Part 10
This visit to M. François brought on a second engagement between ourselves and our two comrades, and we made an expedition the following day to the Temple, where the unhappy Louis XVI. and his family had been confined. The place is now greatly altered, indeed I should hardly have recognised it. All the surrounding buildings have been pulled down and a large opening formed which absolutely secludes it from all immediate communication with the city. It is impossible to obtain admission into this State prison--it is rigidly guarded within and without the walls. Persons are daily conveyed there by a _lettre de cachet_ from the Grand Inquisitor Fouché, without any preliminary examination and often without the knowledge of their friends. This is the real history of those sudden disappearances of a number of persons, which the French journalists ascribe to robbers and assassins. A trial is never an absolute necessity in this land of liberty to establish innocence or guilt; hence the “Cayenne diligence” is always in readiness to take up such passengers as are not _required_ to make a long stay in the Temple, which is the _safest_ place of baiting between the Bureau of the Minister of Police and Rochefort.
It is not until the wretched victims are upon the eve of embarking upon the Salaminian vessel of state that they are permitted to disclose their fate to their relations and to announce their destination to the delectable regions of the most luxurious climate of Central America. Even this indulgence is however frequently denied to the hapless sufferers.
Yet the constant talk in France is of freedom and equality. It is impossible to live here without imbibing daily fresh causes of detestation and abhorrence of the laws and government of this unhappy country; and I already contemplate with pleasure the moment when I shall take an everlasting leave of France, a country which at one time I almost loved as well as I do my own.
XVIII
CELEBRATION OF THE ESTABLISHMENT OF GENERAL BONAPARTE’S CONCORDAT WITH THE POPE, AND OF THE GENERAL PEACE PROCESSION TO NOTRE DAME. ILLUMINATION OF PARIS
[Sidenote: CONSULAR CEREMONIAL]
We had not yet seen the tyrant. Hence we did not hesitate to take advantage of the opportunity offered us by the public exhibition of his personage on Easter Sunday. The ceremonial had been pompously announced in the Parisian Gazettes; and M. Chaptal, the Minister of the Interior, displayed great skill in making arrangements for giving a fine stage effect to the pious exhibition of the Church Militant. Bonaparte himself is also very clever at such work, and I have it on unquestionable authority that he himself actually arranged the plan of the procession, as well as that of the solemn farce acted afterwards in Nôtre Dame. A person with whom I am acquainted related to me a conversation he overheard between the First Consul and the various underlings who were to carry out his orders, a conversation which shows the little man can take as much interest in a puppet show as in a victory. When the leader of the orchestra waited upon him to mention the arrangements he had made for placing the music in front of the Consuls, Bonaparte desired him to change the position, for he was determined a battalion of soldiers should stand in front and behind. The conductor observed the effect of the music would be totally lost by this scheme; but the reply was, “N’importe, il me faut toujours des bataillons.” Another instance of his taking upon himself the business of stage manager was his order to Monsieur de Talleyrand that the latter should write to the different foreign Ambassadors and Ministers requesting that they would repair to the Palace of the Tuileries with four horses to their carriages, instead of two. All the foreign envoys, in consequence, clapped on an additional pair of animals, which should by right have been jackasses, to their coaches. The Consuls’ own Ministers also, not only drove four horses, but their domestics sported, by order, the _same_ liveries--yellow turned up with red. Their carriages were ranged to the right of the door, exactly opposite the Ambassadors. Soon after arrived the Councillors of State, Senators, the Legislative Body, the Tribunats, the Prefets and the Generals in their respective costume. All this time the foreign Ministers were in a room below, called _Salle des Ambassadeurs_, waiting until his Highness should be graciously pleased to condescend to admit them to his presence. Count Cohentzel, the Austrian Minister, stood near the door in full view of the spectators. I could not refrain from a feeling of disgust and rage at beholding the representative of the once proud house of Austria standing like a suppliant upon the threshold of the Corsican adventurer.
The whole of the day’s exhibition was humiliating to every one concerned, save to Bonaparte and his satellites. After all the carriages were ranged in their places and the different regiments of horse and foot taken their positions in front of the Palace, a signal gun was fired, and a little thing leaped with uncommon agility upon the back of a white horse, superbly caparisoned, and set off at full trot along the line, followed by a numerous train of generals and aides-de-camp. Upon inquiry I learnt that the white horse was called Marengo, and its rider was Napoleon Bonaparte, First Consul of France.
Nothing was now heard but trumpets and kettledrums, and the whole spectacle was certainly an imposing one; as Bonaparte passed along the officers saluted and the men presented arms. He never returned a single salute.
His dress was very plain but extremely neat, in the uniform of the Consular Guard--a blue coat, faced with white, gold epaulettes, white kerseymere breeches and waistcoat, a small hat with a tri-colour bow.
None of the portraits or engravings which I have seen in England purporting to resemble this man are exactly like him. The picture by Masquier, representing him on his return from reviewing the Consular Guard, though the best likeness we have, is nevertheless a feeble representation of what is one of the most penetrating and animated countenances in the world. The complexion of Bonaparte is sallow, his face oval and his chin long, his eyes are of a dark blue, so dark as to appear black at a distance, they are keen and piercing, long in form and sunk deeply in his head. His black hair is cut short and he wears no powder. His smile is sweet and fascinating, but his visage terrible when ruffled with anger. His voice deep-toned, rather coarse and disfigured by a provincial accent.[5] He looks extremely well on horseback, his carriage thereon remarkably erect, and not unlike that of a riding master or cavalry drill sergeant. The lineaments of his face bespeak a violent nature, it is marked with the expression of dark and unruly passions. Upon the whole I do not hesitate to acknowledge he possesses the most interesting countenance I ever beheld.
[Sidenote: PROCESSION TO NOTRE DAME]
After the First Consul had reviewed his troops “au trot” he hastily dismounted, shot like an arrow into the Palace, and soon after the general procession to Nôtre Dame began to form, and commenced with the slow march of the infantry towards the Cathedral.
The cavalry followed and the foreign Ministers and Ministers of State. Madame Letitia Bonaparte,[1] the Consul’s mother, a truly good, respectable woman, and Madame Bonaparte,[1] the reigning Queen, with Madame Louis Bonaparte,[1] her daughter, proceeded by another route (not taking part in the procession). They occupied with their suite two splendid coaches and four, each horse led by a running footman in green and gold livery and escorted by a squadron of Hussars. The corps of Mamelukes, leading six beautiful chargers of the First Consul, each horse caparisoned to the tune of £2500, preceded the state coach, which contained the three Consuls, attired in their consular garb of scarlet velvet, embroidered with gold. These rulers were drawn by eight bay horses and followed by a regiment of Hussars. Discharges of artillery continued from their departure from the Palace till their arrival at the Cathedral Church of Paris.
Three chairs of state were placed in front of the altar for the Consuls, that of Bonaparte’s was advanced a little in front of the other two, and he drew it still further forward before he seated himself. He sat erect during the whole ceremony, except during the Consecration of the Host and Communion, when he stood. At the elevation of the Host he crossed himself with the most sanctified composure, using that same hand which in Egypt had signed his abjuration of the Christian faith. The Consul le Brun[1] sat on his right hand and Cambacères[1] on his left. When High Mass was over, the Bishops approached in turn to take the oath of allegiance: as each mitred apostle knelt before Bonaparte he gave a gentle nod; but one poor old prelate, almost blind by age and too weak to kneel, having by mistake, directed his obeisance to Cambacères, the First Consul gave such a frown that the poor old man was almost terrified out of his wits.
To form a just idea of the feelings of those present one must remember that the greater part of the company consisted of the Senate, the Corps Législatif, the Tribunalate and the Generals, nearly all of whom had been or were avowed atheists, notorious for murders, thefts and atrocities they had perpetrated, while the Chief Magistrate had a few years earlier worshipped at the altar of atheism in Paris and embraced the religion of Mahomet in Africa. These persons were now assembled together to adore a God in whom they had no faith and to propose a religion they despised merely that they might be enabled to preserve their authority over the people and retain their lucrative places and appointments. To my mind this is an occurrence in the history of pious fraud only equalled by the action of Judas Iscariot.
I may safely affirm that with exception of the Bishops and clergy, there was not a single official personage in the church who quitted this religious mockery with a sentiment of piety in his heart, nor one who did not perfectly see through the whole object of the ceremony.
When the bowing, kneeling and swearing were ended the First Consul and his two scarlet supporters departed. Fresh discharges of cannons accompanied their return journey to the Tuileries.
The opinion entertained by the people of this day of ceremony was that of indignation, mixed with contemptuous ridicule.
In the evening Madame Bonaparte gave a grand rout to the ladies of the constituted authorities, and the city was illuminated. The illuminations were poor indeed, a few farthing rushlights stuck in paper lanterns hung out from every third or fourth house in the streets, and were called general illuminations, and even of those the greater part was put out by the wind. The Palace of the Tuileries was handsomely illuminated _à la chinoise_ with variegated lamps. Cambacères, the Second Consul, also illuminated his house with great taste and splendour.
[Sidenote: THEATRE OF OPERA BUFFA]
Vast numbers of people filled the streets and walks--great decorum and sobriety were everywhere observed, a circumstance which practically always distinguishes Frenchmen on such occasions.
In the midst of all these pompous festivities the minds of the people are still greatly divided respecting the future. They are gratified by the return of peace--but they are suspicious of its continuation. To this may be added the general apprehension of some fresh changes in France, from the restless character of its present ruler, and his disposition to interfere in the internal economy of other States.
XIX
THEATRES. OPERA BUFFA. CORONATION OF PAESIELLO
The theatres of Paris at the present time display such gross acts of licentiousness among the spectators and such obscene dialogue on the stage, that it is impossible to accompany a modest woman to most of them. To those where the rules of decency were observed, our ladies went, and the Opera Buffa was one of the few where we could resort with comfort and convenience.
This theatre is in the Rue de la Victoire, and here one could listen to the charming music of Cimarosa, Martinelli and Paesiello.[1] This last composer has attained an immense success by a piece, called _Zingari in Flora_, which attracts crowded houses. On the third night of its representation Paesiello himself, just arrived from Naples, made his appearance in the box next the stage, opposite the one in which the First Consul, his wife, Louis Bonaparte and _his_ wife, _ci-devant_ Mdlle. Beauharnais, and the lady of Joseph Bonaparte were sitting.
The instant Paesiello was recognised, he was saluted with loud and repeated applause, and all the spectators stood up to pay their respects to the genius who had so often charmed them by his powers of composition. A lady then stepped into his box, and placed a crown of laurel on his head, the plaudits then redoubled, while Bonaparte passed his hand over his own forehead as an indication of what was uppermost in his mind. He condescended to notice Paesiello, and signified by a movement of his head that he participated in the general sentiment of approbation.
The respect paid to the composer by the band of musicians was remarkable. They all rose at his entrance, turned towards him, and retained this position during the rest of the evening. Great decorum and good conduct are maintained in every part of this theatre, and even behind the scenes. Sentinels are planted, not only behind the curtain to preserve order, but plenty of them are stationed in every part of the house, boxes, pit and gallery. Their conduct is exemplary. The spectators, at this the best of the Paris theatres, behave themselves with infinitely more propriety than the audiences at Drury Lane and Covent Garden. The Cyprian corps also set an example of orderly conduct, which their frail sisters in the fashionable London resorts would do well to follow.
On the night of Paesiello’s coronation we were so extremely fortunate as to obtain a box nearly opposite to that occupied by the First Consul and his relatives, and we remarked that Madame Bonaparte, her daughter, and Madame Joseph Bonaparte were the only French women in the theatre whose dress was modest as well as elegant. I was peculiarly gratified to observe this circumstance, because, when the force of example is considered, these persons may be enabled, owing to their distinguished positions, to do much to check the _mauvais goût_ in the fashionable Parisian toilettes of to-day.
The three distinguished ladies sat in front of the box, and were attired much as would be a respectable English woman of the upper classes wearing evening dress.
Mesdames Napoleon, Louis and Joseph, wore fine diamond necklaces and drop earrings.
[Sidenote: A REVIEW AT THE TUILERIES]
Behind them, with his back to the audience, sat the First Consul, who conversed during the whole evening with his step-son, young Beauharnais.
During the whole evening Bonaparte never exchanged a syllable with the female members of his party, and when the play was over he darted from his seat and departed by a side entrance, leaving his family to be conducted from the theatre by their attendants.
XX
REVIEW OF THE CONSULAR GUARD. CONVERSATION WITH ONE OF THE HEADS OF THE REPUBLIC, RESPECTING BONAPARTE
I wish to describe a grand review of the Consular Guard, which took place on the Place du Carrousel, at this very Easter-tide--a review of which so much has been said all over Europe. It is really nothing more nor less than a parade, for not a single evolution is made. Indeed, if it were wished to make an evolution the size and situation of the Place du Carrousel would not admit it.
The order in which the troops are disposed shows the impossibility of manœuvring them, for the place in which 6000 men, horse and foot, besides artillery, are collected, is not so large as our Horse Guards Parade at Whitehall.
The review really consists in the First Consul, his generals, his aides-de-camp and his Mamelukes, trotting very fast through the lines. He then takes his station in front of the gates of the Tuileries, and the troops pass him in quick time, afterwards filing off to their respective quarters.
In order that I may give a clear idea of this military show, I will briefly state the order in which the troops take their positions and move from the ground.
A battalion of Grenadiers, with their band, is stationed from the left corner of the Tuileries to the Palace door, from the right corner to the same door is another battalion of Grenadiers, called the Column of Granite, because at the battle of Marengo, “firm as adamant,” they withstood the charges of Austrian cavalry. About sixteen paces in front the first line commences with a battalion of Invalids, without a band or even pipes, having only half a dozen drums attached to it. Next to these are two battalions composed of select troops from the line. An intervening space of thirty-six paces here occurs, when another line of infantry, composed of two heavy battalions without music, extend along the whole area. Behind these are two regiments of Hussars. A little on their side at the right two troops of flying Artillery, and then the famous regiment of Guides, commanded by Eugène de Beauharnais[1] (the Consul’s step-son) surnamed the Casse Cous, because they are said neither to give nor receive quarter. Opposite this corps, at the other extremity of the lines and under the Gallery of the Louvre, stands the corps of Mamelukes--they retain their national costume, and every means is employed to attach them to the interests of the French people--which they are made to believe are identical with those of their Mussulman Caliph.
Three generals of division commanded the Consular troops under Bonaparte, who reserves to himself the chief command.
As soon as the First Consul had mounted Marengo, the drums beat a tattoo, and the men shouldered arms.
[Sidenote: BONAPARTE]
Preceded by several Mamelukes and four aides-de-camp in superb Hussar uniforms, he rode at full trot through the lines. When he returned to the centre a detachment from an Artillery corps, now serving in Italy, marched up to the Consul to receive their standard. It was held by a sergeant. The Consul made them a short speech, ordering them to swear they would rather die than abandon it. The infantry guard then passed before the Consul, beginning with the battalion of Invalids and ending with the Column of Granite, then came the Flying Artillery, the regiments of Horse, and, last of all, the regiment of Guides, beyond comparison the finest corps, whether for men or horses, I ever beheld, their Colonel, Beauharnais, being the handsomest young man amongst them. This regiment is dressed in green, as Hussars, and wheeled with uncommon precision and velocity. The Column of Granite was the only battalion which seemed to pay any attention to distance or time; its sections wheeled and performed like a piece of machinery, but all the other battalions were remarkably deficient in this branch of discipline. I remarked to a French general upon the slovenly manner in which those battalions wheeled; he nodded assent to the observation, remarking shrewdly and wisely: “It is of no matter of consequence, they know how to fight.”
As soon as the last section had passed, the Consul, who seemed to be in a very ill-humour, rode to the door of the Palace, dismounted and disappeared. He was not in a general’s uniform, but wore the same dress as that in which he appeared on the morning of the procession to Nôtre Dame.
Upon the whole, I cannot say that this review answered my expectations. The troops were tall and well-clothed. The cavalry were magnificently mounted, and made a noble appearance, but still the _tout ensemble_ did not excite my admiration to a very great extent.
While Bonaparte was passing the lines, one of my acquaintance exultingly turned to me and said: “Voilà le maître de la terre!” Several English gentlemen, who were not very distant from me, made themselves conspicuous by their ecstatic exclamations of adulation towards Bonaparte, one of them, a person of rank and fortune, bawling out loud enough to be heard by fifty people, “By G--d! this man deserves to govern the world!”
On our return from the parade, we went into a large party of ladies and gentlemen, among whom were several members of the Government. One of them took me aside; he questioned me as to the state of feeling in England on the subject of the peace, and asked me whether I read with attention the English papers. Upon my answering in the affirmative, he remarked that though the liberty of the Press was an essential principle of our British Constitution, persons in foreign countries were often exposed to the highest and most malignant censures from its abuse. I now understood the drift of his conversation and observed that natives of England, as well as foreigners, frequently had to smart under the lash of the British Press and that no one had been more severely handled (on some occasions) than myself. I explained that we in England never noticed those things, unless by retorting upon our opponents through the medium of the Press. He then said with some hesitation: “I have excellent authority for saying that the First Consul is incensed beyond measure at the liberties taken with his character and government in the English papers.” “If that be all,” I replied, “his anger will not go down with the sun, for I may venture to promise him an unceasing fire from the British Press as long as he discloses an ambition that is fatal to the security of Europe.” “And to France,” he exclaimed. Then taking me by the arms, he said with great energy, “When, my dear friend, you return to England, animate every person concerned in the public journals to give him no quarter. It is only through the medium of your papers that we know our situation; the sound philosophy of your principles (meaning the English nation’s) will finally rescue France from slavery.” Having uttered these words under strong symptoms of agitation, he left the room.
[Sidenote: ENGLISHMEN AND FIRST CONSUL]
Thunderstruck and confounded at this unexpected termination of our discourse, I was for a moment at a loss what to think and how to act, when fortunately the ex-Director Barthélémi came up and asked whether I was pleased with the review. This made me recover my senses, and I was enabled to enter into genial conversation. I was introduced to Archbishop Faesh,[1] Bonaparte’s uncle; and to Visconti,[1] but the only news they communicated were the details of the operations in San Domingo, brought home by Jerome Bonaparte. We soon afterwards left the party. I conveyed the ladies back to the hotel, and then drove to the house of the person with whom I have been engaged in the conversation related above.
He received me with great consideration and politeness, and stated how happy he was to be able to confer with me alone, as it was not safe to enter into particular details in a mixed assembly. I agreed with him, and he immediately entered more fully into the subject.