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 Ségur, 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 Loméne, 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 Marnésia, and as the beautiful Madame de Canisy."

The Duchess of Abrantès, 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 Rémusat, 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 Glück'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 Masséna 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 Abbé 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 Abrantès, "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 Sèvres 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 Bruyère 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 Abrantès, 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 Rémusat, 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.