition would but increase

the preponderance and the continental greatness of France. To

renew internal difficulties? The times are no longer the same.

To destroy our revenues? Revenues founded on good husbandry are

not to be destroyed. To snatch her colonies from France?

Colonies are objects of but secondary importance to France; and

does not your Majesty already possess more than you can keep? If

your Majesty will reflect on it, you will see that war will be

without an object, without any probable result for yourself. Ah!

how sad a prospect is it to engage nations in war for war’s

sake!

“The world is large enough for our two nations to live in it,

and the power of reason is sufficient to enable us to overcome

all difficulties, if on both sides there is the will to do so.

In any case, I have fulfilled a duty which I hold to be

righteous, and which is dear to my heart. I trust your Majesty

will believe in the sincerity of the sentiments I have just

expressed, and in my earnest desire to give you a proof of them.

On this, etc.

(Signed) “NAPOLEON.

“PARIS,

12 Nivôse, year 13.

_2d January, 1805._”

After having eulogized this letter (surely a remarkable one!) as a

striking proof of Bonaparte’s love for the French, of his desire for

peace, and of his generous moderation, M. de Talleyrand communicated the

reply of Lord Mulgrave, the Foreign Secretary. It was as follows:

“His Majesty has received the letter addressed to him by the

chief of the French Government, dated the 2d inst.

“His Majesty has no dearer wish than to embrace the first

opportunity of once more procuring for his subjects the

advantages of a peace which shall be founded on bases not

incompatible with the permanent security and the essential

interests of his States. His Majesty is convinced that this end

can only be attained by an arrangement which will provide alike

for the future security and tranquillity of Europe, and prevent

a renewal of the dangers and misfortunes which have beset the

Continent.

“His Majesty, therefore, feels it to be impossible to reply more

decisively to the question which has been put to him, until he

has had time to communicate with those continental Powers with

whom he is allied, and particularly with the Emperor of Russia,

who has given the strongest proofs of his wisdom and good

feeling, and of the deep interest which he takes in the security

and independence of Europe.

“_14th January, 1805._”

The vague and indefinite character of this thoroughly diplomatic reply

exhibited the Emperor’s letter to great advantage. That letter was firm

in tone, and bore every appearance of magnanimous sincerity. It had,

therefore, a good effect, and the various reports of those whose task it

was to present it to the three great bodies of the State put it in the

most favorable light.

The report of Regnault de Saint-Jean d’Angely, Councillor of State, is

remarkable and interesting even now. The praises accorded to the

Emperor, though carried to excess, are finely phrased; the picture of

Europe is ably drawn; that of the evil which war must entail on England

is at least specious; and, finally, the description of our prosperity at

that period is impressive, and very little, if at all, exaggerated.

“France,” he said, “has nothing to ask from Heaven, but that the sun may

continue to shine, the rain to fall on our fields, and the earth to

render the seed fruitful.”

All this was true then, and, had a wise administration, a moderate

government, and a liberal constitution been given to France, that

prosperity would have been consolidated. But constitutional ideas formed

no part of Bonaparte’s plan. Perhaps he really believed, as he often

said, that the French character and the geographical position of France

were opposed to representative government. Perhaps, conscious of his own

strength and ability, he could not make up his mind to sacrifice to the

future well-being of France those advantages which he believed he could

give us by the mere strength of his will. Whatever was the case, he

seldom lost an opportunity of disparaging our neighbor’s form of

government.

“The unfortunate position in which you have placed your nation,” he

wrote in the “Moniteur,” addressing himself to the English Cabinet, “can

only be explained by the ill fortune of a State whose home policy is

insecure, and whose Government is the wretched tool of Parliamentary

factions and of a powerful oligarchy.”

Although he felt at times that he was opposing the spirit of the age, he

believed himself strong enough to resist it. At a later period he said:

“During my lifetime I shall reign as I please; but my son must perforce

be a Liberal.” And meanwhile he pictured to himself the creation of

feudal states, believing that he could make them acceptable, and

preserve them from the criticism which was beginning to assail ancient

institutions, by establishing them on a scale so grand that, as our

pride would be enlisted, our reason might be silenced. He believed that

once again he could exhibit what history has already witnessed, the

world subject to a “People-King,” but that royalty was to be represented

in his own person. A combination of Eastern and Roman institutions,

bearing also some resemblance to the times of Charlemagne, was to

transform the sovereigns of Europe into great feudatories of the French

Empire; and perhaps, if the sea had not effectually preserved England

from invasion, this gigantic project might have been carried out.

Shortly after, the Emperor laid the foundation-stone of this brain-built

edifice. I allude to the union of the Iron Crown with that of France.

On the 17th of March M. de Melzi, Vice-President of the Italian

Republic, accompanied by the principal members of the Council of State

and a numerous deputation of presidents of the electoral colleges,

deputies from the Corps Législatif, and other important persons, was

received by the Emperor on his throne, and submitted to him the ardent

desire of the Council that he would graciously consent to reign over the

ultramontane republic also. “Our present Government,” said M. de Melzi,

“can not continue, because it throws us behind the age in which we live.

Constitutional monarchy is everywhere indicated by the finger of

progress.

“The Italian Republic claims a King, and her interests demand that this

King should be Napoleon, on the condition that the two crowns shall be

united on his head only, and that, so soon as the Mediterranean is once

more free, he will himself nominate a successor of his own blood.”

Bonaparte replied that he had always labored for the welfare of Italy;

that for this end he would accept the crown, because he believed that

any other course would just now be fatal to her independence; and that

afterward, when the time came for so doing, he would gladly place the

Iron Crown on some younger head, as he should always be ready to

sacrifice himself for the interests of the States over which he was

called to reign.

On the following day, the 18th of March, he proceeded to the Senate in

state, and announced both the request of the Council and his own

consent. M. de Melzi and all the Italians took the oaths, and the Senate

approved and applauded as usual. The Emperor concluded his speech by

declaring that the genius of evil would seek in vain to rekindle the

fire of war on the Continent; that which had been united to the Empire

would remain united.

He doubtless foresaw that this event would be the occasion of an early

war, at least with the Emperor of Austria, which, however, he was far

from dreading. The army was becoming weary of inaction; the invasion of

England was too perilous. It might be that favorable circumstances would

render the landing possible, but how could the army maintain its footing

afterward in a country where reënforcement would be wellnigh impossible?

And, in case of failure, what would be the chances of retreat? It may be

observed, in the history of Bonaparte, that he always contrived to avoid

a positively hopeless position as far as possible, and especially for

himself personally. A war, therefore, would serve his purpose by

relieving him from this project of invasion, which, from the moment he

renounced it, became ridiculous.

During the same session, the State of Piombino was given to the Princess

Elisa. On announcing this to the Senate, Bonaparte stated that the

principality had been badly governed for several years; that the

interests of France were concerned, on account of the facilities which

it offered for communication with the Island of Elba and with Corsica;

and that the gift was not a token of special affection, but an act in

accordance with a wise policy, with the splendor of the crown, and with

the interests of nations.

As a proof that these gifts of the Emperor were in the nature of fiefs,

the Imperial decree was to the effect that the children of Mme.

Bacciochi, on succeeding to their mother, should receive investiture

from the Emperor of the French; that they should not marry without his

consent; and that the Princess’s husband, who was to assume the title of

Prince of Piombino, should take the following oath:

“I swear fidelity to the Emperor; I promise to aid with my whole power

the garrison of the Island of Elba; and I declare that I will not cease,

under any circumstances, to fulfill the duties of a good and faithful

subject toward his Majesty the Emperor of the French.”

A few days after this the Pope solemnly baptized the second son of Louis

Bonaparte, who was held at the font by his father and mother. This great

ceremony took place at Saint Cloud. The park was illuminated on the

occasion, and public games were provided for the people. In the evening

there was a numerous reception, and a first performance of “Athalie” at

the theatre at Saint Cloud.

Racine’s great tragedy had not been performed since the Revolution. The

Emperor, who admitted he had never been impressed by reading the play,

was much struck by its representation, and repeated on that occasion

that he greatly wished such a tragedy might be written during his own

reign. He gave leave that it should be performed in Paris; and

thenceforth most of our great plays resumed their place on the stage,

whence they had been prudently banished by the Revolution.

Some few lines, nevertheless, were cut out, lest application might be

made of them to present circumstances. Luc de Lancival, the author of

“Hector,” and shortly afterward Esménard, author of “Le Poème de la

Navigation,” were intrusted with the task of revising Corneille, Racine,

and Voltaire. But, with all due respect to these precautionary measures

of a too careful police, the missing lines, like the statues of Brutus

and Cassius, were the more conspicuous by their absence.

In consequence of the momentous decision he had arrived at, the Emperor

announced that he would speedily proceed to Italy, and fixed the epoch

of his coronation for the month of May. He convened the Italian

Legislature for the same date, and issued several decrees and ordinances

relating to the new customs to be established in Italy.

He also appointed ladies-in-waiting and chamberlains to attend on his

mother; and among others M. de Cossé-Brissac, who had solicited that

favor. At the same time Prince Borghese was declared a French citizen,

and the ladies-in-waiting received an accession to their number in Mme.

de Canisy, one of the most beautiful women of her time.

Mme. Murat gave birth to a child just at this time; she was then

residing at the Hôtel Thélusson, at the end of the Rue d’Artois. It was

observed on this occasion that the luxuriousness of the new Princesses

was continually on the increase, and yet it had not then reached the

height which it afterward attained. Mme. Murat’s bedchamber was hung

with pink satin, the bed and window curtains were of the same material,

and these hangings were trimmed with broad and very fine lace, instead

of fringe.