(1804.)
Y degrees the flotillas built in our other harbors came round to join those of Boulogne. They sometimes met with obstacles on the way, for English vessels were always cruising about the coast to prevent their junction. The camps at Boulogne, at Montreuil, and at Compiègne presented an imposing appearance, and the army became daily more numerous and more formidable.
There is no doubt that these preparations for war, and the comments which were made upon them in Paris, caused some anxiety in Europe; for an article appeared in the newspapers which created no great impression at the time, but which I considered to be worth preserving, because it was an exact forecast of all that has since occurred. It appeared in the “Moniteur” of July 10, 1804, on the same day with an account of the audience given by the Emperor to all the ambassadors who had just received fresh credentials to his Court. Some of the latter contained flattering expressions from foreign sovereigns on his accession to the throne.
This is the article:
“From time immemorial, the metropolis has been the home of hearsay (les on dit). A new rumor springs up every day, to be contradicted on the next. Although there has been of late more activity, and a certain persistence in these reports which gratify idle curiosity, we think it more desirable to leave them to time, and that wisest of all possible replies silence! Besides, what sensible Frenchman, really interested in discovering the truth, will fail to recognize in the current rumors the offspring of malignity more or less interested in their circulation?
“In a country where so large a number of men are well aware of existing facts, and are able to judge of those which do not exist, if any one imagines that current rumors ought to cause him real anxiety, if a credulous confidence in them influences his commercial enterprises or his personal interests, either his error is not a lasting one, or he must lay the blame on his own want of reflection.
“But foreigners, persons attached to diplomatic missions, not having the same means of judging, nor the same knowledge of the country, are often deceived; and, although for a long time past they have had opportunities of observing how invariably every event gives the lie to current gossip, they nevertheless repeat it in foreign countries, and thus give rise to most erroneous notions about France. We therefore think it advisable to say a few words in this journal on the subject of political gossip.
“It is said that the Emperor is about to unite the Italian republic, the Ligurian republic, the republic of Lucca, the kingdom of Etruria, the Papal States, and, by a necessary consequence, Naples and Sicily, under his own rule. It is said that the same fate is reserved for Switzerland and Holland. It is said that, by annexing Hanover, the Emperor will be enabled to become a member of the Germanic Confederation.
“Many deductions are drawn from these suppositions; and the first we remark is that the Pope will abdicate, and that Cardinal Fesch or Cardinal Ruffo will be raised to the Pontifical Throne.
“We have already said, and we repeat it, that if the influence of France were to be exerted in any changes affecting the Sovereign Pontiff, it would be exerted for the welfare of the Holy Father, and to increase the respect due to the Holy See and its possessions, rather than to diminish it.
“As to the kingdom of Naples, Mr. Action’s aggressive action and his constantly hostile policy might in former times have afforded France a legitimate cause of war, which she would never have undertaken with the intention of uniting the Two Sicilies to the French Empire.
“The Italian and Ligurian republics and the kingdom of Etruria will not cease to exist as independent States, and it is surely very unlikely that the Emperor would disown both the duties attached to the authority which he derives from the comitia of Lyons, and the personal glory he has acquired by twice restoring to independence the States which twice he has conquered.
“We may ask, as regards Switzerland, who prevented its annexation to France before the Act of Mediation? This Act, the immediate result of care and thought on the part of the Emperor, has restored tranquillity to those peoples, and is a guarantee of their independence and security, so long as they themselves do not destroy this guarantee by substituting the will of one of their constituent corporations, or that of a party, for the elements of which it is composed.
“Had France desired to annex Holland, Holland would now be French, like Belgium. That she is an independent power is because France felt with regard to that country, as she felt in the case of Switzerland, that the localities required an individual existence and a particular kind of organization.
“A still more absurd supposition is entertained respecting Hanover. The annexation of that province would be the most fatal gift that could be made to France, and no lengthened consideration of the matter is needed in order to perceive this. Hanover would become a cause of rivalry between the French nation and that prince who was the ally and friend of France at a time when all Europe was in coalition against her. In order to retain Hanover, it would be necessary to keep up a military force at a cost out of all proportion to the few millions which constitute the whole of the revenues of that country. Will that Government which has made sacrifices in order to maintain the principle that a simple and continuous frontier-line, even as far as the fortifications of Strasbourg and of Mayence on the right bank, is necessary, be so short-sighted as to wish for the incorporation of Hanover?
“But, it is said, the advantage of belonging to the Germanic Confederation depends on the possession of Hanover. The mere title of Emperor of the French is sufficient answer to this singular idea. The Germanic Confederation is composed of kings, electors, and princes, and it recognizes, in relation to itself, but one imperial dignity. It would be to misjudge the noble pride of our country to suppose she would ever consent to become an element in any other confederation, even had such a thing been compatible with national dignity. What could have prevented France from maintaining her rights in the circle of Burgundy, or those which conferred on her the possession of the Palatinate? We may even ask, with pardonable pride, who was it that prevented France from keeping part of the States of Baden and of the Swabian territory?
“No, France will never cross the Rhine! Nor will her armies pass over it, unless it become necessary for her to protect the German Empire and its princes, who inspire an interest in her because of their attachment to her, and their value in the balance of power in Europe.
“If these are simply idle rumors, we have answered them sufficiently. If they owe their origin to the anxious jealousy of foreign Powers, who are always crying out that France is ambitious in order to cloak their own ambition, there is another answer to be made. Owing to the two coalitions successively entered into against us, and to the treaties of Campo Formio and Lunéville, France has no province for her neighbor which she could wish to annex; and, if in the past she has displayed an example of moderation unexampled in modern history, the result is an advantage for her, inasmuch as she need not henceforth take up arms.
“Her capital is in the center of her Empire; her frontiers are bounded by small States which complete her political constitution; geographically she can desire nothing belonging to her neighbors—she is therefore naturally inimical to none; and, as there exists in her respect neither another Finland, nor another River Inn, she is in a position which no other Power enjoys.
“As it is with those rumors which try to prove that France is inordinately ambitious, so it is with others of a different nature.
“Not long ago rebellion was in our camps. Two days back thirty thousand Frenchmen had refused to embark at Boulogne; yesterday our legions were at war with each other, ten against ten, thirty against thirty, flag against flag. Our four Rhenish departments were informed that we were about to restore them to their former ruler. To-day, perhaps, it is said that the public treasury is empty, that the public works have been discontinued, that discord prevails everywhere, and that the taxes are unpaid. If the Emperor starts for the camps, it will be said, perhaps, that he is hurrying thither to restore peace. In fact, whether he remains at Saint Cloud, or goes to the Tuileries, or lives at Malmaison, there will be opportunities for absurd reports.
“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.