Chapter III: Part 3

Alas! these flags were to be always on the path of honor, but not always on the path of victory, for victory is a female goddess and a fickle one. Against how many enemies these flags were to be defended, beneath scorching suns, under avalanches of ice and snow! What heroism, what miracles of bravery, were to be witnessed by these standards on many a battle-field! What fatigue, what suffering, what sacrifices, dangers, wounds, how many glorious deaths, what seas of blood, to come at last to the most lamentable disasters I Had the future been seen, those drums would have been draped in black. But the army imagined itself invincible. The thought of defeat would have called forth a smile of pity. Proud of itself, of its commander, it shouted with joy and pride as it passed before the throne.

A single incident disturbed this martial ceremony. Suddenly an unknown young man approached the Imperial gallery, and shouted: "Down with the Emperor! Liberty or death!" This ardent Republican was at once arrested. His voice had been lost in the music and clatter of arms.

The rain continued, and soon soaked through the canvas and stuffs sheltering the throne, The Empress was obliged to leave, with her daughter, who had recently given birth to a child. The other Princesses followed this example, with the exception of Madame Murat, who, although lightly clad, remained exposed to the showers. She said that she was learning how to endure the inevitable discomforts of the highest rank.

At five o'clock Napoleon and Josephine were once more at the Tuileries where a state dinner was given in the Gallery of Diana. In the middle of this gallery the table of the Emperor and the Empress was placed beneath a magnificent canopy, on a platform. The Empress sat there with the Emperor on the right and the Pope on her left. The high officers of the crown, as well as a colonel-general of the Guard and a prefect of the palace, remained standing near the Imperial table.

Pages waited on the tables. The Archchancellor of the German Empire took his place at that of the Emperor. In the same gallery were set other tables for the French Princes and for the hereditary Prince of Baden, for the ministers, for the ladies and officers of the Imperial household. After the dinner was a concert, at which the Pope consented to be present. When that was over Pius VII. withdrew, and the evening ended with a ballet danced by the dancers of the opera in the great hall called since the Empire the Hall of the Marshals.

VII.

THE FESTIVITIES.

The winter of 1804-5 was very brilliant. Napoleon was anxious to give the beginning of his reign an air of splendor. He allowed his officials generous salaries, but he insisted on their spending all they received in sumptuous living, in entertaining freely, and receiving distinguished foreigners. Luxury became compulsory, and trade flourished beyond all expectations. Paris had never, even in the grandest days of the old monarchy, known greater social animation. This martial generation, accustomed to desire a short but merry life, aware that the festivities of day would be interrupted by the battles of the next, were as eager in the ball-room as on the battlefield. They hastened to enjoy their present prosperity as if they foresaw the disasters to come. French gallantry, which had been forgotten during the Revolution, resumed its sway. The women were like the fair mistresses of castles in the Middle Ages who gave their hearts to the bravest knights. Love and glory both became the fashion. The former Lady of the Bedchamber to Marie Antoinette, Madame Campan, who taught most of the young women of the court in her school at Saint Germain, had formed a group of beauties, trained in aristocratic manners, at the head of whom was her ablest, most intelligent pupil, Hortense de Beauharnais, who had been married to Prince Louis Bonaparte. The Grand Chamberlain, M. de Talleyrand, a poor bishop but an excellent specimen of a grand lord, and the Grand Master of Ceremonies, M. de Segur, whose success as ambassador of Louis XVI. at the court of Catherine was very great, set the tone in the households of the Emperor and the Empress.

Napoleon set an example of luxury and elegance. Grand dinners, concerts, official entertainments succeeded one another with startling rapidity. Josephine, who was wildly fond of dress, was glad of an excuse to indulge her extravagant tastes. The Emperor's three sisters lived like real princesses, rivalling one another in magnificence. Princes Joseph and Louis displayed the pomp of future kings.

Almost all the women of the court were young and pretty. It would have been hard to confer on any one, to the exclusion of the rest, the palm of beauty. There were three who were especially distinguished: Madame Maret (later the Duchess of Bassano); Madame Savary (later the Duchess of Rovigo); and Madame de Canisy (later the Duchess of Vicenza). The last named had married M. de Canisy, the Emperor's equerry. Later, she got a divorce and married M. de Caulaincourt, Duke of Vicenza and Grand Equerry.

At Saint Helena Napoleon thus recounted the origin of this famous beauty: "Madame de Lomene, the Cardinal's niece, before being put to death in the Revolution, entrusted to Father Patrault her two young daughters. When the terror was over, Madame de Brienne, their aunt, who had weathered the storm and still possessed a large fortune, demanded them of Father Patrault, who refused to give them up for a long time, on the ground that their mother had urged him to bring them up as peasants." And Napoleon went on: "I was then General of the Army of the Interior; and was able to secure the return of the two children, though with some difficulty, for Patrault resisted in every way in his power. They were the women whom you afterwards knew as Madame de Marnesia, and as the beautiful Madame de Canisy."

The Duchess of Abrantes, in recalling the brilliant winter of 1804-5, says, in her Memoirs: "One especially impressive beauty, particularly in the ball-room, was Madame de Canisy, I have often compared her to a muse. It would be impossible for a single face to present a fuller combination of charms than hers: she possessed regular features, a delightful expression, an attractive smile; her hair was silky and glossy. Seldom have I seen anything more charming than Madames de Canisy, Maret, and Savary in entering a ball-room together,"

There was no lack of entertainments at which these beauties shone. The one given at the Hotel de Ville, December 16, 1804, to the Emperor and the Empress, was so costly that it kept the city of Paris for many years in debt. Napoleon, Josephine, Princes Joseph and Louis drove to it in the coronation coach. Batteries of artillery, stationed on the Pont Neuf, announced the moment of their arrival, while tables covered with poultry, and fountains of wine, attracted an enormous crowd to the place; almost every one had a share in this distribution of food, thanks to the precautions taken by the authorities of delivering it only to those who presented a ticket. The front of the Hotel de Ville was illuminated with colored lanterns. When the Empress entered the apartments reserved for her, she found there a complete and magnificent gold toilet-service: it was a present from the City Council. The President of the Council thus addressed her: "Madame: How could the Parisians, who are so capable of distinguishing what is good, delicate, and noble, let slip this opportunity of paying their homage to the profound tenderness, the touching grace, the true dignity that characterize Your Majesty? The happy influence of these rare qualities already makes itself felt in all classes of society, and while your august spouse elevates France in glory, you inspire it to resume the first rank among the races most renowned for urbanity." The hall in which the Imperial banquet was to be given was called the Hall of Victories. On the door was the inscription _Fasti Napoleoni_, and at intervals, separated by military trophies and standards, were Latin inscriptions in honor of Napoleon. Before dinner he was presented with a table-service of silver-gilt by the city of Paris. Then he took his seat, with the Empress, on a platform beneath a canopy, and the meal began. During dinner, a band, hidden behind green foliage, played a symphony of Haydn's, and then was sung a cantata full of flattery for the Emperor and the Empress.

After the dinner there were magnificent fireworks. As the first rockets rose, a second cantata was sung. One of the pieces of fireworks represented a man-of-war with eighty guns: its decks, masts, sails, and rigging were represented by glowing lights. Another, which the Emperor himself set off, represented Mount Saint Bernard sending forth a volcanic eruption from snow-covered rocks. In the centre appeared the image of Napoleon at the head of his army, riding up the steep slope of the mountain.

This entertainment, which closed with a ball at which seven hundred persons were present, was a real apotheosis. Madame de Remusat, speaking of the extravagant adulation devised for this occasion, says: "A great deal has been said about the fulsome flatteries of Louis XIV. during his reign; I am sure that altogether they would not amount to a tenth part of those that Bonaparte received. I remember that at another festivity given by the city to the Emperor a few years later, since all inscription had been exhausted, there were placed above the throne on which he was to sit, these words from Scripture, in gold letters: _Ego sum qui sum_,--and no one was shocked."

The Senate and the Legislative Body also gave grand entertainments in honor of the coronation. That of the Legislative Body was particularly brilliant. This assembly, which rivalled the Senate in obsequiousness, had decided that a marble statue should be raised to the Emperor in the room where it sat, in honor of the drawing up of the civil code. The day when this statue was to be inaugurated was chosen for the festivity. The Empress, followed by a magnificent suite, reached the Palace of the Legislative Body at about seven in the evening. As she entered, musicians intoned Glueck's famous chorus, which used to be sung on formal occasions in the reign of Louis XVI., in honor of Marie Antoinette:--

"What charms! What majesty!"

Unanimous applause emphasized the allusions. Then on the President's invitation, Marshals Murat and Massena raised the veils that covered the statue, and all eyes beheld the figure of Napoleon, wearing on his brow a laurel wreath, in which were mingled oak and olive leaves. Later, at the time of his abdication at Fontainebleau, Napoleon expressed a regret that he had permitted his statue to be made during his lifetime.

Then M. de Vaublanc ascended the tribune, and made a speech full of extravagant praise; it ended thus: "You live, all of you, threatened by the perils of the times; you live, and you owe your life to him whose statue you behold. You return unfortunate exiles; you breathe once more the delicious air of your own country; you embrace your fathers, your children, your wives, your friends; all this you owe to him whose statue you behold. There is no longer any question of his glory; I say nothing about it; I invoke humanity on one side, gratitude on the other; I ask you to whom you are indebted for this great, extraordinary, unexpected good fortune. You all answer with me, It is to the great man whose statue you behold." Throughout the whole speech, a perfect masterpiece of official composition, adulation came in like a chorus. The President in his turn uttered a similar eulogy: "Very few at the time," says Constant, who describes this occasion, "found this praise extravagant; possibly their opinions have changed since then."

After the speeches, dinner was served to three hundred guests, followed by a magnificent ball. Though, in the middle of the winter, there was a great show of shrubs and flowers. The Halls of Lucretia and of the Reunion, in which there was dancing, were like one large bed of roses, laurels, lilacs, jonquils, lilies, and jasmine.

Perhaps the finest of all the entertainments was that given to the Emperor and Empress by the marshals of the Empire in the Opera House. It cost each, marshal ten thousand francs. The Opera House at that time was in the rue de Richelieu, where it had been since 1794. (It was the one torn down during the Restoration, on account of the murder of the Duke of Berry, who was killed on the threshold.) By means of a floor placed level with the stage over the orchestra and the pit, there was made a magnificent ball- room. Twenty-four chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and candelabra were set on each side of every box. The decorations consisted of silver gauze, and wreaths of flowers. The uniforms of the men and the dresses of the women were almost equally magnificent. The eyes of the spectators were dazzled by dresses trimmed with precious stones. Never had there been seen such profusion of light, flowers, perfumes, and diamonds. In this magical setting, fashionable beauties, with their dresses worked with silver and gold foil, their turbans of Eastern stuffs, their jewels and ancient cameos, appeared like sultanas. It was a most sumptuous and fairy-like show.

The marshals arrived at eight in the evening, the Empress at ten, the Emperor at eleven; as he entered the ball-room, the applause was so violent that it was feared that the candles would be put out. A military march was played, and then there was a concert, closing with the Abbe Rose's _Vivat Imperator_, which had made such an impression on the Coronation Day. After the concert, Prince Louis Bonaparte, Marshal Murat, Eugene de Beauharnais, and Marshal Berthier opened the ball with the Princesses. The Emperor walked twice around the hall, as if he were reviewing troops. Then he sat down by the side of the Empress on a raised platform, and withdrew before the end of the ball.

Besides all these entertainments there were the grand levees and concerts at the Tuileries. The Hall of the Marshals was an impressive sight on those evenings, filled, as it was, with young and pretty women, in gorgeous dresses, and with men resplendent with stars, epaulettes, feathered hats, and sword-belts set with diamonds. After the concert the company would go to the Gallery of Diana, where the supper-tables were set: that of the Empress, those of the Princesses, of the Lady of Honor, of the Lady of the Bedchamber, of the Ladles of the Palace. "All these tables," says the Duchess of Abrantes, "were occupied by women with roses on their heads, and smiles on their lips, and often with tears in their eyes; for vanity, everywhere triumphant, holds its court especially at court. There, favor is everything, disgrace is everything. A chance word or glance of the Emperor or Empress is a blow and a serious one. What, then, must be the result of an invitation sent or withheld?"

During the concert the Empress made up the supper-table; that is to say, chose the women who were to sit at her table, commissioning her chamberlain to notify those she had selected. The Princesses did the same, and the officers of their households likewise informed the women whom they had chosen. There were but twelve places at the Empress's table; eight or ten at those of the Princesses. When the chamberlains came to bring these most welcome invitations, there fluttered through the eight hundred or thousand women present at the concerts and grand levees an anxious emotion which amused observers. The aspect of the Gallery of Diana was most impressive. On the Empress's table shone a golden service amid glass and Sevres ware. During the supper the men strolled up and down the gallery, but as soon as the Emperor appeared, awe and fear appeared on every face. It seemed as if the times of Louis XIV. had returned, of which La Bruyere said: "Nothing so disfigures certain courtiers as the presence of their Prince; I can sometimes scarcely recognize them, so altered are their features, so degraded their faces. The proud and haughty ones are the most disturbed, for they change the most; and the upright and modest man comes out best; he has nothing to change." The Duchess of Abrantes, recalling the intimidation caused by Napoleon's approach, wrote: "Even those who nowadays talk about the Corsican with a great show of scorn, those very ones (I have seen them, and I am not the only one,) were the most timid before the very shadow of his hat." The women trembled even more. They dreaded the questions the Emperor might put to them, and, according to Madame de Remusat, there was not one who would not gladly have been anywhere else. During the First Empire, everything, even the festivities, wore a military air. The sovereign always had the air of a commanding general. Discipline prevailed, at a ball as well as in a camp, and the young men took part in those pleasures only to return with renewed zeal and courage to the battle-field.

VIII.

THE ETIQUETTE OF THE IMPERIAL PALACE.

By the beginning of 1805 the court was definitely formed. After laborious studies on the part of a special commission, and long discussions in which Napoleon took as interested a part as he did in the preparation of the civil code, all the wheels of etiquette had been arranged, and the machinery worked with perfect regularity. The Emperor attached great importance to the subject, from both a political and a social point of view. In his eyes, etiquette had the great advantage of drawing between him and those who had recently been his superiors, a distinct line of separation. He looked upon it as a useful tool of government, as an accompaniment of glory absolutely essential for a sovereign, especially for one of recent origin. He was very proud of his court, of the wealth it displayed, and of the vast results he obtained at a comparatively small expense, and at Saint Helena he liked to recall its agreeable memory.

"The Emperor's court," we read in the _Memorial_, "was in every respect much more magnificent than anything that had been seen up to that time, and cost infinitely less. The suppression of abuses, order and regularity in the accounts, made the great difference. His hunting, with the exception of a few useless or absurd particulars, such as the use of falcons, was as splendid and as crowded as that of Louis XIV., and it cost only four hundred thousand francs a year, while the King's cost seven millions. It was the same way with the table; Duroc's order and severity wrought wonders. Under the kings, the palaces were not permanently furnished; the same furniture was transported from one palace to another; there were no accommodations for the people of the court; every one had to provide for himself. Under him, however, there was no one in attendance, who, in the room allotted him, was not as comfortable as at home, or even more comfortable, so far as what was essential and proper was concerned."

The court moved as smoothly as a well-drilled regiment. Napoleon would have shown no mercy to the slightest disregard of the rules he had himself drawn up after long meditation. The courtiers were expected to be as familiar with the code of etiquette as were the officers with the manual of arms. The Emperor noticed the minutest details, busied himself with everything, saw everything. There had been much more latitude at court under the old monarchy, and those of the old regime who entered the Emperor's court were soon wearied by the inflexible severity of its discipline. The court, moreover, was very splendid. The Faubourg Saint Germain brought to it its politeness and conversational charm. For his part, Napoleon speedily assumed the manners of a European sovereign, while preserving his martial character. He was at the same time Emperor and commander-in-chief. Yet the military element did not control his court; the civil element was more powerful there than in other European courts, the Russian, for example. Napoleon would never have suffered in his presence the faintest sign of the familiarity of the camp; every one who crossed the threshold of the Tuileries was compelled to preserve the manners, the bearing, the language of a courtier.

The levees and couchees of the sovereign were restored as in the time of the Bourbons; though under the monarchy they were real things, and a mere imitation under the Empire. These moments were not devoted to the petty details of toilette, but rather to receiving, morning and evening, those members of the civil and military household who had to receive his direct orders or enjoyed the right of "paying their court at these privileged hours." At Saint Helena, Napoleon boasted that at the Tuileries he had suppressed in the matter of etiquette "all that was real and commonplace, and had substituted what was merely nominal and decorative." "A king," he said, "is not a natural product; he is a result of civilization. He does not exist nakedly, but only when dressed."

Let us try to retrace the lines of etiquette as they existed in 1805, at the same time indicating the principal members of the Emperor's household and the nature of their duties. There were many separate duties, each under the control of a high officer of the Crown, with their provinces carefully defined and sedulously distinguished from one another. There were six high officers of the Crown; the Grand Almoner (Cardinal Fesch); the Grand Marshal of the Palace (General Duroc); the Grand Equerry (General de Caulaincourt); the Grand Chamberlain (M. de Talleyrand); the Grand Master of Ceremonies (M. de Segur).

The colonels-general were: Marshal Davout, commanding the foot grenadiers; Marshal Soult, commanding the chasseurs-a-pieds; Marshal Bessieres, commanding the cavalry; Marshal Mortier, commanding the artillery and sailors. These colonels-general of the Imperial Guard formed part of the Emperor's household, and enjoyed the prerogatives as the high officers of the Crown.

The Grand Almoner was the bishop of the court, wherever that might be. He gave the Emperor and his court a dispensation from fasting. He accompanied him to church ceremonies and gave him his prayer-book. At grand dinners he said grace. He set free the prisoners whom the Emperor pardoned on certain holy days.

The Grand Marshal of the palace had charge of the military command in the Imperial residences; of their maintenance, decoration, and furnishing; of the assignment of rooms, the supply of food, the heating, lights, silver, and livery. He commanded the detachments of the Imperial Guard on duty in the Imperial palaces. He gave orders to beat the reveille and the tattoo, to open and shut the palace gates. When the Emperor was with the army, or travelling, he had to find him quarters. In 1805 the Grand Marshal's budget amounted to 2,338,167 francs. In 1806 it reached the sum of 2,770,841 francs. There were four tables in the palace,--that of the officers and ladies-in-waiting, that of the officers of the guard and the pages, that of the ladies who read to the Empress and introduced visitors.

The Grand Marshal had under his orders the prefects of the palace: M. de Lucay, M. de Bausset, and M. de Saint Didier. They had charge of the provisions, lighting, heating, the silver, and the liveries. They inspected the kitchens, pantries, cellars, and linen-closet to see that everything was in order. There was always one prefect of the palace on duty for a week at a time. He also carried word to the Emperor and the Empress when a meal was ready, conducted them to the table, and back to their rooms afterwards.

The Grand Marshal had also under his orders the governor of the palaces and the marshals; these last were charged with choosing apartments for the Emperor and the Empress, and quarters for their suite in the Imperial residences and on journeys. They had for assistants the quartermasters of the palace.

The Master of the Hounds had charge of all the coursing and hunting in the woods and forests belonging to the Crown.

The Grand Equerry looked after the stables, the pages, the couriers, and the Emperor's arms; he also had the supervision of the horses at Saint Cloud. He walked just before the Emperor when he came forth from his rooms to ride, gave him his whip, held his reins and the left stirrup. He was responsible for the good condition of the carriages, the intelligence and skill of the huntsmen, coachman, and the postilions, the safety and the training of the horses. In a procession, or on a journey, he was in the carriage just before the Emperor's. He accompanied the Emperor to the army, if the sovereign's horse was killed or disabled, it was his duty to pick the Emperor up and to offer him his own horse.

The Grand Equerry had four equerries under his orders: Colonels Durosnel, Defrance, Lefebvre, Vatier, and two equerries in ordinary, M. de Canisy and M. de Villoutrey. An equerry on duty always accompanied the Emperor, whether he was driving or riding. If the Emperor drove, the equerry on duty rode by the right-hand door of the carriage, unless the colonel- general on duty happened to be on horseback, in which case the equerry rode on the other side. The equerry on duty walked before the Emperor when he left or returned to his apartment; he never left the waiting-room during the day, and slept in the palace.

The pages, whose governor was General Gardane, were also under the orders of the Grand Equerry. They were appointed when between fourteen and sixteen, and held the position until they were eighteen. At grand dinners and in the apartments of honor, they waited on the Emperor and Empress, and on the Princes and Princesses. When the Emperor rode out, one followed on horseback; if he drove, the page got up behind the carriage. When the sovereign went forth in his state-coach, as many pages as possible clambered up behind it and upon the box by the side of the coachman. At receptions, and on days when mass was said, there were eight pages on duty. They stood in a row when the Emperor returned to his apartment, and walked before him when he left it. If the Emperor had not returned to the palace by nightfall, the pages would wait at the entrance-door to walk before him, carrying lights. The pages, too, served as messengers, and when they carried letters of the Emperor, the doors were thrown wide open before them.

The impression produced by the pages, when they were first on duty at the Tuileries in 1804, is thus described by a contemporary: "They have been much noticed, especially in the evening, by the ladies. The fact is, they are all good-looking boys, particularly the oldest; they have good figures and wear a new and becoming uniform, and since they are in the service of a severe master, and of a most kind and indulgent mistress, they have to be very attentive and considerate. Their full dress differs from livery only by the lace of their coat which imitates embroidery, by the knot on their left shoulder, and by the lace frill above their waistcoat, Besides, in full dress they wear, like footmen, a green coat with all the seams laced with gold, gold shoe-buckles, a hat with a white feather, but they have no sword. Perhaps this is well, for they would be playing with it. They have all been chosen among the sons of generals of divisions and of high dignitaries of the Empire."

At Saint Helena Napoleon said, speaking of the pages and the Imperial stables: "The Emperor's stables cost him three million francs; the horses cost three thousand francs apiece per year. A page, from six to eight thousand francs; this last was perhaps the heaviest expense of the palace; but there was every reason to be satisfied with the education they received, and with the care taken with them. All the first families of the Empire sought to get the places for their sons; and they were right."

The Grand Chamberlain had charge of all the honors of the palace, the regular audiences, the oaths taken in the Emperor's study, the admissions, the levees and couchees, the festivities, receptions, theatrical performances, the music, the boxes of the Emperor and Empress at the different theatres, the Emperor's wardrobe, his library; he also looked after the ushers and valets de chambre.

The Grand Chamberlain had under his orders (this refers to 1805), a First Chamberlain, M. de Remusat, and thirteen chamberlains: MM. d'Arberg, A. de Talleyrand, de Laturbie, de Brigode, de Viry, de Thiard, Garnier de Lariboisiere, d'Hedouville, de Croy, de Mercy-Argenteau, de Zuidwyck, de Tournon, de Bondy. In the Imperial Almanack of 1805, these men are not named with their titles, even the _de_ is in all cases omitted or joined with the name, thus: M. Remusat, M. Darberg, A. Talleyrand, Laturbie, Tournon, Dethiard, Deviry, Hedouville, etc., etc.

The chamberlain on duty was called the chamberlain of the day. At the palace there were always two chamberlains of the day, one for the grand apartment, the other for the Emperor's apartment of honor. They were relieved every week. The principal duties of the chamberlains were to have charge of introductions to the Emperor, to give orders to the ushers and valets de chambre, to see that the orders about the receptions were carried out, and to attend upon the sovereign's levees and couchees.

Either a chamberlain or one of the Emperor's aides-de-camp served as Master of the Wardrobe. He had charge of the clothes, the linen, the lace, the boots and shoes, and of the ribbons of the Legion of Honor. If he assisted at the Emperor's toilet, he had to hand him his coat, fasten his ribbon or collar, give him his sword, hat, and gloves, in the Grand Chamberlain's absence.

The Grand Master of Ceremonies determined questions of rank and precedence, drew up and enforced the rules for public, formal ceremonies, for the reception of sovereigns and hereditary princes, and, foreign ambassadors and ministers.

The colonels-general of the Imperial Guard and the Emperor's aides also made part of the household.

At ceremonies when the Emperor was in his state-coach, there were two colonels-general of the Guard at the left door. When he rode, all four followed close behind. The Grand Equerry, or his substitute, had a place among them.

The colonel-general on duty received directly the Emperor's orders relative to the different requirements of the Imperial Guard, and transmitted them directly to the other colonels-general. He was quartered in the palace, in preference to any other officer of the Crown, and as near as possible to the Emperor's apartment, whether at the residence or when travelling. In the field he slept in the Emperor's tent.

Napoleon had twelve aides-de-camp. The one on duty was called the aide-de- camp of the day, He always had a horse saddled or a carriage harnessed ready in the stable, to carry any messages the Emperor might give. As soon as the Emperor had gone to bed, the aide-de-camp on duty was especially entrusted with guarding him, and he slept in an adjoining room. In the field the Emperor's aides served as chamberlains.

There were two distinct elements in the Emperor's household: the military, and the aristocratic. Some men owed their position entirely to their merit; others entirely to their birth; these were both patriots of 1792 and emigres, but it must be confessed the Imperial Almanack shows that the aristocratic element was the more prominent. Napoleon, though certain writers persist in representing him as the crowned champion of democracy and the emperor of the lower classes, had a more aristocratic court than Louis XVIII. He was more impressed by great manners than were the old kings. Even after he had been betrayed, abandoned, denied, insulted by the aristocracy, he had a weakness for it. In 1816 he said: "The democracy may become furious; it has a heart; it can be moved. The aristocracy always remains cold and never pardons." Yet even after this, he blamed himself for not having done enough for the French nobility. "I see clearly," he went on, "that I did either too much or too little for the Faubourg Saint Germain. I did enough to make the opposition dissatisfied, and not enough to win it to my side. I ought to have secured the emigres when they returned. The aristocracy would have soon adored me; and I needed it; it is the true, the only support of a monarchy, its moderator, its lever, its resisting point; without it, the state is like a ship without a rudder, a balloon in mid-air. Now, the strength, the charm of the aristocracy lies in its antiquity, the only thing I could not create." It must be confessed that from an old Republican general, for the man who had sent Augereau to execute the coup d'etat of the 18th Fructidor, and who the 13th Vendemiaire, from the steps of the Church of Saint Roch had crushed the Paris conservatives, this was a very aristocratic way of talking, reminding one of the old regime. In 1816 Napoleon said again: "Old and corrupt nations cannot be governed like the virtuous peoples of antiquity. For one man nowadays who would sacrifice everything for the public welfare, there are thousands who take no thought of anything except their own interests, pleasures, and vanity. Now to pretend to regenerate a people off-hand would be madness. The workman's genius is shown by his knowing how to make use of the materials under his hand, and that is the secret of the restoration of all the forms of the monarchy, of the return of titles, crosses, and ribbons."

The old Republicans of 1796, who used to denounce kings, "drunk with blood and pride," would not have readily recognized their old general under the golden canopies of the Tuileries, where he dined in state. His table stood on a platform, beneath a canopy, and there were two chairs, one for himself, the other for the Empress. As he entered the banquet-hall, he was preceded by a swarm of pages, masters-of-ceremonies, and prefects of the palace; he was followed by the colonel-general on duty, the Grand Chamberlain, the Grand Equerry, and the Grand Almoner. The Grand Almoner advanced to the table and blessed the dinner. A general of division, the Grand Equerry Caulaincourt, offered a chair to Bonaparte. Another general of division, Duroc, the Grand Marshal of the Palace, handed him his napkin and poured out his wine. Not merely high dignitaries, but the Princes of the Empire themselves, deemed it an honor to wait upon him as servants. If a Prince of the Imperial family happened to be in the Emperor's room, any article of dress that he asked for was given by the chamberlain-in-waiting to the Prince, and by the Prince to the Emperor. The time of the Sun King seemed to have returned.

The Imperial apartment at the Tuileries consisted of two distinct parts, the grand state apartments and the Emperor's private apartment. The state apartment contained the following rooms: 1, a concert hall (the Hall of the Marshals); 2, a first drawing-room (under Napoleon III. called the Drawing-room of the First Consul); 3, a second drawing-room (that of Apollo); 4, a throne room; 5, a drawing-room of the Emperor (afterwards called that of Louis XIV.); 6, a gallery (of Diana). The private apartment was itself composed of the apartment of honor, containing a hall of the guards and a first and second drawing-room, and an interior apartment containing a bedroom, a study, an office, and topographic bureau. The ushers had charge of the apartment of honor; the valets de chambre of the other. A rigid etiquette determined the right of entrance into the different rooms composing the state apartment, according to a carefully studied system. The pages were authorized to enter the Hall of the Marshals; members of the household of the Emperor and Empress could enter the first and second drawing-rooms; the Princes and Princesses of the Imperial family, the high officers of the Crown, the presidents of the great bodies of the state, had admission to the throne room. Men and women had to bow to the throne whenever they passed it. The Emperor and the Empress alone had the right of entering the Emperor's drawing-room. No one else could go in except by the Emperor's summons.

An absurd importance was attached to these trivialities, to these empty nothings, to the right of entering this room or that, of walking before this or that person, of handing the Emperor this or that article of dress. "An honest, reasonable man," said Madame de Remusat, "is often overcome with shame at the pleasures and pains of a courtier's life, and yet it is hard to escape from them. A ribbon, a slight difference of dress, the right of way through a door, the entrance into such and such a drawing- room, are the occasion, contemptible in appearance, of a host of ever new emotions. Vain is the struggle to acquire indifference to them.... In vain, do the mind and the reason revolt against such an employment of human faculties; however dissatisfied one is with one's self, it is necessary to humiliate one's self before every one and to desert the court, or else to consent to take seriously all the nonsense that fills the air and breathes there."

Vanity of human events! What has become of these drawing-rooms of the Tuileries, which it was such an honor to enter, which were trod with such respectful awe? Look at the lamentable ruins of this ill-fated palace. There may still be seen, blackened with petroleum and stained by the rain, some of those drawing-rooms, once so brilliant, once thronged with an eager and showy crowd. What an instructive spectacle! When is one more urgently reminded of the emptiness of human glory and greatness? This nothingness fills the soul with melancholy when one thinks that soon these crumbling fragments will be razed and that soon one can say with the poet: The ruins themselves have perished, _Etiam periere ruinae_! [Footnote: The ruins have since been removed.--TR.]

IX.

HOUSEHOLD OP THE EMPRESS.

We have just studied the civil and the military household of the Emperor in 1805; let us now study the Empress's household at the same period.

The Empress's First Almoner was a bishop, a great lord, Ferdinand de Rohan. Her Maid of Honor was a relative of her first husband, the Duchess de La Rochefoucauld, called in the Imperial Almanack of 1805 simply Madame Chastule de La Rochefoucauld. She was short and deformed, but distinguished, for her intelligence, tact, and wit, void of ambition, with no taste for intrigue, who only reluctantly accepted the position of Maid of Honor, and often wanted to hand in her resignation. The Lady of the Bedchamber was Madame de Lavalette, a Beauharnais, an able and affectionate woman, who immortalized herself, in the early days of the Restoration, by saving her husband's life by her heroism.

To the four Ladies of the Palace at the beginning of the Empire, Madame de Lucay, Madame de Remusat, Madame de Talhouet, Madame de Lauriston, were added thirteen other ladies: Madame Duchatel, Madame de Seran, Madame de Colbert, Madame Savary, Madame Octave de Segur, Madame de Turenne, Madame de Montalivet, Madame de Bouille, Madame de Vaux, Madame de Marescot.

The Maid of Honor was for the Empress what the Grand Chamberlain was for the Emperor. The Lady of the Bedchamber's duties corresponded to those of the Keeper of the Wardrobe. The Ladies of the Palace were, so to speak, female chamberlains.

"We were all," said the Duchess of Abrantes, "at that time radiant with a sort of glory which women seek as eagerly as men do theirs, that of elegance and beauty. Among the young women composing the court of the Empress and that of the Princesses it would have been hard to find a single ill-favored woman, and there were very many whose beauty made, with no exaggeration, the greatest ornament of the festivities held every day in that fairy-like time."

All the Ladies of the Palace were young, and almost all were remarkable for their beauty. Among the most conspicuous was Madame Ney, a niece of Madame Campan; Madame Lannes, whose face recalled the most charming pictures of Raphael, and above all, the wife of an already aged Councillor of State, Madame Duchatel (whose son was Minister of the Interior in the reign of Louis Philippe, and whose grandson was Ambassador of the Republic at Vienna). The Duchess of Abrantes thus describes this famous beauty: "There is one woman in the Imperial court who made her appearance in society shortly before the coronation, whose portrait is drawn in all the contemporary memoirs, especially in those written by a woman, and that is Madame Duchatel. Madame Duchatel would not serve as a model for a sculptor, because her features lack the regularity which his art requires. The indefinable charm of her face, a charm which words are unable to convey, lay in dark blue eyes, with long, silken, lashes, in a delicate, gracious, refined smile, which, disclosed teeth of ivory whiteness, and, moreover, beautiful light hair, small hands and feet, a general elegance which matched a really remarkable mind. All these things formed a combination which first attracted and then attached every one to her."

Josephine's First Chamberlain, in 1805, was the General of Division Nansouty; the chamberlain who introduced the ambassadors was M. de Beaumont; there were four ordinary chamberlains, MM. d'Aubusson- Lafeuillade, de Galard-Bearn. de Coutomer; de Gavre; a First Equerry, Senator de Harville; two equerries, Colonel Fowler and General Bonardy de Saint Sulpice; a private secretary, M. Deschamps. The Council of the Empress's household was composed of the Maid of Honor, the Lady of the Bedchamber, the First Chamberlain, and the First Equerry. The private secretary was also the secretary of the Council. The Chief Steward of the household was also a member.

The Lady of the Bedchamber had under her orders a first woman of the bedchamber, Madame Aubert, who had whole charge of the wardrobe. Madame Saint-Hilaire held this place under Josephine, as Madame Campan had done under Marie Antoinette. Madame Saint-Hilaire's duties consisted in supervising the chamberwork, in receiving the Empress's orders about the hours of her rising, and of her morning and evening toilet. The first woman of the Bedchamber had what were called the honors of the service when the Maid of Honor and the Lady of the Bedchamber were absent. The Empress had also ushers and women who discharged the same duties, six ordinary chambermaids, a reader, the beautiful Madame Gazani; four ordinary valets de chambre, and two footmen, trusted men always in the ante-chamber. The ushers, who remained without the drawing-room where the Empress was, never opened both the doors to their full width except for the Princes and Princesses of the Imperial family; and they could not leave their posts except to ask the Maid of Honor the names of those who were waiting to be presented. There were two pages in the Empress's service; the older carried the train of her dress when she left her apartments, and got in or out of a carriage; the other walked before her.

The Empress's apartment consisted of an apartment of honor and an inner apartment. The first consisted of an ante-chamber, the first drawing-room, the second drawing-room, the dining-room, the music-room, the other, of the bedroom, the library, dressing-room, boudoir, bath-room. The entrance to the Empress's apartment was controlled by etiquette like that to the Emperor's.

Josephine played her part as sovereign as easily as if she had been born on the steps of the throne. "One of her charms," says the Duchess of Abrantes, "was not merely her graceful figure, but the way she held her head, and the gracious dignity with which she walked and turned. I have had the honor of being presented to many real princesses, as they are called, in the Faubourg Saint Germain, and I can truly say that I have never seen one more imposing than Josephine. She combined elegance and majesty. Never did any queen so grace a throne without having been trained to it."

Josephine had all the qualities that are attractive in a sovereign: affability, gentleness, kindliness, generosity. She had a way of convincing every one of her personal interest. She had an excellent memory, and surprised those with whom she talked by the exactness with which she recalled the past, even to details they had themselves nearly forgotten. The sound of her gentle, penetrating, and sympathetic voice added to the courtesy and charm of her words. Every one listened to her with pleasure; she spoke with grace and listened courteously. She wanted no one to go away from her annoyed. She always appeared to be doing a kindness, and thus inspired affection and gratitude. Her courtiers and her suite were her friends. Madame de Remusat, who was never too favorable, was forced to recognize the charm which Josephine exercised over the court by her tact, intelligence, and dignity. "The Empress," she says, "is enchanted to be surrounded by a large suite, and it gratifies her vanity. Her success in attaching Madame de La Rochefoucauld to her person, her pleasure in counting MM. d'Aubusson, de Lafeuillade among her chamberlains, Madame d'Arbry, Madame de Segur, and the wives of the marshals among the ladies of the palace, turned her head a little, but even this feminine joy did not lessen her usual graciousness; she always succeeded in maintaining her rank, even when most deferential to those men and women who lent it a new lustre by their brilliant names." She was very kind, extremely soft-hearted, and always overwhelming her companions with attentions and regards. Mademoiselle Avrillon, her reader, says: "I do not believe that there ever lived a woman with a better character, or with a less changeable disposition." She never dared to utter a word of blame or reproach. "If one of her ladies," said Constant, the Emperor's valet de chambre, "ever gave her cause for dissatisfaction, the only punishment she inflicted was to maintain absolute silence for one, two, three days, a week, more or less, according to the seriousness of the case. Well! this punishment, apparently so slight, was for most of them very severe. The Empress knew so well how to make herself beloved!"

Her only fault was extravagance. She had an unbounded love of luxury and dress. The jewel-case which had belonged to Marie Antoinette was too small for Josephine. One day when she wanted to show some ladies all her jewels, a great table had to be arranged to hold the cases, and, since that was not enough, much more of the furniture was covered by them. Josephine had the fault that accompanies this quality, for generous persons are commonly lavish. Her extravagant expenditures came from her kindliness. She had not the heart to dismiss a tradesman without buying something of him, and it never entered her head to try to beat him down. Often she bought for vast sums things she did not want, simply to oblige the dealers. There was no limit to her liberality. She would have liked to own all the treasures of the earth in order to give them all away. She sought for opportunities for alms-giving. Many of the emigres lived entirely on her bounty. She was always in active correspondence with the sisters of charity. She was the Providence of the poor, and did good with delicacy, tact, and discretion. Giving is not all; the art lies in knowing how to give. She seemed to be the debtor of those to whom she made gifts. Naturally, with this disposition, she got into debt. But Napoleon was there to help her; and since he was economical by nature, he grew angry and scolded his extravagant wife, and ended by paying.

In fact, Napoleon could refuse Josephine nothing, and she was really the only woman who had any influence over him. If he opposed her, she had an infallible resource in her tears. She knew thoroughly her husband's character. She knew how to speak to that mind and heart. She busied herself with seeking what could please, with divining his wishes, with anticipating his slightest desires. If he was the least ailing or annoyed she was literally at his feet, and then he could not live without her. He felt that when misfortune came Josephine alone would be able to console him. She had brought him happiness with her gentleness, her tenderness, her devotion; she had well deserved to receive the crown from his hands.

X.

NAPOLEON'S GALLANTRIES.

Josephine appeared to have every wish, satisfied; her good fortune exceeded her wildest dreams; never had a more wonderful romance actually happened, and yet the Empress of the French, the Queen of Italy, was not happy. A cruel passion which brings no pleasures, but only cruel sufferings, disturbed her happiness and tormented her heart. This passion, jealousy, which had tortured Napoleon in the early days of his wedded life, now Josephine in her turn had to endure with all its keen anguish. She felt that for her, a woman of forty-one, to hold fast the affections of a man of thirty-five, covered with glory and full of charm, was a difficult task; but this reflection, far from consoling her, only disturbed her the more, and she made desperate efforts to triumph in an almost hopeless contest. As was said by Mademoiselle Avrillon, her reader, she seemed not to understand that if the highest rank is a safeguard for a woman, because few men are bold enough to pursue her, the same is not true of a sovereign whose glory dazzles the inexperience of the young, and whose slightest attention arouses coquetry and flatters vanity.

Josephine had not a moment's peace. In the hope of pleasing her, many women of the court, who were, so to speak, on the watch for the Emperor's attentions, hastened to torture her with their interested revelations. For several years now her beauty had been fading. Napoleon, on the other hand, had never been better looking. His health, which formerly had been delicate, had much improved. He had grown stouter, and this was very becoming. His head was like that of a Caesar. Full of self-confidence, fortunate, flattered on every side, at the height of power, he imagined that in love, as in war, he had but to appear to say, _veni, vidi, vici_, "I came, I saw, I conquered." Many of the beauties of the time did their best to confirm him in this good opinion of himself, and as Madame de Remusat says of him, he in his court was not unlike the Grand Turk in his harem.

"The Emperor," we read in Constant's Memoirs, "used to say that a good man was to be known by the way he treated his wife, his children, and his servants. He added that immorality was the most dangerous vice a sovereign could have, because it established a precedent for his subjects. What he meant by immorality, was giving scandalous publicity to relations which should have been kept secret; these relations he was by no means disposed to refuse when they presented themselves before him." The faithful valet de chambre goes on in an attempt to defend his master: "Others perhaps would have succumbed oftener. Heaven forbid that I should undertake to apologize for him; I will even acknowledge that he did not always practise what he preached, but it was none the less a good deal for a sovereign to hide his distractions from the public, to prevent scandal, and, what is worse imitation; and from his wife, to save her pain."

Napoleon was by no means so indifferent to women as he professed to be. He was averse to being ruled by them, but he was far from being insensible to their charms. Opposition exasperated him; all his caprices found many obsequious allies ready to further his suit, and more than one woman made a deep, if brief, impression upon him. His disdain of woman has, we are sure, been much exaggerated. At Saint Helena he declaimed against women, but his remarks were mere paradoxes, not meant to be taken seriously.