not long be a secret to anybody. I was in the embarrassing position of a confidant without influence over the person who confided in me, and I could not but appear to be mixed up in the quarrels which I witnessed. Bonaparte thought that one woman must enter eagerly into the feelings of another, and he showed some annoyance at my being made aware of the facts of his private life.
Meantime, the ugly actress grew in favor with the public of Paris, and the handsome one was frequently received with hisses. M. de Rémusat endeavored to divide patronage equally between the two; but whatever he did for the one or for the other was received with equal dissatisfaction, either by the First Consul or by the public.
These petty affairs gave us a good deal of annoyance. Bonaparte, without confiding the secret of his interest in the fair actress to M. de Rémusat, complained to my husband, saying that he would not object to my being his wife’s confidant, provided I would only give her good advice. My husband represented me as a sensible person, brought up with a great regard for propriety, and who would be most unlikely to encourage Mme. Bonaparte’s jealous fancies. The First Consul, who was still well disposed toward us, accepted this view of my conduct; but thence arose another annoyance. He called upon me to interfere in his conjugal quarrels, and wanted to avail himself of what he called my good sense against the foolish jealousy of which he was wearied. As I never could conceal my real sentiments, I answered quite sincerely, when he told me how weary he was of all these scenes, that I pitied Mme. Bonaparte very much, whether she suffered with or without cause, and that he, above all persons, ought to excuse her; but, at the same time, I admitted that I thought it undignified on her part to endeavor to prove the infidelity which she suspected by employing her servants as spies on her husband. The First Consul did not fail to tell his wife that I blamed her in this respect, and then I was involved in endless explanations between the husband and the wife, into which I imported all the ardor natural to my age, and also the devotion and attachment which I felt for both of them. We went through a constant succession of scenes, whose details have now faded from my memory, and in which Bonaparte would be at one time, imperious, harsh, excessively suspicious, and at another, suddenly moved, tender, almost gentle, atoning with a good grace for the faults he acknowledged but did not renounce.
I remember one day, in order to avoid an awkward tête-à-tête with Mme. Bonaparte, he made me remain to dinner. His wife was just then very angry, because he had declared that henceforth he would have a separate apartment, and he insisted that I should give my opinion on this point. I was quite unprepared to answer him, and I knew that Mme. Bonaparte would not readily forgive me if I did not decide in her favor. I tried to evade a reply; but Bonaparte, who enjoyed my embarrassment, insisted. I could find no other way out of the difficulty than by saying that I thought anything which might make people think the First Consul was altering his manner of living would give rise to injurious reports, and that the least change in the arrangements of the château would inevitably be talked about. Bonaparte laughed, and, pinching my ear, said, “Ah! you are a woman, and you all back each other.”
Nevertheless, he carried out his resolution, and from that time forth occupied a separate apartment. His manner toward his wife, however, became more affectionate after this breeze, and she, on her side, was less suspicious of him. She adopted the advice which I constantly urged upon her, to treat such unworthy rivalry with disdain. “It would be quite time enough to fret,” I said, “if the Consul chose one of the women in your own society; that would be a real grief, and for me a serious annoyance.” Two years afterward my prediction was only too fully realized, especially as regarded myself.
Bonaparte liked women to dress well,
and, either, from policy or from taste,
he encouraged his wife and sisters to do so.
CHAPTER II
(1803.)
Bonaparte appeared to derive great amusement from these literary controversies. At one time he even thought of inviting certain men of letters to come twice a week to Mme. Bonaparte’s receptions, so that he might enjoy their conversation. M. de Rémusat, who was acquainted with a number of distinguished men in Paris, was directed to invite them to the château. Accordingly, one evening, several academicians and well-known literary men were invited. Bonaparte was in a good humor that night; he talked very well, and allowed others to talk; he was agreeable and animated. I was charmed to see him make himself so agreeable. I was very anxious that he should make a favorable impression on persons who had not previously known him, and thus defeat certain prejudices which prevailed against him. When he chose, he could exhibit keen judgment, as he did, for instance, in appraising the worth of the old Abbé Morellet’s intellect. Morellet was a straightforward, positive man, who proceeded in argument from fact to fact and would never admit the power of the imagination on the progress of human ideas. Bonaparte delighted in upsetting this system. Allowing his imagination to take any flight it wished—and in the Abbé’s presence it carried him far—he broached all kinds of subjects, gave full flight to his ideas, was highly amused at the bewilderment of the Abbé, and was really very entertaining.
The next day he spoke with pleasure of the previous evening, and said he would like to have many such. A similar reception was therefore fixed for a few days later. Somebody (I forget who) began to talk with much animation about liberty of thought and speech, and the advantages which they secure to nations. This led to a discussion considerably less free than on the former occasion, and the Consul maintained a silence which seemed to paralyze the company. On the third evening he came in late, was absent and gloomy, and spoke only a few unconnected sentences. Every one was silent and constrained; and the next day the First Consul told us that he saw there was nothing to be made of these men of letters, nothing to be gained by admitting them to intimacy, and he did not wish they should be invited again. He could not bear any restraint, and being obliged to appear affable and in a good humor on a certain day and at a certain hour was a yoke which he hastened to shake off.
During that winter two distinguished academicians, MM. de la Harpe and de Saint-Lambert, died. I regretted the latter very much, because I was exceedingly attached to Mme. d’Houdetot, whose intimate friend he had been for forty years, and at whose house he died. This delightful old lady received all the best and most agreeable society of Paris. I was a constant visitor at her house; there I found the revival of a day which then seemed lost beyond recall—I mean that in which people conversed in an agreeable and instructive manner. Mme. d’Houdetot, whose age and disposition alike kept her aloof from all political parties, enjoyed the repose that the country was enjoying, and profited by it to collect all that remained of Parisian good society at her house. They came willingly to tend and to amuse her old age. To go to her house was a relief from the restraint under which I lived at the Tuileries, partly from the example of others and partly from the experience which I was beginning to acquire.
About this time a rumor rose that war with England was likely to