THE RECEPTION OF THE EMPRESS

Pont de Briques is but a small village, and this sudden arrival of the Court, which was to remain for some weeks, had crammed it with visitors.  It would have been very much simpler to have come to Boulogne, where there were more suitable buildings and better accommodation, but Napoleon had named Pont de Briques, so Pont de Briques it had to be.  The word impossible was not permitted amongst those who had to carry out his wishes.  So an army of cooks and footmen settled upon the little place, and then there arrived the dignitaries of the new Empire, and then the ladies of the Court, and then their admirers from the camp.  The Empress had a chateau for her accommodation.  The rest quartered themselves in cottages or where they best might, and waited ardently for the moment which was to take them back to the comforts of Versailles or Fontainebleau.

The Empress had graciously offered me a seat in her berline, and all the way to the village, entirely forgetful apparently of the scene through which she passed, she chatted away, asking me a thousand personal questions about myself and my affairs, for a kindly curiosity in the doings of everyone around her was one of her most marked characteristics.  Especially was she interested in Eugenie, and as the subject was one upon which I was equally interested in talking it ended in a rhapsody upon my part, amid little sympathetic ejaculations from the Empress and titterings from Madame de Remusat.

‘But you must certainly bring her over to the Court!’ cried the kindly woman.  ’Such a paragon of beauty and of virtue must not be allowed to waste herself in this English village.  Have you spoken about her to the Emperor?’

‘I found that he knew all about her, your Majesty.’

’He knows all about everything.  Oh, what a man he is!  You heard him about those diamonds and sapphires.  Lefebvre gave me his word that no one should know of it but ourselves, and that I should pay at my leisure, and yet you see that the Emperor knew.  But what did he say, Monsieur de Laval?’

‘He said that my marriage should be his affair.’

Josephine shook her head and groaned.

’But this is serious, Monsieur de Laval.  He is capable of singling out any one of the ladies of the Court and marrying you to her within a week.  It is a subject upon which he will not listen to argument.  He has brought about some extraordinary matches in this way.  But I will speak to the Emperor before I return to Paris, and I will see what I can arrange for you.’

I was still endeavouring to thank her for her sympathy and kindness when the berline rattled up the drive and pulled up at the entrance to the chateau, where the knot of scarlet footmen and the bearskins of two sentries from the Guards announced the Imperial quarters.  The Empress and her lady hurried away to prepare their toilets for the evening, and I was shown at once into the salon, in which the guests had already begun to assemble.

This was a large square room furnished as modestly as the sitting-room of a provincial gentleman would be likely to be.  The wall-paper was gloomy, and the furniture was of dark mahogany upholstered in faded blue nankeen, but there were numerous candles in candelabra upon the tables and in sconces upon the walls which gave an air of festivity even to these sombre surroundings.  Out of the large central room were several smaller ones in which card-tables had been laid out, and the doorways between had been draped with Oriental chintz.  A number of ladies and gentlemen were standing about, the former in the high evening dresses to which the Emperor had given his sanction, the latter about equally divided between the civilians in black court costumes and the soldiers in their uniforms.  Bright colours and graceful draperies predominated, for in spite of his lectures about economy the Emperor was very harsh to any lady who did not dress in a manner which would sustain the brilliancy of his Court.  The prevailing fashions gave an opening to taste and to display, for the simple classical costumes had died out with the Republic, and Oriental dresses had taken their place as a compliment to the Conqueror of Egypt.  Lucretia had changed to Zuleika, and the salons which had reflected the austerity of old Rome had turned suddenly into so many Eastern harems.

On entering the room I had retired into a corner, fearing that I should find none there whom I knew; but someone plucked at my arm, and turning round I found myself looking into the yellow inscrutable face of my uncle Bernac.  He seized my unresponsive hand and wrung it with a false cordiality.

‘My dear Louis,’ said he.  ’It was really the hope of meeting you here which brought me over from Grosbois ­although you can understand that living so far from Paris I cannot afford to miss such an opportunity of showing myself at Court.  Nevertheless I can assure you that it was of you principally that I was thinking.  I hear that you have had a splendid reception from the Emperor, and that you have been taken into his personal service.  I had spoken to him about you, and I made him fully realise that if he treats you well he is likely to coax some of the other young emigres into his service.’

I was convinced that he was lying, but none the less I had to bow and utter a few words of cold thanks.

’I see that you still bear me some grudge for what passed between us the other day,’ said he, ’but really, my dear Louis, you have no occasion to do so.  It was your own good which I had chiefly at heart.  I am neither a young nor a strong man, Louis, and my profession, as you have seen, is a dangerous one.  There is my child, and there is my estate.  Who takes one, takes both.  Sibylle is a charming girl, and you must not allow yourself to be prejudiced against her by any ill temper which she may have shown towards me.  I will confess that she had some reason to be annoyed at the turn which things had taken.  But I hope to hear that you have now thought better upon this matter.’

’I have never thought about it at all, and I beg that you will not discuss it,’ said I curtly.

He stood in deep thought for a few moments, and then he raised his evil face and his cruel grey eyes to mine.

‘Well, well, that is settled then,’ said he.  ’But you cannot bear me a grudge for having wished you to be my successor.  Be reasonable, Louis.  You must acknowledge that you would now be six feet deep in the salt-marsh with your neck broken if I had not stood your friend, at some risk to myself.  Is that not true?’

‘You had your own motive for that,’ said I.

’Very likely.  But none the less I saved you.  Why should you bear me ill will?  It is no fault of mine if I hold your estate.’

‘It is not on account of that.’

‘Why is it then?’

I could have explained that it was because he had betrayed his comrades, because his daughter hated him, because he had ill-used his wife, because my father regarded him as the source of all his troubles ­but the salon of the Empress was no place for a family quarrel, so I merely shrugged my shoulders, and was silent.

‘Well, I am very sorry,’ said he, ’for I had the best of intentions towards you.  I could have advanced you, for there are few men in France who exercise more influence.  But I have one request to make to you.’

‘What is that, sir?’

’I have a number of personal articles, belonging to your father ­his sword, his seals, a deskful of letters, some silver plate ­such things in short as you would wish to keep in memory of him.  I should be glad if you will come to Grosbois ­if it is only for one night ­and look over these things, choosing what you wish to take away.  My conscience will then be clear about them.’

I promised readily that I would do so.

‘And when would you come?’ he asked eagerly.  Something in the tone of his voice aroused my suspicions, and glancing at him I saw exultation in his eyes.  I remembered the warning of Sibylle.

’I cannot come until I have learned what my duties with the Emperor are to be.  When that is settled I shall come.’

’Very good.  Next week perhaps, or the week afterwards.  I shall expect you eagerly, Louis.  I rely upon your promise, for a Laval was never known to break one.’  With another unanswered squeeze of my hand, he slipped off among the crowd, which was growing denser every instant in the salon.

I was standing in silence thinking over this sinister invitation of my uncle’s, when I heard my own name, and, looking up, I saw de Caulaincourt, with his brown handsome face and tall elegant figure, making his way towards me.

‘It is your first entrance at Court, is it not, Monsieur de Laval,’ said he, in his high-bred cordial manner; ’you should not feel lonely, for there are certainly many friends of your father here who will be overjoyed to make the acquaintance of your father’s son.  From what de Meneval told me I gather that you know hardly anyone ­even by sight.’

‘I know the Marshals,’ said I; ’I saw them all at the council in the Emperor’s tent.  There is Ney with the red head.  And there is Lefebvre with his singular mouth, and Bernadotte with the beak of a bird of prey.’

’Precisely.  And that is Rapp, with the round, bullet head.  He is talking to Junot, the handsome dark man with the whiskers.  These poor soldiers are very unhappy.’

‘Why so?’ I asked.

’Because they are all men who have risen from nothing.  This society and etiquette terrifies them much more than all the dangers of war.  When they can hear their sabres clashing against their big boots they feel at home, but when they have to stand about with their cocked hats under their arms, and have to pick their spurs out of the ladies’ trains, and talk about David’s picture or Passaniello’s opera, it prostrates them.  The Emperor will not even permit them to swear, although he has no scruples upon his own account.  He tells them to be soldiers with the army, and courtiers with the Court, but the poor fellows cannot help being soldiers all the time.  Look at Rapp with his twenty wounds, endeavouring to exchange little delicate drolleries with that young lady.  There, you see, he has said something which would have passed very well with a vivandière, but it has made her fly to her mamma, and he is scratching his head, for he cannot imagine how he has offended her.’

’Who is the beautiful woman with the white dress and the tiara of diamonds?’ I asked.

’That is Madame Murat, who is the sister of the Emperor.  Caroline is beautiful, but she is not as pretty as her sister Marie, whom you see over yonder in the corner.  Do you see the tall stately dark-eyed old lady with whom she is talking?  That is Napoleon’s mother ­a wonderful woman, the source of all their strength, shrewd, brave, vigorous, forcing respect from everyone who knows her.  She is as careful and as saving as when she was the wife of a small country gentleman in Corsica, and it is no secret that she has little confidence in the permanence of the present state of things, and that she is always laying by for an evil day.  The Emperor does not know whether to be amused or exasperated by her precautions.  Well, Murat, I suppose we shall see you riding across the Kentish hop-fields before long.’

The famous soldier had paused opposite to us, and shook hands with my companion.  His elegant well-knit figure, large fiery eyes, and noble bearing made this innkeeper’s boy a man who would have drawn attention and admiration to himself in any assembly in Europe.  His mop of curly hair and thick red lips gave that touch of character and individuality to his appearance which redeem a handsome face from insipidity.

’I am told that it is devilish bad country for cavalry ­all cut up into hedges and ditches,’ said he.  ’The roads are good, but the fields are impossible.  I hope that we are going soon, Monsieur de Caulaincourt, for our men will all settle down as gardeners if this continues.  They are learning more about watering-pots and spuds than about horses and sabres.’

‘The army, I hear, is to embark to-morrow.’

’Yes, yes, but you know very well that they will disembark again upon the wrong side of the Channel.  Unless Villeneuve scatters the English fleet, nothing can be attempted.’

’Constant tells me that the Emperor was whistling “Malbrook” all the time that he was dressing this morning, and that usually comes before a move.’

’It was very clever of Constant to tell what tune it was which the Emperor was whistling,’ said Murat, laughing.  ’For my part I do not think that he knows the difference between the “Malbrook” and the “Marseillaise.”  Ah, here is the Empress ­and how charming she is looking!’

Josephine had entered, with several of her ladies in her train, and the whole assembly rose to do her honour.  The Empress was dressed in an evening gown of rose-coloured tulle, spangled with silver stars ­an effect which might have seemed meretricious and theatrical in another woman, but which she carried off with great grace and dignity.  A little sheaf of diamond wheat-ears rose above her head, and swayed gently as she walked.  No one could entertain more charmingly than she, for she moved about among the people with her amiable smile, setting everybody at their ease by her kindly natural manner, and by the conviction which she gave them that she was thoroughly at her ease herself.  ’How amiable she is!’ I exclaimed.  ‘Who could help loving her?’

‘There is only one family which can resist her,’ said de Caulaincourt, glancing round to see that Murat was out of hearing.  ’Look at the faces of the Emperor’s sisters.’

I was shocked when I followed his direction to see the malignant glances with which these two beautiful women were following the Empress as she walked about the room.  They whispered together and tittered maliciously.  Then Madame Murat turned to her mother behind her, and the stern old lady tossed her haughty head in derision and contempt.

’They feel that Napoleon is theirs and that they ought to have everything.  They cannot bear to think that she is Her Imperial Majesty and they are only Her Highness.  They all hate her, Joseph, Lucien ­all of them.  When they had to carry her train at the coronation they tried to trip her up, and the Emperor had to interfere.  Oh yes, they have the real Corsican blood, and they are not very comfortable people to get along with.’

But in spite of the evident hatred of her husband’s family, the Empress appeared to be entirely unconcerned and at her ease as she strolled about among the groups of her guests with a kindly glance and a pleasant word for each of them.  A tall, soldierly man, brown-faced and moustached, walked beside her, and she occasionally laid her hand with a caressing motion upon his arm.

‘That is her son, Eugene de Beauharnais,’ said my companion.

‘Her son!’ I exclaimed, for he seemed to me to be the older of the two.

De Caulaincourt smiled at my surprise.

’You know she married Beauharnais when she was very young ­in fact she was hardly sixteen.  She has been sitting in her boudoir while her son has been baking in Egypt and Syria, so that they have pretty well bridged over the gap between them.  Do you see the tall, handsome, clean-shaven man who has just kissed Josephine’s hand.  That is Talma the famous actor.  He once helped Napoleon at a critical moment of his career, and the Emperor has never forgotten the debt which the Consul contracted.  That is really the secret of Talleyrand’s power.  He lent Napoleon a hundred thousand francs before he set out for Egypt, and now, however much he distrusts him, the Emperor cannot forget that old kindness.  I have never known him to abandon a friend or to forgive an enemy.  If you have once served him well you may do what you like afterwards.  There is one of his coachmen who is drunk from morning to night.  But he gained the cross at Marengo, and so he is safe.’

De Caulaincourt had moved on to speak with some lady, and I was again left to my own thoughts, which turned upon this extraordinary man, who presented himself at one moment as a hero and at another as a spoiled child, with his nobler and his worse side alternating so rapidly that I had no sooner made up my mind about him than some new revelation would destroy my views and drive me to some fresh conclusion.  That he was necessary to France was evident, and that in serving him one was serving one’s country.  But was it an honour or a penance to serve him?  Was he worthy merely of obedience, or might love and esteem be added to it?  These were the questions which we found it difficult to answer ­and some of us will never have answered them up to the end of time.

The company had now lost all appearance of formality, and even the soldiers seemed to be at their ease.  Many had gone into the side rooms, where they had formed tables for whist and for vingt-et-un.  For my own part I was quite entertained by watching the people, the beautiful women, the handsome men, the bearers of names which had been heard of in no previous generation, but which now rung round the world.  Immediately in front of me were Ney, Lannes, and Murat chatting together and laughing with the freedom of the camp.  Of the three, two were destined to be executed in cold blood, and the third to die upon the battle-field, but no coming shadow ever cast a gloom upon their cheery, full-blooded lives.

A small, silent, middle-aged man, who looked unhappy and ill at ease, had been leaning against the wall beside me.  Seeing that he was as great a stranger as myself, I addressed some observation to him, to which he replied with great good-will, but in the most execrable French.

‘You don’t happen to understand English?’ he asked.  ’I’ve never met one living soul in this country who did.’

’Oh yes, I understand it very well, for I have lived most of my life over yonder.  But surely you are not English, sir?  I understood that every Englishman in France was under lock and key ever since the breach of the treaty of Amiens.’

‘No, I am not English,’ he answered, ’I am an American.  My name is Robert Fulton, and I have to come to these receptions because it is the only way in which I can keep myself in the memory of the Emperor, who is examining some inventions of mine which will make great changes in naval warfare.’

Having nothing else to do I asked this curious American what his inventions might be, and his replies very soon convinced me that I had to do with a madman.  He had some idea of making a ship go against the wind and against the current by means of coal or wood which was to be burned inside of her.  There was some other nonsense about floating barrels full of gunpowder which would blow a ship to pieces if she struck against them.  I listened to him at the time with an indulgent smile, but now looking back from the point of vantage of my old age I can see that not all the warriors and statesmen in that room ­no, not even the Emperor himself ­have had as great an effect upon the history of the world as that silent American who looked so drab and so commonplace among the gold-slashed uniforms and the Oriental dresses.

But suddenly our conversation was interrupted by a hush in the room ­ such a cold, uncomfortable hush as comes over a roomful of happy, romping children when a grave-faced elder comes amongst them.  The chatting and the laughter died away.  The sound of the rustling cards and of the clicking counters had ceased in the other rooms.  Everyone, men and women, had risen to their feet with a constrained expectant expression upon their faces.  And there in the doorway were the pale face and the green coat with the red cordon across the white waistcoat.

There was no saying how he might behave upon these occasions.  Sometimes he was capable of being the merriest and most talkative of the company, but this was rather in his consular than in his imperial days.  On the other hand he might be absolutely ferocious, with an insulting observation for everyone with whom he came in contact.  As a rule he was between these two extremes, silent, morose, ill at ease, shooting out curt little remarks which made everyone uncomfortable.  There was always a sigh of relief when he would pass from one room into the next.

On this occasion he seemed to have not wholly recovered from the storm of the afternoon, and he looked about him with a brooding eye and a lowering brow.  It chanced that I was not very far from the door, and that his glance fell upon me.

‘Come here, Monsieur de Laval,’ said he.  He laid his hand upon my shoulder and turned to a big, gaunt man who had accompanied him into the room.  ‘Look here, Cambaceres, you simpleton,’ said he.  ’You always said that the old families would never come back, and that they would settle in England as the Huguenots have done.  You see that, as usual, you have miscalculated, for here is the heir of the de Lavals come to offer his services.  Monsieur de Laval, you are now my aide-de-camp, and I beg you to keep with me wherever I go.’

This was promotion indeed, and yet I had sense enough to know that it was not for my own sweet sake that the Emperor had done it, but in order to encourage others to follow me.  My conscience approved what I had done, for no sordid motive and nothing but the love of my country had prompted me; but now, as I walked round behind Napoleon, I felt humiliated and ashamed, like a prisoner led behind the car of his captor.

And soon there was something else to make me ashamed, and that was the conduct of him whose servant I had become.  His manners were outrageous.  As he had himself said, it was his nature to be always first, and this being so he resented those courtesies and gallantries by which men are accustomed to disguise from women the fact that they are the weaker sex.  The Emperor, unlike Louis XIV., felt that even a temporary and conventional attitude of humility towards a woman was too great a condescension from his own absolute supremacy.  Chivalry was among those conditions of society which he refused to accept.

To the soldiers he was amiable enough, with a nod and a joke for each of them.  To his sisters also he said a few words, though rather in the tone of a drill sergeant to a pair of recruits.  It was only when the Empress had joined him that his ill-humour came to a head.

’I wish you would not wear those wisps of pink about your head, Josephine,’ said he, pettishly.  ’All that women have to think about is how to dress themselves, and yet they cannot even do that with moderation or taste.  If I see you again in such a thing I will thrust it in the fire as I did your shawl the other day.’

’You are so hard to please, Napoleon.  You like one day what you cannot abide the next.  But I will certainly change it if it offends you,’ said Josephine, with admirable patience.

The Emperor took a few steps between the people, who had formed a lane for us to pass through.  Then he stopped and looked over his shoulder at the Empress.

’How often have I told you, Josephine, that I cannot tolerate fat women.’

‘I always bear it in mind, Napoleon.’

‘Then why is Madame de Chevreux present?’

‘But surely, Napoleon, madame is not very fat.’

’She is fatter than she should be.  I should prefer not to see her.  Who is this?’ He had paused before a young lady in a blue dress, whose knees seemed to be giving way under her as the terrible Emperor transfixed her with his searching eyes.

‘This is Mademoiselle de Bergerot.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-three, sire.’

’It is time that you were married.  Every woman should be married at twenty-three.  How is it that you are not married?’

The poor girl appeared to be incapable of answering, so the Empress gently remarked that it was to the young men that that question should be addressed.

‘Oh, that is the difficulty, is it?’ said the Emperor.  ’We must look about and find a husband for you.’  He turned, and to my horror I found his eyes fixed with a questioning gaze upon my face.

‘We have to find you a wife also, Monsieur de Laval,’ said he.  ’Well, well, we shall see ­we shall see.  What is your name?’ to a quiet refined man in black.

‘I am Gretry, the musician.’

’Yes, yes, I remember you.  I have seen you a hundred times, but I can never recall your name.  Who are you?’

‘I am Joseph de Chenier.’

’Of course.  I have seen your tragedy.  I have forgotten the name of it, but it was not good.  You have written some other poetry, have you not?’

‘Yes, sire.  I had your permission to dedicate my last volume to you.’

’Very likely, but I have not had time to read it.  It is a pity that we have no poets now in France, for the deeds of the last few years would have given a subject for a Homer or a Virgil.  It seems that I can create kingdoms but not poets.  Whom do you consider to be the greatest French writer?’

‘Racine, sire.’

’Then you are a blockhead, for Corneille was infinitely greater.  I have no ear for metre or trivialities of the kind, but I can sympathise with the spirit of poetry, and I am conscious that Corneille is far the greatest of poets.  I would have made him my prime minister had he had the good fortune to live in my epoch.  It is his intellect which I admire, his knowledge of the human heart, and his profound feeling.  Are you writing anything at present?’

‘I am writing a tragedy upon Henry IV., sire.’

’It will not do, sir.  It is too near the present day, and I will not have politics upon the stage.  Write a play about Alexander.  What is your name?’

He had pitched upon the same person whom he had already addressed.

‘I am still Gretry, the musician,’ said he meekly.

The Emperor flushed for an instant at the implied rebuke.  He said nothing, however, but passed on to where several ladies were standing together near the door of the card-room.

‘Well, madame,’ said he to the nearest of them, ’I hope you are behaving rather better.  When last I heard from Paris your doings were furnishing the Quartier St. Germain with a good deal of amusement and gossip.’

‘I beg that your Majesty will explain what you mean,’ said she with spirit.

‘They had coupled your name with that of Colonel Lasalle.’

‘It is a foul calumny, sire.’

’Very possibly, but it is awkward when so many calumnies cluster round one person.  You are certainly a most unfortunate lady in that respect.  You had a scandal once before with General Rapp’s aide-de-camp.  This must come to an end.  What is your name?’ he continued, turning to another.

‘Mademoiselle de Périgord.’

‘Your age?’

‘Twenty.’

’You are very thin and your elbows are red.  My God, Madame Boismaison, are we never to see anything but this same grey gown and the red turban with the diamond crescent?’

‘I have never worn it before, sire?’

’Then you had another the same, for I am weary of the sight of it.  Let me never see you in it again.  Monsieur de Remusat, I make you a good allowance.  Why do you not spend it?’

‘I do, sire.’

’I hear that you have been putting down your carriage.  I do not give you money to hoard in a bank, but I give it to you that you may keep up a fitting appearance with it.  Let me hear that your carriage is back in the coach-house when I return to Paris.  Junot, you rascal, I hear that you have been gambling and losing.’

‘The most infernal run of luck, sire,’ said the soldier, ’I give you my word that the ace fell four times running.’

’Ta, ta, you are a child, with no sense of the value of money.  How much do you owe?’

‘Forty thousand, sire.’

’Well, well, go to Lebrun and see what he can do for you.  After all, we were together at Toulon.’

‘A thousand thanks, sire.’

’Tut!  You and Rapp and Lasalle are the spoiled children of the army.  But no more cards, you rascal!  I do not like low dresses, Madame Picard.  They spoil even pretty women, but in you they are inexcusable.  Now, Josephine, I am going to my room, and you can come in half an hour and read me to sleep.  I am tired to-night, but I came to your salon, since you desired that I should help you in welcoming and entertaining your guests.  You can remain here, Monsieur de Laval, for your presence will not be necessary until I send you my orders.’

And so the door closed behind him, and with a long sigh of relief from everyone, from the Empress to the waiter with the négus, the friendly chatter began once more, with the click of the counters and the rustle of the cards just as they had been before he came to help in the entertainment.