French.”
From Ghent we went to Antwerp, where we were received with a special ceremony. On occasions of visits from kings and princes, the people of Antwerp are in the habit of parading through their streets a giant, who never makes his appearance except on such solemn festivals. Although we were neither king nor prince, we were obliged to yield to the people’s wish in this matter, and it put Bonaparte in good humor with the town of Antwerp. He occupied himself much while there with the important extension which he designed for its harbor, and gave orders for the commencement of the great works which have since been executed there.
On the way from Antwerp to Brussels we stopped at Malines for a few hours, and there we saw the new Archbishop, M. de Roquelaure. He was Bishop of Senlis under Louis XVI., and had been the intimate friend of my great-uncle, the Count de Vergennes. I had seen a great deal of him in my childhood, and I was glad to meet him again. Bonaparte talked to him in a very insinuating manner. At this period he affected great esteem for the priests, and care for their interests. He knew how steadily religion supports royalty, and he hoped that through the priests he might get the people taught that catechism which we have since seen, in which all who did not love and obey the Emperor were threatened with eternal condemnation. For the first time since the Revolution, the clergy found the Government occupying itself with their welfare, and giving them rank and consideration. They showed themselves grateful, and were useful to Bonaparte until the moment came when he endeavored to impose his ever-growing despotism on their consciences, and the priests had to choose between him and their duty. At this time, however, the words, “He has reëstablished religion,” were in every pious mouth, and told immensely in his favor.
Our entry into Brussels was magnificent. Several fine regiments awaited the First Consul at the gate, where he mounted his horse. Mme. Bonaparte found a superb carriage, presented to her by the city, awaiting her; the streets were lavishly decorated, cannon were fired, the bells were rung; the numerous clergy were assembled in great pomp on the steps of all the churches; there was an immense crowd of the population, and also many foreigners, and the weather was beautiful. I was enchanted. Our stay in Brussels was a succession of brilliant fêtes. The French ministers, Consul Le Brun, the envoys from the foreign courts who had business to arrange, came to meet us there. At Brussels I heard M. de Talleyrand reply in an adroit and flattering manner to a question suddenly put to him by Bonaparte, who asked him how he had so rapidly made his great fortune? “Nothing could be more simple,” replied M. de Talleyrand; “I bought stock on the 17th Brumaire, and I sold it again on the 19th.”
One Sunday we were to visit the cathedral in great state. M. de Rémusat went early in the morning to the church, to arrange the ceremony. He had been directed not to object to any honor which the clergy might propose to pay to the First Consul on this occasion. As, however, it was arranged that the priests should go to the great doors with the canopy and the cross to receive the First Consul, a question arose whether Mme. Bonaparte was to share this distinction with him, and Bonaparte did not venture to bring her so prominently forward. She was, therefore, placed in a tribune with the Second Consul. At twelve o’clock, the hour agreed upon, the clergy left the altar, and proceeded to the grand entrance of the magnificent Church of Sainte Gudule. They awaited the arrival of the First Consul, but he did not appear. At first they were astonished, then alarmed; but they presently perceived that he had slipped into the church, and seated himself on the throne which was prepared for him. The priests, surprised and disconcerted, returned to the sanctuary, and commenced divine service. The fact was, just as he was setting out, Bonaparte was told that, at a similar ceremony, Charles V. had preferred to enter the Church of Sainte Gudule by a little side-door which had ever after been called by his name; and it seemed he had taken a fancy to use the same entrance, hoping, perhaps, that henceforth it would be called the door of Charles V. and of Bonaparte.
One morning the numerous and magnificent regiments which had been brought to Brussels were reviewed by the Consul, or, as on this occasion I ought to call him, the General. His reception by the troops was nothing short of rapturous. It was well worth seeing how he talked to the soldiers—how he questioned them one after the other respecting their campaigns or their wounds; taking particular interest in the men who had accompanied him to Egypt. I have heard Mme. Bonaparte say that her husband was in the constant habit of poring over the list of what are called the cadres of the army, at night, before he slept. He would go to sleep repeating the names of the corps, and even those of some of the individuals who composed them; he kept those names in a corner of his memory, and this habit came to his aid when he wanted to recognize a soldier, and to give him the pleasure of a cheering word from his General. He spoke to the subalterns in a tone of good fellowship, which delighted them all, as he reminded them of their common feats of arms. Afterward, when his armies became so numerous, when his battles became so deadly, he disdained to exercise this kind of fascination. Besides, death had extinguished so many remembrances, that in a few years it became difficult for him to find any great number of the companions of his early exploits; and, when he addressed his soldiers before leading them into battle, it was as a perpetually renewed posterity, to which the preceding and destroyed army had bequeathed its glory. But even this somber style of encouragement availed for a long time with a nation which believed itself to be fulfilling its destiny while sending its sons year after year to die for Bonaparte.
I have said that Bonaparte took great pleasure in recalling his campaign in Egypt; it was, indeed, his favorite theme of discourse. He had taken with him, on the journey I am describing, M. Monge the savant, whom he had made a senator, and whom he liked particularly, for the sole reason that he was among the number of the members of the Institute who had gone with him to Egypt. Bonaparte often talked to him of that expedition—“that land of poetry,” he would say, “which was trodden by Cæsar and Pompey.” He would speak with enthusiasm of the time when he appeared before the amazed Orientals like a new Prophet; for the sway he exercised over imagination, being the most complete of all, he prized more highly than any other. “In France,” he said, “one must conquer everything at the point of demonstration. In Egypt we did not require our mathematics; did we, Monge?”
It was at Brussels that I began to get accustomed to M. de Talleyrand, and to shake off the earlier impression made by his disdainful manner and sarcastic disposition. The idleness of a court life makes the day seem a hundred hours long, and it happened that we often passed many of those hours together in the salon, waiting until it should please Bonaparte to come in or to go out. It was during one of these weary waits that I heard M. de Talleyrand complain that his family had not realized any of the plans he had formed for them. His brother, Archambault de Périgord, had just been sent into exile for having indulged in the sarcastic language common to the family. He had, however, applied it to persons of rank too high to be ridiculed with impunity, and he had also offended by refusing to give his daughter in marriage to Eugène de Beauharnais, to whom he had preferred Count Just de Noailles. M. de Talleyrand, who was quite as anxious as Mme. Bonaparte that his niece should marry Beauharnais, blamed his brother’s conduct severely, and I could perfectly understand that such an alliance would have been advantageous to his personal policy. One of the first things that struck me, when I had talked for a little while with M. de Talleyrand, was the entire absence of any kind of illusion or enthusiasm on his part with regard to all that was passing around us. Every one else was more or less under the influence of feelings of this kind. The implicit obedience of the military officers might easily pass for zeal, and, in the case of some of them, it really was devotion. The ministers affected or felt profound admiration; M. Maret paraded his worship of the First Consul on every occasion; Berthier was happy in the sincerity of his attachment; in short, every one seemed to feel something. M. de Rémusat tried to like his post, and to esteem the man who had conferred it on him. As for myself, I cultivated every opportunity of emotion and of self-deception; and the calm indifference of M. de Talleyrand amazed me. “Good heavens!” I said to him on one occasion, “how is it possible that you can live and work without experiencing any emotion either from what passes around us, or from your own actions?” “Ah! what a woman you are, and how young!” he replied: and then he began to ridicule me, as he did every one else. His jests wounded my feelings, yet they made me laugh. I was angry with myself for being amused, and yet, because my vanity was pleased at my own comprehension of his wit, less shocked than I ought to have been at the hardness of his heart. However, I did not yet know him, and it was not till much