The Empress, who was very anxious now that her husband was about to incur fresh risks, had no friend among her court circle to sympathize affectionately with her. In her suite were several ladies who belonged by their very names to memories which they claimed a right to retain at the new Court; and they took leave to disapprove of the war, and especially to express an interest which was natural enough in the beautiful Queen. She soon became an object of attack in each successive bulletin. The death of Prince Louis of Prussia, with whom some of the ladies-in-waiting during the time of their emigration had been acquainted, was also much lamented by them, and a sort of disdainful opposition formed itself around our Empress, of which Mme. de la Rochefoucauld took the lead.
M. de Rémusat, who had the superintendence of this miniature Court, became the recipient of the complaints of the Empress, who, having nothing serious to occupy her, was annoyed by foolish and vain speeches which she ought to have despised. He advised her to pay no attention to these vexations, and by no means to mention them to the Emperor, who would make them of more importance than was at all desirable. Mme. Bonaparte, however, wrote all the history to her husband, and subsequently M. de Talleyrand, who was present during these little storms which might have been so easily dispersed, thought to amuse the Emperor with a description of them. Bonaparte did not regard the matter in a harmless light. I have dwelt on this in order, later on, to explain what came of it to ourselves personally.
Meanwhile, a life so trivial and so empty was wearisome to my husband. He amused himself by learning German, in order, as he wrote to me, “at least to occupy a portion of each day usefully.” He took increasing pleasure in the society of M. de Talleyrand, who treated him with confidence and warm friendship. Whenever the slightest appearance of feeling is attributed to M. de Talleyrand, one is obliged to put the statement with strong affirmation, because it will inevitably be received with doubt. The world judges him with severity, or at least too sweepingly. I know him to be capable of affection, and I venture to say that, had he been altogether deceitful, I could not have become so sincerely attached to him.
During this time I was living very quietly in Paris with my mother, my sister, and my children. Some distinguished people came to my house; also a number of literary men, who were attracted thither by my husband’s authority over the theatres. Princess Caroline only (Duchess of Berg) required any court to be paid to her. She lived at the Elysée with a certain amount of state; people waited on her as they did on the Arch-Chancellor Cambacérès. Occasional visits had to be paid to the ministers, but the remainder of one’s time was one’s own. News from the seat of war was received without enthusiasm, but not without interest, because every family was more or less connected with the army.
The knowledge that every drawing-room was watched by the police prevented all serious conversation; every one was engrossed by secret anxieties and a sort of isolation, which was just what the Emperor wished, was the result.
Nevertheless, a little incident happened during the campaign which amused all Paris for several weeks. On the 23d of October Cardinal Maury was chosen—by that class of the Institute which has received the name of the French Academy—to succeed M. Target. When the day for his reception drew near, some one raised the question whether he should be addressed as Monseigneur, and a great commotion ensued. Before the Revolution a similar discussion had occurred on the same subject. D’Alembert and the three members of the Academy had pleaded for the rights of equality in the sanctuary of letters; but the Academy, having in 1806 become “the Right,” was disposed to grant the title of Monseigneur, in opposition to the party headed by Regnault de St. Jean d’Angely, his brother-in-law Arnault, Chénier, etc. The discussion ran so high, the Cardinal declared so positively that he would not present himself unless he were to be addressed according to his rank, the difficulty of arriving with due freedom at any decision was so great, that it was determined to refer the matter to the Emperor himself, and this foolish dispute was actually brought before him on the battle-field. Meanwhile, whenever the Cardinal met any of the members of the Institute who were hostile to him, he attacked them. On one occasion he met M. Regnault dining at Mme. Murat’s, and an amusing passage-at-arms, at which I was present, took place between them. Almost at the very beginning of the conversation, the Cardinal requested M. Regnault to go into another room, to which M. Regnault consented, provided that some of the other guests would accompany him. The Cardinal, who was annoyed, began to get excited. “You do not recollect, then, sir,” he said, “that at the Constituent Assembly I called you little boy.” “That is no reason,” replied M. Regnault, “why we should give you a token of respect at the present day.” “If my name were Montmorency,” returned the Cardinal, “I could afford to laugh at you; but I owe to my abilities only my elevation to the Academy, and, if I yielded the point of Monseigneur, the next day you would treat me as an equal.” M. Regnault reminded us that once only had the French Academy consented to use the title of Monseigneur, and that then it was in favor of Cardinal Dubois, who was received by Fontenelle. “But,” he added, “times are greatly changed.” I must own that, looking at Cardinal Maury, I ventured to think men were not so much altered. Finally the discussion became hot; it was reported to the Emperor, who sent orders to the academicians to address the Cardinal as Monseigneur. On this everybody immediately submitted, and we heard no more about it.
CHAPTER XXII
(1806-1807.)
