A rough sketch of modern Paris

by J. G. Lemaistre

LETTER VIII.

Bonaparte.—The monthly review or parade in the court of the Thuilleries.

Paris, december the 6th, 1801, (15 frimaire.)

MY DEAR SIR,

My curiosity is at last gratified. I have seen Bonaparte. You will readily conceive how much pleasure I felt to day, in beholding, for the first time, this extraordinary man, on whose single exertions the fate of France, and in many respects that of Europe, has for some time depended.

I was fortunate enough to obtain places in one of the apartments of Duroc, the governor of the palace, from the windows of which I saw the review to the greatest advantage. It is impossible to describe the impatience with which we awaited the appearance of Bonaparte. Mrs. ⸺ well observed, that her eyes ached with looking.

As soon as the court of the Thuilleries, (that is to say the ground, which is enclosed with iron railings, near the Carousel,) was filled with the different regiments, who arranged themselves with wonderful skill, and without the least confusion, notwithstanding the limited space allotted them, the generals descended from their horses, went up stairs into the palace, and, after some little delay, conducted Bonaparte to the door. He instantly sprang on his white charger, (which waited for him at the gate) and commenced the review. As he passed several times before the window where I sat, I had ample time to examine his countenance, his figure, his dress, and his manner. His complexion is uncommonly sallow, his countenance expressive but stern, his figure little but well made, and his whole person, like the mind which it contains, singular and remarkable. If I were compelled to compare him to any one, I should name Kemble, the actor. Though Bonaparte is much less in size, and less handsome than that respectable performer, yet in the construction of the features, and in the general expression, there is a strong resemblance. There is, however, such originality about the appearance of the first consul, that, without having seen him, it is difficult to form an idea of his person. The picture of Bonaparte at the review, exhibited some time back in Piccadilly, and the bust in Sèvre china, which is very common at Paris, and which has probably become equally so in London, are the best likenesses I have seen. As to his dress, he wore the grand costume of his office, that is to say a scarlet velvet coat, richly embroidered with gold, to this he had added leather breeches, jockey boots, and a little plain cocked hat, the only ornament of which was a national cockade. His hair unpowdered was cut close in his neck.

After riding through the ranks, and receiving the salutes of the officers, he passed by every regiment, the colours of which were lowered as he went on. He then placed himself in the middle of the parade, and his generals and aides-de-camp having formed a group around him, he distributed swords and firelocks of honour to such officers and soldiers, as in different campaigns had deserved them. Berthier, the companion of his victories, and now minister of war, presented one by one these articles to Bonaparte, who having read the inscription which was engraved on each, recording the action by which it was deserved, delivered with his own hands the respective badges of honour. After this ceremony was over, the different regiments passed by the first consul, and the captain of each company or troop saluted him in passing. The cavalry went in full gallop, and as they approached him stopped with wonderful neatness. Thus concluded the review. He then rode with his officers to the palace gate, dismounted, and retired to his apartments, followed by the generals and a strong detachment of men.

The spectacle was altogether extremely brilliant. The windows of the palace, of the gallery of the Louvre, and of all the adjoining houses were filled with ladies elegantly dressed, and the iron gates which separate the court from the palace, were surrounded by the people. I shall say nothing of the discipline of the troops, not being a military man, and consequently little conversant with such matters. I shall only speak of what struck the eye. The consular guards are the handsomest men I ever saw, scarcely any are less than six feet high, and if we may believe the report of persons connected with the government, every individual in the corps owes his situation to long service, or some distinguished act of valour. Their uniform is a long coat of fine blue cloth, faced with white, and edged with red, with a yellow button, on which is written “garde des consuls.” They wear white waistcoats and breeches, and a fur cap, with a gilt plate, on which appears the same inscription as that on the buttons. “La garde consulaire à cheval,” or consular horse guard, wears the same uniform as the foot of that service. The dragoons are dressed in green, with a casque, from which is suspended a large braid of hair.