A rough sketch of modern Paris

by J. G. Lemaistre

LETTER XIX.

Bonaparte’s audience.—His address to the english gentlemen presented to him.—First appearance, this season, of Vestris.—Madame de St—l’s concert.

Paris, march the 7th, 1801, (16 ventose).

MY DEAR SIR,

I spent yesterday a very busy and a very entertaining day. On the 15th of every month, the first consul, after the review (the ceremony of which I have described in a former letter), gives audience to the ambassadors and foreigners, in other words, holds his court. As I was very anxious to have an opportunity of seeing, in a private room, and of speaking to Bonaparte, who, whatever his political merits or faults may be, is indisputably one of the most extraordinary men whom the world ever produced, I requested Mr. Jackson, the british minister, to do me the favour of presenting me. My name having accordingly been sent in to the minister for foreign affairs, I drove to the palace of the Thuilleries, at three o’clock, where, in a small apartment on the ground floor, called “la Salle des Ambassadeurs,” the foreign ministers, and their respective countrymen, wait till the first consul is ready to receive them. Chocolate, lemonade, sherbet, and liqueurs, were served round in abundance; and, after an interval of nearly an hour, the doors were thrown open, and we ascended the great stairs of the palace, which were lined with grenadiers, who stood with rested arms on every step. In the antichamber there was an officer’s guard, which saluted us in passing; and after going through four or five very large rooms, in each of which there was on both sides a file of soldiers, we, at last, found ourselves in what would be called, in England, the presence chamber. Here, in a splendid salon, stood Bonaparte, between Cambacères, the second consul, and le Brun, the third. They were all three dressed in their grand costume of scarlet velvet, richly embroidered with gold. The generals, senators, and counsellors of state, who surrounded Bonaparte, retired on our arrival, and a circle was instantly formed, the foreigners of different nations ranging themselves behind their respective ministers. The imperial ambassador stood on the right hand side of the first consul; next to him was placed Mr. Jackson; and on the left I perceived marquis Luchesini, the prussian minister, and the hereditary prince of Orange, whom he presented this day. In compliment to the latter, Bonaparte, contrary to his usual practice, began the audience on that side. He spoke for some time to the son of the deposed Stadtholder, and seemed anxious to render his situation (awkward and extraordinary as it was) as little painful as possible; but I thought I could remark, in the countenance of this respectable young man, a look which proved that these efforts, though well meant, were ineffectual. In passing by each foreign minister, the first consul received the individuals of their respective nations with great ease and dignity. When it came to Mr. Jackson’s turn, sixteen english were presented; and, after Bonaparte had spoke to five or six of us, he said, with a smile, which is peculiarly his own, and which changes a countenance, usually stern, into one of great mildness, “Je suis charmé de voir tant d’Anglois ici. J’espére que notre union sera de longue durée. Nous sommes les deux nations les plus puissantes et les plus civilizées de l’Europe. Il faut nous unir pour cultiver les arts, les sciences, les lettres, enfin pour faire le bonheur de l’espèce humaine[51].”

Mr. Jackson made no reply, and, of course, no one else could say any thing. The first consul spoke to each individual with politeness, and inquired to what regiments those belonged who were presented in uniform. He particularly distinguished colonel Graham, an officer of great merit in our service, who, both in Italy and in Syria, had been opposed to the arms of France, when commanded in person by Bonaparte. After going round the circle, he spoke a second time to this gentleman, and paid the same compliment to the hereditary prince of Orange. The audience then closed, and we descended with the same ceremonies as in coming in, to “la Salle des Ambassadeurs,” where we waited for our carriages.

The whole was conducted with great dignity; and persons used to courts, all agree, that the audience of the first consul is one of the most splendid things of the kind in Europe. The pomp of military parade with which it is attended, the beauty of the palace, the handsome uniforms and commanding figures of the soldiery, the variety of regimentals worn by the officers of different nations, the elegance of taste displayed by some foreigners (for every one not in uniform is in the full dress of the old court), the splendid stars, ribands, and orders of others, and, above all, the celebrity of Bonaparte, unite so many circumstances in its favour, that you will not be surprised at a judgment, which, to a person who has not lately seen Paris, may seem extraordinary. As to the first consul, he is as superiour in little things as in great ones; and, had he been born a sovereign, he could not possibly discharge this part of his duty with more ease, dignity, and decorum. He is also very ready in finding subjects of conversation, and opportunities of civility. He gave yesterday a proof of this; which, though I did not hear it myself, I shall venture to report on the credit of a person on whom I can rely. A prussian aid-de-camp being presented (whose name I have forgotten), Bonaparte asked, “where his general had last served?” The officer replied, “in the campaign against France.”—“I beg you a thousand pardons,” rejoined the consul; “but it is so contrary to the usual order of things (si peu naturel) to see the prussians and french opposed to each other, that the circumstance had entirely escaped me[52].”

Before I conclude my account of the audience, I ought to mention, that it may be well called a court; for it is attended not only with all the requisites of show, parade, form, and etiquette, but likewise by that flattery and cringing attention, which it was once the exclusive privilege of royalty to receive. I saw the proudest nobles of foreign courts, decorated with all the trappings of chivalry, humbly bending the body, and anxiously courting the smile of that individual, whom, a few years, nay, a few months before, they would have branded with the names of rebel, jacobin, and usurper; but the creed of courtiers is to change with “existing circumstances,” and those, whose intrigues against Bonaparte were the most active, are now his most obsequious sycophants. But a truce to remarks which lead to politics.

The english who were presented immediately after the peace, were asked to dinner; but owing to the greatness, I imagine, of our number, this favour was not yesterday shown to us. I regret much having missed the entertainment, as I am told it was strikingly magnificent.

I went in the evening to see a spectacle, infinitely more interesting, according to french ideas, though certainly not so according to mine. I mean, the first appearance, this season, of Vestris, and mademoiselle Chameroi. This was at Paris a matter of great importance, and boxes were engaged for weeks before hand. Mrs. ⸺ was fortunate enough to procure one; and I therefore saw the performance (Hecubé, and “le Ballet de Paris,”) to great advantage. Vestris has certainly lost none of his merit, and deserves, as well as ever, that celebrity which has long been his; but I could not help being disgusted at the thunder of applause which greeted his appearance. It is impossible, indeed, to carry further the sublime art of dancing; but how contemptible is it to lavish the praises of a great nation on the exertions of mere bodily skill! If, as Dr. Johnson well observes, “the garlands due to the great benefactors of mankind should not be suffered to fade upon the brow of those who can boast only petty services and easy virtues,” much less should they ornament the head of him, whose utmost claims on the gratitude of the public are the flexibility of his body, or the grace of his steps.