PROMULGATION OF THE CONSTITUTION.

Apathy of the people-Temporary building in front of the Hôtel des Invalides-Pont de Jena--Policy of Napoleon regarding Fouché-Procession to the Champ de Mars--Peculiar accoutrements of a regiment of cavalry--Reflections on some points in the history of Napoleon-His mistake in changing the republican into a monarchical government-Coaches of ceremony of the French noblesse and officers of state-The Emperor's liberality to various members of his courtHis personal dejection on this day-Rejoicings succeeding the PromulgationSuperiority of the French in matters of embellishment-Gratuitous distribution of provisions and wine-Politeness of the lower orders of French-Display of fire-works-Mr. Hobhouse's Second Reign of Napoleon.

THE promulgation of the new Articles of the Constitution by Napoleon, at the Champ de Mars, promised to elicit much of the public sentiment. For my own part, I conceived that it would be the true touchstone of Parisian political feeling; but in that idea I was greatly disappointed.

It was natural to suppose that the modification of a constitution, by a nearly depotic monarch, whereby his own power would be greatly contracted, would, even under Napoleon's circumstances, be considered one of the measures best calculated to propitiate a long-tramelled population. But, in fact, the thing assumed no such character; the spectacle seemed, indeed, of the utmost value to the Parisians; but the constitution of little, if any. They had never possessed any regular constitution, and, I really think, had no settled or digested ideas upon the subject.

The extraordinary splendour of the preparations for this ceremony, and the admixture of civil and military pomp, were to me very interesting. The temporary buildings thrown up for the occasion might, it is true, be denominated tawdry; yet, strangely enough, there is no other people except the French who can deck out such gewgaws with any thing like corresponding taste and effect.

The scene was on an immense scale. In an inconceivably short time, and almost as if by the effect of magic, a sort of amphitheatre was constructed in front of the Hôtel des Invalides, and which was of magnitude sufficient to contain about 15,000 persons. In the centre arose an altar similar to those

provided, in ancient sacrifices, for the sacred fire to descend upon; and at this altar, Cardinal Cambaceres presided. A great proportion of the front of the hospital was covered with crimson velvet, and the imperial throne was placed on the platform of the first story, facing the altar: around it were seats for the princes. I was not present at the actual ceremony within the great temporary edifice.

I had on the occasion of the inauguration, (as already stated) fully satisfied myself as to the demeanour both of the Emperor and the senators; but I had not seen the grand cortege which had preceded; and on this occasion, as it was to be much more of a military procession, and the Emperor's last public appearance before he joined the army to decide the fate of Europe, I was desirous of witnessing the spectacle, and accordingly engaged a window on the quay for my family, in a house close to the Pont de Jena, over which the whole must pass on its way to the Hôtel des Invalides. We had thence a close and full view of the Champ de Mars, of the Amphitheatre, and of the artificial mount whence the Constitution was to be proclaimed by the Emperor in person to the people.

Napoleon well knew the great importance of leaving a strong impression on the public feeling. His posting from the coast to the Tuilleries without interruption was the most extraordinary event in history, ancient or modern: but it was not immediately followed up by any unusual circumstance, or any very splendid spectacle to rouse or gratify Parisian volatility. The retired official life of the Emperor after his return (necessarily absorbed in business night and day) had altogether excited little or no stir, and still less expression of public feeling in the metropolis: in fact, the Parisians did not seem to feel so much interest about the state of affairs as they would have done upon the most unimportant occurrences: they made light of every thing except their pleasure, which always was and always will be the god of Paris: and never was any deity more universally and devoutly worshipped! The King's flight to Ghent was then as little thought of or regarded as if he had gone to St. Cloud; and Napoleon's arrival made as little stir as Louis's departure. But the Emperor was now about to go to battle; was well aware of the treachery which surrounded him, and that on his success or discomfiture depended its explosion. He determined, therefore, as he had not time to counteract, to dissemble: and I have no doubt that to this circumstance alone Fouché knew he owed his existence. The month preceding Napoleon's departure from Paris, he became thoroughly acquainted with the intrigues of his minister; and I firmly beVOL. II.

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lieve that each was determined on the destruction of the other upon the first feasible opportunity, as the only means of securing himself. I do believe that Fouché would not have survived Bonaparte's successful return more than four-and-twenty hours, and I equally believe that Fouché had actually meditated, and made some progress in providing for, Napoleon's assassination. I made up my mind on these points, not from any direct information, but from a process yclept by our great grandmother's spelling and putting together; and if the reader will be good enough to bear in mind what I told him respecting the society at Dr. Marshall's, as well as the intelligence acquired by my servant Thevenot, he will not be at a loss to understand how I got at my materials.

In truth, the army alone, I suspect, was sincerely attached to the reinstated monarch. By his soldiers Bonaparte was, in every part of his career, almost worshipped. They seemed to regard him rather as a demigod; and nobody could be deceived as to their entire devotion to the divinity which they had set up. But it was not so with the civil ranks of Paris.

I should tire myself and readers, were I to describe the almost boyish anxiety which I felt when the firing of the ordnance announced the first movement of the Emperor from the Tuilleries to the Champ de Mars. I shall leave to the supposition of the reader the impression I received from the passing of the cortège. Let him picture to himself an immense army pouring along the spacious quays of Paris, in battalions and squadrons:-the enthusiasm of the soldiers, the bright cuirasses, the multitude of waving plumes,-the magnificence of the marshals and their staff:-these, set off by the glowing sun, combined to implant in the mind of a person unaccustomed to such a sight the idea of almost certain victory.

What struck me most, was the appearance of a splendid, but not numerous regiment, in the costume of Turkish cavalry, mounted upon small barbs and dashingly accoutred: their officers rode, for the most part, piebald horses, many of which were caparisoned with breast armour, and decked with gaudy trappings. The uniform of the men was scarlet, with green Cossack trowsers, immense turbans, and high plumes of feathers; the whole ornamented and laced in as splendid and glittering a style as ingenuity could dictate: their stirrups were foot-boards; and they had very crooked sabres and long lances. I believe these men were accoutred en Mamelück, and I mention them the more particularly, because I believe they did not go to Waterloo-at least not in that uniform. In calling to my recollection this superb scene, the hundred bands of

martial music seem even at this moment to strike my ear. It seemed as if every instrument in Paris was in requisition!The trumpets and kettle-drums of the gaudy heralds; the deep sackbuts; the crashing cymbals; and the loud gongs of the splendid Mamelukes,-bewildered both the ear and the imagination: at first they astonished, then gratified, and at length fatigued me. About the centre of this procession, appeared its' principal object-who, had he lived in times of less fermentation, would, in my opinion, have been a still greater statesman than he was a warrior. It is indisputable that it was Bonaparte who definitively freed the entire continent of Europe from that democratic mania, of all other tyrannies the most cruel, savage, and unrelenting; and which was still in full, though less rapid progress, when he, by placing the diadem of France on his own brow, restored the principle of monarchy to its vigour, and at one blow overwhelmed the many-headed monster of revolution.

It has been the fashion, in England, to term Napoleon a "Corsican usurper." We should have recollected Paoli before we reproached him for being a Corsican, and we should have recurred to our own annals before we called him a usurper.— He mounted a throne which had long been vacant; the decapitation of Louis, in which he could have had no concern, had completely overwhelmed the dynasty of Bourbon, and Napoleon in a day re-established that monarchical form of government which we had, with so much expense of blood and treasure, been for many years unsuccessfully attempting to restore. I cannot avoid repeating this pointed example of our own inconsistency. We actually made peace and concluded treaties with Napoleon Bonaparte when he was acting as a republican (the very species of government against which we had so long combated;) and we refused to listen to his most pacific demonstrations when he became a monarch! *

This has I confess been a sad digression: but when I call to mind that last scene of Bonaparte's splendour, I cannot altogether separate from it the prior portion of his history and that of Europe. I have mentioned, that about the centre of the cortége the Emperor and his court appeared. It was the custom in France for every person of a certain rank to keep a sort of state-coach gaudily gilded and painted, and, in addition

Another observation I cannot but make on this subject-As events have turned out, Napoleon only sat down on the throne of France to keep it for the Bourbons. Had he remained a republican, as when we acknowledged and made peace with him, the names of the whole family of Louis Capet would still have appeared on the pension list of England.

to the footmen, a chasseur to mount behind, dressed en grande toilette, with huge mustaches, immense feathers in his hat, and a large sabre depending from a broad-laced belt, which crossed his shoulder:-he was generally a muscular, fine-looking man, and always indicated rank and affluence in his master. Napoleon liked this state to be preserved by all his ministers, &c. He obliged every man in office to appear at court and in public according to the station he held; and instances were not wanting where the Emperor, having discovered that an officer of rank had not pecuniary means to purchase a coach of ceremony, had made him a present of a very fine one. He repeatedly paid the debts of several of his marshals and generals, when he thought their incomes somewhat inadequate ; and a case has been mentioned, where a high officer of his household had not money to purchase jewels for his wife, of Napoleon ordering a set to be presented to her with an injunction to wear them at Court.

On this day he commanded the twelve mayors of Paris to appear in their carriages of ceremony; and, to do them justice, they were gilt and caparisoned as finely as time and circumstances could admit. Bonaparte himself sat alone, in a state coach with glass all round it: his feathers bowed deeply over his face, and consequently little more than the lower parts of it were quite uncovered. Whoever has marked the countenance of Napoleon must admit it to have been one of the most expressive ever created. When I say this, I beg to to be understood as distinguishing it entirely from what is generally called an expressive countenance-namely, one involuntarily and candidly proclaiming the feelings whereby its proprietor is actuated: the smile or the look of scorn-the blush, or the tear, serving not unfrequently to communicate matters which the lips would have kept secret. Though that species of expressive countenance may be commonly admired, it is often inconvenient, and would be perfectly unbefitting a king, a courtier, a gambler, an ambassador, or, in short, a man in any station of life which renders it incumbent on him to keep his countenance. The lower portion of Bonaparte's face (as I have mentioned in speaking of my first glance at it) was the finest I think I ever saw, and peculiarly calculated to set the feelings of others on speculation, without giving any decided intimation of his own. On the day of the promulgation it occurred to me, and to my family likewise, as we saw him pass slowly under our window, that the unparalleled splendour of the scene failed in arousing him from that deep dejection which had apparently seized him ever since his return to