Memoirs of the Empress Josephine Bonaparte. Madame de Rémusat

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СКАЧАТЬ of Louis Bonaparte, and his extreme suspicion, had already made her shy and melancholy. Once or twice a week the little Napoleon (who afterward died in Holland) was sent to Saint Cloud. Bonaparte seemed to love that child; he built hopes for the future upon him. Perhaps it was only on account of those hopes that he noticed him; for M. de Talleyrand has told me that, when the news of his nephew’s death reached Berlin, Bonaparte, who was about to appear in public, was so little affected that M. de Talleyrand said, “You forget that a death has occurred in your family, and that you ought to look serious.” “I do not amuse myself,” replied Bonaparte, “by thinking of dead people.”

      It would be curious to compare this frank utterance with the fine speech of M. de Fontanes, who, having to deliver an address upon the depositing of the Prussian flags in great pomp at the Invalides, dwelt pathetically upon the majestic grief of a conqueror who turned from the splendor of his victories to shed tears over the death of a child.

      After the Consul had dined, we were told we might go upstairs again. The conversation was prolonged, according as he was in a good or a bad humor. He would go away after a while, and in general we did not see him again. He returned to work, gave some particular audience or received one of the ministers, and retired early. Mme. Bonaparte played at cards in the evening. Between ten and eleven o’clock she would be told, “Madame, the First Consul has gone to his room,” and then she would dismiss us for the night.

      She and every one about her were very reserved respecting public affairs. Duroc, Maret (then Secretary of State), and the private secretaries were all impenetrable. Most of the soldiers, to avoid talking, as I believe, abstained from thinking; in that kind of life there was not much wear and tear of the mind.

      On my arrival at Court, I was quite ignorant of the more or less dread that Bonaparte inspired in those who had known him for some time, and I was less embarrassed in his presence than the others; and I did not think myself bound to adopt the system of monosyllables religiously, and perhaps prudently, adopted by all the household. This, however, exposed me to ridicule in a way of which I was unconscious at first, which afterward amused me, but which in the end I had to avoid.

      One evening Bonaparte was praising the ability of the elder M. Portalis, who was then working at the Civil Code, and M. de Rémusat said M. Portalis had profited by the study of Montesquieu in particular, adding that he had read and learned Montesquieu as one learns the catechism. Bonaparte, turning to one of my companions, said to her, laughing, “I would bet something that you do not know what this Montesquieu is.” “Pardon me,” she replied, “everybody has read ‘Le Temple de Gnide.’ ” At this Bonaparte went off into a fit of laughter, and I could not help smiling. He looked at me and said, “And you, madame?” I replied simply that I was not acquainted with “Le Temple de Gnide,” but had read “Considérations sur les Romains,” and that I thought neither the one nor the other work was the catechism to which M. de Rémusat alluded. “Diable!” said Bonaparte, “you are a savante!” This epithet disconcerted me, for I felt that it would stick. A minute after, Mme. Bonaparte began to talk of a tragedy (I do not know what it was) which was then being performed. On this the First Consul passed the living authors in review, and spoke of Ducis, whose style he did not admire. He deplored the mediocrity of our tragic poets, and said that, above everything in the world, he should like to recompense the author of a fine tragedy. I ventured to say that Ducis had spoilt the “Othello” of Shakespeare. This long English name coming from my lips produced a sensation among our silent and attentive audience in epaulettes. Bonaparte did not altogether like anything English being praised. We argued the point awhile. All I said was very commonplace; but I had named Shakespeare, I had held my own against the Consul, I had praised an English author. What audacity! what a prodigy of erudition! I was obliged to keep silence for several days after, or at least only to take part in idle talk, in order to efface the effect of my unlucky and easily gained reputation for cleverness.

      When I left the palace and went back to my mother’s house, I associated there with many amiable women and distinguished men, whose conversation was most interesting; and I smiled to myself at the difference between their society and that of Bonaparte’s Court.

      One good effect of our almost habitual silence was, that it kept us from gossip. The women had no chance of indulging in coquetry; the men were incessantly occupied in their duties; and Bonaparte, who did not yet venture to indulge all his fancies, and who felt that the appearance of regularity would be useful to him, lived in a way which deceived me as to his morality. He appeared to love his wife very much; she seemed to be all in all to him. Nevertheless, I discovered ere long that she had troubles of a nature which surprised me. She was of an exceedingly jealous disposition. It was a very great misfortune for her that she had no children by her second husband; he sometimes expressed his annoyance, and then she trembled for her future. The family of the First Consul, who were always bitter against the Beauharnais, made the most of this misfortune. From these causes quarrels arose. Sometimes I found Mme. Bonaparte in tears, and then she would complain bitterly of her brothers-in-law, of Mme. Murat, and of Murat, who kept up their own influence by exciting the Consul to passing fancies, and promoting his secret intrigues, I begged her to keep quiet. I could see that if Bonaparte loved his wife, it was because her habitual gentleness gave him repose, and that she would lose her power if she troubled or disturbed him. However, during my first years at Court, the slight differences which arose between them always ended in satisfactory explanations and in redoubled tenderness.

      After 1802 I never saw General Moreau at Bonaparte’s Court; they were already estranged. Moreau’s mother-in-law and wife were schemers, and Bonaparte could not endure a spirit of intrigue in women. Moreover, on one occasion the mother of Mme. Moreau, being at Malmaison, had ventured to jest about the suspected scandalous intimacy between Bonaparte and his young sister Caroline, then newly married. The Consul had not forgiven these remarks, for which he had severely censured both the mother and the daughter. Moreau complained, and was sharply questioned about his own attitude. He lived in retirement, among people who kept him in a state of constant irritation; and Murat, who was the chief of an active secret police, spied out causes of offense which were wholly unimportant, and continually carried malicious reports to the Tuileries. This multiplication of the police was one of the evils of Bonaparte’s government, and was the result of his suspicious disposition. The agents acted as spies upon each other, denounced each other, endeavored to make themselves necessary, and kept alive Bonaparte’s habitual mistrust. After the affair of the infernal machine, of which M. de Talleyrand availed himself to procure the dismissal of Fouché, the police had been put into the hands of Regnier, the chief judge. Bonaparte thought that his suppressing the Ministry of Police, which was a revolutionary invention, would look like liberalism and moderation. He soon repented of this step, and replaced the regular ministry by a multitude of spies, whom he continued to employ even after he had reinstated Fouché. His Prefect of Police, Murat, Duroc, Savary (who then commanded the gend’armerie d’élite), Maret (who had also a secret police, at the head of which was M. de Sémonville), and I don’t know how many others, did the work of the suppressed ministry.

      Fouché, who possessed in perfection the art of making himself necessary, soon crept back secretly into the favor of the First Consul, and succeeded in getting himself made minister a second time. The badly conducted trial of General Moreau aided him in that attempt, as will be seen by what follows.

      At this time Cambecérès and Le Brun, Second and Third Consuls, took very little part in the administration of the Government. The latter, who was an old man, gave Bonaparte no concern. The former, a distinguished magistrate, who was of great weight in all questions within the province of the Council of State, took part only in the discussion of certain laws. Bonaparte profited by his knowledge, and relied with good reason on the ridicule which his petty vanity excited to diminish his importance. Cambacérès, charmed with the distinctions conferred on him, paraded them with childish pleasure, which was humored and laughed at. His self-conceit on certain points frequently secured his safety.

      At the time of which I speak, M. de Talleyrand had vast influence. Every great political СКАЧАТЬ