While the court was at St. Cloud the council was held there, but when the sitting was to take place at too early an hour, or it was likely to last long, the Emperor adjourned the proceedings until the members could take some refreshment, which was served up in the adjacent apartment, on small tables most magnificently supplied, as if by enchantment. I may truly say, that it would be impossible to give a just idea of the fascinations we witnessed in every thing belonging to the Imperial palaces.
The hour of the Council’s sitting was regularly noticed in our letters of convocation, but the hour was generally eleven.
When a sufficient number of members was present, the Arch-Chancellor[note previously in text Arch-chancellor p2], who was always there the first, and who presided in the Emperor’s absence, opened the sitting, and called the attention of the Council to what was then called the little order of the day, and which solely embraced simple matters of a local nature and of mere form.
About an hour later, in general, the beating of the drum in the interior of the Palace announced the Emperor’s arrival. The grand entrance was thrown open; his Majesty was announced; all the Council rose, and the Emperor appeared, preceded by his Chamberlain and his Aide-de-Camp on duty, who presented his chair, received his hat, and continued behind him during the sitting, ready to receive and execute his orders.
The Arch-Chancellor then presented to the Emperor the great order of the day, which contained the series of objects under deliberation. The Emperor read them over, and pointed out in a distinct tone that which he wished to have discussed. The Councillor of State, nominated for the purpose, read his report, and the deliberations commenced.
Every member was at liberty to speak; if several rose at the same time, the order of precedence was regulated by the Emperor. The members spoke from their places sitting. No written speeches were allowed to be read; it was requisite that they should be made extemporaneously. When the Emperor thought the question, in which he usually took no inconsiderable share himself, sufficiently discussed, he made a summary of the arguments, which was always luminous, and frequently marked with novelty and point, came to a conclusion, and put it to the vote.
I have already noticed the freedom enjoyed in these debates. The animation of the speakers, increasing by degrees, became sometimes excessive, and the discussion was often protracted beyond measure, particularly when the Emperor, occupied probably with some other subject, seemed, either from distraction or something else, to be altogether ignorant of what was going on. He then commonly cast a vacant look over the hall, cut pencils with his penknife, pricked the cover of his table or the arm of his chair with the point of it, or employed his pencil or pen in scrawling whimsical marks or sketches, which, after he was gone, excited the covetous attention of the young members, who made a kind of scramble for them; and it was curious to observe, when he happened to have traced the name of some country or capital, the hyperbolical inferences that were sought to be extracted from it.
Sometimes too, when the Emperor entered the Council, as soon as his dinner was ended, and after having undergone great fatigue during the morning, he would fold his arms upon the table, lay down his head and fall asleep. The Arch-Chancellor proceeded with the deliberations, which were continued without interruption, and the Emperor, on awaking, immediately caught up the thread of the discussion, though the previous subject might have been ended and another introduced. The Emperor often asked for a glass of water and sugar; and a table in the adjoining room was always laid out with refreshments for his use, without any precautions being adopted as to the individuals who were permitted to approach it.
The Emperor, it is well known, was in the habit of taking snuff almost every minute: this was a sort of mania which seized him chiefly during intervals of abstraction. His snuff-box was speedily emptied; but he still continued to thrust his fingers into it, or to raise it to his nose, particularly when he was himself speaking. Those Chamberlains, who proved themselves most expert and assiduous in the discharge of their duties, would frequently endeavour, unobserved by the Emperor, to take away the empty box and substitute a full one in its stead; for there existed a great competition of attention and courtesy among the Chamberlains who were habitually employed in services about the Emperor’s person; an honour which was very much envied. These persons were, however, seldom changed, either because they intrigued to retain their places, or because it was naturally most agreeable to the Emperor to continue them in posts, with the duties of which they were acquainted. It was the business of the Grand Marshal (Duroc) to make all these arrangements. The following is an instance of the attentions paid by the Emperor’s Chamberlains. One of them, having observed that the Emperor on going to the theatre frequently forgot his opera-glass, of which he made constant use, got one made exactly like it, so that the first time he saw the Emperor without his glass, he presented his own to him, and the difference was not observed. On his return from the theatre, the Emperor was not a little surprised to find that he had two glasses exactly alike. Next day, he inquired how the new opera-glass had made its appearance, and the Chamberlain replied that it was one which he kept in reserve in case it might be wanted.
The Emperor always shewed himself very sensible of these attentions, which were innocent in themselves, and which were calculated to make an impression on the feelings, when dictated only by love and respect; for then the individual was not acting the part of a slavish courtier, but that of an affectionate and devoted servant. Napoleon, on his part, whatever may have been reported to the contrary in the saloons of Paris, shewed sincere regard for the persons of his household. When he quitted Paris for St. Cloud, Malmaison, or any other of his country residences, he usually invited the individuals of his household to his private evening parties; and thus was formed a pleasant family circle, admittance to which was held to be a very high honour. When in the country, he also admitted his Chamberlains to dine at his table. One day, while at dinner at Trianon, being troubled with a severe cold in his head, a complaint to which he was very subject, he found himself in want of a handkerchief; the servants immediately ran to fetch one, but meanwhile the Chamberlain on duty, who was a relation of Maria Louisa’s, drew a clean one unfolded from his pocket, and wished to take the other from the Emperor. “I thank you,” said Napoleon; “but I will never have it said that I allowed M—— to touch a handkerchief which I had used;” and he threw it on the ground.