Personal sketches of his own times, Vol. 2 (of 3)

by Sir Jonah Barrington

I was all expectation;—the critical moment arrived: the occasion—the place—the subject, and more especially the effect expected to be produced—all combined in leading me to anticipate some speech more impressive than any I had ever heard.

The emperor rose from his throne rather quickly, raised his hat for a moment, and looked round him with a glance which, though probably meant to imply confidence, had to me the expression of scrutiny. Having done this, he re-seated himself, and commenced his speech. In language it was well adapted to the French soldiery; as a proclamation it might be considered admirable; but to a legislative assembly, it seemed to me (perhaps erroneously) ill adapted. I did expect, at all events, that it would be pronounced with that energy which was indicative of the speaker’s character; but miserably was I disappointed! Napoleon read it distinctly, but, to my mind, utterly without effect: there was no adequate ardour—no emphasis—no modulation of voice—no action, to enforce the sentiment. The delivery was monotonous and unimpressive; nor can I yet conceive how it was possible such a man could pronounce such a speech without evincing that warmth of feeling which the words, as well as the great subject itself, (to say nothing of his own situation,) were calculated to inspire. The French in general read extremely ill; and Napoleon’s style of elocution was a very humble specimen even of theirs. He ran the sentences into each other: in short, seemed to view the whole thing as a mere matter of course, and to be anxious to get through it. It put me more in mind of a solicitor reading a marriage-settlement than any thing else. Here and there, indeed, he appeared somewhat touched by the text, and most probably he himself felt it all; but he certainly expressed nothing in a manner that could make others feel it. The concluding words of the speech—“This is the moment to conquer or to perish,” though pronounced by Napoleon with little more energy than the preceding parts, (much as if he had been saying, “And your petitioner will ever pray,”) yet made a strong and visible impression upon the entire auditory. Two or three of the deputies, I observed, by (to all appearance) an involuntary movement, put their hands on their sword-hilts, and whispered those who sat next them; and among the military officers who were in the assembly there was evidently a very gallant feeling. I cast my eye at this moment on Fouché: he was looking upon the ground, seemingly in contemplation, and moved not a muscle.

At the conclusion of his speech Napoleon, whose languid manner had considerably damped my previous excitement, immediately descended from the throne, and, in the same state and amidst redoubled applauses, returned to the palace to make preparations for meeting his parliaments, and carrying into sudden execution what I have since heard denominated by English generals the finest military manœuvre of his whole life. Two things seem to be universally admitted: that the first object of that train of movements, namely the surprise and division of the allied troops, was completely successful; and that its second object—the defeat of those troops in a general engagement, was so near its accomplishment, that its failure may almost be regarded as miraculous.

I returned home full of reflection. I soon recounted all my impressions (particularly with respect to Fouché and Napoleon) to my family and two or three friends who dined with us. I did not hesitate to speak frankly my opinion of the game playing by the Duke of Otranto; nor did any long period elapse before my predictions were verified.

PROMULGATION OF THE CONSTITUTION.

Apathy of the people—Temporary building in front of the Ecole Militaire—Pont de Jena—Policy of Napoleon regarding Fouché—Procession to the Champ de Mars—Peculiar accoutrements of a regiment of cavalry—Reflections on some points in the history of Napoleon—His mistake in changing the republican into a monarchical government—Coaches of ceremony of the French noblesse and officers of state—The Emperor’s liberality to various members of his court—His personal dejection on this day—Rejoicings succeeding the promulgation—Superiority of the French in matters of embellishment—Gratuitous distribution of provisions and wine—Politeness of the lower orders of French—Display of fire-works—Mr. Hobhouse’s Second Reign of Napoleon.

The next great act of Napoleon’s second reign was the promulgation of the new articles of the constitution, at the Champ de Mars, which promised to elicit much of the public sentiment. For my own part, I conceived it would be the true touchstone of Parisian political feeling; but in this idea I was greatly disappointed.

It was natural to suppose that the establishing a constitution, by a nearly despotic monarch, whereby his own power would be greatly contracted, would, even under Napoleon’s circumstances, be considered one of the measures best calculated to propitiate a long-tramelled population. But, in fact, the thing assumed no such character; the spectacle seemed, indeed, to be held in the utmost value by the Parisians; but the constitution itself in little, if any. They had never possessed any regular constitution, and, I really think, had no settled or digested ideas upon the subject: even as yet they are but wandering.

The extraordinary splendour of the preparations for this ceremony, and the admixture of civil and military pomp, were to me very interesting. The temporary buildings thrown up for the occasion might, it is true, be denominated tawdry; yet, strangely enough, there is no other people in the world who can deck out gewgaws with any thing like corresponding taste and effect.

The scene was on an immense scale. In an inconceivably short time, and almost as if by magic, a sort of amphitheatre was constructed in front of the Ecole Militaire, of magnitude sufficient to contain about 15,000 persons. Though only of planks and paper, it seemed of marble and bronze, and glowed with the richest velvets and most sumptuous gilding. In the centre arose an altar similar to those provided, in ancient sacrifices, for the sacred fire to descend on; and at this altar Cardinal Cambaceres presided. A great proportion of the front of the military school was covered with crimson velvet, and the imperial throne was placed on the platform of the first story, facing the altar: around it were seats for the princes. I was not present at the actual ceremony within the great temporary edifice.