Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, Volume III.

by Walter Scott

The composition of Buonaparte's court was singular. Amid his military dukes and mareschals were mingled many descendants of the old noblesse, who had been struck out of the lists of emigration. On these Buonaparte spread the cruel reproach, "I offered them rank in my army—they declined the service;—I opened my antechambers to them—they rushed in and filled them." In this the Emperor did not do justice to the ancient noblesse of France. A great many resumed their natural situation in the military ranks of their country, and a still greater number declined, in any capacity, to bend the knee to him, whom they could only consider as a successful usurper.

The ceremonial of the Tuileries was upon the most splendid scale, the public festivals were held with the utmost magnificence, and the etiquette was of the most strict and indefeasible character. To all this Buonaparte himself attached consequence, as ceremonies characterising the spirit and dignity of his government; and he had drilled even his own mind into a veneration for all those outward forms connected with royalty, as accurately as if they had been during his whole life the special subject of his attention. There is a curious example given by Monsieur Las Cases. Buonaparte, in good-humoured trifling, had given his follower the titles of your highness, your lordship, and so forth, amidst which it occurred to him, in a fit of abstraction, to use the phrase, "Your Majesty." The instant that the word, sacred to his own ears, had escaped him, the humour of frolic was ended, and he resumed a serious tone, with the air of one who feels that he has let his pleasantry trespass upon an unbecoming and almost hallowed subject.

There were many of Buonaparte's friends and followers, bred, like himself, under the influence of the Revolution, who doubted the policy of his entering into such a strain of imitation of the ancient courts of Europe, and of his appearing anxious to emulate them in the only points in which he must necessarily fail, antiquity and long observance giving to ancient usages an effect upon the imagination, which could not possibly attach to the same ceremonial introduced into a court of yesterday. These would willingly have seen the dignity of their master's court rested upon its real and pre-eminent importance, and would have desired, that though republican principles were abandoned, something of the severe and manly simplicity of Republican manners should have continued to characterise a throne whose site rested upon the Revolution. The courtiers who held such opinions were at liberty to draw consolation from the personal appearance and habits of Napoleon. Amid the gleam of embroidery, of orders, decorations, and all that the etiquette of a court demands to render ceremonial at once accurate and splendid, the person of the Emperor was to be distinguished by his extreme simplicity of dress and deportment. A plain uniform, with a hat having no other ornament than a small three-coloured cockade, was the dress of him who bestowed all these gorgeous decorations, and in honour of whom these costly robes of ceremonial had been exhibited. Perhaps Napoleon might be of opinion, that a person under the common size, and in his latter days somewhat corpulent, was unfit for the display of rich dresses; or it is more likely he desired to intimate, that although he exacted from others the strict observance of etiquette, he held that the Imperial dignity placed him above any reciprocal obligation towards them.

Perhaps, also, in limiting his personal expenses, and avoiding that of a splendid royal wardrobe, Buonaparte might indulge that love of calculation and order, which we have noticed as a leading point of his character. But his utmost efforts could not carry a similar spirit of economy among the female part of his Imperial family; and it may be a consolation to persons of less consequence to know, that in this respect the Emperor of half the world was nearly as powerless as they may feel themselves to be. Josephine, with all her amiable qualities, was profuse, after the general custom of Creoles, and Pauline de Borghese was no less so. The efforts of Napoleon to limit their expenses, sometimes gave rise to singular scenes. Upon one occasion, the Emperor found in company of Josephine a certain milliner of high reputation and equal expense, with whom he had discharged his wife to have any dealings. Incensed at this breach of his orders, he directed the marchande des modes to be conducted to the Bicètre; but the number of carriages which brought the wives of his principal courtiers to consult her in captivity, convinced him that the popularity of the milliner was too powerful even for his Imperial authority; so he wisely dropped a contention which must have appeared ludicrous to the public, and the artist was set at liberty, to charm and pillage the gay world of Paris at her own pleasure.[327]

On another occasion, the irregularity of Josephine in the article of expense, led to an incident which reminds us of an anecdote in the history of some Oriental Sultan. A creditor of the Empress, become desperate from delay, stopped the Imperial calèche, in which the Emperor was leaving St. Cloud, with Josephine by his side, and presented his account, with a request of payment. Buonaparte did as Saladin would have done in similar circumstances—he forgave the man's boldness in consideration of the justice of his claim, and caused the debt to be immediately settled. In fact, while blaming the expense and irregularity which occasioned such demands, his sense of justice, and his family affection, equally inclined him to satisfy the creditor.

The same love of order, as a ruling principle of his government, must have rendered Buonaparte a severe censor of all public breaches of the decencies of society. Public morals are in themselves the accomplishment and fulfilment of all laws; they alone constitute a national code. Accordingly, the manners of the Imperial court were under such regulation as to escape public scandal, if they were not beyond secret suspicion.[328] In the same manner, gambling, the natural and favourite vice of a court, was not practised in that of Buonaparte, who discountenanced high play by every means in his power. But he suffered it to be licensed to an immense and frightful extent, by the minister of police; nor can we give him the least credit when he affirms, that the gambling-houses which paid such immense rents to Fouché, existed without his knowledge. Napoleon's own assertion cannot make us believe that he was ignorant of the principal source of revenue which supported his police. He compounded, on this as on other occasions, with a good-will, in consideration of the personal advantage which he derived from it.

In the public amusements of a more general kind, Buonaparte took a deep interest. He often attended the theatre, though commonly in private, and without eclat. His own taste, as well as political circumstances, led him to encourage the amusements of the stage; and the celebrated Talma, whose decided talents placed him at the head of the French performers, received, as well in personal notice from the Emperor, as through the more substantial medium of a pension, an assurance, that the kindness which he had shown in early youth to the little Corsican student had not been forgotten. The strictest care was taken that nothing should be admitted on the stage which could awaken feelings or recollections unfavourable to the Imperial Government. When the acute wit of the Parisian audience seized on some expression or incident which had any analogy to public affairs, the greatest pains were taken, not only to prevent the circumstance from recurring, but even to hinder it from getting into general circulation. This secrecy respecting what occurred in public, could not be attained in a free country, but was easily accomplished in one where the public papers, the general organs of intelligence, were under the strict and unremitted vigilance of the government.

There were periods when Buonaparte, in order to gain the approbation and sympathy of those who claim the exclusive title of lovers of liberty, was not unwilling to be thought the friend of liberal opinions, and was heard to express himself in favour of the liberty of the press, and other checks upon the executive authority. To reconcile his opinions (or rather what he threw out as his opinions) with a practice diametrically opposite, was no easy matter, yet he sometimes attempted it. On observing one or two persons, who had been his silent and surprised auditors on such an occasion, unable to suppress some appearance of incredulity, he immediately entered upon his defence. "I am," he said, "at bottom, and naturally, for a fixed and limited government. You seem not to believe me, perhaps because you conceive my opinions and practice are at variance. But you do not consider the necessity arising out of persons and circumstances. Were I to relax the reins for an instant, you would see a general confusion. Neither you nor I, probably, would spend another night in the Tuileries."

Such declarations have often been found in the mouths of those, who have seized upon an unlawful degree of authority over their species. Cromwell was forced to dissolve the Parliament, though he besought the Lord rather to slay him. State necessity is the usual plea of tyrants, by which they seek to impose on themselves and others; and, by resorting to such an apology, they pay that tribute to truth in their language, to which their practice is in the most decided opposition. But if there are any to whom such an excuse may appear valid, what can be, or must be, their sentiments of the French Revolution, which, instead of leading to national liberty, equality, and general happiness, brought the country into such a condition, that a victorious soldier was obliged, contrary to the conviction of his own conscience, to assume the despotic power, and subject the whole empire to the same arbitrary rules which directed the followers of his camp?

The press, at no time, and in no civilized country, was ever so completely enchained and fettered as at this period it was in France. The public journals were prohibited from inserting any article of public news which had not first appeared in the Moniteur, the organ of Government; and this, on all momentous occasions, was personally examined by Buonaparte himself. Nor were the inferior papers permitted to publish a word, whether in the way of explanation, criticism, or otherwise, which did not accurately correspond with the tone observed in the leading journal. They might, with the best graces of their eloquence, enhance the praise, or deepen the censure, which characterised the leading paragraph; but seizure of their paper, confiscation, imprisonment, and sometimes exile, were the unfailing reward of any attempt to correct what was erroneous in point of fact, or sophistical in point of reasoning. The Moniteur, therefore, was the sole guide of public opinion; and by his constant attention to its contents, it is plain that Napoleon relied as much on its influence to direct the general mind of the people of France, as he did upon the power of his arms, military reputation, and extensive resources, to overawe the other nations of Europe.