The Project Gutenberg Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte

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Before her marriage Hortense had an attachment for General Duroc, who was
hardly thirty years of age, had a fine figure, and was a favorite with
the chief of state, who, knowing him to be prudent and discreet, confided
to him important diplomatic missions. As aide-de-camp of the First
Consul, general of division, and governor of the Tuileries, he lived long
in familiar intimacy at Malmaison, and in the home life of the Emperor,
and during necessary absences on duty, corresponded with Mademoiselle
Hortense; and yet the indifference with which he allowed the marriage of
the latter with Louis to proceed, proves that he reciprocated but feebly
the affection which he had inspired. It is certain that he could have
had. Mademoiselle de Beauharnais for his wife, if he had been willing to
accept the conditions on which the First Consul offered the hand of his
step-daughter; but he was expecting something better, and his ordinary
prudence failed him at the time when it should have shown him a future
which was easy to foresee, and calculated to satisfy the promptings of an
ambition even more exalted than his. He therefore refused positively;
and the entreaties of Madame Bonaparte, which had already influenced her
husband, succeeded.

Madame Bonaparte, who saw herself treated with so little friendship by
the brothers of the First Consul, tried to make his family a defense for
herself against the plots which were gathering incessantly around her to
drive her away from the heart of her husband. It was with this design
she worked with all her might to bring about the marriage of her daughter
with one of her brothers-in-law.

General Duroc doubtless repented immediately of his precipitate refusal
when crowns began to rain in the august family to which he had had it in
his power to ally himself; when he saw Naples, Spain, Westphalia, Upper
Italy, the duchies of Parma, Lucca, etc., become the appendages of the
new imperial dynasty; when the beautiful and graceful Hortense herself,
who had loved him so devotedly, mounted in her turn a throne that she
would have been only too happy to have shared with the object of her
young affections. As for him, he married Mademoiselle Hervas d'Almenara,
daughter of the banker of the court of Spain. She was a little woman
with a very dark complexion, very thin, and without grace; but, on the
other hand, of a most peevish, haughty, exacting, and capricious temper.
As she was to have on her marriage an enormous dowry, the First Consul
had demanded her hand in marriage for his senior aide-de-camp. Madame
Duroc forgot herself, I have heard, so far as to beat her servants, and
to bear herself in a most singular manner toward people who were in no
wise her dependants. When M. Dubois came to tune her piano,
unfortunately she was at home, and finding the noise required by this
operation unendurable, drove the tuner off with the greatest violence.
In one of these singular attacks she one day broke all the keys of his
instrument. Another time Mugnier, clockmaker of the Emperor, and the
head of his profession in Paris, with Breguet, having brought her a watch
of very great value that madame, the Duchess of Friuli had herself
ordered, but which did not please her, she became so enraged, that, in
the presence of Mugnier, she dashed the watch on the floor, danced on it,
and reduced it to atoms. She utterly refused to pay for it, and the
marshal was compelled to do this himself. Thus Duroc's want of foresight
in refusing the hand of Hortense, together with the interested
calculations of Madame Bonaparte, caused the misery of two households.

The portrait I have sketched, and I believe faithfully, although not a
flattering picture, is merely that of a young woman with all the
impulsiveness of the Spanish character, spoiled as an only daughter, who
had been reared in indulgence, and with the entire neglect which hinders
the education of all the young ladies of her country. Time has calmed
the vivacity of her youth; and madame, the Duchess of Friuli, has since
given an example of most faithful devotion to duty, and great strength of
mind in the severe trials that she has endured. In the loss of her
husband, however grievous it might be, glory had at least some
consolation to offer to the widow of the grand marshal. But when her
young daughter, sole heiress of a great name and an illustrious title,
was suddenly taken away by death from all the expectations and the
devotion of her mother, who could dare to offer her consolation? If
there could be any (which I do not believe), it would be found in the
remembrance of the cares and tenderness lavished on her to the last by
maternal love. Such recollections, in which bitterness is mingled with
sweetness, were not wanting to the duchess.

The religious ceremony of marriage between Louis and Hortense took place
Jan. 7, in a house in the Rue de la Victoire; and the marriage of General
Murat with Caroline Bonaparte, which had been acknowledged only before
the civil authorities, was consecrated on the same day. Both Louis and
his bride were very sad. She wept bitterly during the whole ceremony,
and her tears were not soon dried. She made no attempt to win the
affection of her husband; while he, on his side, was too proud and too
deeply wounded to pursue her with his wooing. The good Josephine did all
she could to reconcile them; for she must have felt that this union,
which had begun so badly, was her work, in which she had tried to combine
her own interest, or at least that which she considered such, and the
happiness of her daughter. But her efforts, as well as her advice and
her prayers, availed nothing; and I have many a time seen Hortense seek
the solitude of her own room, and the heart of a friend, there to pour
out her tears. Tears fell from her eyes sometimes even in the midst of
one of the First Consul's receptions, where we saw with sorrow this young
woman, brilliant and gay, who had so often gracefully done the honors on
such occasions and attended to all the details of its etiquette, retire
into a corner, or into the embrasure of a window, with one of her most
intimate friends, there to sadly make her the a confidante of her trials.
During this conversation, from which she rose with red and swollen eyes,
her husband remained thoughtful and taciturn at the opposite end of the
room. Her Majesty, the Queen of Holland, has been accused of many sins;
but everything said or written against this princess is marked by
shameful exaggeration. So high a fortune drew all eyes to her, and
excited bitter jealousy; and yet those who envied her would not have
failed to bemoan themselves, if they had been put in tier place, on
condition that they were to bear her griefs. The misfortunes of Queen
Hortense began with life itself. Her father having been executed on a
revolutionary scaffold, and her mother thrown into prison, she found
herself, while still a child, alone, and with no other reliance than the
faithfulness of the old servants of the family. Her brother, the noble
and worthy Prince Eugene, had been compelled, it is said, to serve as an
apprentice. She had a few years of happiness, or at least of repose,
during the time she was under the care of Madame Campan, and just after
she left boarding-school. But her evil destiny was far from quitting
her; and her wishes being thwarted, an unhappy marriage opened for her a
new succession of troubles. The death of her first son, whom the Emperor
wished to adopt, and whom he had intended to be his successor in the
Empire, the divorce of her mother, the tragic death of her best-loved
friend, Madame de Brocq, who, before her eyes, slipped over a precipice;
the overturning of the imperial throne, which caused her the loss of her
title and rank as queen, a loss which she, however, felt less than the
misfortunes of him whom she regarded as her father; and finally, the
continual annoyance of domestic dissensions, of vexatious lawsuits, and
the agony she suffered in beholding her oldest surviving son removed from
her by order of her husband,--such were the principal catastrophes in a
life which might have been thought destined for so much happiness.

The day after the marriage of Mademoiselle Hortense, the First Consul set
out for Lyons, where there awaited him the deputies of the Cisalpine
Republic, assembled for the election of a president. Everywhere on his
route he was welcomed with fetes and congratulations, with which all were
eager to overwhelm him on account of the miraculous manner in which he
had escaped the plots of his enemies. This journey differed in no wise
from the tours which he afterwards made as Emperor. On his arrival at
Lyons, he received the visit of all the authorities, the constituent
bodies, the deputations from the neighboring departments, and the members
of the Italian councils. Madame Bonaparte, who accompanied him on this
journey, attended with him these public displays, and shared with him the
magnificent fete given to him by the city of Lyons. The day on which the
council elected and proclaimed the First Consul president of the Italian
Republic he reviewed, on the Place des Brotteaux, the troops of the
garrison, and recognized in the ranks many soldiers of the army of Egypt,
with whom he conversed for some time. On all these occasions the First
Consul wore the same costume that he had worn at Malmaison, and which I
have described elsewhere. He rose early, mounted his horse, and visited
the public works, among others those of the Place Belcour, of which he
had laid the corner-stone on his return from Italy, passed through the
Place des Brotteaux, inspected, examined everything, and, always
indefatigable, worked on his return as if he had been at the Tuileries.
He rarely changed his dress, except when he received at his table the
authorities or the principal inhabitants of the city. He received all
petitions most graciously, and before leaving presented to the mayor of
the city a scarf of honor, and to the legate of the Pope a handsome
snuff-box ornamented with his likeness.

The deputies of the council received presents, and were most generous in
making them, presenting Madame Bonaparte with magnificent ornaments of
diamonds and precious stones, and other most valuable jewelry.

The First Consul, on arriving at Lyons, had been deeply grieved at the
sudden death of a worthy prelate whom he had known in his first campaign
in Italy.

The Archbishop of Milan had come to Lyons, notwithstanding his great age,
in order to see the First Consul, whom he loved with such tenderness that
in conversation the venerable old man continually addressed the young
general as "my son." The peasants of Pavia, having revolted because
their fanaticism had been excited by false assertions that the French
wished to destroy their religion, the Archbishop of Milan, in order to
prove that their fears were groundless, often showed himself in a
carriage with General Bonaparte.

This prelate had stood the journey well, and appeared in good health and
fine spirits. Talleyrand, who had arrived at Lyons a few days before the
First Consul, gave a dinner to the Cisalpine deputies and the principal
notables of the city, at which the Archbishop of Milan sat on his right.
He had scarcely taken his seat, and was in the act of leaning forward to
speak to M. de Talleyrand, when he fell dead in his armchair.

On the 12th of January the town of Lyons gave, in honor of the First
Consul and Madame Bonaparte, a magnificent fete, consisting of a concert,
followed by a ball. At eight o'clock in the evening, the three mayors,
accompanied by the superintendents of the fete, called upon their
illustrious guests in the government palace. I can imagine that I see
again spread out before me that immense amphitheater, handsomely
decorated, and illuminated by innumerable lusters and candles, the seats
draped with the richest cloths manufactured in the city, and filled with
thousands of women, some brilliant in youth and beauty, and all
magnificently attired. The theater had been chosen as the place of the
fete; and on the entrance of the First Consul and Madame Bonaparte, who
advanced leaning on the arm of one of the mayors, there arose a thunder
of applause and acclamations. Suddenly the decorations of the theater
faded from sight, and the Place Bonaparte (the former Place Belcour)
appeared, as it had been restored by order of the First Consul. In the
midst rose a pyramid, surmounted by the statue of the First Consul, who
was represented as resting upon a lion. Trophies of arms and bas-reliefs
represented on one side, the other that of Marengo.

When the first, transports excited by this spectacle, which recalled at
once the benefits and the victories of the hero of the fete, had
subsided, there succeeded a deep silence, and delightful music was heard,
mingled with songs, dedicated to the glory of the First Consul, to his
wife, the warriors who surrounded him, and the representatives of the
Italian republics. The singers and the musicians were amateurs of Lyons.
Mademoiselle Longue, Gerbet, the postmaster, and Theodore, the merchant,
who had each performed their parts in a charming manner, received the
congratulations of the First Consul, and the most gracious thanks of
Madame Bonaparte.

What struck me most forcibly in the couplets which were sung on that
occasion, and which much resembled all verses written for such occasions,
was that incense was offered to the First Consul in the very terms which
all the poets of the Empire have since used in their turn. All the
exaggerations of flattery were exhausted during the consulate; and in the
years which followed, it was necessary for poets often to repeat
themselves. Thus, in the couplets of Lyons, the First Consul was the God
of victory, the conqueror of the Nile and of Neptune, the savior of his
country, the peacemaker of the world, the arbiter of Europe. The French
soldiers were transformed into friends and companions of Alcides, etc.,
all of which was cutting the ground from under the feet of the singers of
the future.

The fete of Lyons ended in a ball which lasted until daylight, at which
the First Consul remained two hours, which he spent in conversation with
the magistrates of the city. While the better class of the inhabitants
gave these grand entertainments to their guests, the people,
notwithstanding the cold, abandoned themselves on the public squares to
pleasure and dancing, and towards midnight there was a fine display of
fireworks on the Place Bonaparte.

After fifteen or eighteen days passed at Lyons, we returned to Paris, the
First Consul and his wife continuing to reside by preference at
Malmaison. It was, I think, a short time after the return of the First
Consul that a poorly dressed man begged an audience; an order was given
to admit him to the cabinet, and the First Consul inquired his name.
"General," replied the petitioner, frightened by his presence, "it is I
who had the honor of giving you writing lessons in the school of
Brienne."--"Fine scholar you have made!" interrupted vehemently the
First Consul; "I compliment you on it!" Then he began to laugh at his
own vehemence, and addressed a few kind words to this good man, whose
timidity such a compliment had not reassured. A few days after the
master received, from the least promising, doubtless, of all his pupils
at Brienne (you know how the Emperor wrote), a pension amply sufficient
for his needs.

Another of the old teachers of the First Consul, the Abbe Dupuis, was
appointed by him to the post of private librarian at Malmaison, and lived
and died there. He was a modest man, and had the reputation of being
well-educated. The First Consul visited him often in his room, and paid
him every imaginable attention and respect.




CHAPTER IX.

The day on which the First Consul promulgated the law of public worship,
he rose early, and entered the dressing-room to make his toilet. While
he was dressing I saw Joseph Bonaparte enter his room with Cambaceres.

"Well," said the First Consul to the latter, "we are going to mass. What
do they think of that in Paris?"--"Many persons," replied M. Cambaceres,
"will go to the representation with the intention of hissing the piece,
if they do not find it amusing."

"If any one thinks of hissing, I will have him put out-of-doors by the
grenadiers of the Consular Guard."

"But if the grenadiers begin to hiss like the others?"

"I have no fear of that. My old soldiers will go to Notre Dame exactly
as they went to the mosque at Cairo. They will watch me; and seeing
their general remain quiet and reverent, they will do as he does, saying
to themselves, 'That is the countersign!'"

"I am afraid," said Joseph Bonaparte, "that the general officers will not
be so accommodating. I have just left Augereau, who was vomiting fire
and fury against what he calls your capricious proclamations. He, and.
a few others, will not be easy to bring back into the pale of our holy
mother, the church."

"Bah! that is like Augereau. He is a bawler, who makes a great noise;
and yet if he has a little imbecile cousin, he puts him in the priests
college for me to make a chaplain of him.

"That reminds me," continued the First Consul, addressing his colleague,
"when is your brother going to take possession of his see of Rouen? Do
you know it has the finest archiepiscopal palace in France? He will be
cardinal before a year has passed; that matter is already arranged."

The second consul bowed. From that moment his manner towards the First
Consul was rather that of a courtier than an equal.

The plenipotentiaries who had been appointed to examine and sign the
Concordat were Joseph Bonaparte, Cruet, and the Abbe Bernier. This
latter, whom I saw sometimes at the Tuileries, had been a chief of the
Chouans, [The Chouans were Royalists in insurrection in Brittany.]
and took a prominent part in all that occurred. The First Consul, in
this same conversation, the opening of which I have just related,
discussed with his two companions the subject of the conferences on the
Concordat. "The Abby Bernier," said the First Consul, "inspired fear in
the Italian prelates by the vehemence of his logic. It might have been
said that he imagined himself living over again the days in which he led
the Vendeens to the charge against the blues. Nothing could be more
striking than the contrast of his rude and quarrelsome manner with the
polished bearing and honeyed tones of the prelates. Cardinal Caprara
came to me two days ago, with a shocked air, to ask if it is true that,
during the war of the Vendee, the Abbe Bernier made an altar on which to
celebrate mass out of the corpses of the Republicans. I replied that I
knew nothing of it, but that it was possible. 'General, First Consul,'
cried the frightened cardinal, 'it is not a red hat, but a red cap, which
that man should have?'

"I am much afraid," continued the First Consul, "that that kind of cap
would prevent the Abbe Bernier from getting the red hat."

These gentlemen left the First Consul when his toilet was finished, and
went to make their own. The First Consul wore on that day the costume of
the consuls, which consisted of a scarlet coat without facings, and with
a broad embroidery of palms, in gold, on all the seams. His sword, which
he had worn in Egypt, hung at his side from a belt, which, though not
very wide, was of beautiful workmanship, and richly embroidered. He wore
his black stock, in preference to a lace cravat, and like his colleagues,
wore knee-breeches and shoes; a French hat, with floating plumes of the
three colors, completed this rich costume.

The celebration of this sacrament at Notre Dame was a novel sight to the
Parisians, and many attended as if it were a theatrical representation.
Many, also, especially amongst the military, found it rather a matter of
raillery than of edification; and those who, during the Revolution, had
contributed all their strength to the overthrow of the worship which the
First Consul had just re-established, could with difficulty conceal their
indignation and their chagrin.

The common people saw in the Te Deum which was sung that day for peace
and the Concordat, only an additional gratification of their curiosity;
but among the middle classes there was a large number of pious persons,
who had deeply regretted the suppression of the forms of devotion in
which they had been reared, and who were very happy in returning to the
old worship. And, indeed, there was then no manifestation of
superstition or of bigotry sufficient to alarm the enemies of
intolerance.

The clergy were exceedingly careful not to appear too exacting; they
demanded little, condemned no one; and the representative of the Holy
Father, the cardinal legate, pleased all, except perhaps a few
dissatisfied old priests, by his indulgence, the worldly grace of his
manners, and the freedom of his conduct. This prelate was entirely in
accord with the First Consul, and he took great pleasure in conversing
with him.

It is also certain, that apart from all religious sentiment, the fidelity
of the people to their ancient customs made them return with pleasure to
the repose and celebration of Sunday. The Republican calendar was
doubtless wisely computed; but every one is at first sight struck with
the ridiculousness of replacing the legend of the saints of the old
calendar with the days of the ass, the hog, the turnip, the onion, etc.
Besides, if it was skillfully computed, it was by no means conveniently
divided. I recall on this subject the remark of a man of much wit, and
who, notwithstanding the disapprobation which his remark implied,
nevertheless desired the establishment of the Republican system,
everywhere except in the almanac. When the decree of the Convention
which ordered the adoption of the Republican calendar was published, he
remarked: "They have done finely; but they have to fight two enemies who
never yield, the beard, and the white shirt."

[That is to say, the barber and the washerwoman, for whom ten days
was too long an interval.--TRANS.]

The truth is, the interval from one decadi to another was too long for
the working-classes, and for all those who were constantly occupied.
I do not know whether it was the effect of a deep-rooted habit, but
people accustomed to working six days in succession, and resting on the
seventh, found nine days of consecutive labor too long, and consequently
the suppression of the decadi was universally approved. The decree which
ordered the publication of marriage bans on Sunday was not so popular,
for some persons were afraid of finding in this the revival of the former
dominance of the clergy over the civil authorities.

A few days after the solemn re-establishment of the catholic worship,
there arrived at the Tuileries a general officer, who would perhaps have
preferred the establishment of Mahomet, and the change of Notre Dame into
a mosque. He was the last general-in-chief of the army of Egypt, and was
said to have turned Mussulman at Cairo, ex-Baron de Menou. In spite of
the defeat by the English which he had recently undergone in Egypt,
General Abdallah-Menou was well received by the First Consul, who
appointed him soon after governor-general of Piedmont. General Menou was
of tried courage, and had given proof of it elsewhere, as well as on the
field of battle, and amid the most trying circumstances.

After the 10th of August, although belonging to the Republican party, he
had accompanied Louis Sixteenth to the Assembly, and had been denounced
as a Royalist by the Jacobins. In 1795 the Faubourg Saint Antoine having
risen en masse, and advanced against the Convention, General Menou had
surrounded and disarmed the seditious citizens; but he had refused to
obey the atrocious orders of the commissioners of the Convention, who
decreed that the entire faubourg should be burned, in order to punish the
inhabitants for their continued insurrections. Some time afterwards,
having again refused to obey the order these commissioners of the
Convention gave, to mow down with grapeshot the insurrectionists of
Paris, he had been summoned before a commission, which would not have
failed to send him to the guillotine, if General Bonaparte, who had
succeeded him in the command of the army of the interior, had not used
all his influence to save his life. Such repeated acts of courage and
generosity are enough, and more than enough, to cause us to pardon in
this brave officer, the very natural pride with which he boasted of
having armed the National Guards, and having caused the tricolor to be
substituted for the white flag. The tricolor he called my flag. From
the government of Piedmont he passed to that of Venice; and died in 1810
for love of an actress, whom he had followed from Venice to Reggio, in
spite of his sixty years.

The institution of the order of the Legion of Honor preceded by a few
days the proclamation of the Consulate for life, which proclamation was
the occasion of a fete, celebrated on the 15th of August. This was the
anniversary of the birth of the First Consul, and the opportunity was
used in order to make for the first time this anniversary a festival.
On that day the First Consul was thirty-three years old.