CELEBRATION OF THE ESTABLISHMENT OF GENERAL BONAPARTE’S
CONCORDAT WITH THE POPE, AND OF THE GENERAL PEACE
PROCESSION TO NOTRE DAME. ILLUMINATION OF PARIS
[Sidenote: CONSULAR CEREMONIAL]
We had not yet seen the tyrant. Hence we did not hesitate to take
advantage of the opportunity offered us by the public exhibition of
his personage on Easter Sunday. The ceremonial had been pompously
announced in the Parisian Gazettes; and M. Chaptal, the Minister of
the Interior, displayed great skill in making arrangements for giving
a fine stage effect to the pious exhibition of the Church Militant.
Bonaparte himself is also very clever at such work, and I have it on
unquestionable authority that he himself actually arranged the plan of
the procession, as well as that of the solemn farce acted afterwards
in Nôtre Dame. A person with whom I am acquainted related to me a
conversation he overheard between the First Consul and the various
underlings who were to carry out his orders, a conversation which
shows the little man can take as much interest in a puppet show as
in a victory. When the leader of the orchestra waited upon him to
mention the arrangements he had made for placing the music in front of
the Consuls, Bonaparte desired him to change the position, for he was
determined a battalion of soldiers should stand in front and behind.
The conductor observed the effect of the music would be totally lost
by this scheme; but the reply was, “N’importe, il me faut toujours des
bataillons.” Another instance of his taking upon himself the business
of stage manager was his order to Monsieur de Talleyrand that the
latter should write to the different foreign Ambassadors and Ministers
requesting that they would repair to the Palace of the Tuileries
with four horses to their carriages, instead of two. All the foreign
envoys, in consequence, clapped on an additional pair of animals, which
should by right have been jackasses, to their coaches. The Consuls’
own Ministers also, not only drove four horses, but their domestics
sported, by order, the _same_ liveries--yellow turned up with red.
Their carriages were ranged to the right of the door, exactly opposite
the Ambassadors. Soon after arrived the Councillors of State, Senators,
the Legislative Body, the Tribunats, the Prefets and the Generals in
their respective costume. All this time the foreign Ministers were in
a room below, called _Salle des Ambassadeurs_, waiting until his
Highness should be graciously pleased to condescend to admit them to
his presence. Count Cohentzel, the Austrian Minister, stood near the
door in full view of the spectators. I could not refrain from a feeling
of disgust and rage at beholding the representative of the once proud
house of Austria standing like a suppliant upon the threshold of the
Corsican adventurer.
The whole of the day’s exhibition was humiliating to every one
concerned, save to Bonaparte and his satellites. After all the
carriages were ranged in their places and the different regiments of
horse and foot taken their positions in front of the Palace, a signal
gun was fired, and a little thing leaped with uncommon agility upon
the back of a white horse, superbly caparisoned, and set off at full
trot along the line, followed by a numerous train of generals and
aides-de-camp. Upon inquiry I learnt that the white horse was called
Marengo, and its rider was Napoleon Bonaparte, First Consul of France.
Nothing was now heard but trumpets and kettledrums, and the whole
spectacle was certainly an imposing one; as Bonaparte passed along the
officers saluted and the men presented arms. He never returned a single
salute.
His dress was very plain but extremely neat, in the uniform of the
Consular Guard--a blue coat, faced with white, gold epaulettes, white
kerseymere breeches and waistcoat, a small hat with a tri-colour bow.
None of the portraits or engravings which I have seen in England
purporting to resemble this man are exactly like him. The picture by
Masquier, representing him on his return from reviewing the Consular
Guard, though the best likeness we have, is nevertheless a feeble
representation of what is one of the most penetrating and animated
countenances in the world. The complexion of Bonaparte is sallow, his
face oval and his chin long, his eyes are of a dark blue, so dark as
to appear black at a distance, they are keen and piercing, long in
form and sunk deeply in his head. His black hair is cut short and he
wears no powder. His smile is sweet and fascinating, but his visage
terrible when ruffled with anger. His voice deep-toned, rather coarse
and disfigured by a provincial accent.[5] He looks extremely well on
horseback, his carriage thereon remarkably erect, and not unlike that
of a riding master or cavalry drill sergeant. The lineaments of his
face bespeak a violent nature, it is marked with the expression of dark
and unruly passions. Upon the whole I do not hesitate to acknowledge he
possesses the most interesting countenance I ever beheld.
[Sidenote: PROCESSION TO NOTRE DAME]
After the First Consul had reviewed his troops “au trot” he hastily
dismounted, shot like an arrow into the Palace, and soon after the
general procession to Nôtre Dame began to form, and commenced with the
slow march of the infantry towards the Cathedral.
The cavalry followed and the foreign Ministers and Ministers of State.
Madame Letitia Bonaparte,[1] the Consul’s mother, a truly good,
respectable woman, and Madame Bonaparte,[1] the reigning Queen, with
Madame Louis Bonaparte,[1] her daughter, proceeded by another route
(not taking part in the procession). They occupied with their suite
two splendid coaches and four, each horse led by a running footman in
green and gold livery and escorted by a squadron of Hussars. The corps
of Mamelukes, leading six beautiful chargers of the First Consul, each
horse caparisoned to the tune of £2500, preceded the state coach, which
contained the three Consuls, attired in their consular garb of scarlet
velvet, embroidered with gold. These rulers were drawn by eight bay
horses and followed by a regiment of Hussars. Discharges of artillery
continued from their departure from the Palace till their arrival at
the Cathedral Church of Paris.
Three chairs of state were placed in front of the altar for the
Consuls, that of Bonaparte’s was advanced a little in front of the
other two, and he drew it still further forward before he seated
himself. He sat erect during the whole ceremony, except during the
Consecration of the Host and Communion, when he stood. At the elevation
of the Host he crossed himself with the most sanctified composure,
using that same hand which in Egypt had signed his abjuration of
the Christian faith. The Consul le Brun[1] sat on his right hand
and Cambacères[1] on his left. When High Mass was over, the Bishops
approached in turn to take the oath of allegiance: as each mitred
apostle knelt before Bonaparte he gave a gentle nod; but one poor old
prelate, almost blind by age and too weak to kneel, having by mistake,
directed his obeisance to Cambacères, the First Consul gave such a
frown that the poor old man was almost terrified out of his wits.
To form a just idea of the feelings of those present one must remember
that the greater part of the company consisted of the Senate, the
Corps Législatif, the Tribunalate and the Generals, nearly all of whom
had been or were avowed atheists, notorious for murders, thefts and
atrocities they had perpetrated, while the Chief Magistrate had a few
years earlier worshipped at the altar of atheism in Paris and embraced
the religion of Mahomet in Africa. These persons were now assembled
together to adore a God in whom they had no faith and to propose a
religion they despised merely that they might be enabled to preserve
their authority over the people and retain their lucrative places and
appointments. To my mind this is an occurrence in the history of pious
fraud only equalled by the action of Judas Iscariot.
I may safely affirm that with exception of the Bishops and clergy,
there was not a single official personage in the church who quitted
this religious mockery with a sentiment of piety in his heart, nor one
who did not perfectly see through the whole object of the ceremony.
When the bowing, kneeling and swearing were ended the First Consul
and his two scarlet supporters departed. Fresh discharges of cannons
accompanied their return journey to the Tuileries.
The opinion entertained by the people of this day of ceremony was that
of indignation, mixed with contemptuous ridicule.
In the evening Madame Bonaparte gave a grand rout to the ladies
of the constituted authorities, and the city was illuminated. The
illuminations were poor indeed, a few farthing rushlights stuck in
paper lanterns hung out from every third or fourth house in the
streets, and were called general illuminations, and even of those the
greater part was put out by the wind. The Palace of the Tuileries was
handsomely illuminated _à la chinoise_ with variegated lamps.
Cambacères, the Second Consul, also illuminated his house with great
taste and splendour.
[Sidenote: THEATRE OF OPERA BUFFA]
Vast numbers of people filled the streets and walks--great decorum
and sobriety were everywhere observed, a circumstance which practically
always distinguishes Frenchmen on such occasions.
In the midst of all these pompous festivities the minds of the people
are still greatly divided respecting the future. They are gratified
by the return of peace--but they are suspicious of its continuation.
To this may be added the general apprehension of some fresh changes
in France, from the restless character of its present ruler, and his
disposition to interfere in the internal economy of other States.