A DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION CATHERINE MMM t A DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION I'lllLirPINli MAKIK-Htl.F.NK UE FKANCK (MADAME ELIZABETH) SISTER OK LOl'IS XVI. (1764-1794). (Portrait by Madame Vigee Le Brim.) A DAUGHTER OF THE REVOLUTION A LEADER OE SOCIETY AT NAPOLEON'S COURT By Catherine M. Bearne Author of " Early Valois Queens," " Pictures of the Old French Court," " The Cross of Pearls " NEW YORK E. P. BUTTON AND COMPANY 31 WEST TWENTY-THIRU STREET 1904. THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO MY HUSBAND ruiNTKI) IN (iREAT HKITAIN] THE TLILKRIliS. PREFACE IT has always seemed to me that Laura Permon, afterwards the wife of General Junot and Duchesse d'Abrantes, was one of the most interesting women who belonged to the Court of Napoleon I. And owing to the literary pursuits of her later years the story of her eventful life, filled from beginning to end with romance and achcnturc, can be told and realised more full}- than is usual in such cases. It was a stormy, brilliant career, chequered with good and evil fortune, poverty and splendour, perils and triumphs ; but it was never dull, h^or ciniiii she had neither time nor inclination. When her fortune disappeared with her husband's death and the downfall of the Empire, she turned her attention to literature, and besides various novels, several of which had at the time a considerable popularit}-, she wrote those voluminous and de- viii PREFACE Hghtful memoirs to which she owes her lasting reputation as an author. The first edition, in eighteen volumes, treating of the Revolution, the Directory, the Consulate, and the Empire, was published at Brussels in 183 1-4; a second edition in twelve volumes was published at Paris in 1835. In 1835-7 she wrote the Memoirs of the Restora- tion, also published in Brussels in seven volumes. From these are chiefly drawn the materials for this book ; but I am also indebted to various other works of that time, such as " Memoires sur la vie privce de Napoleon," by Constant, "Memoires de La Harpe," " Les rois freres de Napoleon," Napier's " Peninsular War," and other books of the kind. As this book is intended for the " general reader," who, as a rule, does not care to wade through long descriptions or many volumes, I have endeavoured to leave out anything he might consider dry or tedious, and to compress into a single volume the most interesting portions of the life of my heroine and the most important events in which she was concerned. With regard to the way French names should be written in English books, although, as Mr. Wakeman observes,^ it must be to a certain extent a matter of custom, the names of countries, capitals, and a few other universally known places being always translated, I cannot agree with that most delightful historian that this practice should be extended to the names of ordinary places and of persons. To me this entirely destroys the harmony of a book, for ' " The Ascendancy of France," Preface. PREFACE ix after all a man's name is part of himself If he is French or German or Italian, his name is not IIcnr>' or Frederick or Charles, but Henri or Friederich or Carlo, as the case may be. I have even seen the noble, picturesque name of "Louis" transformed into "Lewis"! In "Henry of Conde," "Anthony (jf Bourbon," or "Henry of the Rochejaquelein," I fail to recognise "Henri de Conde," " Antoine de Bour- bon," and " Henri de La Rochejacjuelein," nor could I ever quite realise " Lorenzo dei Medici " as " Lawrence of the Medicis " or " Masaniello " as " Thomas Lamb." The names of Laura, Laure, or Laurette all go well with the French" Junot " and Portuguese "Abrantes." That of Napoleon is, of course, an exception. I have kept the Italian "Buonaparte" throughout, though it was Frenchified by Napoleon, who dis- liked the idea that he was not of French parentage. THE STOKMIXG OF THE UASTILLE. THE BAKKICADEb. THE LOrVRK. CONTENTS PREKACE I'AGK vii CHAPTER I. 1784-17S9. Madame Pernion— Her l)eauly, royal descent, marriage, and Corsican home — Intimacy with the Buonaparte family — Birth of Laura — Life in Paris before the Revolution — Napoleon and Marianne Buonaparte — A banquet of evil omen — The beiiinnintr of the Rexolution ..... CHAl'TKR IL 1791. The Terror — Escape of M. and Madame Permon — Horrible scenes — Albert, Cecile, and Laura Life at Toulouse — Marriage of Cecile . . . . . .20 xii CONTEMTS CHAPTER III. 1793-1795- PAGE Return to Paris — The Comte de Pcrigord saved by his valet — State of society — Friendship of Napoleon — Alarming ad- venture in a mob — Violent scenes in Paris— Fall of the "Montagne" — An unwelcome guest — A terrible danger — Escape to Montpellier . . . . .42 CHAPTER IV. 1795-179^- Return to Paris — Renewed disturbances — Death of M. Permon — The rising star of Napoleon — His proposals to " Madame Permon — Quarrel between them — Death of Cecile — The first Confirmation and Communion since the Terror — Enthusiasm of the people . . . . .69 CHAPTER V. 1 798-1800. Triumphs of Napoleon in Italy — His kindness to Albert — Rejoicings and /c/es at Paris — The brothers and sisters of Napoleon — Josephine — Madame Permon's l^all — Pauline and Caroline . . . . . . .84 CHAPTER VI. 1800. The chauffeurs — Their fearful crimes — A midnight attack — General Junot — Betrothal of Laura — Generosity of Napoleon — Laura insists upon being married in church — Her wedding 95 CIIAl'TI'.R \TI. 1800. The faiiboitri; St. Germain and the new society — A mixed party — Extraordinary manners — Indignation of Madame Permon 123 COXTFXTS xiii CIIAI'TKk \ni. 1800. I'AGE I^ura presented at the Tiiileries — The Kirsl Consul — >Tadanie Permon's invitations — Her hall — Napoleon present — His conversation with her — His conijilaints of lerome . . 131 CIIAI'TKK IX. iSoo. The Consular Court — Josephine and M . Charles — Jealousy and injustice of Napoleon — Murat — His marriage to Caroline Buonaparte — A military parade — Lucien Buonaparte — Napoleon and Madame ?"oures — Attempt to assassinate Napoleon — Santerre ...... 144 CHAITKR X. iSoi. La Malmai.son — The tailor's ])ill — Marriage of Louis Buonaparte and Hortense de Beauharnai.s — Napoleon and Laura — The theatricals of Count Louis de Cobentzel . .160 ClIAl'TKR XI. 1801-1S02. Adventure of Michau the actor — An unlucky joke — " We have lost Egj'pt" — Laura's first child — Ke-estahlishment of religion — Death of Madame I'ermon . . . 181 CHAPTER Xn. 1802. Folly and love affairs of Pauline Leclcrc — Her courage at St. Domingo — Liaison of Napoleon — Treaty of Amiens — Birth of Laura's second daughter — Brilliant fCtes — The Cardinal's biretta . . . . . .190 CHAPTER XIII. 1S02-1804. Dejeuner and ball in the Champs-Elysees — A country house near Paris — Narrow escape of Laura and Caroline Murat — CONTENTS PACK The Consulate for Life — -Disputes between Napoleon and junot — War with England ..... 202 CHAPTER XI\". 1S04. Junot and Laura at Arras— Murder of the Due d'Enghien — — ?kIarmont and Davoust — ^Proclamation of the Empire — Napoleon at Arras — The Imperial Court — Elisa Bacciocchi — The Prince and Princess Borghese — Quarrels in the Buonaparte family — Coronation of Napoleon — ^Junot Am- bassador to Portugal — Parting festivities — New liaison of Napoleon — Departure of Junot and Laura — An old friend — Madrid — ^Journey to Lisbon — Jerome Buonaparte and his American wife ....... 220 CHAPTER X\'. 1805. Spanish brigands — The wood of the confessional — A nocturnal adventure — Lisbon — ^Splendour of Laura's entertainments — Her numerous friends — The garden of Bemfica — Summer at Cintra — War rumours — Illness of Laura — Departure of Junot — Trafalgar — Austerlitz — Laura returns to Paris . . 238 CHAPTER XVI. 1806. The household of Madame Mere — Junot Governor of I^arma — Laura remains at Paris — The love affairs of Pauline Ijorghese — Camillo, Prince Borghese — " The inheritance of tlie King our father" — ^Junot Governor of Paris . -251 CHAPTER XVH. 1 806- 1 807. The Chateau de Raincy— Life at Raincy— The war— Auerbach — Jena— Leipzig— Caroline Murat — Her intrigue with Junot — Remonstrances of Laura — Folly of Junot— Theatricals at La Malmaison— Death of the eldest son of Louis Buona- parte—Grief of Napoleon — His anger with Caroline and Junot on his return— Junot sent to Lisbon . . -265 COS' TEXTS XV CHAPTER Win. 1807. P.\(iE Princess Catherine of Wurteniberg— Her reception at Raincy — Her marriage with Jerome Huonaparte, King of Westphalia — The Duchesse de Chevreuse — Magnificence of the Court — Fontainebleau — Liaisons of Napoleon — Duroc antl Hortense — Meeting of Napoleon and Lucien — Violence and tyranny of Napoleon — Courage of Lucien — "I will not be your prefect" — Alarming rumours — Interview with Napoleon — Junot, Due d'Abrantcs ..... 2S2 CHAPTER XIX. 1 808-1810. A melancholy ball — A hurried journey — Meeting with Junot — " The seraglio of Junot" — Napoleon's treatment of Madame Rccamier — Illness of Junot and Laura — Cauterets — Hattles of Essling and Wagram — Fearful slaughter — Murmurs of the people — Divorce of Josephine — ^^funot and Laura go to Spain 305 CHAI'TER XX. Burgos — Valladolid — Narrow escapes of Junot — The horrors of war — News from France — The Empress Marie- Louise — ALassena — Ney — Laura left at Salamanca — Siege of Ciudad- Rodrigo — Don Julian — Ledesma— San-Felices-el-Crande— Dreadful hardships — Laura left at Ciudad-Rotlrigo — Terrible position — Brutality of general in command — Birth of a son — Continued hardships and dangers — ^^fourney to Salamanca — The forest of Matilla — Saved from Don Julian — ^Junot wounded — Wellington's letter — Toro — A Spanish convent — Escape from brigands — Return to France CHAI'TER XXL 1811-1S12. Joseph Buonaparte — Changes in society — Marie-Louise -More liaisons of Napoleon — ^Junot commands in Italy — Laura at CONTEXTS PAGE Aix-les-Bains — Fch' dn Lac at Geneva — Defeat at Salamanca — Laura returns to Paris — Growing discontent — Sinister rumours — Letters from Russia — False despatches — General consternation — Return of Napoleon — His harshness to Junot 352 CHAPTER XXH. 1S12-1813. Dreadful anxiety — Interview with Napoleon — Return of Junot — His despondency — Illness of Laura — Caricatures and Epi- grams — ^Junot Governor of Venice and lUyria — Battle of Liitzen — Death of Bessieres — ^^ Une ganache" — Death of Duroc — News of Junot's illness — Laura expects him^ at Geneva — He is taken to Burgundy — Laura gives birth to a dead child — Sees an apparition— Death of Junot — Heartless conduct of Napoleon — Laura in Paris — Brutality of Savary . 369 CHAPTER XXIII. 1813. Debts and difficulties — Friendship of Lavalette — Defeat of Leipzig — Approach of hostile armies — Departure of Napoleon — The last triumph — The vanishing Empire — Capitulation of Paris — Entrance of the Allies — Office of expiation — Abdi- cation of Napoleon — The Emperor Alexander^IIe visits Laura — Her salon — Wellington — J^Ietternich — Cathcart -- Bernadotte ....... 390 CHAPTER XXIV. 1814-1816. Cosmopolitan society in Paris — Wellington and Bliicher — Laura visits Josephine at La Malmaison — Napoleon's journey — Visits of the Emperor Ale.xander to Laura — Loss of all her estates — Her presentation at Court — An audience of Louis XVIII. — Laura gives a great dinner party — Departure of the Allies — Return of Napoleon — The Hundred days — The Restoration -The King of Portugal's Bible — The adventure of Stephanopoli ..... 409 COS'TKS'TS CIIAITKU X\\. 1S17-1S38. Illness of L;iura — Her journey lo Italy — Florence — I'rince Metternich — Dangers from brigands — -Terrible deeE TRIOMPHE. l.A MALMAISOX LIST OF ILLL STRATIONS PhII.II'I'INK-MaRIK-HkI.KNK I)K 1-'RAN'CK (CALI.Klt Madame Ei-izauki h), sistkr of Loris X\'I. ( I 764-1 794). {Portrait hx Madame Vigce Le Bruii) Frontispiece I'ACIK L/ETITIA BUOXAFARTK {jn'e RaAIOLIXO), MoTHl-.k l)F NaI'OLKOX. [Belliard) . . .12 Napoi.kon at Arcoi.a. {Gros) . . -71 JosKPHiNK, Empress OK 1""kance, ^^'l^■E of Napoleon I. {//ee Tascher de la Paoerh:), \\'ii/o\v of Alexandre, \'icomte de Beauharnais (1763- 18 14). {Belliard) . . .89 JuNOT, Governor of Paris and Due d"Ai;r antes . loS Eugene de Beauharnals, \'kerov of Iialn, Son OF Josephine . . . . ■ ^^3 XX LIST OF ILLUSTRATIO\^S I'ACE Joachim Murat, King of Naplks. (Gerard) . 149 Louis Buonapartk, Kino of Holland. {Gres^^orii/s) 163 Paulinp: Buonapartk, Princp:ss Borghesk. {Bel Hard) .191 Hortp:nsk de Bp:auharnais, Daughter of Jose- phine, AND Wife of Louis Buonaparte, King OK Holland. {Be/Hard) . . . 205 Elisa Buonaparte, Madame Bacciocchi, Grand Duchess of Tuscany. {Fntdho/i) . .226 Jerome Buonaparte, King of Westphalia. {Kinso/t) . 236 Laure Junot {;ur Permon), Duchesse d'Ap.rantes. {From a lif/iograp/i by Gavar/ii) . 247 Caroline Buonaparte, Wife of Murat, King of Naples . . . . . -274 LuciEN Buonaparte, Prince of Canino . . 293 M'"' Recamier. {Gerard) . . . .311 SouLT. {Rouillard) . . . . -33^ "L'Espoir de la Postkrite." The Emperor Napoleon, Empress Marie-Louise, and Kinc. OF Rome. {Roehu) .... 355 Josi'-.i'ii Bi'onaparte, Kino of Spain . . 396 Nev . . . . . . .421 Till-. DrriiKssi'; d'Adrantes in 1836. {Boilly) . 4^9 A LEADER OF SOCIETY AT NAPOLEON'S COURT CHAPTER I 1784-1789 LAURA PERMON was born at MontpelHer, 1784. Her father, Monsieur Pcrmon, wlio belonged to a family of fifUDicc, had started in life with neither birth, money, nor connections to push him on ; but by his intellectual gifts and many attractions had made for himself, while still young, a sufficient fortune and a good position. His wife, a beautiful Corsican of Greek descent, belonged to the noble family of Comnenus,"^ for several generations settled in that island. At Ajaccio he met and fell in love with her. He at that time ' The settlement was made in 1676. The district Oi Paoiiia was given to the Greek colony, whose chief, Constantine Comnenus, and his heirs, were looked upon as royal, wore violet and scarlet, and received peculiar honours from their clergy. They carried on a feud with the Corsicans for a hundred years. Their claim to royal blood was recognised at the Court of Louis XVI, 2 I 2 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1784-1789 held a post in the administration of the government of Corsica, which had just been transferred by the Genoese to France. After their marriage they left Corsica and lived in France for several years, at the end of which M. Permon was sent to America with the French troops that took part in the war against England. His wife, taking her children with her, returned to her mother, resolving to pass the time of their separation in the home of her childhood, that romantic, beautiful land with its southern sunshine, great forests, and snowy mountains, to which she was passionately attached. The head of her family was then her brother. Prince Demetrius Comnenus, and among the early friends with whom she renewed her intimacy was Lastitia Ramolino, now married to Charles Buona- parte, and the mother of several sons and daughters. During the absence of M. Permon, which lasted several years, these young people grew up in constant companionship with her own children. When her husband returned she accompanied him to Montpellier, where he had an appointment and where their youngest daughter, Laurette, was born. She was their fifth child, but they had lost two ; there remained their eldest son, Albert, then sixteen years old, and a daughter some years younger, named C6cile. The day after her confinement Madame Permon was seized with a terrible illness. For three months her sufferings were frightful, and the doctors could neither understand nor relieve them, when one morn- ing a peasant who had come with fruit and vegetables for the house, finding everybody in despair and 1 784- 1 789] AT X A PO LEON'S COURT 3 hearing what was the matter, desired to speak to M. Permon. " I do not want any reward," he said, " but from what your servants tell me, I think I know what is the matter with your wife, and if you like I will cure her in a week." On being questioned, he declared that his remed\- was not in the least dangerous, but that it was a very painful one. M. Permon sent for the doctors and consulted them. They advised him to allow the experiment to be tried, and Madame Permon having consented, the peasant departed for his own home and came back the next day with the herbs he had gathered. Mixing them with beer and flour into a sort of paste, he heated it in the oven and applied it to the part affected. As he had said, the pain it caused was frightful, but at the end of the week the invalid was cured, though still very weak. As for the child, she had entirely forgotten its existence. One day, however, four months after its birth, she was sitting on her balcony with her husband, when the nurse passed underneath carrying the baby, which had been carefully kept at a distance, as M. Permon feared that his wife's sufferings had made her take a dislike to it, and that that was the reason she never mentioned it. But with a sudden exclamation Madame Permon, in great agitation, asked her hus- band whether she had had a child and if that were it. Her delight on its being brought to her knew no bounds, and from that moment Laurette was her idol from whom she could never bear to be separated. In 1785 they established themselves at Paris, where M. Permon bought himself a place ^.s fcniiicr- 4 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [i 784-1 789 general. Cecile was educated in a convent, but Laurette was brought up at home. The Permons lived in a large hotel on the Qiiai Conti, went a great deal into society, and entertained at home, giving dinners on a certain day of every week, according to the prevailing custom. The salon of Madame Permon was very popular with their numerous friends, of whom the greater part belonged to the faiiboufg St. Gcrniam^ but amongst whom were also to be found officials of the Government, personages of " finance," scientific and literary men. Madame Permon was a strange mixture of talent and ignorance. She was even heard to declare that she had never read any book but " Telemaque," and yet was a thorough woman of the world, with manners and conversation as fascinating as her beaut}', possessing to perfection what Napoleon afterwards called "/'«r/ ele tenir salon." The old regime was rapidly drawing to a close ; already the dark clouds that were to usher in the new one were gathering on the horizon. It was a time of excitement and restless anxiety, people's minds were unsettled, there was a general feeling of uncertainty and changes to come ; while amongst the masses sullen anger and discontent were steadily growing and assuming a more threatening attitude. Society in I'rance was divided into opposite camps. Those who held to the old regime regarded with horror and dismay the new ideas and practices which seemed everywhere to be arising ; and to this party belonged for the most part the French nobles and gentlemen, the clergy, and the peasantry in some of the provinces, especially in the west. 1784-1789] AT XAPOLEOXS COURT 5 The party of the new regime was composed of many shades and varieties, the most violent and reckless of whom were advancint^ with rapid steps towards the Revolution. The moderate sections com- prised many persons who were discontented with the present state of things either from some private grievance or from philosophic or benevolent reasons ; whose ideal was a constitution like the English, which they vainly imagined possible to establish in France ; who hailed with delight the dawn, as they supposed, of liberty and fraternity, but would have shrunk with horror from the bloodshed and cruelt\- for which they were unconsciously paving the way. To one or other of these sections belonged a sprinkling of the more lax and freethinking of the clergy, a few nobles and gentlemen, either niauvais snjcts, like Orleans and Mirabeau, or generous young enthusiasts such as Noailles and Lafayette ; many literary men, most of the professional and mercantile classes, and the artisans, small shopkeepers, and other inhabitants of Paris and the larger towns, who after- wards formed the furious and bloodthirsty mobs of atrocious memor}'. During the first part of their life at Paris, Monsieur and Madame Permon held opinions directl\' opposite to those which might have been expected from their early associations. Although belonging to a simple bourgeois family without an\' claim to ancient blood, he was by nature and education a refined and culti- vated gentleman, with studious habits and quiet in- tellectual tastes. The manners, principles and aims of the revolutionary party were alike abhorrent to him. 6 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1784- 1789 She, on the contrary, noble by birth, but the wife of an official of finance, in spite of her social success occasionally met with some slight vexation or dis- advantage which irritated and induced her, like many other women in the same position, to join in desiring the abolition of privileges and distinctions of caste. With the growing spirit of atheism and blasphemy which characterised the revolutionary party, neither of the Permons had any sympathy. How deeply a large portion of French society was thus tainted may be gathered from the following account of a dinner-party given early in the year 1786 by a rich and learned member of the Academy to a large and brilliant circle of guests, including many of the most distinguished names in the social, political, and lite- rary world. The banquet was magnificent, and after applause had greeted the impious and licentious tales of Chamfort, the conversation became more and more animated, and amidst jests and laughter and the drinking of healths might be heard the praises of Voltaire and Diderot mingled with scoffs and gibes against religion. One man declared that he was as certain there was no God as that Homer was a fool ; another, with shouts of merriment, said that his barber, while powdering his hair, had remarked to him, " You see, sir, that although I am but a poor, miserable barber, I have no more religion than anybody else ? " It was agreed that the Revolution, which was to destroy superstition and fanaticism and establish the reign of pure reason, must be near at hand ; the older part of the company lamented the improbability of their living to enjoy it ; the younger rejoiced that 1 784-1 789] '1'^' NAPOLEO\'-S COURT 7 they were likely to have that i:)rivilege. One of the c^iiests, who had hitherto sat silent and pre-occupied, taking no part in what was going on, now rej^lied in a grave and decided tone — " Be satisfied, gentlemen, you will all see this great, sublime Revolution which you so much admire. You know that I am given to pro[jhecy — and I repeat that you will see it." " One need not be a conjuror to know that," was the retort. " That may be," replied the former, whose name was Cazotte, " but perhaps one must be a little more than a conjuror for what remains for me to tell you. Do you know what will be the consequence of this Revolution to all of you who are here present ? " " Ah ! " cried the infidel Condorcet with a con- temptuous smile ; " let us hear. A philosopher is not afraid of a prophet." " Monsieur de Condorcet, you will die on the floor of a prison, of poison which you will have taken to avoid execution^from poison which the Jiappiiicss of that time will oblige you to carry about }-our person." There was a moment's silence, after which it was recollected that Cazotte was knov/n to be a visionary, gifted with second-sight, professing to possess power to foretell the future. There was a general laugh, followed by exclamations against such gloomy prognostications. " What has filled your head with prisons and poisons and executions ? " cried one. " What has all that to do with the reign of reason and philosophy ? " " That is what I tell you. It is in the name of 8 A LEADER OE SOCIETY [1784-1789 philosophy — of humanity — of liberty, in the reign of reason that these things will happen to you ; and it will be the rei^n of reason indeed, for she will have her temples, and there will be no others in France." " jlfa/oi !" cried Chamfort, with a sarcastic laugh ; " you will not be one of their priests ! " " But j/ou will, M. de Chamfort ; and you will open your veins with twenty-two cuts of a razor, but you will not die till some months afterwards. You, M. Vicq d'Azir," he continued, turning to an eminent physician, " will not open your own veins, but you will cause yourself to be bled six times in one day during a paroxysm of gout, to make sure of your end, and you will die in the night. You, M. de Nicolai, M. Bailly, M. de Malesherbes, M. Roueler, will die on the scaffold " He was interrupted by a chorus of incredulity and disapproval. " Shall we then be conquered by Turks or Tartars ? " " Not at all. As I have told you, you will only be conquered by philosophy and reason. They who treat you so will all be philosophers with the self- same phrases upon their lips which you have been putting forth for the last hour. They will repeat all your maxims and quote Diderot and La Pucelle as you do." " He must have gone mad ! " whispered one. " Don't you see that he. is joking? " asked another. " And you know his jokes have always a good deal of the marvellous." " Yes ; but his marvellousness is not cheerful," said Chamfort, " it has too much of the gallows about it. And when will all this happen ? " 17H4-1789] ''^T NAPOLEOXS COURT 9 " Six years will not have passed before all that I have told you shall be accomplished." " Extraordinar\- miracles indeed ! Ikit you have not included me in \'our list," said La Harpe, who himself gives these details in his memoirs. "But you will be there as an equally astonishing miracle. You will be a Christian." " Ah, well ! I am comforted," observed Chamfort. " If we are only to perish when La Harjje is a Christian, we are immortal." In repl}- to the Duchesse de Grammont's remark that women were not likely to suffer in a revolution, he assured her that she would go to the scaffold, with many other ladies, in the cart of the executioner, with their hands tied behind them. " Ah ! I hope that in that case I shall have a carriage hung with black." " No, Madame ; higher ladies than you will go like you in the cart of the executioner with their hands tied behind their backs." "Higher ladies! What! the princesses of the blood ? " " Still more exalted personages." A sensation of terror fell upon the assembly, and the darkening countenance of the host proclaimed that the jest had gone too far. Wishing to appear indifferent to the growing apprehension, the Duchess said carelessly — " You see he will not even leave me a con- fessor." "No, Madame, you will not have one ; neither you nor any one besides. The last victim to whom this favour will be granted will be " lo A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1784-1789 " Well ! who then will be the happy mortal to whom that prerogative will be given ? " " It is the only one he will have retained," was the gloomy answer — " The King of France." ^ Every one rose hastily ; the master of the house, approaching Cazotte, remonstrated with him in a tone of deep emotion. Cazotte made no reply, but turned in silence to leave the room. As he did so, the Duchesse de Grammont observed that he had told them their fortunes but said nothing of his own ; whereupon he reminded her of the siege of Jerusalem and of the man who for seven days went round the ramparts crying, " Woe to Jerusalem ! woe to myself! " until a great stone struck and destroyed him. So saying, M. Cazotte bowed and retired. He perished as he had predicted, in the Revolution, He was arrested and liberated, but refused to share the joy of his family, telling them that in three days he should again be arrested and perish, which, like his other predictions, proved to be true. This extraordinary story is verified not only by La Harpe, but by the Comtesse de Beauharnais, Vicq d'Azir, and others who were present, by the son of Cazotte, and by Madame de Genlis and many others who heard it told before the Revolution. Laurette, or Loulou as she was called at home, was petted and spoiled by all her mother's friends who frequented the stately sa/on on the Cj/zaz Coiiti^ and who used to bring her presents of bon-bons and costly playthings. ' La llarpc : Maiioircs, vol. i., p. 63. I'aiis, 1806. 1784-17^^9] -''^' i\. I POL EON'S COURT 11 Amongst those whom she regarded with tlic greatest affection was the old Comtc de Pcrigord, who had been Governor of Languedoc and with whom Madame Permon had begun a friendship at MontpelHer whicli lasted for the rest of their lives. He was cordon bleu and a perfect specimen of the best type of a great French noble. His eldest son, the Prince de Chalais, resembled him. His younger son used to cause him much annoyance by a mania for everything English. He had been in England, ever since which he would have neither servants, horses, carriages, nor even saddles or whips that were not English, and although speaking the language very badly he would be heard, on leaving the theatre, to call out to his servants " Perigord House." The Comtesse de Perigord had been a beauty of the reign of Louis XV. That monarch fell in love with her and wanted to make her his mistress, but as she did not wish anything of the kind, she retired from Court until he had transferred his attentions to somebody else. Her daughter, the Duchesse de Mailly, was one of the ladies of Marie Antoinette. As soon as Madame Permon had established her- self at Paris, she made inquiries after Napoleon, the second son of her friend Madame Buonaparte, then at the Ecolc Militaire. Her brother. Prince Demetrius Comnenus, told her he had met him directly he arrived, and taken him home to dine. " I met him in the Palais-Rox'al," said Comnenus, " looking about him with his nose in the air — exactly the sort of figure to have his pocket picked. The lad seemed to me to be rather sullen and more conceited than is desirable. He declaims against the luxury of 12 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [i 784-1 789 the cadets, and talks about a memorial he wants to write on the subject and send to the Minister of War. All that will only make his companions I..KTirrA nuOXAPARTK (NEE RAMOLINO), RIOTHliR OK NAPOI.EOX. (Bclliarcl.) take a dislike to him and will probably lead to duels." Napoleon was, in fact, at this time an irritable, touchy, discontented lad ; unhappy on account of his 17H4-1789] '^T XAPOLEOX'S COUNT 13 poverty and inferior position in the college. His father had died at Montpellier in the house of the Permons, who had fetched him from the inn where he was staying and nursed him with the utmost kind- ness. Madame Buonaparte, left with eight children and very little money, was thankful to have her eldest daughter, Marianne, placed at Saint Cyr as " e/eve de Saint Loitis," and her son Napoleon in the Ecolc Militairc. Tlie brother and sister were boiirsicrSy educated at the expense of the State, and as at both these institutions there were children of noble and rich families who had plenty of pocket-money and everything they wanted, the contrast was often pain- ful, especially when there was a question of an\- subscription among the pupils. The Permons were very kind to them both. M. Permon, who knew all the authorities at the Acole JMilitaire, often got Napoleon leave to go out, and he was always welcome to spend as much time as he chose on the Qitai Conti with his friend Albert Permon, who was about his own age and at the same college. Madame Permon, whose attachment to Corsica and to her earl)- friends never varied, was anxious that her son should be intimate with Napoleon, but Albert, who had inherited the good qualities and charming manners of both his parents, at first assured them that it was impossible ; that in spite of all his attempts Napoleon remained cold and reserved and seemed embittered by his dependent position. His mother suggested that the fault might be in his way of going about it, but his father replied that he was not to blame, but that Napoleon, conscious that in Corsica the two families had been in the same 14 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1784-1789 position, fretted at the difference now between his own lot, a boursier at the college, poor and isolated, while Albert was well off, surrounded with indulgence, and constantly amongst his own relations. Madame Permon replied that if Napoleon's way of going on was caused by envy he must be a stupid, ill-con- ditioned boy ; but her husband observed that it was human nature, and that he was no worse than others. " Why has he been in a perpetual rage ever since he came to Paris ? Why is he always raving about the ' indecent luxury ' of his companions ? Because at every moment their position contrasts with his. He thinks it ridiculous that these young fellows should have servants because he has none ; he objects to entertainments because he cannot sub- scribe to them. I heard the other day from Dumarsay, the father of one of his companions, that a dejeuner was to be given to one of the masters, and that each of the pupils was to ^\v& a subscription much too large for those boys ; Napoleon is quite right there. Well, I went to see him and found him more gloomy than usual. I guessed why, so I offered to give him the sum required. He became first red, then pale, and refused." " You must have gone the wrong way about it," said Madame Permon. " Men are so awkward." " When I saw the boy's high spirit," continued her husband, " I invented a lie, for which God will doubt- less pardon me. I told him that when his father died in our arms at Montpellier he gave me some money to be given to him on any occasion when he might need it. He looked at me fixedly, and replied that since the money came from his father he would 1784-1789] •''^' NAPOI.EOX-S COURT 15 take it, but he could not have accepted a loan, as his mother had already too many expenses, which he ought not to increase for his own personal debts, especially if they were caused by the stupid folly of his companions." His sister was not so scrupulous. One day Madame Permon, her brother, Prince Comnenus, and Napoleon went to Saint Cyr to see Marianne. She came to the parloir looking very sad, and having evidently been crying. When asked what was the matter, her tears broke out afresh as she explained that a certain Mademoiselle de Montluc was going to leave school, and the other girls intended to give a sort of farewell luncheon part)' in her honour. Marianne had not enough money to pay her subscription like the rest. " I have only six francs left," she sobbed, " and my allowance won't be paid for six weeks. If I give the six francs I shall have nothing left ; besides, it is not enough." Napoleon made a movement to put his hand in his pocket, but recollecting that he had no money, he stopped, blushed, and stamped his foot impatiently on the ground. Madame Permon gave her the ten or twelve francs required, and when they were seated in the carriage on their way home, Napoleon broke into indignant remarks on the detestable management of the Government schools and colleges, such as Saint C)'r and the Rcolc Militairc ; and his language became so violent and abusive that Comnenus, who was naturally hasty, exclaimed, " Hold your tongue ! It is not your place, when }'ou are being educated by the charity of the King, to speak as you are doing." 1 6 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1784- 1789 Napoleon turned crimson and then pale, and in a voice trembling with anger replied — " I am not the pupil of the King, but of the State ! " "A fine distinction!" cried Comnenus. "What does it signify whether you are a pupil of the King or the State ? Besides, the King is the State, and I will not allow you to speak so of your benefactor before me." " I will say nothing to displease you, Monsieur de Comnenus," replied Napoleon, " only if I were master and made the regulations they would be altered for the general good." Long afterwards the Emperor Napoleon, who never forgot the mortifications of his youth, entirely reorganised the administration of the military schools. While he was at the college he was disliked both by his superiors and companions, who declared him to be so unsociable that it was impossible to make friends with him, and that he did nothing but grumble and find fault. The consequence was to hasten the time of his exchange from the college to a regiment. There was a unanimous entreaty for his departure, a sub-lieutenant's commission in an artillery regiment was given to him, and he was sent to Grenoble. Before he left Paris he spent some days with the I'ermons. Cccile, then a child of twelve or thirteen, was being educated at the Convent of the Dames de la Croix, but often came home for holidays. She and Laura, who was much younger, were in the room when he entered, wearing his uniform for the first 1 7^4-1 7^9] -iT NAPOLEOX'S COURT 17 time with pride and delii^ht. lint unfortunately his boots were enormously large, and as his legs hajjpened to be remarkably small and thin, they gave him a most ridiculous appearance, so that Cecile and Laura fell into uncontrollable fits of laughter, which made him very angry ; but they only laughed all the more, and Cecile answered, " Now that you wear a sword you ought to be the ' chevalier dcs dames', and think yourself lucky that they should joke with }-ou." " It is easy to see that you are nothing but a little schoolgirl," replied Napoleon. " And you are nothing but a puss-in-boots," retorted Cecile. Napoleon became still more angr\-, but as Madame Permon joined in the general laugh he said nothing. A day or two afterwards he brought Laura a toy he had caused to be made on purpose for her, representing puss-in-boots running before the carriage of the Marquis de Carabas, and for Cecile a beautifully bound copy of the story of " Puss-in-boots," on seeing which Madame Permon observed — " The story-book is de trap, Napoleon. The play- thing for Loulou is all very well, but the story for Cecile proves that you have not forgiven her." Time passed on, and the state of affairs grew more and more threatening. Every one seemed to be living in an atmosphere of fear and foreboding, but no real measures of precaution or defence against the coming danger were adopted — -it was like the calm of stagnation that often precedes a fearful tempest. It was the 5th of May, 1789, when the States- General held their first sitting. The day before, the 3 1 8 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [i 784-1 789 three estates, nobles, clergy, and tiers-ctat, or deputies of the people, were to repair to Versailles to attend Mass at the church of Saint Louis. It was to be an imposing sight, and Madame Permon was anxious to see it. M. Permon would not go. He disapproved strongly of the States being assembled just then, when the two parties were so inflamed against each other that danger was sure to arise. Madame Permon, however, accompanied by her son and another officer, and taking Laura with them, drove to Versailles through the shouting, rejoicing crowds, whose hopes and expectations were centred in the new Parliament. Every one seemed to be animated by the same joyful confidence ; well- dressed women waving their handkerchiefs, the people cheering frantically as the deputies passed ; everywhere a scene of enthusiasm. Madame Permon, who had many friends in all the three orders, looked on with eager interest and sympathy. Laura was delighted with the splendid show, but Albert remarked the sullen, hostile faces of the deputies of the ticrs-ctat, and thought of his father's words. On their return, he told him his impression, which M. Permon repeated on the following day to Necker, of whom he was a friend, exclaiming — " Ah ! what a mistake they have made in con- voking that assembly in such a stormy time as this ! " "It is not my fault," replied Necker; "and yet I am responsible for it." M. Permon's predictions were only too quickly fulfilled. The violence of the opposing parties in the new Parliament only accelerated the calamity 1784-1789] .'7' NAPOLEONS COURT 19 it had been hoped it would avert, and on the 14th of July the Revolution broke out, in all its horror and fury, with the storming of the Bastille and the murder of its garrison. During the weeks and months that followed, life at Paris was like a per- petual nightmare. One alarming event rapidly succeeded another. On the ist of October a banquet was given at Versailles by the King's bodyguards to the ycgiiiient de Flandrc, in the hall of the opera, at which the King, Queen, and Dauphin appeared. Their entrance was the signal for a frenzy of loyal demonstration. The band struck up the Royalist air, "' Richard ! O man Rot,'' the young officers climbed into the boxes, maids of honour and ladies of the Court tore up their handkerchiefs to make them white cockades, the tricolour was trampled under foot. When the news of \.\\\s fcic became known at Paris it aroused the rage of the populace. Furious, threatening crowds thronged the road to Versailles, and on the 0th the terrible procession re-entered Paris escorting the unfortunate Ro)-al family. M. Permon, beside himself with grief and horror, was anxious to go to Versailles, but his wife, putting Laura into his arms, with tears and entreaties implored him not to leave them, till at length he yielded to her representations. They closed the shutters of the great salon, which looked on to the Qicai Conti, before three o'clock in the afternoon, and remained indoors all the rest of the day, trembling at the cries and tumult outside. CHAPTER II 1791 IT would be scarcely possible now to realise the constant anxiety, alarm, and tension in which for so long a period people at that time went on living. There could be no peace or security night or day ; it was dangerous to express unpopular opinions, and still more dangerous to make an enemy, howev^er apparently insignificant. Sometime in the year 1791 a man named Thirion set up a little upholsterer's shop near M. Permon's house, and called to ask for his custom. The valet-de-diavibre of Madame Permon replied that they had already an upholsterer, whom they certainly should not leave for a new one ; whereupon the fellow became so violent and abusive that M. Permon, hearing the noise he was making, came to see what was the matter, and turned him out of the house, observing that he was not only mad but insolent. He soon forgot all about it, but Thirion vowed vengeance on him and his family. In the following year M. Permon, alarmed at the aspect of affairs, made a journey to England accom- panied by his son, taking with him a sum of money which he had realised in order to place it safely in London while the route was still open. Having I79i] .1 LEADER OF SOCIETY 21 transacted his business, and not likin^^ to remain longer than a few weeks away, he returned to France, leaving Albert with orders to await his instructions, which he did in much anxiety for a fortnight, at the end of which he got a letter from his father, telling him to take a letter he enclosed to his man of business in London and then return at once to France. When he arrived, on the morning of the 9th of August he found that iiis fatlicr had fought a duel with one of the officers of his regiment who had spoken slightingl}- of his political opinions in his father's presence. As to M. Permon, whohad fought plenty of duels and was said to be de la premiere foi'cc, an affair of the kind troubled him very little ; he considered it impossible to allow remarks to the disadvantage of his son to be made before him, but he concealed the matter from his wife lest she should be frightened, and from the public because it was safer not to draw too much attention to one's pro- ceedings just then. The duel took place in the wood of Meudon ; I\I. Permon was unhurt and his opponent wounded in the arm. Paris had just been divided into sections, and in the one in which his house was situated the upholsterer, Thirion, was an inlluential personage. One morning soon after his return, as he was dressing, a domiciliary visit, ordered by the Commune, was announced, directed by Thirion, who presented himself at the door of his dressing-room attended by three others — his two brothers and his shop-boy. The sight of this man so irritated M. Permon that he imprudently advanced with a threatening gesture and his razor in his hand, for he was shavin^^ 22 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1791 " I am here to carry out the law," cried Thirion. " Well, and what does the law wish to express by such a respectable agent ? " " I am here to know your age, your qualifications, and the reasons for your journey to Coblentz ? " M. Permon, who, ever since he saw the fellow, had been longing to kick him out of the house, was speechless with anger. He laid down his razor and turned to the intruder, crossed his arms, and stood looking at him in silent contempt. At last he said, " You want to know my age ? " " Yes, those are my orders." " Where are your orders ? " asked M. Permon, holding out his hand. " Show them to me." "It is enough for }'ou to know that I am sent by the committee of my section ; my presence here proves it." " You think so ? Well, I think the contrary. Your presence in my house is an insult, unless it is justified by an official order. Show it to me, and I shall forget the man and onl}' recognise the public functionar}'." " I tell you again," shouted Thirion, "that you have no occasion to see my order. Once more, will you answer my questions? What is your age? What are your qualifications ? What did you go to Coblentz for ? " " And you, once more, will you show me the order by virtue of which you violate my domicile ? " "It is enough for \'ou that I am here. What is your age ? " "If you ask me such a question on the part of a pretty woman, I am five-and-twenty. Otherwise," he I79i] .IT XAPOf.EOXS COrh'T 23 continued, L^ivincj way to his indignation and seizing a large bamboo cane, " 1 will teach you tiiat I am quite young enough to thrash insolent fellows," and as he spoke he whirled the stick over the hearls of Thirion and his acolytes. Serious consequences might have followed had not Madame Permon come in at that moment and con- trived to get her husband away into another room. Thirion departed with many threats, while ]\Iadame Permon and Cecile tried to calm M. i^ermon. Presently Napoleon Buonaparte entered the saloi, where he only found Laura, who was crying. He tried to comfort her, and asked what was the matter. When the child told him what had happened, he went and knocked at the door of her father's dressing-room, where the matter was explained to him. " How abominable ! " he e.Kclaimed. " How in- famous ! P^our men to come into the house without producing an order to legalise it ! But you must complain. It's evident from what }'ou tell me that the fellow has had a spite against }'ou for some time, and thinks this is a good opportunity to revenge himself There is no time to be lost ; I will sec about it, leave it to me." Buonaparte left the house and went to the com- mittee of the section, to whom he spoke strongl)' of what had taken place, but he saw at once that Thirion had been beforehand with him. However, he did not allow that to prevent his sax'ing what he chose, but represented that the man's refusal to show his order might have had disastrous consequences, for if M. Permon had shot him he would have been within his right as defending his domicile. 24 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1791 Napoleon returned to the Permons, and said that there was so much agitation going on all around that he could not do much, but advised them to be on their guard. However, the terrible events that almost immediately took place drove every lesser matter out of people's minds. The affair of Thirion happened early in August, and on the morning of the 9th Albert arrived from England. Cecile had left the convent and was now living at home, where the usual preparations, so far as was possible at such a time, had been made for Laura's fe/e which, as there was no S^*^- Laure or Laurette, was observed on the loth of August, the fete St. Laurent. Madame Permon wished it to be a day of which the child should have a happy remembrance, so her young friends were already invited to celebrate it, and from morning till night her little white bedroom was filled with flowers, toys, and bon-bons. But now festivities and rejoicings were far enough from every one's thoughts. From the early hours of the morning the increasing tumult filled the household with terror ; the crash of artillery, shouts and cries, the groans of the wounded who were carried past under the windows. Leaving the house shut up, M. Permon and Albert went out to see if they could be of use to any of their friends who might be in danger. About midday Albert came in, bringing with him one of his brother-officers disguised in the great-coat of a bourgeois. The poor fellow had eaten nothing for forty-eight hours. They were looking for him, and if they found him he would certainly be murdered. His family were under great obligations to the Queen, I79i] -IT XAPOf.FOX'S COrRT 25 and he had hitely fought three duels in her defence, in two of which he had killed his oi^ponent. lie was in deadly peril. Madame Permon and Albert hid him in Laura's little room, giving the child careful instructions what to sa)' if she were questioned. It was her first lesson in prudence and caution. But the day passed on and M. Permon did not return. His wife and children waited in terror and anxiet)' hour after hour, Madame Permon crying and wringing her hands, Albert going every few minutes to the por/e cocherc to look out. Owing to the isolated position of the house he was tolerably safe there, and even ventured out on to the qiiai, but could learn nothing of his father. He was told of the slaughter of the Swiss guards, the storming of the Tuileries, the flight of the weak, vacillating Louis and the royal family to the Assembly. The fury of the conflict seemed to have abated, the firing was less frequent, but still scattered shots were to be heard every now and then, while groups of drunken, furious men and women roamed through the streets yelling and shout- ing out horrible blasphemies and threats. Twilight was gathering when at last Albert saw a figure come cautiously round the corner, looking carefully about him on all sides. At once he recognised his father, who stopped on seeing some one watching at the door, but on Albert's calling to him as loudly as he dared M. Permon came forward cjuickly, told him to keep the door open, and turned back into the street round the corner to fetch a tall man whom he had left under shelter in the Arcade de la Monnaic. The man could hardly walk, but leaned on the arm of M. Permon, who brought him in with great care and 26 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1791 helped him into his bedroom, desiring all to keep as quiet as possible and do what they could to help him. When he threw off the military cloak in which he was wrapped they recognised an old friend, M. de Bevy, one of the superior officers of the gardcs-dti-corps^ pale, exhausted, and covered with blood. " Poor Loulou ! " he exclaimed, on seeing the trembling child, " it is a sad/^V^ for you. Great God! what difete !" His head sank on his breast, overcome more by the terrible events of the day than by his physical sufferings. There was no chance of any one's escape that night, during the whole of which bands of ruffians, mad with wine and blood, were parading the streets outside with curses and cries. Next morning came a messenger from the valet of Albert's friend, telling his master that he was in great danger, as search was being made for him everywhere. Then Albert recollected that an influential person whom he knew lodged near at hand. To him he went, and by his permission and assistance the young officer vvas first hidden in a safer place, and four or five days later enabled to escape to Germany. As to M. de Bevy, he resolved to try to get to London, and M. Permon was occupied in writing him a letter of credit to take with him — for the house was no longer safe, and he must get away as soon as possible — when a footman came in saying that the butcher they employed, who was in the Garde Nationale, but a respectable, trustworthy man, had come to warn M. Permon that he had been denounced for giving refuge to the enemies of the people, adding that he was sure no one could wish to hurt him as he gave so much employment and did no harm to any i79i] AT X A PO LEON'S COURT 27 one, but he had better be on his guard. More than that the butcher dared not say, and M. Permon, who was never afraid of anything, would not pay any attention to his words. II(jwever, about an hour afterwards a friend arrived with a still more urgent warning and the promise of a passport for M. and Madame Permon to one of the southern towns, for it was all-important to get them out of Paris. This friend also promised to come and fetch them and get them safely out of the city, but said it was out of the question to take any one else. Madame Permon was distracted between the necessity of going with her husband and the horror of leaving her children at Paris at such a time. But there was not a moment to lose, and it was decided that Cecile and Laura should be placed in some obscure school and that Albert should lodge near them and look after them. M. de Bcv)- had found another refuge. Hurried preparations were accordingly made, and that same evening, after a heartrending farewell between the parents and chil- dren, who knew that it was very possible they might never meet again in this world, M. and Madame Permon left Paris, and the two girls were sent to a school in the ;7/r (/u faubourg St. Antoiuc, kept by the Demoiselles Chevalier. It was a new experience for them both. Laura had never been away from home before, and to Cecile, though she had been brought up at a convent, there was all the difference in the world between the household and establishment of the Danics dc la Croix and the second-rate school to which it was considered safest to send them, a religious hous^ 28 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1791 at such a time being, of course, out of the ques- tion. Laura, who had never seen such a place, when she found herself without her nurse, surrounded by strangers and discomforts, cried bitterly. Cccile, who was old enough to understand the peril of their position, tried to forget her own sorrow to console her little sister. Albert and their nurse, Renesson, paid them frequent visits. Shocked to find that they had sour apples, cheese, and other coarse food given them, she shed many tears, and insisted on bringing them such quantities of grapes, peaches, pears and cakes that Albert was obliged to diminish her sup- plies for fear of compromising the girls. The only happy hours the}' had were during these visits, and after a short time they observed that their brother had become much more de- pressed and sad. They begged him to tell them what was the matter, and he replied that their father had been denounced in the section in a manner that rendered his position still more dangerous. The fact was that he had been told that M. and Madame Permon had been arrested at Limoges and were being brought back to Paris. However, this fortunately turned out to be untrue. It was then the end of August, and affairs in Paris grew worse and worse. Albert drove every day to see his sisters in a carriage his father had lately had built. It was a cabriolet, very high and smart-look- ing, and was called a " wiskey " ; and its appearance, with the livery which, in spite of the remonstrances of Cccile, he persisted in making the servant who accompanied him wear, excited the an^ry attention I79I] -iT XAPOLEON'S COURT 29 of the mob as he passed through the fauhoun^ St. Antoinc. The Demoiselles Chevalier had in their em- ployment a man named Jacquemart, who did all the rough work of the house. He was useful enough, as he seemed able to turn his hand to any- thing, but so hideously ugly and with an expression so sinister that Albert and his sisters regarded him almost with horror. One day, soon after their arrival at the school, Jacquemart was carrying in some wood when Albert drove up at such a pace that, although he called to him to look out, the man, who was heavily laden, could not get out of the way in time. Seeing this, Albert, at considerable risk to himself and his horse, pulled uj) so suddenly that Jactjuemart escaped with- out any injury but a slight bruise on the leg, and as he saw clearly what happened, he from that moment vowed gratitude to young Permon. It was the 31st August, and although that da\' he had little or nothing to do at the place, Jacquemart was hanging about the courtyard and the entrance of the pension Chevalier from morning till evening,* watching for Albert, who on that occasion happened to come later than usual. As he got down from his cabriolet Jacquemart came up to him and said — " Don't go home this evening. Stay here and take care of your sisters." Albert looked at him with surprise. He knew that an attack was expected that same evening, but he thought it would be directed towards the Temple — then the prison of the Royal family. " What do you mean ? " he asked. 30 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1791 " I advise you to sleep here," replied Jacquemart. " You will be near your sisters, and if they stand in need of protection — well, we shall be ready." Albert, however, did not take his advice, but gave him an assignat of twenty-five francs, went in to see his sisters, and then returned home. The next day, September ist, was the eve of the massacres at the prisons. News that the Duke of Brunswick's army had crossed the frontier, and had even fought a successful battle at Longvvy, excited the Parisians to still greater ferocity ; arrests and murders were going on all over the town. Dread- fully alarmed for his sisters, Albert came to the school to see them at considerable risk to himself Jacquemart was standing at the door of the court- yard, looking a most frightful ruffian ; the Demoiselles Chevalier were terrified at his appearance but afraid to send him away. The girls were all dreadfully frightened. " I did not tell you to come here to-day, but to stop here ! " he cried when he saw Albert. "Why did not you attend to me ? " "And why did you tell me any such thing?" returned Albert. " Is Mademoiselles Chevalier's house especially threatened ? " " I don't know, but at such a time of horror as this there is everything to fear," answered Jacquemart. Something not only in these words, but in the tone of voice and expression of the man's eyes, struck Albert. The voice was refined and cultivated ; the expression was compassionate, even gentle. "You arc a good master and a good brother," con- tinued this strange individual, " therefore you cannot 1791] -iT X.irOLEON'S COl'RT 31 fail in your duty to these poor little things. They have no one at Paris but you. Is not that so?" It was late, and all over Paris cries and groans were heard. Mademoiselle Chevalier invited Albert to remain that night, but he refused, saying that he would come back in the morning. Cccile was terrified at Jacquemart in spite of what her brother told her, and the danger of going through the streets was very great ; however, Albert persisted in going home, as he had to finish arranging some papers left by his father. They took a long time to arrange, so that when, the next day, he had burned all those marked b\' his father to be destro}'ed, looked over the rest and put them safely a\va\', it was already three o'clock. Then he got into his cabriolet, with his servant b\' his side, and drove towards the faubourg St. A)itoine. The town was in a frightful state. They kept meeting groups of miscreants half naked and stained with blood, carrying on their swords and pikes pieces torn from the clothes of their victims, their inflamed faces, haggard eyes, and horrible expression making them hideous to behold. The farther he went the more numerous they were, and Albert, in desperate fear for his sisters, from whom he had so rashly allowed himself to be separated, pushed on as fast as he could, resolved to get to them at all hazards. At last the cabriolet was stopped b}' a crowd of these blood-stained villains, who were howling, singing, and dancing. They looked like devils. Calling out that here was an aristocrat, they surrounded the cabriolet with frightful yells. At that moment a head with long, 32 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1791 fair hair, raised on a pike, approached Albert till it touched his face, and with a terrible cry he recog- nised the head of the Princess de Lamballe. He fell senseless on to the bottom of the cabriolet, while his servant urged on the horse, knocking over the ruffians who stood nearest, and driving as hard as he could, feeling all the time that a man had got up behind them, and hoping he would fall off. How- ever, when they stopped at the door of the Demoi- selles Chevalier the man jumped down, took the insensible form of Albert in his arms as if he had been a child, and carried him into the house, mut- tering, " Monsters ! they have killed him too, poor lad ! " It was Jacquemart. Who he was and what he was doing there was a mystery that was never solved. It was evident that he had no bad intentions, and the Permons always supposed that he was concealing himself in this disguise. He disappeared, and they saw him no more. Albert meanwhile had been carried, pale and senseless, into the house, to the terror of h-is sisters and the rest of the household. The shock brought on a serious illness, during which he was nursed in the house of a doctor, and his mother was communi- cated with at once. Madame Permon, who was at Toulouse with her husband, soon returned to Paris to look after her son. When he was well enough to be moved she set off for Toulouse, taking all her three children, escorted by M. de Luppc, a friend of her family. Their journey having been accomplished in safety, Madame Permon looked about for an apartment, and I70I] AT XAPOLFOX'S COURT 33 finally established herself and her household in one of those enormous old-fashioned hotels built round a great courtyard, with ample room to accommodate four families, one of whom occupied one side or end. Each was, in fact, like a separate house, with its own entrance, hall, and staircase. The I'ermons were fortunate enough to get one of these, and to settle themselves in it for the present. M. Permon's health had been seriously affected by all he had gone through, and there was, of course, no society just then. Almost everybody had either lost some near relation or was in deadly fear for one or more in prison or in exile ; and the more retired and quiet people's lives were the safer it was for them. Although they had escaped from Paris, the danger was by no means at an end. The fury of the Revolution was raging at Toulouse also. The pro- consul, a venomous little scoundrel and a violent Jacobin, soon began to annoy them and cause them much uneasiness, but by good luck they had a friend, a Corsican named Salicetti, who was powerful and influential enough to protect them if he chose, and was now at Paris engaged in the trial of the King. It was true that there had been a coolness between them in consequence of some discussion which took place at the Permons' house in Paris ; still he was an old friend and a countryman, and to him Madame Permon, after some consideration, decided to write. It was well that she did so, for they were in a dangerous position. M. Permon was in extremely bad health, and Albert was so delicate that if he were forced to join the army he would probably die of consumption. B)- the next post arrived a 4 34 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1791 letter from Salicetti, in which he assured them of his satisfaction in being able to help them. He wrote and recommended them to the especial protection of the authorities of Toulouse, made Albert his own secretary, and sent him his nomination and three months' leave of absence. It was then about Christ- mas time. The trial of the King caused the greatest anxiety and grief to M. Permon, and his execution filled him with profound depression. He wanted to go back to Paris to see if he could not do something at least for Madame Elizabeth, to whom he was deeply grateful for some kindness and help he had received from her in past years. Madame Permon represented that it would only be throwing away his life to no purpose. " You will destroy yourself and do her no good," she said, with tears, when he was on the point of setting off for Paris. "You cannot possibly save her ; and what is to become of your children ? " M. Permon allowed his wife's entreaties to prevail and remained at Toulouse, shut up in the house writing a book on education and teaching Laura, who was the only person always allowed to be with him. The child would sit silently studying while his fits of melancholy dejection lasted. There was a great difference between the ages of the three surviving children of M. and Madame Permon ; Albert being, when they took up their abode at Toulouse, twenty-four years old, Cccile sixteen, and Laura nine. They remained at Toulouse until the fury of the Revolution had abated — eventful years full of excite- ment and emotions. The powerful protection of I79i] 'iT XAPOLEOXS COURT 35 Salicetti ensured their safety ; they found and made a small circle of friends, and the old southern town, with its ancient houses, grey cathedral, and lovely walks by the river and in the neighbourhood, very soon seemed friendly and familiar to them. M. Permon never left it during that time, but Albert was away at Paris with Salicetti, and on one occasion Madame Permon, after an attack of inflammation of the lungs which left her chest delicate, went to Cauterets in the Pyrenees, taking Cccile and Laura with her, to their great delight. M. Permon could not go with them, not being then allowed to leave Toulouse. His health did not improve, and the perpetual seclusion in which he lived began to excite attention and comment, and to constitute a fresh danger for himself and his family. The Procureur dc la Conunune was a certain Conder, a shoemaker, who though a violent republi- can was an honest man and had befriended them on several occasions, having received from Madame Permon a promise that they would not emigrate. One day he came to see her and warned her that disquieting reports about her husband were going about the town. " It is said," remarked Conder, " that he is satu- rated with aristocracy. I declared that it was not true, but that he was a good republican. Of course I know," he added, with a smile, "that that is not exactly so, but one can't always tell the exact truth. But if you will take my advice, force the dtoyc?i Permon to go to the theatre now and then. If he would do me the honour to accept a place in my box " and he hesitated in some embarrassment. 36 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1791 Touched by the kind intentions of the man, Madame Permon caught him by the hand and ex- pressed her gratitude, promising that they would accept his invitation. But it was not so easy to manage her husband, who, when he heard her pro- position, remained silent, and on her asking im- patiently what he was going to do, replied with a shrug of the shoulders — " What a question ? What would you have me do ? The citoyen Conder invites the citoyen Permon to his box at the theatre ; therefore he must go there, since it is better than being dragged to prison, for I have the choice, I suppose? It is another Thirion ! Oh ! Marie, Marie, could you not have spared me this ?" And he walked up and down the room in despair. " Charles," said Madame Permon, "you are making a mistake. Is it likely that I should have enter- tained a proposal that could be insulting to you ? Of course not. Conder " " My dear Marie," interrupted her husband im- patiently, " let the man make you some shoes, but let me hear no more about his box at the theatre. I am tired of it." He said no more, and Conder was told that he was too ill. It was fortunate that although the worthy proc247r2ir saw clearly enough how the matter stood, he did not resent it, or at any rate took no steps to revenge himself, as he might easily have done. Soon afterwards Madame Permon received a letter from Salicetti warning her that there were rumours of Royalist plots and conspiracies, that her husband was an object of suspicion owing to his persisting in shutting himself up in the way he did, and that it i79i] AT MAPOLEOX'S COURT 37 was absolutely necessary that he should at any rate receive people at his house. " Your s.i/on was charming at Paris, why should it not be the same at Toulouse? " At last M. Permon, to whom she showed this letter, perceived the danger to which his obstinacy was exposing them all, and consented to open his house. Madame Permon knew a great many people in Toulouse by this time, and, as Salicetti had pre- dicted, her sa/on was soon as popular as before. She had met in Toulouse, by chance, a cousin of hers, a Signorina Stephanopoli, who had left Corsica and married a French naval officer, M de Saint- Ange. He had retired and bought a chateau near Toulouse, where he lived with his wife and children. The cousins were delighted to find each other again, and frequenth' met and talked about old times and their beloved Corsica. " Well," said Madame de Saint-Ange one day, " it seems there is one of L?etitia Ramolino's sons who is getting on well. I should not wonder if some day he were to be a general dc division. I should never have guessed it. I should always have thought that the one to raise the family would be Joseph. And the Archdeacon " " Oh ! do let the Archdeacon alone ! " exlaimed Madame Permon. " It was bad enough to hear everybody always talking about him in Corsica." " Well, the Canon, then, if the word Archdeacon annoys you," replied Madame de Saint-Ange, laugh- ing. " He is their uncle, and authority enough in the family for me to quote him about the children ; and he thinks, as I do, that Joseph is the one formed to 38 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1791 distinguish himself. See how handsome he is and what charming manners he has, whereas Napoleon, although he is your protege, is as ugly as a penguin, as obstinate as a mule, and very rude besides." The Permons, after the warning of Salicetti, went into society and entertained a good deal. One evening they were going to have a dinner-party, and amongst others they expected was M. de Regnier, commandant of the place, an old soldier whom M. Permon particularly liked. Half an hour before dinner he sent a note saying that a friend of his had just arrived, having been sent to him on a matter of business, and as he could not leave him he must beg to be excused. Madame Permon asked him to come and bring his friend with him, observing to her children that an adjutant-general, a friend of M. de Regnier, was sure to be some tiresome old man who would spoil the party. They had intended to have music, which he would not care for ; he would have to play reversi. " An old infantry officer can always play reversi, and always cheats too," she added. Albert was just then at home on leave, and was devoted to music. He played duets with Cccile, who was a pupil of Hermann, a brilliant /m///^/^ and a very attractive girl. Without regular beauty, she was slight and graceful, with fair complexion, dark blue eyes, and the cJieveux blonds eejidres so much admired in France. When M. de Regnier arrived, instead of a tire- some old man, his friend proved to be a very good- looking young one, extremely fond of music. Cccile was dressed in pink crepe ; she played, sang, and i79i] 'if NAPOLEON'S COURT 39 looked like an angel — at least in the opinion of M. de Geouffre, who immediately fell in love with her. Next day he called on Madame Permon, and after that he came perpetually, sometimes with M. de Regnier, sometimes without him. Madame Permon saw with disapprobation the reason of these constant visits. Both she and her husband had the strongest objection to a son-in-law in the Republican army, and yet she was afraid to put a stop to his coming. M. de Regnier knew this well enough. However, after some difficulties he yielded to the entreaties of his friend and went to see the Permons about the matter. As he had expected, they both refused at once. " But what have you against him ? " asked M. de Regnier. " He is well born : I tell you he is one of the Geouffi'es de Chabrignac of Limousin. .Several of them have emigrated. He has a tolerable fortune and a nice place near Brives-la- Gaillarde. He is well thought of in the army, and very high up in it for his age ; he is certain of promotion. He is clever and handsome too, which is no draw- back to a marriage. Come, Madame Permon, let me persuade you." But it was no use, they still refused, and no repre- sentations either from M. de Geouffre or any one else for some time had any effect. Cccile, however, had fallen in love with him, and fretted in secret at her parents' decision. She was a gentle, timid girl, very much afraid of her mother ; and Madame Permon, though she had a great affec- tion for all her children, committed the fatal error of not treating them alike. 40 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1791 The great difference in their ages probably ex- aggerated this tendency, besides which Cecile had been brought up away from her, but Laura was never out of her sight. At any rate, while she treated the latter with great indulgence, she was strict — almost severe — with the former, so that Laura, a clever, merry, high-spirited child, was devoted to and per- fectly at ease with her mother, while Cecile was shy, reserved, and in considerable awe of her. So Cecile did not venture to oppose her parents' decision, or even to let them know that she was unhappy, only as time went on every one remarked on her melan- choly and altered looks. Her father's health was so bad at that time that she saw scarcely anything of him. Albert was away and Madame Permon did not notice that anything was amiss. M. de Geouffre, however, persevered all the more, and about six months after his first offer he got a friend of his to go to Madame de Saint-Ange, who readily promised to help him. She went to see the Permons, and observed how ill and languid Cecile looked. " Panoria," she said one morning to Madame Permon, " when are you going to marry Cecile ? " " What a question ! " replied her cousin. " You know very well that I have refused." " Have you looked at your daughter? Don't you see how she is changed ? Do you know that you are answerable for what she suffers? " " Kalli," said Madame Permon, much disturbed, " I leave you to manage your own family, and I wish you would not concern yourself with mine." " Indeed ! Well, if you take it in that way, I am I79I] AT XAPOLFOys COURT 41 accustomed to be frank, and I tell )'ou that you are not a good mother." " KalH ! " " No, you are not a good mother. Send for \'our daughter ; ask Loulou what sort of nights her sister passes, and then sa\' what you like." Madame Permon, who had no idea of the state of things and no wish to make Cecile unhappy, called Laura, and from the questions she asked discovered that Cecile spent the nights in crying and lamenting, but had forbidden her little sister to say anything about it. Filled with remorse, Madame Permon then sent for Cecile, and assured her with tears that since it appeared she had set her heart upon this marriage it should take place ; and at the end of another month the wedding was celebrated, and Cecile, now Madame de Geouffre, took up her abode in the Hotel Spinola, the headquarters of the district her husband commanded. The death of the Queen, and still more that of Madame Elizabeth, caused a shock to M. Permon from which he never recovered. Gradually his health failed so completely that he seldom came down even to dinner, but remained almost always in his bedroom or study. And though the fall and execution of Robespierre caused a parox}-sm of jo\- and relief throughout the country, and the worst of the Terror was over, all danger was by no means at an end. The executions at Paris, though less numerous, had not ceased, and at first people dared not express the delight they felt at the death of the tyrant. Until PVance was delivered from the tyranny of the Convention there could be no real security for any one. CHAPTER III 1793-1795 IN this atmosphere of suspicion, anxiety, and danger people all over France went on living for a considerable time longer. M. Permon was kept informed of what was going on at Paris by his lawyer, M. Brunetiere, a man of great experience and capacity who belonged to the Chatelet, knew everybody and had dealings with all the powers and authorities. All letters, however, had to be exchanged with the greatest precaution. Though the Terror was over, it might at any moment break out again. Letters were sent concealed in pies, in cakes, in poultry, in the linings of coats and dresses, in hats and bonnets. With the box or parcel was generally sent a letter, saying, "In compliance with your order I send you " such and such a thing. Now, as he had ordered nothing, the receiver of such a notice knew that a letter of importance was to be found some- where in the article sent. Madame Permon, however, did not like the dresses, bonnets, &c., that came to her from Paris being pulled to pieces to look for letters in them. On one occasion she wore a head- 42 I793-I795] -4 LEADER OF SOCIETY 43 dress for a fortnight before she told her husband that it came from Paris and allowed the letter it contained to be taken out. It is true that just then nothing of great im- portance was going on. At length the time arrived when they were to leave Toulouse. Calmer days seemed to be ap- proaching. M. Permon received pressing letters from different friends urging him to return to Paris, telling him that he was certain of a distinguished post. For all that, he sadly replied it was too late, but he would, if it were possible, go back there to die. It was arranged that he should go to Bordeaux, where he had some affairs to settle, while his wife should proceed with Laura to Paris to see whether it would be safe for them to live there again. Upon her report their future plans were to depend. Albert was now at Paris ; he had just left Salicetti, and was thinking of going on some business to Holland. He took an apartment for his mother in the Hotel garni de la Tranquillite, Rue des Filles- Saint-Thomas. They were pleasant rooms on the second floor looking into the garden, and there she installed herself with Laura, a maid and valet-de- chauibrc, and began to receive the visits of such of her friends as had sur\ived the horrors of the Revolution. Amongst them was the old Comte de Pcrigord, who had just got out of prison, where his life had been saved by his valet, Beaulieu. Without him, he would have been even more lonely and desolate than he had now become. His wife and daughter were 44 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [i793-i795 dead, his sons had emigrated, he had lost almost all his fortune, his health was impaired. When his master was arrested, Beaulieu devoted himself to his service. He contrived to bring him everything he wanted, and watched over him un- ceasingly. The Comte de Pcrigord, like many others, was always writing to the members of the Committee of Public Safety protesting his innocence and asking for justice. These petitions he gave to Beaulieu to post or deliver. Ikit Beaulieu had been told by a friend of his own, a relation of the man in whose house Robespierre lived, that this importunity had been the destruction of many of the prisoners, who might very likely have been forgotten, and so escaped, had not their first petition recalled them to the recollection of the tyrants, and the following ones irritated them, so that they often signed their death-warrants to get rid of them. Beaulieu did not tell his master this, but he put all the petitions into the fire as fast as he received them, and the old Count could not imagine why he never obtained any answer, l^eaulieu did everything he could to ensure his being forgotten. He bribed the prison officials, and whenever the Comte de Perigord began to be well known in one prison he managed to get him transferred to another. When the Terror was at an end and the prisons were opened he remained with his master, still taking care of him ; and another of his servants, directly he knew that the Count was free, came back and lived with him in the house of his friend, the Comte de Monchcnu, 1 793-1795] '4T X A PO LEON'S COURT 45 who was still well off, had i^ivcn him shelter and shown him unceasin<^ kindness and friendship. Napoleon, directly he heard of the arrival of Madame I'ermon, hastened to sec her, and was receiv'ed by her with great pleasure. He was then, as Madame de Saint-Ange had said, decidedly plain ; thin, sallow, .sickly-looking, and slovenly in his dress, his boots were badly made and he wore no gloves because he said it was a useless expense. He had been arrested on an accusation of being a spy and for other matters by order of Salicetti, about whose conduct in the affair Napoleon felt all the more bitterly as they were compatriots and friend.s. Napoleon had been in considerable danger, and when Madame Permon alluded to the matter he remarked with a momentary smile, " He wished to ruin me, but my star would not let him. However, I ought not to boast of my star, for after all what is to be my fate ? " Napoleon resumed his former intimac}', and was constantly at Madame Permon's house. For advice and assistance she depended chiefly upon ]\I. Brune- tiere, who already repented of having counselled her to return to Paris, where everything was still so unsettled and threatening. The Royalists were beginning to raise their heads again ; their young men went about with hair powdered and plaited, sometimes with a comb in it, dressed in grey coats with black collars and green cravats, armed with thick sticks, for they were continually ' getting into fights, which they very often pro- voked. There was great distress owing to the scarcit}- and dearness of provisions. Cccile managed to send 46 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1793-1795 flour to her mother in secret from the south, but it was unsafe to do so, as it was forbidden, and a heavy penalty attached to it. The people were becoming more and more irritated and menacing, the Conven- tion was constantly being invaded by the sections, and gangs of drunken women began to go about again crying out for bread and shouting, " Down with the Republic ! " " Ma/oi /" exclaimed Napoleon one day, when he came to dine with Madame Permon ; " I don't know who they are so furious with, but they are like demons. I have just met a section of "Cixo. faubourg St. Antoine, which was the second volume to the troop that I wish they had commissioned me to receive at the Tuileries on the loth of August." They dined hastily, and then went out towards the Tuileries, to get news of what was going on, Napoleon giving his arm to Madame Permon, Albert taking Laura. Before they had gone far they heard horrible cries and shouts, women and children yelling against the Convention, recalling the days of the Terror ; therefore Napoleon said to Madame Permon, " You had better go back ; this place is not fit for women. I will take you home, and then go and find out what is the matter and bring you word." They returned accordingly, and Napoleon went out with Albert, but neither of them could get back that night. They went to the Convention, where fortunately a man of sense and moderation was pre- siding ; the people were yelling like maniacs for the Constitution of '93. Salicetti was one of those often to be seen at I793-I705] '^T S'APOLF.OXS COURT 47 Madame Pcrmon's evenings, but he was glooin)' and absent, and whenever an)' [xjlitical discussion went on, especiall}' if he and Napoleon took part in it, there was alwa)'s a tone of bitterness and per- sonaHty incompatible with the old ideas of well-bred, pleasant society. Madame Permon, who saw all this with impatient disgust, tried in vain to establish in her present sa/ou the charm and ease of the Hotel Conti. She forbade any politics to be discussed by the miscellaneous groups who drank tea and ate ices in her rooms, and Napoleon, who was entirely of her opinion, tried to help her and to lead the conversation to other topics. Hut it was impossible, for, with the best intentions, what else was there to talk about ? Literature seemed to be dead — there were no new books except a few translations of English novels ; the theatres produced nothing worth speaking of, although now there were plays going on every night, concerts at the Conservatoire, and even balls. Every- one's mind was preoccupied and filled with the same subjects, to which, do what they might, the conversa- tion always returned. Napoleon came every day to the Permons, and did not seem much more contented than in the old days of the militar)' school. It was true that he was already a general, though not yet six-and-twenty ; but the proceedings of Salicetti had for the time ruined his career : he had ver\' little money, and his family could not send him any, as the)' had become involved in the political troubles of the day, had been forced to leave Corsica, and were now living at Marseilles. There Joseph had just married Mademoiselle Clary, 48. .-1 LEADER OF SOCIETY [i7()3-i795 the daughter of a rich merchant, and sent what help he could from time to time to Napoleon. Often in the evenings, as the young general walked on the boulevards with his friend Junot, and watched the je/inessc dorcc riding and driving past in all the luxury it was no longer dangerous to display, he would inveigh against injustice and inequalities of fortune and abuse the young dandies with their ridiculous dress and absurd, lisping speech, for it was then the height of fashion to leave out the letter r, and to speak of a miacle, ^pafnni, and so on. Junot, whose family was better off, shared every- thing sent him, as well as all he won at trente-et-nn, &c., with Napoleon, whom he adored. Napoleon, in addition to other troubles, had at this time an unfortunate love-affair going on, and Junot was deeply in love with Napoleon's second sister, Pauline, who was remarkably beautiful, but whom he could not afford to marry. To his entreaties that Napoleon would write for him to Madame Buona- parte about Pauline, he only re})lied — " I cannot write to my mother to ask her any such thing. You say you will have twelve hundred livres de rentes. Very well ; but you have not got them now. Your father is in good health, and you will have to wait a long time. In fact, you have nothing but your lieutenant's epaulette. As to Paulette, she has not even as much as that. Therefore consider — you have nothing, she has nothing, what is the total ? Nothing. You cannot marry at present. Wait, perhaps we shall have better days, my friend. Yes, we shall have them, if 1 have to go to another part of the world to find them." I793-I795] -J'^ XAPOLEONS COURT 49 For some time public affairs seemed to have calmed down, but every now and then some new riot or commotion broke out, recalling to people's minds the fearful days of the Terror, which were past but might return. One day Laura was sent out by her mother to buy some ribbons, gauze, and artificial flowers, under the care of her maid, Mariette. They went in a cab, and as they were coming back along the boulevard, they met a troop of drunken, furious women, yelling and shouting against the ("onven- tion, and crying out for the Constitution of '93. Mariette began to cry, but Laura, who had plenty of spirit, said nothing, even when fift\' or sixty of them surrounded the carriage, and one, who was the wife of the driver, ordered him peremptorily to get down and open the door. " But I have a fare in the carriage. And there you are shouting like a fury as usual ! " " I tell you that I am tired, and these patriotcs too, and we are going to this cursed Convention to make them give us bread, jour tic Dieu ! ' or the President shall know the weight of my arm as well as you do. Come ! no more 'ifs' and ' buts ' ! Open your wisky at once, I tell you ! " Laura wanted to give the driver twenty francs and walk home, but he would not listen or understand. He tried to force his way through the crowd, where- upon his wife herself opened the door and let down the steps. Laura jumped out, beckoning to Mariette to follow, but she was afraid to move. " Come ! room for the good people," cried the ■ This expression is taken literally from the Memoirs of the Diichesse cr.\I)ranti;s. 5 50 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [i793-i795 woman; but on seeing Laura she took her in her arms. " Why, what's the matter, my chicken ? " she said consolingly ; and turning to her husband she exclaimed," And you, animal ! couldn't you have told me it was a child like this you had in your carriage? Rabbit's brain 1 Do you think I am going to put i/iat out to walk, stupid ? And she is frightened, poor little cat ! Is it your mamma inside there, //wu choii ? " " No, citoyenne, it is my maid." " Well, what is she crying and making all that noise for? One would think she had lost both father and mother." " Look here, Marianne," cried another woman, opening the opposite door, " she is begging for mercy. The fool thinks we are going to kill her ! Perhaps she is a princess in disguise ! " And they all began to laugh at Mariette, who cried all the louder. " Come ! will you be quiet, you idiot ! " cried another. " Hold your tongue and come out ! " and she seized hold of her arm. Mariette screamed and fell on her knees in the carriage. " Well ! what is it ? " cried the jjroprietress of the cab. " Leave the girl alone. Do you think I'm going to make that go on foot ? Why, she can hardly hold herself up. And then this child ! " as she felt Laura tremble. She was a tall, handsome woman, withfine eyes, teeth, and complexion, and the strength of a giantess. Her language, like that of her com- panions, was interlarded with oaths and blasphemies, but her dark eyes rested compassionately upon Laura. " Come, get back into the coucou, mon chou" she said, " and go to your mamma ; but tell her not to let 1/93-1795] ■i'f \'. IPO LEGS S COURT 51 }'OLi run about with nobody but God to take care of you, for you might just as well be quite alone as with a canary like that, or that rabbit of a coachman either ! Where did you take them from ? " she added, turning to her husband. " Rue des Filles-Thomas, close to the Theatre Feydeau." " Well, then take them back there. I am going with the others, and you can come after me. The more the better." And lifting Laura in her arms, she embraced her, thrust her into the carriage, put up the steps, shut the door, and with two or three oaths called out to her husband in a voice like thunder, " Drive on !" Madame Permon was waiting at the entrance of the house in great anxiety, having heard that there were disturbances in the streets. Laura jumped out of the carriage, threw herself into her arms and burst into tears, having had, as Napoleon laughingly observed, too much pride to cry before the fish-wives. Her mother said that she had shown the spirit of a Spartan, for which she was very much pleased with her. The state of affairs continued to be disturbed and dangerous. There were insurrections every day, and the strife between the two parties in the Convention grew more and more bitter. Among the members were now some men of moderate views and respect- able character, but most of them were weak and vacillating. Those of the party known as the "Montagne" comprised the ferocious and violent ruffians such as Collot-d'Herbois, Billaud-Varennes 52 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [i 793-1795 and Barrere, who flattered the mob, and whose aim was to bring back the Terror. To this party SaHcetti also belonged. People of all shades of opinion were in the habit of coming to the sa/on of Madame Permon in the evening, and among them Salicetti, to whom Madame Permon felt herself too much indebted for the pro- tection he had given them to do anything to dis- courage his presence in her house. But as events grew more and more startling, she felt an unconquer- able repugnance to receive as a friend a man who was doing his utmost to bring back the Terror, and she was considering whether she should not speak to him on the subject, when the matter was decided by the following circumstances. After violent scenes, in which the " Montague " supported all the demands of the mob, the Conven- tion awoke to the critical state of affairs, and gave orders to General Pichegru, who in a few hours arrested the leading members of the Terrorist faction. But the city was seething with rage and excitement, there was a general. call to arms, the air was filled with shouts, cries, and the ringing of the tocsin, an armed mob poured out of the Faubourg St. Antoine, urged on by the conspirators who were driven to desperation, and had promised them the sack of Paris. There was a universal dread of a worse cala- mity even than that of loth August, '91. Roused by this frightful danger, the respectable citizens — all, in fact, who had anything to lose — formed themselves into armed and organised bands, and prepared to defend their lives and property. Madame Permon and Laura remained, of course. 1 793-1 795] -'/" yAPOLEOXS COrRT 53 shut up at home all da}-, having done their best to hide their most valuable things. Towards evening Albert, whom they had not seen all day, came in to get some food, exhausted with hunger, having eaten nothing since earl)' morning, for at that time the cafi^s and restaurants, now so universal, were few and scattered. Just as he was finishing his repast Napoleon arrived in the same state. He sat down to the table, telling them, whilst he ate, of the frightful commotion going on in the streets. He asked if they had seen Salicetti the last day or two, and remarked that he had ruined his career. Albert Pcrmon tried to make an excuse for him, but Napoleon interrujjted. " Hold your tongue, Permon, hold your tongue ! That man has been my evil genius. Dumerbion liked me, and would have given me active service. No, I may pardon, but I cannot forget it ; that is another thing." About midnight he and Albert went out together ; the streets were still full of excited crowds, a few shots were heard, but the " Montagne " had fallen, the Convention was victorious, and for the time the danger was over. The next day Madame Permon had some people to dinner. It was a sort of farewell party, as she and Laura were to start for Bordeau.x four days after- wards to spend some months with M. Permon, and then return with him to Paris. About six o'clock Madame Permon was in her drawing-room, only one person having arrived, when Mariette came and whispered in her ear that there was some one in her bedroom who wanted to speak to her alone. 54 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [i 793-1 795 When she went in she saw a figure standing half- concealed by the curtain of the window. He stepped forward, making a sign to her to keep silence, and she recognised Salicetti. He was deadly pale, his black eyes burning, his lips white. " I am proscribed," he said in a low, rapid voice, " and that means condemned to death. Gautier met me on the boulevard and warned me. Madame Permon, I have not deceived myself in trusting to your generosity. You will save me, will }'Ou not? I need scarcely remind you that I saved your husband and son." Laura had come in and shut the door. The three stood looking at one another. Through the closed door were heard the voices of the guests assembling in the drawing-room. Madame Permon took her unwelcome guest by the hand and led him into the room beyond, which was Laura's, where they could not be heard. " I will not waste time in talking," she said. " All that I have is at your disposal. But beyond my own life I value my son and daughter. I am ready to risk my life for you. But if I hide you here only for a few hours — this house will not conceal you longer — I shall not be able to save you, and I shall not only bring my own head to the scaffold, but my son's. I owe you gratitude ; say yourself if it ought to go so far as that." " I would not run you into danger for the world," he replied. " This is my plan and my only hope. This house, being an //otc/ garni, will never be suspected ; the landlad)' natural!)' wants to make money. I will give her plenty. Let me be hidden 1793-1795] -iT XAPOI.EOys COrk'T 55 here for a few (la)'s, then you are i^oiii<^ to Gascon}', take me with \ou and you will save m)- life. If )'ou refuse me shelter even for a few hours, when I leave this house I shall be arrested, condemned, and perish on the scaffold from which I saved \our husband and son." " Salicetti," said Madame Permon, " there is neither pity nor generosity in what you say. You know m>- position and take advantage of it. Once more, what can I do in an //oife/ garni? — a house filled with people from all the provinces, inhabited by )our enemies, for you know very well that Buonaparte is one of them. Besides, the landlady is far from sharing )'Our opinions, and is it likely that an)' promise of yours would induce her to help }'ou at the risk of her life ? Ever\-thing round us bristles with difficulties." At that moment some one opened the bedroom door. Madame Permon rushed forward to stand at the inner door, but it was only Albert who came to see why dinner was not served. "Everybody has come," he said, " except Buona- parte, who has sent an excuse." Madame Permon clasped her hands tighth', and for a moment raised her eyes to heaven. Albert looked at her in astonishment, but she signed to him to be silent and desired him aloud to order the dinner to be taken in at once. Then, taking a letter from the mantelpiece she entered the drawing-room with it in her hand, saying to the assembled guests that her daughter C'ccile had just sent her a messenger from the South with a turke\' and truffles, which, if the)- did not mind waiting, they could have 56 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [i793-i795 for dinner. This she said because the man who was present when Mariette called her was a chattering, gossiping person, who would be a danger. Everybody preferred not to wait for the turke)', which she proposed they should cat the next day instead ; so, asking leave to finish her letter, she returned into the bedroom, softly bolted the door, and told Salicetti that fortunately Buonaparte was not there. " Now what is to be done ? " "If you don't refuse to save me, the thing is certain. Do you consent?" Madame Permon was silent for a minute, and Laura saw by her changing colour the violent agitation she felt. Salicetti, interpreting her silence as a refusal, took up his hat, muttered some words, and turned to go, but Madame Permon caught him by the arm. "Stay!" she said; "this roof must shelter you. My son must pay his debt, and I must pay my husband's." " Well, then, it is all settled : there is nothing more to say. Go to dinner, and Mariette will look after me." Madame Permon stopped for a moment in her own room to regain her composure. Her eyes rested in despair upon Laura, who was clinging to her, for she well knew the danger she was incurring. How- ever, she controlled herself, and no one who saw her bright face and heard her merry laugh could have guessed the deadly fear that made her heart sink. The dinner was gay and animated. M. Bruneticre was of the party, and the conversation turned upon I793-I795] '4'' yAPOf.EOXS COURT 57 Salicetti, of wliom he spoke with contempt and reprobation. At last the evening came to an end, and when everybody was gone Madame Permon told Albert what had happened. He was horrified at the danger for his mother and sister, but there was no time for fear or hesitation ; something must be done. The}- sent for Madame Gretry, their landlady, who was an excellent woman. At the first mention of a pro- scribed person she exclaimed — " I have what }-ou require, but for that it will be necessary that Madame Permon should change her apartment. It is a secret place which has saved more than four people already in the Terror, and it will save others yet, as long as I live in this house." They changed their apartment accordingly without delay, giving out that they wanted a larger one, as M. Permon was coming to Paris, and they arranged that they should pretend to get a second letter from him, saying that after all he was not coming, and summon- ing them to Bordeaux. Meanwhile Salicetti was put in the secret chamber, \\hich was lined with tapcstr\- and carpets to deaden any sound. Next morning Napoleon appeared with a large bouquet of violets for Madame Permon, an attention so unwonted on his part that they all laughed, in which he joined, saying, " It seems to me that I don't make a good cavalicre seit'cntc.'' He then began to speak of Salicetti, observing that he wondered how he and his friends liked being arrested themselves, and that they were reaping the fruits of their own actions. " What ! is Salicetti arrested ? " cried Madame 58 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1793-1795 Permon, with an air of surprise, signing to Laura to shut the door. "Why, didn't you know that the warrant was out against him yesterday? I thought you knew it so well that he was hidden in your house." " In my house ! " exclaimed Madame Permon. "In my house ! Napoleon, my dear boy, you must be mad ! In my house ! Why, 1 haven't got a house. My dear General, I must really beg you not to make such a joke about me to any one else. What have I done to you that you should amuse yourself by endangering my life, for that is what it comes to ? " Napoleon got up and stood in silence, looking at her with folded arms for some moments. Then he said — "Madame Permon, Salicetti is hidden here. Don't interrupt me ; I don't know it positively, but I say that he is hidden here, because at five o'clock yesterday lie was seen on the boulevard speaking to Gauthier, who warned him not to go to the Conven- tion, and he went in this direction. He has not been to the Palais Egalite, and he has no friends here intimate enough to risk their own safety and that of their family by receiving him, except you." " And by what right should he have come to me ? " replied Madame Permon. " He knows our opinions are not the same. I was just leaving Paris, and if it had not been for m)' husband's letter I should have set off to-morrow morning for (-iascony." "By what right should he come to you? You may well say so, my dear Madame J'ermon. To go to an unprotected woman whom a few hours' shelter 1 793-1795] -''^ SWrOLEOX'S COUh'T 59 given to a proscribed man who well deserves his proscription would compromise, is a mean, cowardly action of which nobody else would be guilty. You are under an obligation to him ; it is like a bill he holds, and which he comes like a bailiff and orders you to pay. Was not that it, Mademoiselle Loulou ? " he said, turning abruptly to Laura, who was looking at some flowers, and pretended not to hear. " Laurette," said her mother, " General Buonaparte is speaking to you, my child." Laura turned to him with a slight confusion, but Napoleon, taking the child's hand, said to her mother, " I beg your pardon, I was wrong, and your daughter has given me a lesson." For more than two hours he remained there, Madame Permon denying that Salicetti was in the house ; Napoleon, who did not believe it, saying, " Madame Permon, }-ou are a remarkably good woman and he is a scoundrel. He knew you could not shut your doors against him, so he endangered you and this child." ]\Iadame Permon tried to throw him on a false scent by declaring that Salicetti had been there and gone away. At last Napoleon departed, Salicetti having heard through the partition that concealed him the whole of the conversation. For several da)'s he stayed there, to the great inconvenience of the Permons. Laura was dread- fully afraid of him : she said in after-years that he was to her like a vampire. His principles and ideas were odious to them all, and he was constantly saying something that horrified and disgusted them. 6o A LEADER OF SOCIETY [i793-i795 The execution of those who were condemned and had been arrested took place. Albert, who knew one of them and went to the scaffold out of kindness to be of some consolation to him, returned much over- come, his overcoat stained with blood, so close had he stood to him. The account he gave of what had passed was too much for Laura, who clung to her mother trembling and sobbing. Then Salicetti had an attack of fever and delirium. Without any religion and stained with crime, his ravings, curses, and blasphemies were horrible to listen to. At last he was well enough to travel, and it was arranged that they were to set off on their journey to Bordeaux one night, taking Salicetti disguised as a valet, whose name, Gabriel Tachard, he assumed. He was to try to embark at one of the southern ports, those of the north being too strictly watched. Napoleon had never been deceived by Madame Permon's assurances about Salicetti, and when he asked her at what time she was going to start, and she replied at midnight, as it was better in hot weather to travel at night and rest by day, he remarked sarcastically that it was an excellent idea, and asked if it were her own. " Whose else should it be ? Loulou's ? " " Why not ? Mademoiselle Loulou has excellent ideas sometimes ; especially when she likes me a little." "But I like you very much always!" cried Laura. There had been much trouble and difficulty in hiring a valet, very dark and about thirt)' years old whose description in the passport would suit Salicetti I793-I795] AT yAPOLEOX'S COURT 6i and then getting the man another place. However, it was clone, and all other arrangements completed. Madame Grctry had been lavishl}' rev/arded, but was thankful to see them going, as she had n(jt a moment's peace or safety while Salicetti was there. The day before their departure Napoleon proposed to go with them, saying — " I will go and see my mother while you are at Bordeaux and Toulouse, and then return with you all to Paris. I have nothing to do, thanks to that scoundrel who has ruined me." They spent the next day in packing, much dis- turbed by the continued visits of friends who came to say goodbye. At half-past six the}- sat down to dinner with several people, among whom were M. Bruneticre and Napoleon. At ten Madame Permon dismissed everybody, saying that she had several things to finish and promising to be back in Sep- tember or October. When Napoleon took leave of her he held her hand and said in a low voice — " When you come back here remember this day and say to yourself that to-day I have given you more than I thought I possessed. Perhaps we may never meet again ; my destiny will surely call me far away from Paris before long, but wherever I go you will have a true friend." They set off, with Salicetti on the box of their travelling-carriage, and were soon safely out of Paris. The first time they changed horses the postilion, who was going back to Paris, brought a letter to Madame Permon. "It cannot be for me," she said ; "it must be a mistake." 62 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1793-1795 " No, no, it is no mistake — at least if you are the citoyenjie Permon." On hearing this she remembered that Napoleon had told her he would send her a letter. She took it, therefore, offering him five francs, which he refused, saying that he had been paid by the young man. "Really," said Madame Permon, "one would think I was a young girl being carried away from her lov^er by her parents. Did any one ever hear of such a thing?" She could not see to read the letter, and it was not until the day had dawned that she was able to do so. It was as follows — " I have never liked to be taken for a dupe, as I should be in your eyes, if 1 did not tell you that I have known for more than three weeks that Salicetti was concealed in your house. Remembej- my words ; on the I prairial, Madame Permon, I was morally certain of it. Now I know it positively. Salicetti, you see I could have repaid you the injury you did me, and by doing so I should have revenged myself, while you did me harm without any provocation. Which is the finest part to have played, yours or mine ? Yes, I could have taken my revenge, and I have not done so. Perhaps you will say that your benefactress has been your salvation. It is true that she was a powerful consideration, but alone, disarmed, and proscribed, your head would have been sacred to me. Go in peace, and find a refuge where you can learn better and more patriotic feelings. My lips are closed for ever upon your name. Repent and appre- ciate my mtjtives. I deserve it, for they are noble and generous. Madame Permon, my best wishes 1793-1795] --^'f NAPOLEO\''S COURT 63 follow you and your child. You arc feeble and defenceless. May Providence and the prayers of a friend be with you. Above all, be prudent and never stop in large towns. Adieu ; recevez Dies amities." Madame Permon passed the letter to Laura, telling her in Greek to read it. When they stopped to breakfast she showed it to Salicetti, who exclaimed, " I am lost ! Ah ! they are mad who believe in the prudence of women ! " " You are more imprudent than an\' of us, mou cher," remarked Madame Permon ; " at the same time you pay my daughter and me a great compli- ment, for you must have great confidence in our generosity when in return for all we have risked \ou speak in that injurious manner." Seeing his error, he hastened to apologise, saying that he was alluding to Mariette, but Madame Permon only shook her head, saying — " You had much better appreciate the noble con- duct of Buonaparte, which is admirable." "Admirable !" was the disdainful answer. "What has he done? \\ ould }'OU have had him betray me?" " I do not know what I would have of him," returned she, with a contemptuous smile, " but I know that what I wish about you is that you were grateful." The secret had been betrayed by Mariette to the servant of Napoleon, who was in love with her, in spite of her affection for her mistress and Laura, who by her culpable folly had been placed in the most serious danger. Madame Permon would certainly have lost her life if they had been discovered, and nobody in the house would have escaped altogether. 64 A LEADER OF SOCIETY' [1793-1795 They travelled safely to Bordeaux, and on stopping at their usual hotel found that M. Permon was in the country. A friend of his, M. Emilhaud, told them that they had tried in vain to find a vessel going to Italy ; there would be none for a fortnight, neither was there any starting, except for England, St. Domingo, or America. Salicetti would not go to any of those places and would run great risks by staying in Bordeaux. But the valet of M. Permon arrived with a message from him that he had succeeded in arranging with a man to let them have a sort of yacht to go up the Garonne to Toulouse and on by the canal to Carcas- sonne. The carriage could be put on board the yacht and they could land and drive on to Narbonne or Cette, where there were certain to be boats sailing for Venice and Genoa. This would be much safer than the road from Bordeaux to Montpellier. The valet, Landois, told Salicetti that he was being looked for and must embark at once. They went on board at night and Landois with them. The carriage was put on deck and covered up, so that no one could tell what it was from the shore, and they started. It was a lovely night. Laura and her mother sat on deck talking in low tones as the boat glided through the water, and gazing at the quiet country through which they were passing, illuminated by the bright southern moonlight. Tall trees throwing their dark shadows on the dewy grass, silent fields and woods, here and there an old gabled house or chateau ruined by recent violence, a sleeping village, a church bearing marks of desecration, its windows and doors shattered, grass and weeds growing in the ancient porch, while its •793-1795] l^' \'.il'Of.i:0\"S COCRT 65 priest was cither murdered or far away in prison or exile and his flock left to live and die like heathens and savages. These reflections led them to speak of Laura's first Communion, for which she had passed the usual age, but which the danger — in fact, the impossibility — of attending to religious duties had hitherto prevented. She was most anxious that it should be no longer delayed, and her mother promised directlv they returned to Paris to arrange about it. Just then Salicetti came on deck, and hearing what they were saying, began to make blasphemous remarks. The customs and manners in which Laura had been educated not permitting a young girl to give an older person the sort of answer he would certainly receive in our own day under such provoca- tion, she got up without speaking, turned away and went down to the little cabin she shared with her mother, where she sat by the open window looking out. Presentlx' she heard Salicetti, who had taken her place b)' her mother under the awning on deck, carrying on a conversation which she could not help hearing, but which filled her with horror. As at first they spoke in undertones, she did not distinguish what they were saying, but as the\- went on and conversed in a more audible manner, it became evident that she was the subject of discussion and that it was a project of marriage for her that Salicetti was pressing upon her mother, in reply to whose objections that she could not endure him and was too young, he said that she had the spirit of a heroine, with talents and intelligence far beyond her age, that he admired her all the more for hating the man whose 6 66 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [i 793-1 795 presence was a danger to her mother, and that he would give Madame Permon an estate in Normandy and pay all the expenses of her daughter's education in Paris if she would consent to bring her to Italy in two years, supposing he were not by that time free to return to France, concluding with the representation that it would be foolish to refuse such an offer, as M. Permon was ruined and could give Laura no dot, whereas she could secure to her all these advantages and a good-looking husband of two-and-twenty. " It cannot be himself, then," thought Laura with a sigh of relief, and just then Madame Permon brought the conversation to an end by saying that she did not wish to be separated from her child and declined to sell her, besides which the matter was for M. Permon to settle and she was perfectly willing to abide by his decision. She then rose, wished Salicetti good night, and came down to the cabin, where Laura told her that she had overheard the conversation and asked who was the young man in question. " I did not quite understand," replied her mother ; " one of his nephews or cousins, he says, but I believe he means himself" " You must be joking ! " exclaimed Laura ; " why, he is old enough to be my father ! " " I am not joking at all," answered Madame Permon, " but whether it is he or another, I am not going to allow my Loulou to be taken from me in any such way. Come and kiss me, my child." Laura clung to her with the passionate affection she had always felt for her mother, and the affair was at an end. The party arrived safely at Carcassonne and drove '793-1795] -i'l' \'AI'OLEOX S COrRT (q to Narbonne, but no boat Un- Italy could be found there. They accordingh- went on to Cette, or rather to Meze, which was a kind of suburb of that i>lace, and took up their abode in a lonely inn surrounded by a salt-water marsh. The landlord at once went down to the port and found that a boat would sail at nine that night for Genoa. Salicetti even then wanted to wait two days longer for the Trieste boat, observing that the solitude of the inn made it safe enough ; but Madame Permon's patience was exhausted, and she replied that it did not suit her to stay any longer in that inn, that the wind might not be favourable in two days, and that he must go that evening. The inn was not luxurious, but they sat down to an excellent dinner of fish with the captain of the ship that was to take Salicetti. He showed no surprise on seeing the servant dine with them or at anything that passed. Such incidents were easily accounted for at that time. Directly after dinner the captain announced that the wind was rising and he should sail in an hour. Laudois and some of the people of the inn carried the luggage on board. Salicetti thanked Madame Permon, sent a message of thanks to Napoleon, asked permission to embrace Laura, and followed the captain into the boat that pushed off towards the ship. Full of delight and relief to have got rid of him and to feel themselves once more in safet}', Madame Permon and Laura slept at the inn, and the ne.xt morning went on to Montpellier, enjoying the delicious climate and the beaut)' of the countr)' through which they travelled. 68 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1793-1795 At Montpellier they found a letter from M. Permon saying that he was still detained at Bordeaux but if Laura wanted to go. to the fair of Beaucaire they could do so. The two little towns of Beaucaire and Tarascon stand opposite each other, their houses washed by the Rhone, which flows between them. The fair of Beaucaire, like those of Leipsic and Frankfort, had long enjoyed a European reputation. To it came traders from London, Paris, India, Russia, in fact from all parts of the world. One of the attractions was a strange kind of mediaeval procession called the Tarasqiie, which, however, did not take place that year, much to Laura's disappointment. The disturbed state of the country made the mer- chants and everybody else uneasy and spoilt the fair. They only stopped in the quaint old town long enough to see it, and then went on to Bordeaux, where at length they found M. Permon, delighted to meet them again but looking extremely ill. He listened with great interest to their account of what had happened, and when his wife told him of Napoleon's generosity and Salicetti's slighting obser- vation, he said, " I have nearly always remarked that those who find the noble or generous conduct of others a mere matter of course are incapable of it themselves. And a person who has nothing to revenge cannot put himself in the place of one who holds in his hands the fate of the man who has ruined him." CHAPTER I\' 1 795- 1 798 SHORTLY after these events the rermons re- turned to Paris, stayin<^ on their way at the chateau of Madame Saint-Angc, who led a simple country life there with her husband and children. Long afterwards, when Madame Saint- Ange was staying at Laura's house in Paris, and saw her hurrying home to dress for some Court festivit}' with scarcely time to speak to her children, she said to her, " Well, are you happier now than when you played with your cousins and gathered mulberries at Saint Michel ?" They arrived at Paris early in September, and stopped at the Hotel de I'Autruche (formerly called Hotel d'Autriche). The journey had been very tiring, and when Albert came to see them he was shocked at the appearance of his father. They sent immediately for their own doctor, who asked for a consultation, but a bad attack of fever still further reduced his strength. Napoleon came directly he heard they were in Paris and visited them ever\' day, sending them the news of what was going on in the morning when he could 70 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1795-170^ not get there early, for Paris was again in a disturbed and dangerous state. He was sitting with them one evening when M. Permon was so much worse that Madame Permon wanted the doctor. Albert was not there, and none of the servants dared go into the streets. Napoleon said nothing, but ran downstairs. It was pouring with rain, and there were no cabs to be got, but he returned, wet through, with the doctor. Paris was now like a besieged city. All night the challenge and reply of the sentinels could be heard under the windows. There was a strict search for arms, and every man fit for service was summoned to the section. M. Permon was very ill one afternoon in October, when three fellows forced their way into the sa/ou in spite of the representations of the landlord, demanding with brutal insolence why he had not presented him- self, and on being told that he was ill in bed tried to enter his room. Napoleon arrived and found Madame Permon defending the door, her indignant defiance having for the moment stopped and disconcerted the ruffians. He managed to clear the house, promising to go him- self to the section and complain of them to the President, but adding — ■ " Everything is on the brink of an explosion in Paris to-day ; you must be most careful in all you do or say. Albert ought not to go out. You must see to all that. Mademoiselle Laurette, for your poor mother is in a dreadful state." Madame Permon had, in fact, a bad attack of spasms, to which she was liable after any great agitation. i7os-i7';^] •'/' \'.U'Oi.i:oxs corRi 71 M. Pennon became worse and worse all night, and in the morninLT the well-known terrible sound of the XAPOLEON AT ARCOLA. (Gros.) drums and the hurr\-ing tramp in the streets filled them with fear. 72 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1795-1798 M. Permon, aware of his own danger, sent for his lawyer, but he could not be found, the streets were very unsafe, and as twilight drew on, though the theatres were open, the tumult increased. Napoleon had been in two or three times ; he came while they were at dessert, drank some coffee, ate some grapes, and hurried out again, saying that if there was any interesting news he would come back. However, he did not return, and everything looked more threatening ; the street was bristling with bayonets, and they were making barricades under the windows. All that night and all the next day the preparations and commotion went on, and about four o'clock in the afternoon the first shot was the signal for a cannonade which seemed to come from all over Paris. The night that followed was a fearful one to Laura. Amidst the deafening noise of the cannon she watched by the death-bed of her father, while her mother seemed in nearly as desperate a condition. The next morning the firing ceased, order and calm were re-established, but M. Permon only lived a day or two longer, the agitation of that time had been too much for him. His family were broken-hearted, and during this time of sadness Napoleon was continually with them and showed them all the affection of a son and a brother. Ever since they came to Paris Albert had been arranging about a house for them, and had taken one in the Chaussce-d*Antin, which, without being very large, had room enough for Cccile and her husband also, whenever they should come to Paris. Into this liousc they moved, glad to get awa}' ffom i795-i7')«] '■"■ y.irOLEOX'S COrRT 73 the Hotel dc rAutruche, with its sad associations. J^Lit now arose another trouble, the weight of which, in spite of her extreme \outh, Laura was obli<^ed to bear. The affairs of M. Permon were in such a state that when he died there seemed to be nothin' were on intimate terms. The custom of having two or three children only had not yet begun in France, and M. and Madame de Saint-Mesmes had six or seven. Two of the girls were nearly of Laura's age, and for their religious instruction there lived in the house 7 82 A LEADER *0F SOCIETY [1795-1798 a Benedictine nun, Sister Rosalie, whom M. and Madame de Saint-Mesmes had protected during the Terror, and who was deeply attached to them in consequence. The churches were now beginning to be re-opened, though still only here and there ; and it was proposed that the confirmation and first communion of the children, so long deprived of those holy sacraments, should be celebrated. Sister Rosalie was collecting a class of young girls for preparation, and invited Laura to join. The nearest church to be had was still at a con- siderable distance from the Chaussee d'Antin, being the Church of Bonne-Nonvellc in the quartiey Pois- sonicrc, in the sacristy of which the class was held every morning at half-past eight by the cure of the parish, M. de Cani, an excellent man, who was adored by his parishioners and had risked his life rather than leave them during the late perilous times. Early in the morning Sister Rosalie went round to the different houses to fetch the young girls and take them to the church, where, gathered round the vener- able priest, who had just escaped the perils of pro- scription and was ready, like the carl}' confessors of the Christian faith, to risk his life again at an}' moment, they listened to his instructions with the enthusiastic devotion called forth by the dangers and persecutions which surrounded those who dared to profess a religion in the reign of " liberty, equality, and fraternity." The preparation went on for six weeks, and the day appointed for the first communion was Easter Monday, 1798, the confirmation to take place on Easter Tuesday. i795-i79«] iT XAPOLEOX'S COURT 83 Years had passed since any such spectacle had been seen in France, and immense crowds assembled to witness it. The church of Bo7inc-Nouvelle on both days was so crowded that the children could hardly pass up to the altar, and the bishop who con- firmed was obliged to stand to administer that sacra- ment upon the steps outside the church. Multitudes of people, delirious with joy, were thronging the streets outside, pressing into the church, many of them shedding tears as they recognised a child, a sister, a niece or a grandchild among the veiled, white-robed girls kneeling at the altar, once more covered with lights and flowers. Here and there among the crowd were heard muttered prayers and ejaculations from unwonted lips and murmured wishes from strange, rough-looking spectators that the prayers of the innocent children might help them too, whilst women held up their little ones to the bishop, ex- claiming, '" Bless him, bless him, Monseigneur ! Alas ! we shall perhaps never see you again ! " CHAPTER V 1 798- 1 800 THE news from Italy was one long triumph. Battle after battle was won by the young Corsican leader, now the idol of France. He had been very good to Albert, receiving him as an old friend, and seemed much surprised that xAlbert, who was very intimate with Joseph Buona- parte, thought it best, in consequence of the quarrel between his mother and Napoleon, to bring a letter of recommendation from the former to the latter. " What is this letter for ? " said Napoleon when he saw it. " Why should you feel such distrust of yourself? " Albert replied that he was afraid the unfortunate altercation with his mother might have disposed the general unfavourably towards himself, to which Napoleon replied, laughing, that he thought no more about it, and was afraid Madame Permon bore him more ill-will than he did to her, which was perhaps natural, as she was in the wrong. Albert had a post at Massa-Carrara, where he entangled himself in a love affair with the wife of his landlord and ran away with her, to the indignation 84 1798-1800] J LEADER OF SOCIETY 85 not only of her husband but of General Lannes, who was quartered near Massa, and was in love with her too. They [Hirsued and brouy,ht back the young people, but the affair caused Madame Permon much uneasiness, and her health was beginning to be seriously affected again. Napoleon was received in triumph on his return from Italy, and entered Paris amidst the acclamations of the people. The Parisians, so long deprived of gaiety and amusement, threw off the gloom and restraint under which they were becoming every day more impatient, and celebrated their victories by the most brilliant festivities. One /Jie succeeded another ; money was lavishly spent ; everybody joined eagerl\- and much more indiscriminately in whatever pleasures came in their way than would have been dreamed of twenty years earlier. Although she was onl\' fourteen years old, Laura went everywhere with her mother. One night, at a great party given by Talleyrand, who was then Foreign Minister, at the Hotel Galifet, rue du Bac, they met Napoleon walking with the Turkish Ambassador. Madame Permon, who was with 1\I. de Caulaincourt, bowed and was passing on, but General Buonaparte came up, and, looking at her with much admiration, for she was one of the handsomest women present, he shook hands and remained for some minutes talk- ing to her and Laura, thereb}' drawing the attention of everybody upon them. Soon after this, Madame I'ermon became so dan- gerously ill that for some time her life was despaired of. It was a terrible position for a girl scarcely more 86 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1798- 1800 than a child. Albert was still in Italy, and their mother depended entirely upon Laura, who, with the help of their faithful Alsatian maid, nursed her night and day for six weeks. At length, however, contrary to the expectations of the three doctors who attended her, she began to recover, and by the end of the autumn she was well again. That winter was a very gay one. The expedition to Egypt was decided upon, but thousands of families were rejoicing at the return of fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons ; the air was full of triumphs and victories ; every one was in the highest spirits. French society was at this time in a singular state. Everywhere the strange mixture of classes and opinions, brought about by the events of the last few years, had entirely altered the composition and tone of the salons of Paris. In that of Madame Permon, like many others, now congregated a miscellaneous crowd whose principles, education, manners, and habits were so different as to render impossible the sort of harmonious intimacy and confidence which had formerly been usual, but on the other hand pro- duced a great deal more variety, interest, and excitement than were to be found in the old state of things. Thither came officials of the new Government, officers of the army — many of them risen from the ranks, visionary artists and literary men, to whom even all the horrors only just past had not taught wisdom, and who still hankered after a Republic ; idiotic young men who called themselves by classical names, wore Greek and Roman costumes in the streets of Paris and believed themselves to 1798-1800] AT XAPOI.I-OXS COCRT S7 be capable of regulating the affairs (jf the State ; and lastly those old friends and accjuaintances of Madame Permon who belonged to the fanboufi^ St. Geriiuxitt and formed the largest part of the society that gathered round her. Since the rapid rise of Napoleon, Madame Bucjna- parte and her other sons and daughters had come to Paris. Joseph, whom, much to Napoleon's dis- pleasure, the rest of his brothers and sisters persisted in regarding as the head of the family, was hand- some, pleasant and courteous in manner, a great favourite amongst his friends and family, but with no particular talents or ambition. His wife was a gentle, sweet-tempered woman, whose sister, Uesirce Clar}', had just been married to Bernadotte, afterwards King of Sweden. Lucien Buonaparte came next to Napoleon in birth and talent. He was upright and honourable, but a fanatical Republican, who called himself Brutus, indulged in all sorts of preposterous follies, and married the daughter of the innkeeper in the little village of Saint-Maximin, which he persisted in calling Marathon, and in which he had some kind of employment. His proceedings excited the vexa- tion of his family, especially of Napoleon, who was very angr)' but could do nothing with him. Louis was at this time about eighteen years old. He was plain, delicate, shy and reserved ; had simples tastes, hated society and public life, but was by many people said to be the best of his famil}'. Jerome, of whom there is not much good to be told, was then a boy at school. If Napoleon's brothers were wanting in ambition, 88 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1798-1800 the same could not be said of his sisters, all of whom were inordinately vain, extravagant, and greedy for power and money. The eldest, Marianne, or, as s-he was sometimes called, Elisa, was now Madame Bacciochi. She seems to have been the least attractive of the three, and was not generally liked. Pauline, now the wife of General Leclerc, was extremely beautiful and remarkably silly ; she was Napoleon's favourite. Annunciata, afterwards called Caroline, was then at the famous school of Madame Campan at Saint- Germain. Madame Leclerc came constantly to the house of Madame Permon, who was very fond of her, and who also visited all the other members of the family except Napoleon, with whom the quarrel she had made about Stephanopoli had never been made up. The family and the wife of Napoleon hated each other. Josephine, widow of the Vicomte de Beau- harnais, was a Creole, and several years older than her second husband. She was pretty, charming in manner, and kind-hearted, but thoughtless, frivolous, and extravagant. Napoleon had the greatest aver- sion to her mixing herself in any way in political matters, and desired that she would not speak of them at all, saying, " Whatever you say is supposed to come from me ; therefore say nothing upon those subjects, so that my enemies, by whom you are surrounded, may not be able to draw silly conclu- sions from your remarks." It was not in Napoleon's disposition to feel deep or lasting affection for anybody but himself, and his ideas about women belonged rather to the Oriental 1 798-1800] AT NAPOLEON'S COURT 89 character than to Western civih'sation ; but at this time, and in his own way, he loved Josephine. As he told Madame Permon, he wished to marrv a JOSKPHINK, E.MPKESS OK FKANCK. WIHO OV NAPOLEON" I., N1.E 1-ASCllKK DK LA PAOERIE, WIDOW OK ALEXANDRE. VICOJITE DE BEAfHAKXAIS ( I7^>3-lSl4). '_'. (Bclliard.) woman of the old regime, and just then he found this marriage suited his plans ; notwithstanding which, nothing irritated him more than for it to be said, as 90 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1798-1800 it continually was, that he derived any advantage or assistance from his wife, her connections, or friends ; he was also jealous and tyrannical. Josephine, how- ever, was much attached to him, and so were Eugene and Hortense, her son and daughter by her first husband, who had perished in the Revolution. One of the most intimate friends of the Permons was the old Marquis de Caulaincourt, who lived within a hundred yards of them, and was constantly in their house. His children and Laura were like brothers and sisters, and she always called him " Petit Papa." He wore the dress and preserved the manners of the stately Court of the Bourbons, and seemed to belong to a bygone age, though he was an old friend of Josephine, and allowed his sons to serve under Napoleon, which many young men of good family were now anxious to do. There were many others, however, who held aloof, and the greater number of the returned emigres hated Napoleon and looked with disdain upon his family, who were already beginning to give themselves airs of royalty, which made them ridiculous in the eyes of all who had known the real court and royal family of P'rance. Amongst these was Madame de Contades, daughter of the brave Marquis de Bouillc, who commanded in the affair of Varennes, when the King and Queen "so nearly escaped, and might have succeeded in doing so if Louis had possessed any spirit or decision of character. Madame de Contades, without being a beauty, was a woman of striking appearance and much admired. She was one of the lately returned einign'es, detested 179S-1800] AT XAPOLEOXS COURT Qi the vcr)' name of Napoleon, made li\;lit of his victories, and lau;4hcd at his family, refusing even to allow that Madame Leclerc was beautiful. Just after the departure of Napoleon and the army for Egypt, Madame Permon gave a ball, which was attended almost exclusively by the faubourg St. Genmmi, the only exceptions being a few men who danced remarkably well and went everywhere, and the Buonaparte famil\-. Madame Leclerc spent a whole week in arranging a toilette for the occasion, which she declared would immortalise her, and about which she made as much fuss and mystery as if it were an affair of State. She asked Madame Permon to allow her to dress at her house for fear anything might injure its freshness on the wa)- ; and when she thought the right moment for her appearance had come — that is to say, when the rooms were tolerably full and yet not so crowded as to prevent her from being observed — she entered the ballroom and made her way to the place reserved for her by Madame Permon. A murmur of admiration greeted her, and she was soon surrounded by a group of men, some of whom had left Madame de Contades to come to her. She had certainly succeeded in making the sensation she wished: every one was talking about her and admiring her beauty. Presently she moved her seat, and took possession of a large sofa in the boudoir of Madame Permon, which, being much more empty, she thought would allow her toilette to be seen better than the crowded ballroom, especially as it was brilliantly lighted. All sorts of remarks of another description mingled with the admiration expressed for her beaut)- 92 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1798- 1800 and dress, many of the woman exclaiming at the insolent extravagance of the/c?nr;///^, who only three years ago had scarcely food to eat. Madame Permon was in anxious distress lest she should hear any of these observations, when Madame de Contades, who had the greatest contempt and dislike for Pauline Leclerc, and was further irritated because two or three of the men who were talking to her had left her to join Pauline, came up and stood near, looking at her and admiring in an audible voice her dress, her face, her coiffure, her whole appearance, in fact, till suddenly she exclaimed to the man who stood by her, '^ Ah ! mon Dieu ! what a pity! But how can such a deformity have escaped notice ? Mon Dieu ! how unlucky ! " Everybody turned to see ; all eyes were fixed upon Pauline, who became crimson, while Madame de Contades, with her looks directed to her head, repeated in a compassionate tone, " What a pity ! " and some one asked, " But what is it ? What do you see ?" " What do I see? Could anyone help seeing those two enormous ears planted on that head ? If I had ears like those I should have them cut off, and I really must advise her to do the same." There was an end of Pauline's success for that evening. She began to cry, and went to bed, where Madame Permon came to see her the next morning and listened for some time with patience while she abused Madame de Contades, for she was fond of Pauline and thought she had been hardly dealt with ; but when, after saying that she could not see what people found to admire in Madame de Contades, and that there were many far more attractive women at 179S-1800] AT NAPOLEON'S COURT 93 the ball, Madame Leclerc proceeded to single out a certain Madame de Chauvelin who was plain, short- sighted, and had a bad figure, Madame l^ermon exclaimed impatiently — " But, Paulette, my dear child, \'ou are mad, quite mad ! " " I assure }'ou, Madame Permon, that Madame de Chauvelin is very well dressed, is clever and not sarcastic." " Whether she is well dressed or not has nothing to do with the question. As to wit, I know she has plenty ; and if you think that she does not laugh at anything ridiculous that comes in her wa)', just as much as Mcrote " (Madame de Contades) "you are uncommonly mistaken, my poor Paulette. And if her short sight prevents her seeing, her husband has ver}' good eyes, and can see everything for her, I can tell }'OU." That Madame I'ermon, charming as she was, could not have been altogether discriminating in her attachments is shown by her affection for Jerome Buonaparte, a spoilt, troublesome bo\' with neither brains nor gratitude, and for Pauline Leclerc, a frivolous, empty-headed woman, who cared for nothing but dress and flirting, and could not bear any one to be admired but herself She even envied her young sister Caroline, and grumbled when their mother took her for a holida}\ One evening at Madame Permon's Madame Buona- parte came in with Caroline, whom she had brought from Madame Campan's school. Caroline had a lovely complexion and fair, curly hair, which excited the admiration of a man who was talking to Pauline. 94 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1798-1800 Therefore, when Caroline, in rather a rough, awkward way, ran up to her to kiss her, Madame Leclerc pushed her sister away, exclaiming — ■ " Mon Dieul Mamma, you really ought to teach Annunciata not to be so brusque. She is just like a peasant of Fiumorbo ! " 1 Caroline turned away with tears in her eyes, and Madame Buonaparte said nothing, though much displeased at this scene. Some of the best balls given at this early period after the Revolution were those of Madame de Caseaux, whose husband had been President of the Parliament of Bordeaux. She received nobody who did not belong to the faubourg St. Germain. Her daughter Laura and Melanie de Perigord were the most intimate friends of Laura Permon. There were subscription balls at the house of M. Despreaux, the fashionable dancing-master, which were attended by all his pupils and by many others besides. ' A savage district in Corsica. CHAPTER VI 1800 OUT of the strife, disorder.s and confusion that for some years had prevailed in France a new calamit}- had arisen. A band of robbers called chauffeurs, whose crimes made them the terror of the whole countr)-, now infested not only the provinces, but Paris itself. Numbers of those atrocious characters produced, or at any rate brought forward by recent events, flocked to join them, and they now formed a large and powerful bod}' of daring miscreants, from whose depredations and cruelties nobody seemed to be safe. In country places the villages and farms paid them blackmail, or if any refused to do so, they were \ery likely to be surprised some night, the house set on fire, and the inhabitants murdered in their beds. They were never caught, for no one dared to give evidence against them, nor even to refuse to shelter them from justice. In different parts of Paris and the suburbs horrible murders kept taking place, now and then even of a whole family, and still the perpetrators were never discovered. Even the sentinels or watchmen posted about the city did not seem to do much good. 96 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 There was one a short distance from Madame Permon's door, in spite of whose presence one night, at about half-past twelve, while several people who had been spending the evening with her were still there, cries for help were suddenly heard in the street and some of the servants waiting downstairs for their masters, rushing out, found a man robbed and nearly murdered, whom they were only just in time to save, very suspiciously near the watchman in question. Just after this, Madame Permon, having accident- ally struck her head against the marble of her chimney-piece, had a dreadful abscess, which for many days caused her frightful suffering, and left her so weak and ill as to require great care and perfect quiet. Albert was at this time living with his mother, and was occupied in the affairs of some friends of his who were starting a bank in Paris. They lived at Toulon, Bordeaux, Narbonne, and Nimes, and had placed the direction of their business in Paris in his hands. One evening he came in with a commissionaire usually employed in the house, carrying a heavy iron-bound box or safe, and early the next morning he went out, taking the same man and returning accompanied by him, this time laden with a box still heavier than before. " Let him have a glass of wine, Laura," said he. "Here, drink, my good fellow; you are very much overheated, take care." " Dame ! " exclaimed the porter. " I am accus- tomed to heavy loads. Pm not a fine muscadin like you ; you couldn't carry a quarter of what I carried just now." i8oo] AT NAPOI. FOX'S COURT «,7 Albert laughed, anci goinjr closer to the man, whom he knew and trusted, he said significantly, but most imprudentl)', " I carried more than double." The man started and exclaimed, "Impossible! Ah ! yes, yes, I understand." He turned to go downstairs, but came back after a few steps and said — " Am I to go and order )-our cabriolet, citoyoi Permon ? " He asked this question because Albert was in the habit of going into the country every dccadi, and staying away for at least one night. He replied in the affirmative, and the commissionaire went as usual to order one from the livery stables, as Albert alwaj-s on those occasions left their own horses for his mother. Then he went to his mother's room to wish her good- bye, l^ut he found her weak and low-spirited, and when she heard he was going away she looked ready to cry, and said she had scarcely seen him for two days. Without telling her, he sent away the cabriolet and went back to her room, where he sat with her most of the day playing the harp to her and amusing her. Later on several friends came in, and she was so cheered up, that when she went to bed, as she drank the bowl of milk she always took the last thing, she remarked that she felt much better, and should sleep well. Albert went up to his rooms on the second floor, the servants went to bed on the third floor, where they all slept. The ground floor consisted only of the porter's lodge, a subterranean kitchen, store-rooms and offices. The first floor had two doors opening on to the landing of the staircase. One led into an ante- 9^ A LEADER OF SOCIETY [iSoo room, through which people passed into the dining- room, then the drawing-room, the boudoir, Madame Permon's bedroom, Laura's study, her bedroom and another room in which she also 'kept some of her books, her globes, &c. All these rooms opened out of each other, and the last named had also a door leading on to the landing, opposite the first named. Laura sat by her mother till she fell asleep, and then retired to her own room and took a book, mean- ing to sit up for a time in order to be sure that the invalid wanted nothing more. But Madame Permon slept on tranquilly ; no sound broke the silence but the measured tread of the sentinel by the Capucine church, his monotonous " Qui vivc .?" or now and then a carriage driving rapidly by. Little by little even this sound ceased. Laura looked at the clock ; it was a quarter to one. She got up with a yawn, intending to go to bed, but suddenly became conscious of feel- ing very hungry. Having sat up at night so much lately, she had required supper, and had given orders that some fruit or comfitures should always be put in her room the last thing. It was evident, however, that they had this time been forgotten, but as she looked round the room, her eyes fell upon the key of the opposite door leading into the dining-room, which was always left there to enable her to pass that way in the morning to practise on the piano without dis- turbing Madame Permon by going through her room. Laura remembered that there was always something to be found in a cupboard in the dining-room, so, taking her candle, she opened her door, crossed the landing, and unlocking the door opposite, went in, and as she expected, found some bread and preserved i8oo] AT .\'AI>OLKO.\'S COl'k'T (><) strawberries. Ilavinc^ put these on the table and sat clown to eat them, she remembered that iier mother might awake, call her, and be frightened if she did not answer. So taking all the things back into her own room, she returned to fetch the sugar, which she had forgotten ; and then locking and bolting the doors, she sat down again with great satisfaction to her strawberries. Presently she heard a noise at the bottom of the house, and it immediately struck her that the servants must be sitting up playing cards in the kitchen, contrary to her express order that all of them, cook, coachman, footman, and lady's maid, should be in bed and the lights put out by midnight. She listened, and in a few moments heard stealthy steps upon the staircase. "Just as I thought !" muttered Laura to herself. " Well, I shall catch them in the act." And creeping up to the door leading on to the staircase, she noise- lessly drew back one bolt, waiting to draw the other until the whole procession should be close to it. Just then a sudden sound told her that someone had stumbled over Madame Permon's bath, which was always put out on the landing at night. Irritated at the noise, which might awaken her mother, Laura drew back the other bolt, and was just turning the handle to open the door when all at once it flashed into her mind that the servants knew where the bath was, and consequently were not likely to fall over it, and that even if they did they would have laughed, whereas no sound of the kind was heard. But if not the servants, then who, or what ? — and softly, with trembling hands, she slid back the bolts. lOo A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 and waited, almost paralysed with terror, listening while the steps passed her door and began to go up the staircase to the second floor. Being of wood, it creaked beneath the heavy footsteps, which she was now quite certain were not those of the servants, unless, indeed, Antonio, Albert's Venetian valet, who knew that the money was in his master's rooms, was acting as their guide. But the noise ceased, and for nearly ten minutes Laura heard nothing. She began to wonder whether her fears had got the better of her reason, and the steps were after all only those of the servants. Persuading herself that this might really be the case, she sat down, and was just finishing her strawberries when she heard the steps coming down again. This time there was no mistake. What was to be done ? The history of one murder after another committed by the chauffeurs came into her mind. Only the week before, near Orleans, they had killed two persons who had given the alarm, and at Croissy, where they had murdered several people, they had placed a sentinel in the courtyard with orders to shoot the first person who tried to get out. If she were to give the alarm, Albert, hearing her voice, would open his door, come out, and be murdered at once. Laura stood close to the door listening. The chauffeurs came quietly down, avoiding the bath, and stopped on the landing between her door and that of the dining-room. Two of them sat down upon a step, and by putting her ear close to the door, which was so thin that it could have been broken open, she heard a good deal of what they said, and soon i8oo] AT XAPOLEON'S COURT loi made out that Antonio was not amon^j them, but that they supposed Albert to be absent, and knew that there were from 70,cx)0 to 75,(X)0 francs in the house, which only the porter could have told them. They went on swearing at the Le Dru locks on Albert's door, which had prevented their opening it, and said that it was getting towards dawn (it was July) ; that it was not worth while to go into Madame Permon's room, and that that door belonged to la petite. After a moment's silence she caught the words, " Well, to-morrow !" and heard some pieces of iron cautiously put down on the step. Then she dis- covered that they were going to force the door of the dining-room opposite to get the plate, and in a moment, seeing that this would open her mother's room to them, she rushed through the inner door of her own and stood by her bed, calling gently to her. " Mofi Dieu ! what is the matter.^" exclaimed Madame Permon, waking up and seeing her daughter half-undressed, with a candle in her hand and a terror-stricken face. " The house is full of robbers ! " answered Laura. Madame Permon sat up, seized hold of the three bells by her bed and rang them till one broke. "In God's name keep quiet ! " cried Laura, catching hold of her ; " you will kill Albert ! " " How? What? WHiere?" cried Madame Permon, while the sound of the chauffeurs running downstairs was immediately heard, and it was evident that whilst two of them were sitting by Laura's door the rest were occupied in trying to force the locks of Albert's room. Madame Permon continued to ring I02 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 and call until the whole house was disturbed. Albert opened his door, in which a burglar's tool was stick- ing ; the servants rushed downstairs ; and Laura threw open the window of her study just as the two last of the band jumped over the wall which separated the courtyard from a large woodyard, in which they had hidden themselves among the narrow paths made by the piled-up faggots. By means of these faggots they had got over the wall into the Permons' . courtyard, and once there it was all easy enough. The door of the woodyard was open when Albert, with some of the police, went in to wake up the caretaker and his famih', all of whom seemed to be fast asleep, and suspiciously ignorant of what had happened. A whole heap of burglar's tools were found by Laura's door, and one of the police brought in a faggot stained with blood, one of the villains having fallen and hurt himself in his flight. None of them were taken. Madame Permon suffered less from the effects of this adventure than might have been expected, but it was a long time before Laura could get over the terror she had gone through, especialh' when she reflected that she had narrowly escaped meeting the cJiauffeurs on the landing between the dining-room and her bed- room, or throwing open her door and appearing in the midst of them ; and that while she was getting her strawberries and sugar in the dining-room they were actually in the house. An attack of fever was the immediate consequence of all this, and when she and Madame Permon were well enough they went to Dieppe for a change, but for a considerable time she had a horror of crossing the i.Soo] AT WlPOf.KOX'S COURT 103 landing from her room to the dining-room, or of sleeping in the dark. But although she had borne this terrible shock so much better than her children had anticipated, the health of Madame Permon, always extremely fragile, and severely tried by the many sorrows and vicissitudes of her past life, had now become seriously impaired. She frequently suffered great pain, and spent most of the day lying on a sofa or in an arm- chair, going out very little. Albert and Laura devoted themselves entirely to her, and her unfailing spirits, love of music, and the interest she took in ever\'thing that went on, made her easy to amuse. Every evening her sa/o// wa.s as full and as pleasant as ever; some of her intimate friends came almost invariably, and the time was passed either in con- versation, music or dancing. Laura was now nearly sixteen, and Madame Permon feeling that her own life was uncertain, and that her daughter had no fortune, was anxious to establish her suitably as* soon as possible. Two marriages were proposed to her, one of which came to nothing for want of sufficient fortune. The other suggested husband, though his position and income were satisfactory, was so much older than Laura, that Madame de Caseaux and other friends remonstrated, declaring he was old enough to be her grandfather. Like most well brought up French girls of the time, Laura was quite prepared to marry as her mother directed, but to this particular man she took such a violent dislike that although it never occurred to her 104 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 that she could refuse to marry him if her mother insisted upon it, she declared that it would make her miserable for life, and threw herself at the feet of Madame Permon, who yielded to her entreaties and broke off the negotiations with reluctance. Just then General Junot returned to Paris. He was a good-looking man of eight-and-twenty and a great favourite of Napoleon, who was now First Consul, and who had made him Commandant of Paris, desiring him to look out for a wife without delay, and adding that he must be sure to choose a rich one. Junot replied that she must also be one who pleased him, and proceeded to make inquiries on the subject, whilst he occupied himself in arranging a /wfe/ and establishment on a sumptuous scale. One day he happened to be at the house of a lady who was a friend of the Permons. To her he confided his wishes. " Have you been to see Madame Permon since you came back ? " she asked. " No ; and I reproach myself every day on that account. Why do you ask ? " "Because I think her daughter would exactly suit you." " Her daughter ! But she was only a child when I went to Egypt." " She is not a child now, but a young girl. She is sixteen. I am very anxious to arrange a marriage for her myself at this moment, only her mother is so obstinate about one she has set her heart upon in which there is not common sense, for the man is old enough to be her father. Now mine is a i8oo] AT XAl'OLEOX'S COCRT 105 very nice )'ouni^ fellow and one of the first names in France." "Then in that case what can I do?" said Junot. "You tell ine of a woman who has twenty suitors. I don't like so much competition. Besides, Ma- demoiselle Loulou, as I believe she is called, will be sure to be a pretentious, spoilt little person, insupportable. No, no ! /<• z'o/(s /niisc Ics iiiaiNsy And he rose and took his leave. But the next visit he paid was to a Madame Ilamelin, also a friend of the Permons, who im- mediately began the subject. "Ah!" she said, "there is a young person I should like you to marry — but she is engaged, it is no use thinking of it." " Then if she is going to be married cannot you tell me her name ? " " Oh ! ino)i Dii'H, yes ! You knew her when she was a child. It is Mademoiselle Permon." Junot laughed, and went on to ask several questions about the young girl, which ended in his promising to go with Madame Ilamelin to Madame Permon's one evening. But meanwhile he consulted another friend of Madame Permon, who told him that she was bent upon carrying out the marriage which was not then broken off; and feeling certain, from what he knew of her, that she would persist in having her own way, he made an excuse and did not go to her house until the following September. On the 2 1st of that month about a dozen people were in Madame Permon's snloti, talking, laughing, and acting charades, when suddenly the door opened and General Junot was announced. io6 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 There was a dead silence, for Junot, who had expected to meet two or three people he knew there, had mistaken the day and found nobody who did not belong strictly and entirely to the faubourg St. Germain set. For a general of the Republic to appear un- expectedly in a circle of anigrcs, most of whom had only returned within six months, was undoubt- edly awkward, and for the moment he looked em- barrassed, but Madame Permon, perceiving the situation, received him with such grace and courtesy and so many friendly reproaches for his delay in coming that he was at once at his ease, and before he left ventured to invite her to go the next day to the Hotel de Salm to see the procession pass from the Musee des Augustins to the Invalides with the body of Turenne, which had been saved when the tombs of Saint Denis were desecrated by the brutal mob in the Revolution, hidden for a time in the Jardin dcs Plaiites, and was now to be buried again with military honours. Junot, as Commandant of Paris, was the director of that ceremony, and was not unwilling that his dis- tinguished position should be recognised by Madame Permon and her daughter, to whom he paid marked attention. They found a private room reserved for them at the Hotel Salm, to which he had sent chairs, cushions, a reclining chair for Madame Permon, and his German valet to await her orders. P"or the next ten days he never missed an evening at Madame Permon's, where he sat by her side talking to her or to any of his acquaintance he met there, but never speaking to Laura or approaching the i8oo] AT XAI'O LEON'S CO CRT 107 group of young girls among whom she was. On the 1st of October Madame Permon gave a dance, at which the De Caseaux were among the first to arrive, and Mademoiselle de Caseaux, taking Laura apart, complained that she had treated her with a want of confidence in not telling her of her approaching marriage. Laura at once feared that the marriage she so dreaded was again in question, and her face of consternation made her friend exclaim — "Isn't it true, then? Are you not engaged to General Junot?" " General Junot ! " cried Laura, much relieved. " Arc you out of your senses? \Vh\-, I hardly know him. And is it likely that he would want to marry a girl with no fortune wlien he is the favourite of the First Consul and one of the first partis in Paris ? When did you hear that wonderful news?" " M. d'Aubusson de la P'euillade told us to-day at dinner," replied the young girl, whose mother just then approached and repeated her daughter's remark. " It must be a trick to torment mc ! " exclaimed Laura. " And you, Madame, who are always so kind, how can you believe any such thing? Is not Laura my best friend and if there were any secret of that sort would not she be the first to know it ? " Having convinced and embraced her friends, Laura begged them to say nothing to Madame Permon, who would be sure to be angry and vent her indignation upon some one, most likel}- upon M. d'Aubusson, who had just come into the room. io8 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 General Junot presently arrived, apparently in high spirits, and made his way to Madame Permon, JLNur, GOVERNOK Ol' PARIS AND UIX DABRAXTK^ by whose side he remained, talking and laughing with her and paying her great attention. " Dicii ))ic pardonnc ! " exclaimed Laura de i8oo] AT XAPOLEOX'S COCh'T 109 Caseaux ; "one woultl think M. d'Aiibiisson had made a mistake and General Junot was i;oin<^ to marry your mother." " Well, it would not be suprisint^." replied Laura Permon, "for my mother is charming ; and see how pretty she looks this eveninj^." Madame Permon, in fact, looked lovel>- ; her illness had not \'et injured her beauty, to which nothing could be more becoming than the st)']e of dress she had latterly adopted : long, flowing peignoirs of the finest Indian muslin, trimmed with Malines or point lace, with a headdress of the same lace. M. de Trenis, who was celebrated for his dancing, came up and asked Laura to dance a gavotte with him, and when she refused appealed to Madame Permon, who desired her to do so. Can one imagine in these days a man with whom a girl had refused to dance asking her mother to make her, and that mother complying with his request ? The evening was as amusing and successful as Madame Permon's parties always were. When everv' one was gone, and Laura found herself alone in her room, she began to think that perhaps she had better tell her mother what was being said ; so the next morning she related to her all the remarks of Madame de Caseaux and her daughter, and as she expected Madame Permon put herself into a state of excitement and irritation, declaring that such a report would do Laura harm, and must have been set about by somebody who had a spite against them. " And then if General Junot marries Madame Leclerc, which I hear is very likely, people will say no A LEADER OF SOCIETY [i^^oo that his marriage with my daughter has been broken off!" " Really, mother," said Albert, " you are not reason- able. Just for a few words carelessly spoken " "It is all very well, " replied she; "but do you suppose that just at the time when your sister has obstinately refused one good marriage and circumstances have prevented another, it is likely to be very pleasant for me to hear her name con- nected with that of a man she can never marry at all ? No, no ; it is most disagreeable." " Perhaps you are right," said Albert. " I did not think of that. What is to be done ? " " Oh, won Dien ! it's very simple. I shall tell Junot how it is, and ask him to leave off coming here." Albert smiled, hesitated, and turning to Laura told her that her drawing-master had come and was waiting for her. Laura ran away to her lesson, forgetting all about the question under discussion, and Albert, when she was gone, told his mother that it would be a pity to act as she proposed. " Eh ! Why not, if it suits me ? " was the answer. " You must do as you choose, mother ; but I can't change my opinion." " At any rate give me a reason." "Well, if you really want to know, I think Junot is in love with my sister." " You don't say so ! " Albert said nothing, but walked slowly up and down the room. " What makes you think so ? " continued his mother. iHoo] .If \Al>OI.i:0.\"S COrRT 111 " Has he said anytliii^Lj^ to you ? " " Not a word, but what I have noticed is quite enough for me. However, I may be mistaken, liut I will go this morning and see Madame Hamelin ; if there is anything in it she will know and she will tell me the truth. I shall ask her in the interest of Laurette, and she is very fond of her." " Ah ! " cried Madame Permon, " such happiness is not reserved for me before I die. I would rather have Junot for my son-in-law than any man I know. Poor Laurette ! No, no, my son, you are mistaken." At that moment a carriage drove up to the door. Madame Permon, who was still in bed, was about to ring and say she could not see any one, when Albert looked out of the window and exclaimed, " It is Junot ! " "Junot ! " cried Madame Permon. " What can he want at this time? Yes, yes ! let him come up," as her maid came to ask if she would see the General. " And you stay here, Albert." Junot very soon made his apjjearance, and sitting down by Madame Permon explained that he had come to ask her consent and Albert's to Laura becoming his wife. After their consent had been given and they had all embraced each other and regained their composure, he asked, as a special and unusual favour, to be allowed to speak to Laura himself, and hear her decision from her own lips. Madame Permon exclaimed that such a thing was unheard of, but on his saying that he only wanted to ask her in the presence of her mother and brother, Madame Permon gave her permission, and Albert was sent to fetch Laura. When Junot repeated his 112 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 offer, entreating her to say whether she would marry liim of her own free will, she was so astonished, confused, and frightened that she became crimson, sat speechless for a few moments, and then jumped up and ran upstairs, where Albert followed and found her hidden in an attic, crying. Junot meanwhile was filled with consternation, reproached himself vehemently for distressing her, and stamped his foot on the ground with an exclamation more suited to a barrack-room than to the society in which he now was. Madame Permon remarked that she had told him his plan was absurd and that she would advise him not to use such expressions before Laura, who would not like them at all ; and Albert, returning from upstairs, announced that his sister was perfectly willing to accept him. Madame Permon's next question was how he had gained the consent of the First Consul, to which he replied that he had not asked for it. " What ! " exclaimed Madame Permon. " He does not know it ? And you come and ask for my daughter in marriage. Allow me to say, my dear General, that your conduct is very thoughtless." "May I ask in what I am to blame, Madame?" " How can you ask ? Don't you know the cool- ness and misunderstanding which have succeeded the friendship that existed between the First Consul and me ? Do you suppose he will agree to my daughter becoming your wife, more especially as she has no fortune? And what shall you do now if he refuses his consent ? " " I shall do without it. I am not a child, and in i8cx)] AT XAPOLEOX'S COirRT 113 the most important event in my life I shall consult my own happiness, not petty quarrels which don't concern me." " You say you are not a child," cried Madame Permon ; " and yet you reason as if you were six years old. Can you break with your friend and protector because >'ou want to make what he will call a bad marriage ? — that is to say, a marriage with- out fortune, for this is the reason he will give you ; he is not likely to tell you it is because he does not like me. And what will you do when he gives you the choice between my daughter and himself?" " He will never do so," replied Junot, "and if he could so far forget my services and my attachment, I should still be a faithful son of France, who would never repulse me. And I am a general." "But do you think we could accept such a sacrifice? Although my daughter is only sixteen, you cannot have so misjudged her as to imagine she would so abuse her influence over you." " My dear General," interposed Albert, " it seems to me that you have been rather hasty in this matter, but I think it can easily be arranged. I do not agree with my mother that the First Consul is likely to interfere in a question of this kind." Junot looked at his watch, seized his hat, and said, " I will go to the Tuileries. The F'irst Consul is not yet at the Council. I will speak to him and be back in an hour." He ran downstairs, sprang into his carriage, drove to the Tuileries, and meeting Duroc, inquired for the First Consul. Shortly afterwards he was shown into his study. 9 114 '4 LEADER OE SOCIETY [1800 " Mon Genera/," he began, " you said you wished to see me married. Well, the thing is done — I am going to marry." " Ah ! ah ! And have you, by chance, just carried off your wife ? You look very much excited." " No, ;/ion General " " And who are you going to marry } " " Somebody you knew as a child and liked very much, of whom every one speaks well, and with whom I am madly in love. It is Mademoiselle Permon." Napoleon started up and caught Junot by the arm. " Who did you say ? " he cried. " The daughter of Madame Permon, the child you have held so often on your knees, iiion General!' "It is not possible ! Loulou cannot be old enough to be married. Why, how old is she ? " " Sixteen next month." " But it is a very bad marriage for you ; she has no money. And besides — how can you wish to be son-in-law to Madame de Permon ? Don't you know that, woman though she is, you will have to do what she pleases ? Cest une riiele teteT " Permit me to observe, mon General, that I do not marry my mother-in-law. And then I think — — " and he hesitated. " Well, apres, what do you think ? " " I think, mon General, that the disputes between you and Madame Permon have perhaps given you a prejudice against her. I know she is surrounded by many old friends, and I see the love her children have for her." i8oo] AT \'ArOLEO\''S COURT 115 Gradually Napoleon yielded to the representations of Junot, and ended by saying that he would give him a hundred thousand francs for the do^ of his fiancee and forty thousand for the corbeille, and the affair was settled. The mother, brothers, and sisters of the l^'irst Consul were delighted at the marriage, but for some reason it did not please Josephine, and the friends of Madame Permon urged her to push on the prepara- tions for the wedding and let it take place, as Junot desired, before Laura's sixteenth birthday, lest by any intrigues it might be broken off Madame Permon scouted the idea of any such danger and declared that considerations of this kind were beneath her own and her daughter's dignity, but the precarious state of her own health made her anxious to get the wedding o\'er, and she i)romised Junot that it should be on the twentieth of that same month. When Laura was told this, she objected vehcmentlv', and declared with tears that she did not want to be married till after Christmas. Albert tried to comfort her and induce her to be married on the day fixed, and M. de Caulaincourt, who had just come to dinner, added his persuasions to the rest, assuring her that she must be a good child and be married when her mother wished, and that now she was engaged the sooner the wedding took place the better, as nothing was less convctiable than a young fiancee who went all the winter from one fete to another and was neither dame nor demoiselle. By which arguments Laura was so far convinced that she consented to the thirtieth of the month being decided upon. ii6 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 Many of Madame Permon's friends of the Faubourg St. Germain strongly disapproved of Laura's engagement, saying that although her father had been bourgeois, her mother was not, and that she would have done much better to marry her daughter in her own set. Madame Permon paid no attention to what they said, but hurried on the preparations for the wedding. She and Junot vied with each other in the splendour of the trousseau and corbeille. Junot's family had come to Paris for the marriage. They were people entirely different from Laura and her mother in education, habits, and social position ; but his mother was a woman so kind, gentle, and unselfish, that Laura very soon became extremely fond of her. She got on very well also with his brother and sisters, and managed to keep on good terms with his father, an ill-tempered, disagreeable old country lawyer, who must have been a con- siderable trial. In fact, she was extremely good to them all, to the great relief of Junot, who had looked forward with much uneasiness to their meeting. At the signing of the contract Laura heard with astonishment her mother's lawyer, when he read the document aloud, announce that she had a dot of 60,000 francs, derived from money left by her father, 12,000 francs for her trousseau, and 50,000 francs from M. Lequien de Bois-Cressy, an old friend of her father's, who hoped to become the second husband of Madame I^ermon should she be restored to health, and settled this sum on Laura as his future step-daughter. Knowing perfectly well that her father had left i8oo] AT \'AI'0/.EO\''S COrRT 117 nothing for her to inherit, but that her education and all the expenses of her mother and herself had been jjaid b}' Albert, she asked as soon as she could speak to him alone, what was the meaning of it. " Say nothing about it," replied he. " Vou know that my mother and you are all I have to care for in the world, and your happiness is my first consideration. The thing is simple enough, dear child. You are m.aking a great marriage, greater than w^e could have hoped for. Junot insists on coDimunautc de bicus between you. It would not do for you to bring nothing into such an arrange- ment, it would be out of the question ; therefore I am giving you some money I have to dispose of If ever we find that sum my father placed in England, )'Ou can rcpa}- me ; if not, it is }-ours — I make you a present of it ; but as it would not be proper that you should receive your dot as a present, I made Tricard say that it came from our father." Next day, according to the usual custom, Junot and Albert took the contract to be signed at the Tuileries. Napoleon spoke very kindly of Laura and her mother, and ordered it to be read to him. When it was finished he took Albert b)' the arm, drew him on one side, and said — " Fermon, I remember quite well that \-our father left nothing at all. At the time of his death I used to be at \-our mother's every da\-, and )'ou know . doubtless, that I then wanted to marry }'ou to my sister, Madame Leclerc, and betroth Mademoiselle XyOuloq to that mnuvais sii^'et, Jerome." He did not ii8 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 mention the other marriage he wished to make on that occasion, " Well," he continued, " Madame Permon told me that her husband left no fortune whatever, so what is the meaning of all this?" Albert explained, begging that the First Consul would not mention the matter. " You are a good fellow, Permon, you are a good fellow," said he ; " and you let yourself be forgotten, but I shall look after you. Why have I never seen you at the Tuileries since I have been there? How- ever, your brother-in-law will now remind us of each other." Not long afterwards Albert received the appoint- ment of Commissary-General of Police, of which posts there were only three in France. Two days before Laura's wedding a circumstance took place which very nearly broke it off. As Commandant of Paris, Junot had the right to be married at any niairie he pleased, and as he had a friend, M. Duquesney, who was Mayor of the 7th ai'Tondisseinent, he asked Madame Permon whether she thought Laura would mind the ceremony being performed there. Madame Permon said she did not think so, but would send for Laura, who replied that her mother must settle all that, the only objection she saw being that it was rather far to go, adding — " If that iiiairie were as near as our church, I should not be afraid of tiring my mother." So saying, she left the room without noticing Junot's look of astonishment. When she was gone he turned to her mother and asked if she expected the marriage to take place in a church. i8oo] AT XAPOLF.OX'S COURT lU) "In a church?" cried Madame Permon, starting from her chair. " And where else do you suppose she intends to be married ? Before your friend witli the scarf? M)- dear cliild, j'ou must ha\e lost )'our senses. Did \'ou imas^ine for an instant that not onl\- m}' daughter, but her brother or I, would allow a Republican marriage? Such a thing is absolutel}- against our principles, and I can tell you that Laura will not thank you if you suggest it to her." Junot walked up and down the room much disturbed. " Will you allow me to speak to Mademoiselle Loulou about this alone?" he asked. " On the terms we now are there could be no impropriety." " You don't know what you are talking about," replied Madame Permon. " As long as you are not Laura's husband you are a stranger to her, and what you are going to tell her won't make you very good friends either, l^esides, what secret can there be about it? Why should you not wish me to hear?" " Because it must be discussed with calmness," he replied. " But I can speak to her in the drawing- room, with the door into your room open." Laura received his proposition with astonished indignation. To his representations that he could not appear, as Commandant of Paris, in uniform amongst the crowd that would collect round the church to see what was still so remarkable a spectacle, Laura replied that she saw no reason why he should object to be seen accomplishing a religious duty which nobody would think of neglect- ing, unless it were the Turks, whose example she hoped he did not propose to follow. I20 A LEADER OF SOCIErV [1800 Junot tried to persuade her that the rehgious ceremony was unnecessary, and might cause him serious results, for while to her it was only a fancy, to him it meant a public profession of religion. Laura answered with spirit and decision that if it were so, she would ask him in what religion he had been brought up, and why, having been baptized, confirmed, received the Communion and confessed in the Catholic faith, when it was a question of another sacrament, that of marriage, he should suddenly wish to act like an infidel ; that she was too young to eriter into controversy, but that of one thing he might rest assured, that their marriage would either be celebrated in church or not at all ; and that she declined to discuss the matter any further ; saying which, she got up and left the room, observing as she went out that she was sorry Junot could have thought her capable of accepting such a proposal. Any one who has had experience of family routs (and who has not?) can easily imagine the general consternation, in the midst of which a servant announced that Mademoiselle Olive and Mademoiselle de Beuvry had come ^^'ith the tr07isseau and corbcillc. "Junot, Junot! will you hold your tongue?" cried Madame Permon, as Junot stamped his foot with an oath ; and Albert went to Laura's room, where he found her much distressed, but declaring that about this matter she would decide for herself It appeared that all this commotion had been caused by the First Consul, who, having a few da}'s before narrowly escaped assassination by a fanatic, who iHoo] AT XAPOI.F.OXS COrRT 121 accused him of attemi)tinf^ to destroy the repubh'can institutions, had privately requested Junot not to be married in a church by day, lest that [iublic profession of religion should confirm the suspicions of its enemies. He had added that " in case the family insisted on a religious marriage it could take place at night, and Junot, who regarded the First Consul as a god upon earth, had not only obeyed, but exceeded his instructions by never mentioning the alternative at all. To this arrangement Madame Permon and Albert saw no objection, and Laura was persuaded to agree to it, though she did not like it because it reminded her of the Terror, when }-oung people could onl)- receive the priest's blessing on their marriage in haste and secrec}' at the peril of their li\-es and his ; also because she said they could not then have the usual Mass at the marriage, but this Junot arranged satisfactorily, saying that if the wedding took place at midnight the Mass could be celebrated after it. And with many apologies for having vexed her, Junot departed, and Laura went to look at her trousseau and corbcille. The marriage took place as agreed upon. Laura wore a long dress of India muslin, high, with long sleeves, richly embroidered and trimmed with lace, and on her head a large lace veil wh'ch fell all around her, fastened with orange flowers. She was very dark with masses of splendid dark hair, more attrac- tive at that time than regularly pretty.' Junot was accompanied to the iiiairic by his own famil)' and two or three of his brother officers ; Laura ■ She .soon developed into a beaviiiful woman. 122 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 by her brother, her uncle, Prince Demetrius Com- nenus, who had emigrated and came from Munich on purpose, and by two or three old friends of her parents. Crowds assembled to see the marriage of the Com- mandant of Paris, and the ''Dames dc la Halle" of evil renown, deputed four of their number to offer enor- mous bouquets to the bride. They were admitted into the salon, where they presented the bouquets to Laura and embraced her ; and after the midnight marriage and Mass, she was conducted with music to the splendid hotel which was to be her new home. CHAPTER VII 1800 JUNOT had, in spite of the remonstrances of Madame Permon, insisted on giving a dinner the day after his wedding to several of his brother officers. Madame Permon was horrified at an idea so contrary to the usages of society, and assured him that it was Hke a carpenter's apprentice celebrating his wedding festivities at La Courtille. As he would not listen, she, as a last resource, proposed to invite the guests to her own house instead. " But will they come, as the)' don't know me ? " "Without the least doubt," replied Junot. Invitations were therefore sent to Duroc, Bessieres, Lannes, Eugene de Beauharnais, Rapp, and several others, renowned generals of Napoleon, but, with the exception of PLugene de l^eauharnais, much more suited to a camp than a civilised drawing-room. Besides these were invited numbers of Madame Per- mon'sold friends, who for the first time were seated at dinner with the l^uonaparte family, nearly all of whom were present except Napoleon and Lucien ; and afterwards the crowd of strangely assorted guests, looking askance at each other as they walked about •23 124 ^ LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 the rooms, where they assuredly had never met before, composed altogether the most extraordinary and interesting assembly in which Laura had ever yet found herself For to her they were intensely inte- resting, all these young generals with famous reputa- tions and dreadful manners, whose names she had so often heard, whom she had so much desired to see, and upon whom her mother's friends of \hQ faubourg St. Gerniaiu looked with scarcely concealed disdain. It was bad enough, they thought, to meet the Buonapartes, but these rough, unmannerly fellows, with their loud voices, boisterous laughter and awkward movements ! That Panoria Comnenus should have married Charles Permon had been — well — marrying out of her own set. Still, M. Permon was a thorough gentleman, a scholar, and a man of the world, and his friends were cultivated people of good position. To marry Laurette to one of these unpolished parvetius was quite another matter. However, he was very rich, a gallant soldier, and as favourite of the First Consul had a great career before him ; and he was Comrnandant of Paris, And for the sake of old friendship they came to this party given in Laurette's honour, but they treated the intruders with a polite- ness too exaggerated to be complimentary, and evidently clue only to their deference for their hostess, while from time to time a significant glance, a mocking smile, or a contemptuous whisper was rapidly exchanged as some absurd speech or outrageous breach of good manners attracted their attention. Madame liacciochi, who went in for being literary and assumed the character of a feniine if esprit, had taken it into her he^id to institute a sort of club or i8oo] AT X A POL FOX'S COl'k'T 125 society of women of cultivated tastes, all of whom should wear the same costume, which she devised and wore herself this eveninf^. It proved, however, to be more a warning than an example. It consisted of a huge muslin turban embroidered with gold and a wreath of laurel over that, a long sleeveless tunic, and an immense shawl worn like a cloak. It was a toilette, as Laura remarked, partly resembling a Greek, a Roman, a Jewess -anything, in fact, but a well-dressed Frenchwoman, and she exclaimed— " To see Madame Bacciochi dressed up in such a manner does not surprise me, for I am accustomed to it ; but to hear her say that that is a costume for Christian women who fear God to wear is out- rageous ! " One of the few members of the faubourg St. Gennaiu who seemed prepared to enjoy himself that night was Monsieur de Caulaincourt, who came up to Laura with all the affection of an old friend and the courtesy of a well-bred Frenchman to offer his congratulations, after which, turning away into the crowd, he met Rapp, a stout, awkward-looking man about the age of Junot, whom he had often seen at the Tuileries, and who cried out — " Why, what the devil are you doing here ? " "■Mafoi!" he answered,"! have more right than you to ask that question, considering that I have known Madame Permon for five-and -twenty years and never seen you in her house before. How do you come to be dining here to-day?" And turning away, he went up to Laura and asked her whether that fellow had called on them. " No." 126 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 " Impossible." " I assure you it is true." " But at least he sent his cards ? " " No." " Oh ! come, my dear child, that is not possible. You have been too busy with your trousseau to see him, for it is incredible that a man who is received to dine at the table should take his place at that of une feuinie comme il fant as if it were a table d'hote without first presenting himself to her and " Just then Rapp came up without being heard and cried out behind him — " What are you saying there, dear father? Come, leave the place open for me. At wedding fetes old people do penance." And seizing him in his arms, he carried him some paces off. M. de Caulaincourt shook him off with a vigour very unexpected from an old man, and observ- ing coldly, '• Colonel ! you and I are neither young enough nor old enough for such games," he turned to Laura and offered her his arm, saying, " Will you come and see what is going on in the next room ? " Junot found them sitting together, Laura in despair at the result of their first attempt to amalgamate old and new, trying to console M. de Caulaincourt, who indignantly declared that Rapp should give him satis- faction. Junot, with many apologies, assured him that Rapp did not know how to behave in society, but was the best fellow in the world, and meant no harm. " I will speak to him at once, and you will see." " No, no, on no account. I don't want you U) i8oo] AT XAPOLEONS COrh'T 127 beg for excuses for me. Colonel Rapp has insulted me ; he must understand and apologise, or else " Hut Junot hurried away, and presently returned with Rapp, who was ready to throw himself on his knees before M. de Caulaincourt, and full of apolo- gies to him for his rudeness and to Laura, to whom he said Junot told him he had been wanting in respect in acting so in her j^resence. Touched by his repentant simplicity, M. de Cau- laincourt shook hands and declared they would be friends ; but Madame Permon was not so forgiving She could not endure people with such manners, and when she heard the story she was so angry that she could scarcely be induced to receive Rapp with civility as long as she lived. Laura looked with very different eyes upon her husband's friends. She had never known the old, stately, well-bred society so dear to her mother, and though a devout Catholic and sincerely attached to her mother's old friends, she was in most respects a child of the Revolution, or at any rate of the new order of things which had arisen out of it. Without any sympathy for the Republic, whose bloodthirsty tyrants had been the terror of her child- hood, she threw her whole heart and soul into the glories and excitements of the France of Napoleon. The rough, unmannerly young soldiers, with their loud laughter, awkward movements, and conversation besprinkled with oaths, were heroes of romance to her. The tricolor, held accursed by those who loved the lilies and the white banner, was to her the flag that led the French armies to victory, and the First Consul, so rapidly advancing towards empire, had 128 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 changed from the sullen, discontented, poverty- stricken lad whom she played with and laughed at in the days when he used to be invited out of kindness to her parents' house, into a sort of demi- god whom it was a crime to oppose, whose faults must be excused, his virtues magnified, and from whom the slightest notice was honour and dis- tinction. A few days after the party just described, M. de Caulaincourt was dining with Laura and her hus- band, when he noticed General Lannes, a great friend of Junot, who used to say that he was the bravest man in the French army. " That is the one of all your new friends whose appearance I like best," he said to Laura. " He is a very soldierlike fellow, and there is something taking about him. Will you introduce me ? " Laura took his arm, went with him to the other end of the room, where Lannes was talking to Junot, and introduced him as a distinguished officer, where- upon Lannes seized his hand, shook it violently, exclaiming, " Shake hands, old fellow ! I like /es ancicns ; there is always something to be learnt from them ! In what regiment did you serve? Were you biped or quadruped? Ah! the devil!" as the astonished old gentleman was taken with a violent fit of coughing. Junot said something in an undertone to Lannes, who continued, his sentences still full of oaths — " Ah ! you are the father of those two brave young fellows, one of them a colonel of carabineers in spite of his youth ! You must be a brave man yourself. You have brought them up for their country instead i8oo] AT XAI'OLKOXS COCRT 129 of selling them to foreigners like so many others. You are an honest man, and I must embrace you." So saying he threw his arms round M. de Caulain- court and hugged him. " Well," said Laura as they walked away, " what do you think of him ? " " Oh ! a nice fellow — very nice ; but somehow I expected rather a different sort of man. For instance, he swears like a renegade— it makes one shudder to hear him. But all that does not prevent his being a brave man and a good soldier." " But how could you expect Lannes to be any- thing more than a brave man and a good soldier ? " " My dear child, it was his cursed powdered head that deceived me. I thought any one who had his hair dressed in the old way would have the old manners too." " What ! " cried Laura ; " do you mean to say you judged Lannes by his powdered head? It's very lucky you didn't meet Augereau ; }ou would have made a much greater mistake with him." Just then a tall man passed, and bowed in a much more gentlemanlike manner. "Who is that?" asked M. de Caulaincourt. "He is powdered, you see." "That's Colonel Bessieres. Shall 1 present him to you, vton petit papa ? " " No, no," he replied. " I have had enough for this time." In vain Laura explained that Bessieres never swore or used any barrack-room language ; her old friend would not hear of any more of such introductions that evening. Shortly afterwards he met Augereau. 10 I30 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 and recollecting what Laura had said about him, was induced by curiosity to make his acquaintance, when the volley of oaths and foul language that poured from his lips so astonished and disgusted him that he almost took a dislike to the powdered hair and queues by which he had been so misled. CHAPTER VIII 1800 THE presentation of Laura, on her marriage, to the First Consul and his wife, had been arranged to take place after the opera. There was at this time little or no ceremonial attending such occasions, for although Buonaparte was advancing with rapid steps towards supreme power, he had not as yet anything that could be called a court, and Josephine had not even the dames de cotiipagnie, who were shortly afterwards added to her household and before long developed into dames du palais. Laura felt rather nervous as the\' drove up to the Tuileries, for she knew she would meet none of her old friends there, the only one possible, M. de Caulain- court, being obliged to stay at home on account of his daughter's illness. As they went up the steps they met Duroc and Rapp. " How late you are ! " cried Duroc. " \\h\-, it's nearly eleven o'clock." " Ah! " added Rapp, "Madame Junot is a mert'eilleuse,^ and is going to make a dancl\- of our good Junot ? " And he roared with laughter. ■ This word cannot be IransUuet) into English ; it means a female liandy. 132 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 " Madame Buonaparte told me to come after the opera," said Junot. " Oh, well, that's a different thing," said Duroc ; " if Madame Buonaparte named the time " Just then the folding doors of Madame Buona- parte's room opened and Eugene de Beauharnais ran down the staircase. His mother had sent him because, hearing a carriage stop, and seeing nobody announced, she feared they might have been told that they were too late. They went upstairs together, and Eugene, seeing that Laura was nervous, said in a reassuring voice, " Don't be afraid ; my mother and sister are so kind." His words at once restored her composure, for with all her new sympathies, Laura was Madame Permon's true daughter, and her early friends and associates were so far different from those she was likely to find in the sa/o?/ of Josephine and Hortense that the idea of being afraid of either of them shocked her, and throwing off the shyness, for which she suddenly felt a sort of contempt, she entered the great yellow drawing-room in which the stately magnificence of the court of the Bourbons was being so strangely travestied. The saloon, which was of immense size, was half dark, except just round the fireplace, where masses of candles were surrounded with gauze to soften the light. On one side of the fire sat Josephine, doing some embroidery, on the other her daughter Hortense, a slight, graceful girl with blue eyes, fair, curly hair, and a gentle, rather languid manner. The First Consul was standing with his back to the fire, and as they entered he watched Laura with critical looks. Jose- i8oo] AT NAPOLEON'S COURT 133 phine rose, and coming forward to meet her, took her hands and kissed her, saying that she had been too long a friend of Junot not to be also a friend of his wife, especiaih' the one he had chosen. EIUKNE L)E HEAIHAKNAIS, VICEROY OK ITALY, SOX OK JOSEPHINE. "Oh! oh! Josephine!" cried Napoleon, "you go too fast. How do you know that this little rascal is worth loving? Well, Mademoiselle Loulou, 134 ^ LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 you see I don't forget the names of my old friends. Haven't you a word for me? " And taking her hand, he drew her nearer to him and looked earnestly at her. " General," said Laura, smiling, " it is not for me to speak first." " Well answered, very well. Ah ! her mother's spirit. By the way, how is Madame Permon ? " " 111, General ; she suffers a great deal. For two years her health has been so bad that it makes us very uneasy." " Really ! I am sorry, very sorry indeed. Give her my kindest regards. She has a deuced hasty temper, but a kind heart and a generous spirit." Laura withdrew her hand, which Napoleon had been holding all this time, and went and sat down by Josephine. The conversation then became general. Duroc came in and began to talk to her, and on that evening began a friendship between them which was never broken. Some one spoke of Count Louis de Cobentzel, who was expected at Paris, and Josephine remarked that she had been told that he was wonderfully like Mirabeau. "Who told you that?" asked Napoleon, turning round. " I don't exactly remember, but I think it was Karras." " And where did Barras see M. de Cobentzel ? Mirabeau ! He was ugly, and M. de Cobentzel is ugly, that's all. E/i / pardieu ! you knew him, Junot. You were with me at the time of our famous treaty, and Duroc too. But neither of you ever saw Mirabeau. He was a scoundrel, but a clever i8oo] AT \'AFOLEO\'S COURT 135 scoundrel ! He alone did more harm to the former masters of this house than all the States-General put together. But he was a scoundrel." And the First Consul took a pinch of snuff, mutter- ing, " He was a bad man, too tarnished to be a tribune of the people. Not that there are not some in my tribunal," he continued, smiling, " whose conduct is just as bad, and who don't possess his talents. As to Count Louis de Cobentzel " But, probably re- membering that as ambassador of another State he was not a subject for present criticism, he broke off his sentence, took another pinch of snuff, and turning to Laura, said — " I hope we shall often see you here, Madame Junot. I intend to form a numerous family around me, composed of my generals and their wives, who will be the friends of my wife and Hortense, as their husbands are mine. Will that please you ? I warn you that \'ou will be mistaken if \'ou expect to find all your fine friends of the faubourg St. Gennain here. I don't like them ; they are m}- enemies, and they show it by abusing me. But, as your mother lives amongst them, tell them I am not afraid of them. I fear them no more than the rest." "General," replied Laura, with spirit, "allow me to decline to do what is in no way a woman's business, and certainly not that of Junot's wife. And permit me to carry no message from \-ou to m\- friends but one of peace and union, which is all they desire." Madame Permon had made up her mind to give a ball a week or two after her daughter's marriage in honour ofthatevent. Accordingly, one evening when Laura and Junot, who had been married four or five 136 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 days, were dining with her, she proposed that they should make out the list of invitations together. Society in those days was smaller, simpler, more intimate and more friendly than now, and Madame Permon, like all her friends who lived in small houses or small apartments, when they gave a large evening party or ball, threw open all or nearly all their rooms, including bedrooms, which they arranged for people to sit or walk about in. To this ball were invited a hundred and ten people, of whom seventy were men. " I want it to be the prettiest ball that has been given for some time," said Madame Permon, as she settled herself on the sofa after dinner. " The house is very small, but it shall be like a basket of flowers. Now, Madame Laurette, take your old place at the writing-table and let us make the list together, for I must invite all your husband's old friends." Junot got up and kissed her hand. " But certainly," she said, " your friends are mine now. Only some of them swear too much, Laurette tells me that when yo-u are angry it is rather the same thing. You really must correct yourself of that horrid trick ; it is odious in people who belong to society." Junot laughed and held up his finger. Laura blushed. " What ! because she told me that you swore ? But I hope that because she is called Madame Junot she will not leave off confiding in me and telling me all her joys and sorrows. She has not been long enough acquainted with your ear for it to replace mine. And what ear can listen as well as a mother's. Besides, i8oo] AT XAPOLEOXS COURT 137 she told me that you loved her very much. But come, it is late, and we have not had the loto ; let us make haste and write." Now the loto which Madame Permon insisted on playing every evening was the d/'/e noire of Albert, Laurette, and Junot, who concealed their dislike of it from their mother and always played unless there were enough people present to do without them, in which case, when the detested round table and green silk bag were brought in, Albert and Junot would go out to the theatre or elsewhere, the latter saying that he would come back and fetch Laura later. " I will write the list," said Junot hastil}-, when he heard the word " loto." And he sat down at the writing-table. Having written the names of all the women, beginning with Madame Buonaparte and Mademoiselle de Beauharnais, Junot waited to put down those of the men. " The First Consul of the French Republic, one and indivisible," began Madame Permon. " That is how you say it, isn't it ? " " The First Consul ! " cried they all. " Why, yes ! the First Consul. What is there surprising in that ? Do you think I am Corsican enough for a vendetta? In the first place, it annoys me to dislike people, and then " "And then," said Junot, laughing, "you think perhaps you were more to blame than he." " No, no I that's another matter. It was he who was in the wrong, a thousand times wrong. How can you say so when you saw the whole thing ? l^ut I have been thinking that now Laurette will be so much mixed up with him perhaps the sort of quarrel that 138 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 there is between us may have disagreeable conse- quences for her. But it is not enough to invite him ; do you think he will come ? " " I am certain he will," replied Junot. " Ask Laurette how he spoke of you when he heard of your illness." " And so you told him I was ill," said Madame Permon, who had heard the story ten times at least. " So he thinks I am dying, and will expect to see a spectre ? " And looking at the great mirror before her sofa, she smoothed down the dark curls of her hair. She was still beautiful. " Well, mamma, tell me what time will suit you best and I will come and fetch you," said Junot. " Fetch me ? To go where ? " " Why, to the Tuileries, of course, to invite the First Consul and Madame Buonaparte ! " " My dear Junot," said Madame Permon, looking at him seriously, "you must be quite, entirely mad." " I see nothing that is not quite reasonable and sensible in what I say, mamma," answered Junot. " And I say that you are mad. Do you suppose I shall go myself and ask General Buonaparte to come to my house again after having told him never to do so ? " " But you are going to send him an invitation ? " Madame Permon tried to explain that that was a different thing ; but Junot, in despair, inquired how she meant to invite him. "Why, how should I invite him? Just like any one else, only that I will write the invitation with my own hand, lie knows my handwriting well enough. i8oo] AT XAPOLEOX'S COURT 139 And I have not taken so much trouble for any one for three years. Ask Loulou." Junot walked up and down the room very much disturbed. " It will never do," he persisted. " It would be better not to invite him at all. He will think you mean an impoliteness." " Then he will be mistaken. How can it be an impoliteness? He will think nothing of the sort, and you will see that after receiving the invitation he w ill come and call like any other well-bred man, or at any rate will leave his card." " What ! Do you think he has visiting cards ? " "And why not ? My dear child, because Buona- parte gains victories, is there any reason why he should not pay visits ? " Junot looked at her with an air of consternation, and Albert and Laura gave way to the fits of laughter they could no longer suppress. Although at present no pretensions of royalty had been put forth by Napoleon, still for more than a year he had held supreme power in France. Albert made a sign to the others not to oppose his mother, and they arranged to go together to take the invitations to the Tuileries.e.xcusing Madame Permon on account of her health, not letting her know any- thing about it, and not presenting the notes she had written. This they accordingly did next day. Josephine accepted for herself and Hortense, but said that it would be of no use to ask Napoleon, as he scarcely ever went out. Josephine, who knew of the old friendship of the First Consul for the Permons and 140 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 his wish to marry Madame Permon, had an aversion to any renewal of intimacy, and had been supposed to disapprove of Laura's marriage to Junot. She was well aware that they were great friends of her hus- band's family, whom she could not bear, which perhaps was not surprising. When Laura and iier husband and brother, how- ever, went up to Napoleon's room, he accepted the invitation without any difficulty. "Of course I will come to the ball," he said, taking both Laura's hands. " Why do you look as if you thought I should refuse? I will come with pleasure. And yet I shall be in the midst of my enemies, for your mother's sa/on is filled with them." As the day of the ball drew near, Laura felt a certain uneasiness in the first place as to how her mother would receive the First Consul, and also because Madame Permon insisted on her dancing the inenuct dc la cour. In spite of Albert's age and Laura's marriage, they never opposed their mother's will, so Laura had to resign herself and dance the minuet she detested because Madame Permon de- clared it had always been the custom. As to the rest, the ball was most successful. The staircase and rooms were beautifully decorated with plants and flowers, and about nine o'clock Josephine arrived with her son and daughter, saying that the First Consul had been unavoidably detained, but would not fail to come, only he begged they would not wait for him to begin dancing. Laura and Junot therefore opened the ball with Eugene and Hortense de licauharnais, and just before eleven the trampling of the horses of the escort of the l^'irst Consul was i8oo] AT XAPOLEOX'S COURT 141 heard under the windows, and presently Napoleon entered. Madame Permon, who was dressed in white crepe with jonquils and diamonds, came forward to meet him with a low curtsey, but he held out his hand, sayinj^ with a smile — " Well, Madame Permon, is that the way you receive an old friend?" And the\' entered the ballroom together. It was very crowded and hot, in spite of which Napoleon kept on his well-known grey overcoat all the time. Looking round the room, he noticed that some of the ladies did not rise when he came in, a thing which always annoyed him. He went on, with Madame Permon still upon his arm, to her bedroom, where Talleyrand and several others were sitting, ordered the dancing, which had stopped on his arrival, to go on again, and turning to Madame Permon with a look of admiration, asked if she would not dance with him, but she declined, saying that she had not danced for thirty \-ears. All the Buonaparte family except Joseph were present. Madame Leclerc had seated herself as far as she could from her sister-in-law, of whose exquisite toilette she was furiously jealous. " Really," she exclaimed, looking at the poppies and golden corn Josephine wore on her dress and in her hair, " I cannot understand how a woman of forty can wear wreaths of flowers ! " And on Laura observing that Madame Permon, who was older, was also wearing flowers, she replied only — " Oh ! that's ver\- different," 142 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 Laura, dressed in India muslin embroidered with silver, was occupying herself with everybody and looking after everything that concerned the success of the evening. Thinking that her mother, although perfectly polite, was not sufficiently cordial to the First Consul, who was evidently inclined to renew their old friendship, at any rate in some degree, she went to look for her and persuaded her to come out of her boudoir, where she was sitting, into her bed- room, where Napoleon was still talking to Talleyrand. Directly he saw her he came up to her, and in a friendly, almost affectionate, manner, reproached her with her forgetful ness of an old friend, refusing to accept her excuses and explanations, and at last asking her if they were indeed no longer friends. " Dear Napoleon," she replied in Italian, " I can never forget that you are the son of my friend and the brother of my good Joseph, Lucien and Paulette." " So," interrupted he, " if I am still anything at all to you, it is only thanks to my mother and brothers ! Well, one might as well expect firmness from the shift- ing sand of the desert as friendship from a woman." Laura felt very uncomfortable during this dis- cussion. Her mother was leaning back against the cushion on the sofa tapping with her foot, as she always did when she was getting angry ; whilst Napoleon walked up and down with disturbed looks, and when at that moment Albert came in and offered him an ice, he replied — " I assure you, my dear fellow, that neither Madame Permon nor I require it. I really think we are frozen as it is. I knew that absence brought forgetfulness, but not to such an extent as this." I i8oo] AT XAPOI.F.O\''S COl'RT 143 " Indeed ! " retorted Madame Permon. " It is excus- able to fort^et after years have passed, but you found it too difficult to remember for a few days a thing upon which a person's whole prospects depended." Albert and Laura felt in despair at the old griev- ance of the stupid Stephanopoli, who was not worth the trouble he had caused, being so inopportunely raked up just when the friendship of Napoleon was of such infinite importance to them all ; and the First Consul gave vent to an irritated exclamation, but apparently' changing his mind, he sat down by Madame Permon, took her hand, and began to laugh at her for not having left off her old trick of biting her nails. " Come, come," she said presently, " let ever)'thing stay as it was. It is only you. Napoleon, who must not do that. You have so many steps to mount to the top of your ladder of glory that to desire repose for you would be wishing evil for us." " Do you really think what you say ? " "You know how sincere I am," she replied. "I don't always say all I think, but I never say what I don't think. Have you forgotten my candour? " Napoleon took her hand, pressed it affectionatelx', and as two o'clock struck asked for his carriage, saying he could not possibly stay to supper, but would come again to see her. Before he left he told them that enormous bills had been sent to Bourrienne for things ordered by Jerome Buonaparte, who, though only fifteen, had bought amongst other things a magnificent dressing-case fitted up with gold, ivory, and mother-of-pearl, filled with razors, combs for mous- taches, &c., and costing eight or ten thousand francs. CHAPTER IX 1 800 THE consular Court, in which Laura occupied so distinguished a position, was composed in great part of the generals of Napoleon, chiefly young men and their wives, most of whom were scarcely past their childhood. Some of them were of good blood, for the newly risen officers and functionaries were eager to marry the daughters of the old French families, whose ruined parents were sometimes like Madame Permon, willing enough to give their con- sent. For the most part, however, the faubourg St. GevDiain held aloof, to the intense annoyance and irritation of Napoleon. Some of the younger genera- tion served in the army or the State, as, for instance, the two sons of M. de Caulaincourt, but on the whole the two societies were entirely separate, and regarded each other with something like hatred. But in all divisions and classes of society the stern lessons of the Revolution, whose perils and sorrows were still so fresh in everyone's mind, had changed the tone into one of colder, stricter morality than had formerly prevailed. The early court of Napoleon was much more correct in morals than in manners, and he 144 i8oo] A LEADER OF SOCIETY 145 himself was, for some reason or other, extremely anxious that it should be so, and remarkably par- ticular about the conduct and reputation of, at any rate, the women of his court, although, being devoid of either religion or inoralit\', he did not trouble himself to carry his restrictions and regulations into his own way of life. He was extremely jealous of Josephine, to whom, however, he never dreamed of being faithful, and his brothers and sisters were always ready to make mischief between them. One conspicuous object of his suspicions and the malignity of Madame Leclerc, was a certain M. Charles," who belonged to a family of the small do/^r- £-eoisie,a.nd was aide-de-camp to General Leclerc. When Napoleon and Josephine were at Milan, where they held a sort of court in the Palazzo Serbelloni, M. Charles was presented to the latter, who took a fancy to him and singled him out in a way that was sure to attract attention and give rise to slanderous gossip. For it does not appear that there was anything but an intimate and sentimental friendship between them. M. Charles was about eight- and -twenty, good- looking, but very small, in no way remarkable. Napoleon was frequently absent, and while he was at one or another of the Italian towns, M. Charles was constantly at the Palazzo Serbelloni. Madame Leclerc occupied herself in spying upon her sister-in-law and repeating to Napoleon all the gossip she could collect about her. Shortly afterwards he found a pretext for arresting M. Charles, who was compelled to leave the army, much to the distress of ' His surname was Charles. II 146 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 Josephine, who got him a place in Paris, where they resumed their friendship when Napoleon was gone to Egypt and she returned from Italy. Josephine was then established at La Malmaison, where she was to be seen wandering about the gardens by moonlight, dressed m white with a long veil, leaning on the arm of M. Charles, who was con- stantly at La Malmaison and seemed very much at home there. Every one gossiped about it, and M. Gohier warned Josephine and tried to persuade her to break off the intimacy. Josephine, however, refused, declaring with tears that it was nothing but a harmless friendship. " Then get a divorce," said Gohier. " You say that there is nothing but friendship between you and M, Charles ; but if your friendship is so exclusive that it makes you break all the rules of society, I advise you to get a divorce just the same as if you were in love. If your friendship is all that signifies to you, it will make up for everything else. Believe me, all this will bring you trouble." When Napoleon came back he was furious at all he heard, and threatened to divorce Josephine. The quarrel was made up, owing partly to the intercession of her children, Eugene and Hortense, but on con- dition that M. Charles should be dismissed, and that she would promise never to see him again. ' The year before Laura's wedding, Caroline Buonaparte had been married to Joachim Murat, ' Bourrienne accuses Junot of having made mischief in this matter, but Madame d'Abrantes, in her " Memoires," disproves his assertion. Junot was a friend of M. Charles. i8oo] AT NAPOLEON'S COURT 147 another of Napoleon's officers, the son of an inn- keeper, who had by a certain impetuous courage and briUiancy raised himself to a high position in the republican army. Murat was rash, vain, and weak, and Napoleon disapproved of his marriage with Caroline, whom he wanted to marry to Moreau. He had also a private grudge against him, which was this :— Murat was a friend of Madame Tallien and of Madame Buonaparte (Josephine), and was very fond of boasting of the fact. He gave a dejeuner to a number of his brother officers, at which, after drink- ing ^ great quantity of champagne, he proposed to make punch in a special way which he declared had been taught him by the prettiest and most charming woman in Paris. His comrades, whom the punch had deprived of whatever good sense the champagne had spared, at once began to question him about the cir- cumstances and the name of the person in question, and succeeded in extracting from him the history of a day he had spent in the Champs Elysces and of a dcjeune)%d\\\\\Q:x and supper, rendered much more compromising by the remarks and stories exaggerated by his own vanity and folly, and the license of his companions, one of whom, catching up a gilt lemon- squeezer, which Murat was using for the punch, saw a monogram upon it which did not appear to be that of his host, but " J. B.," which he began to spell out as Buonaparte. Frightened at this, Murat managed to put a stop to the discussion, but the matter was immediately reported to Napoleon, who was furious, and whose first intention was to demand an explana- tion from Murat. On second thoughts, however, he 148 A LEADER OE SOCIErV [1800 considered this would be beneath his dignit)', but he never Hked Murat afterwards. The lemon-squeezer disappeared, and Murat de- clared that it had been stolen, also that the monogram was "J. M." and that the young man who had sup- posed it to be anything else was not in a condition to see clearly at the time. Murat was tall and picturesque-looking, but with rather the appearance of having negro blood in his veins ; he had also a deplorable love of finery. He fell violently in love with Caroline Buonaparte, who had just left school, and as she returned his passion, Napoleon was induced to give his consent to the marriage. Caroline had a lovely complexion, and pretty teeth, hands, and feet, but her features and figure were bad, and her utter want of distinction and good breeding were made more conspicuous by the mag- nificence she afterwards assumed. The contrast between the simplicity, refinement, and grace in dress, manners, and appearance which characterised the faubourg St. Germain, and the vulgarity, ostenta- tion, and unmannerliness of the new society and court especially struck all foreigners who now and again visited Paris. Laura, however, enjoyed herself thoroughly in her new life. She went to the parties of her mother's old friends in the faubourg St. Germain as well as to those of the new court, and she delighted in the grand parades and military spectacles. These she generally saw from Duroc's windows, which were close to those of Josephine, where the corps diplomatic] uc or any other foreigners of dis- i8oo] AT XAPOLEOX'S COURT 149 tinction always went for the same purpose. The first time she went to see the parade, Junot, who had to ride with all his aides-de-camjj, could not go with JOACHIM MUKAT, KlNt! OK XAI'I ES. (Gerard.) her. Madame Permon was ill, and Albert could not be away, so she went with Junot's parents and brother. They got out of the carriage at the gate, and crossed ISO . A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 the garden to get to Duroc's rooms. But the crowd was so great that they could hardly pass, and old M. Junot, who was as usual in a bad humour, kept grumbling about a yellow cachemire shawl Laura had on, declaring that it was extravagant folly to wear anything so costly in such a crowd, and that it would be certain to be stolen. " I am not so careless," he said ; " I take care to keep my hand upon my watch ; here it is in my waist- coat pocket. I have no fear of pickpockets. As to your shawl, you will certainly have it stolen." Just then Laura felt some one pull at her shawl. She gave a cry, and M. Junot turned to see who it was ; but every face looked quite unconscious, and Laura drew her shawl closer round her. " Didn't I tell you so ? " exclaimed he, and he went on grumbling till they arrived at Duroc's, where they took possession of the window reserved for them. Presently, wishing to look at his watch, he felt in his waistcoat pocket. It was gone, the nearest pick- pocket having been guided by his own words to it. " Well," said his wife, without turning her head from the window to reply to the clamour he made, "they stole your watch while you were tormenting your daughter-in-law about her shawl, and it served you right." It was Laura's custom to dine at four o'clock ; at any rate, dinner was ordered for that hour every day, but she very often dined and spent the evening with her mother, especially when Junot was at any official dinner, for she never let a day i)ass without seeing her. Lucien Buonaparte used to come in the evening i8ooJ AT NAPOLEON'S COURT 151 sometimes to pour into Madame Permon's ears his grievances and differences with Napoleon, to whose rapidly-growing power Lucien's fanatical republi- canism was opposed, so that there were constant disputes between them, ending in a serious quarrel in which their mother, the Signora La:titia, as Napoleon called her, took Lucien's side. Lucien had lost his wife, and now left Paris, taking with him his two little girls, indignantly rejecting Madame Permon's suggestion to leave them with Joseph's wife, «/0LE0>J'S COURT 157 had received. Junot had had a narrow escape. He had been to the Tuileries on hi.s way to the opera, but had just missed the First Consul. If he had found him, his own carriage would have been just behind his, and would certainly have been blown up. The last man of the escort had his horse killed. A slight delay in changing her shawl, which Rapp observed did not suit her dress, saved Josephine ; as it was, the windows of her carriage were shattered, and the broken glass fell all over Hortense and cut her neck. A day or two afterwards Junot, who was occupied from morning till night in the researches made after the conspirators, came home so tired and exhausted that instead of going, as he had promi.sed, to fetch Laura from her mother's, he sent the carriage with a message and went to bed, though it was only ten o'clock. He was sleeping in a little camp-bed near hers, as she had been suffering from a slight attack of fever. She went up to wish him good-night, and bending over him., said — "What! asleep already?" when Junot, who was dreaming that the assassins were in the room, started up in his sleep and gave her a violent kick, which flung her to the other side of the room. At the cry she gave her maid rushed in with a light, and Junot awoke almost out of his senses with horror and fright, for Laura was very much hurt and spat blood, besides which she was supposed to be enceinte. When the doctor arrived and examined into the state of the case he declared that if Junot had been a very little further off, so as to give more force to the blow, he would have killed her. Although accustomed from her earliest childhood 158 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1800 to be constantly in society, Laura found the enormous number of people she was now obliged to see and receive both perplexing and fatiguing. They were always giving dinners of five-and-twenty or thirty people, followed by soirees of more than a hundred, who, instead of being old and intimate friends, such as formed the circle of Madame Permon, were many of them strangers to her, and sometimes persons she regarded with aversion, even horror. One morning when they were at dejeuner a tall man entered dressed in blue. Junot called him " general," but did not introduce him to her, and seemed constrained in his manner. When they went into the drawing-room, to her astonishment he pushed before her, nearly knocking her down. Junot offered him coffee, which he refused, saying — " No, thank you, General ; I never take a demi-tasse in the morning. A petit-verre perhaps, if mam'selle permits." " It is my wife," remarked Junot coldly. " Ah ! it is the eitoyejine Junot," said the fellow, staring at her. " The devil ! you haven't done badly, ]>io?i collegnc ! " He then engaged in conversation with one of Junot's aides-de-eanip, and Laura listened with increasing disgust to the ungrammatical, brutal language and shameless allusions to the crimes which had disgraced the Republicans in Brittany and La Vendee, in which he had evidently borne a leading part. It was Santerre.^ ' Santerre, brewer in the faubourg St. Antoine, commanded the National Guard, August, 1792, when the Royal Family were in the Temple. Infamous for his cruelties in the war of La V'endee. i8oo] AT KAPOLEOy^ COURT 159 " Ma /oi ! " exclaimed Junot when he was gone, " I did not choose to introduce such a fellow to you. I don't like him to come to my house, and he very seldom does. ... It is impossible for me, republican though I am, to give my hand to Santerre when I meet him in the Tuileries gardens, the revolutionary general, which means general of that army in which the guillotine was always ready, like a cannon with a lighted fuse. I cannot bear them ; their conduct is all stained with blood : they are repugnant to me. 1 am republican in principles and taste, but I have a horror of the blood and massacres and confiscations and all that awful reign of terror under which France groaned for years. Santerre is a wretch, he is under a sort of police surveillance, and I daresay he says I am proud and disdainful because I don't fraternise with him ; no, I should think not, for I despise him.' " Why, I thought he was dead four years ago ! " exclaimed Napoleon, when Laura told him about it. "Well, what do you think of him? Isn't he hand- some and amiable? Those are the sort of people who would like to see the happy days of '93 again ! M. Santerre would be charmed to gain a lieutenant- general's epaulettes as he gained those of general of brigade — by sending better men than himself to the scaffold." CHAPTER X 1801 THE chateau of La Malmaison, which had been bought by Josephine, was her favourite and at this time her most habitual residence. There was then very Httle state or ceremony in the Hfe there, which was in some ways a good deal like that of a house party in a country house. Every one got up when they chose in the morning, and breakfast was at eleven in a small salon looking on the courtyard. No men were ever present unless they were members of the family of Buonaparte, and not often even then. After breakfast they talked, read, or otherwise amused themselves, and Josephine often gave audiences, though Napoleon disliked her doing so. However, she did it out of kindness, and received in this way presents of jewels, which did not occur to her, as they did to her enemies, in the light of bribes. Many of her old friends of the faubourg St. Germain, and some who had not troubled themselves about her when she was only the wife of the unfor- tunate Vicomte de Beauharnais, gathered round her now that her husband was the ruler of France, and i8oi] A LEADER 01- SOCIETY i(n Josephine, who was extremely kind-hearted, was always read)- to use in their favour whatever power she possessed, and anxious that it should be sup- posed to be more rather than less than it really was. One of these friends, Madame d'Houdetot, was desirous to push on her brother, M. de Cere, a good- lookini^, feather-brained young fellow, whom his sister presented to Joscjjhinc. She invited him con- stanth' to La Malmaison, and managed to get him a commission through Savar\-. But M. de Cere was so careless and foolish that jsrotection was of very little use to him. He was sent on a mission to Bordeaux, with orders to be back within a certain day, instead of which he stayed a fortnight over the allotted time. The First Consul was very angry, and even Josephine refused to interfere any further, saying that he should not have stayed when he was ordered to return, and as he chose to disobey, there was nothing more to be done. Instead of being- made aide-de-camp to Napoleon, therefore, he was told that the First Consul forbade him to come into his presence. He left Paris for some months, at the end of which he returned and persuaded his sister and Savary to induce Josephine to give him another chance. To his great joy they told him that she consented to receive him the next day, and that he was to bring a petition clearly explaining what he wanted, which she would give to the First Consul. Accordingly he wrote his petition, and was just going downstairs with it in his pocket to start for La Malmaison at tlie appointed time, when he was stopped b\- his tailor with a bill. Explaining where he was going and promising to come back in a few 1^ i62 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1801 days and pay the bill, he put it into his pocket and drove off. Josephine received him very graciously, saying that she had spoken to the First Consul, who was dis- posed to overlook his offence if he would promise to amend ; and taking the petition told him to come for the answer in a few days. De Cere, in high spirits, went to his sister's house and to his friends to receive their congratulations, and finally to the hotel where he was staying. It was very late, and on retiring to his room he recollected the tailor's bill and took it out to see how much it was. " The devil ! " he muttered as he opened it, " it's a long bill ; there's no end to it. Why, it looks like a petition ! Ah ! inon Dieu ! " It was the petition he had written, and he had sent his tailor's bill to the First Consul ! What was to be done ? He consulted two or three of his brother officers, who advised him to go the next morning and explain the matter to Madame Buonaparte. But just as he entered the hall Josephine, who was coming out from breakfast, hastened up to him, and holding out her hand, exclaimed — " I am so glad ! I gave your petition to the First Consul ; we read it together ; it was excellent and made a great impression upon him. He told me he would speak to Berthier, and in another fortnight it would be all arranged. I assure you that this success, for I regard it as settled, made me happy all yesterday." De Cere was confounded, but of course dared not explain. It was evident that Josephine cither could not or would not meddle any further in the matter, and had nut the tailor's bill into the fire without i8oi] .17' X.llVI.EOXS CiVRT 163 looking; at it. Tliere was nothini; more t(j be done but to return to Paris a sadder and wiser man. The First Consul worked all day and never LOUIS Bl'ONAPAKTK, KlXCl OK HOLLAND. (Grti^orius.) appeared till dinner, which was at six o'clock, and in fine weather was often out of doors. Every \Vednesda\- there was a dinner party, and in the 164 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1801 evenings they danced, played games, and acted. There were often hunting parties ; every one amused themselves, and the summer passed away pleasantly enough. Hortense de Beauharnais had just been married to Louis Buonaparte against the will of them both, for they cared nothing for each other, were absolutely unsuited, and Hortense was in love with Duroc. Josephine, however, disapproved of him, and Napoleon then, in spite of the entreaties of his step-daughter, insisted on her becoming the wife of Louis, who, although a straightforward, honourable, well-meaning man, was cold, stiff, dull, and uninteresting, while Hortense was affectionate, lively, impressionable, and fond of societ}'. The marriage turned out unhappily, as might have been expected, and Duroc became the implacable enemy of Josephine.' Laura and the other young wives of the chief officers, though they were happy enough at La Malmaison, where their husbands came nearly every day, still did not wish to be always there, but would have preferred to be able to go sometimes to their own homes. This they could not do without asking leave, which was not always granted ; already the fetters of a Court seemed to hang upon them. Laura was getting anxious to be with her mother again and also to see a little chateau and estate which Junot had spent nearly all the dol given by the First Consul in buying for her, as she wished to have a place of her own. ' losciiliinc, ;il;iniicd at llii.' cimiity ol licr hushaiul's raiiiil), w lio haled her, was mosl anxious IV)r this inarriaLje, liy uliich .^lie expected lo secure an ally in Louis. i.Soi] AT WU'OLliOX'S COrUT 165 However, it was a long time before she could obtain the desired permission, and then only in con- sequence of circumstances quite unforeseen and unusual. The Chateau de la Malmaison was not large, and her apartment consisted only of bedroom, dressing- room, and her maid's room adjoining. One morning she was awakened by a violent rapping close to her, and beheld the First Consul standing by her bed. She looked at him with astonishment and rubbed her eyes, hardK' believing she was awake. " Ves, it is I," said he; ''\\h\- that astonished look ? " Laura pointed to the window, wide open on account of the heat, and to her watch. It was not yet five o'clock ; the sun was hardly risen, and the trees outside looked like dark masses. " Really," said Napoleon, " is it so early ? Well, so much the better ; we will talk." And drawing a large armchair to the foot of the bed, he sat down with an enormous packet of letters, which he pro- ceeded to examine. They were addressed " To the First Consul, to him alone." ^ Laura suggested that a trustworthy person might be selected to save him all this business, to which he replied — " PerhaiJS later on ; it is impossible now. I have to see to it all. I can't neglect any petition or anj-- thing else when order has only so lately been restored." " But this, for instance," said Laura, painting to a large, ill-directed, badly-sealed letter; "surely this ' All premier consul, a lui-mcme ; a lui seul en personne. i66 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1801 contains nothing that could not be told you by a secretary ? " He opened the letter, which was of three large pages, badly written. He read it through, and then said — " Well, this letter is a proof that I do well to see for myself Here, read it." It was from a woman whose son had been killed in Egypt. The poor mother, whose husband had died also from the effects of his military service, had written more than ten letters to the Minister of War, the First Consul, and his secretary, stating that she was deprived of all means of subsistence, and could get no answer. Napoleon got up, found a pen, and made a note upon the letter. The next was enclosed in several envelopes, all perfumed with essence of roses. He read it and laughed. " It's a declaration," he said, " not of war, but of love. A beautiful lady, who says she has loved me ever since she saw me present the treaty of peace of Campo-Formio to the Directory. And if I vv^ant to see her I have only to give orders to the porter at the Bougival gate to admit a woman dressed in white who will say ' Napoleon.' And, ma foi !'' he added, looking at the date, " it is for this evening ! " "' Mo7i DicH !'' cried Laura, "you won't do any- thing so imprudent ? " He looked at her for a moment in silence. " What does it matter to you whether I go to the Bougival gate ? What should happen to me ? " "What does it matter to me ? What could happen to you ? What strange questions, General ! Don't i8oi] .IT S'AI'OLEO.y^ COCk'T 167 you see that this woman is a wretch in the pay of your enemies ? The snare is too evident. Anyhow, there is danger. And then you ask me what your imprudence matters to me ! " Napoleon laughed. " I was only joking," he said. " Do you think I am so stupid or so simple as to swallow such a bait ? Every day I get those sort of letters, with rendezvous here or at the Tuileries or Luxembourg, but the only answer I make and they deserve is this " and he wrote a few lines, enclosing the letter to the minister of police. " The devil ! there's six o'clock ! " he exclaimed, as a clock struck. And collecting his papers, he pinched her foot through the coverlet, smiled, and left the room sineine to himself — "Non, non, z'il est impossible D'avoir un plus aimable enfant, Un plus aimable ? Ah I si vraimenl," iN;c. Laura got up without thinking any more of this strange visit. In the evening, about nine o'clock. Napoleon came up to her and whispered, " I am going to the Bougival gate." " I don't believe it," replied Laura, also in a whisper. " You know too well what harm your death would do to France ; but if you say another word about it 1 will tell Madame Hortense or Junot." " You are a little madcap," he replied, pinching her ear and lifting up his finger. "If you sa\' a word about what I have let )ou sec I shall not only be 'displeased, but \'ou will give me pain." i68 A LEADER OE SOCIETY [1801 " The last consideration is enough, General." He looked at her for a moment. "The spirit of your mother," he said, "Absolutely the spirit of your mother." She made no reply, and after waiting in silence for a few minutes he walked into the billiard-roorn. The next morning Laura was awakened by the same knocking at the door of her maid's room, and again the First Consul entered with a packet of letters and newspapers. He apologised for waking her, said she ought not to sleep with the windows open, or she would spoil her teeth, which were little pearls like her mother's, and having paid her this compliment he sat down and looked over his letters and papers, discussing the contents with her and departing after a time in the same way as before. But Laura now began to feel uneasy about these visits. She did not believe Napoleon meant any harm to her, and had all her life been accustomed to look upon him, not perhaps as a brother — always a doubtful expression between young people who are not really related to each other — but as a cousin, a relationship of the widest comprehension. Still, even cousins do not come and sit in each other's bedrooms at five o'clock in the morning, and she knew perfectly well that if Napoleon were seen coming out of her room at such an hour nobody would suppose he went there to read the papers. Already the notice he took of her was attracting comment, as she saw by the disagreeable manner of some and the exaggerated politeness and attentions which others were eager to show' her. Although she was only sixteen, she had lived too much in the world not to know what that i8oi] AT i\AI>OLEO\S COURT i6() meant, and disliked it extremely, but could not think what to do. She was afraid to tell Junot, who was hasty, jealous, and \cry much in lo\c with her, and she did not like to sa)' an\thinjj^ to Napoleon himself. So she forbade her maid, who had not been loni;" with her, to open the door to any one who knocked so earl)' in the morning. "But, madame, if it is the First Consul ?" " I will not be woke up so earl)' b\- the First Consul any more than an\'bod\' else. Do as I tell you." That da)' \a]K)leon was rather more ci\il and complimentary than usual, and Laura saw that she was not the only one to observe it. He announced that the day after to-morrow he was going to give a dejeuner and hunting party, and that they would meet at ten o'clock. On retiring to her room that night Laura repeated her orders to her maid not to open the door, and then went to bed in unusually low spirits. She was getting tired of being at La Malmaison, where, though ever)' one was very kind to her, she was amongst strangers. She would much rather have been amongst her own friends, saw very little of her husband, and fretted for her mother, who was in bad health and from whom she had never before been separated. She lay in her bed thinking how to get awa)-, and cried herself to sleep. On awaking in the morning she thought she would go and get the ke)' of the outer door, and stealing softly through the ante-room where her maid was asleej), she found that the door was unlocked and the ke)' outside. She locked it, took the kew went back to bed, and presentl)' heard the steps of the lyo A LEADER OE SOCIETY [iHoi First Consul in the corridor. He knocked much more softly than before, and she heard her maid tell him that she had taken the key. Then she heard him go away, and went to sleep again. She was awakened by the door of her own room being pushed open, and the First Consul entered. " Are you afraid of being murdered ? " he asked angrily. Laura hesitated, and said that she had taken the key of her maid's door because she pre- ferred that people should come in by her own. Napoleon looked at her in silence, and then said — " To-morrow we are going to hunt at Butard ; )'ou have not forgotten, have you ? We shall start earh', and I shall come and call you myself, so that you may be in time. And as you are not here amongst a horde of Tartars, don't barricade yourself as you did to-day. Besides, you see your precautions have not prevented an old friend coming to you. Adieu." And he went away. Laura looked at her watch. It was nine o'clock, just the time when Napoleon would be certain to be seen by some of the maids who were now about the passages going to their mistresses' rooms, so it would be known all over the chateau. She called her maid and asked how he had got in. The woman replied that he had entered with a pass-key, and she had not dared to prevent his going into her mistress's room. While dressing Laura tried to think of some one she could consult. She could have spoken to Duroc, but he was away ; she thought of Hortense, then the remembrance of Josephine put an end to that idea. " Mou Dicu ! what shall I do ? " she exclaimed, i8oi] .17 X.ll'OLEOXS COURT 171 sinking back into a chair and leaning her face in her hands. At that moment two arms were put round her and a well-known voice said — ■ " My Laura ! what is the matter? " With a cry of jo)' Laura threw herself into her husband's arms, and after the first greeting and inquiries begged him to take her back to Paris. " Of course I will, directly Madame Buonaparte goes back." " Why not now ? " " Now ? My dear child, but it is impossible ! " Laura said no more then, but waited till the evening. Since the attempt on the life of the First Consul the prefet of police and Junot were forbidden to be absent froin Paris a single night. When Junot came to La Malmaison he alwa)'s left about eleven o'clock. On this occasion it was four days since his last visit, and when Bessieres set out on his return and every one else separated for the night, Laura told Junot that she wanted him to take a letter to her mother and that he must come to her room while she wrote it. When they got there she renewed her entreaties that he would take her with him, which, of course, at such an hour and without notice or excuse was impossible. Junot began to suspect that some one had been annoying her, and eagerly asked who it was, that he might avenge her. Finding that she must remain where she was, Laura begged her husband to stay with her, to which with some hesitation he consented, remarking that he should get a reprimand. About half-past four in the morning the door opened and the P'irst Consul came in. 172 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1801 " What ! still asleep. Madame Junot," he cried, " on a hunting morning. I told you " And as he spoke he undrew the curtain of the bed. Junot sat up and looked at him in astonishment. " Eh ! ?;wn Dien, General ! what are you doing here at this hour? " " I came to wake up Madame Junot for \\\.Q^chasse',' replied Napoleon. " But 1 see she has an earlier alarum. I might reprimand, for you are contraband here, Monsieur Junot." " Mojt General" replied Junot, "if ever a fault were excusable it is mine. If you had seen this little syren last night, employing all her magic for more than an hour to seduce me. I am sure you would forgive me." Napoleon smiled, but it was a forced smile. " Well ! I forgive you entirely. It is Madame Junot who must be punished. To prove that I am not angry you shall go out hunting with us. Did you ride here ? " " No, inon General, I drove." "Well, Jardin will give you a horse. Adieu, Madame Junot. Make haste and get up." And he left the room. When they were all starting the First Consul got into a little calccJic and said to Laura — "Madame Junot, ma\' I have the honour of your company ? " Laura got into the carriage in silence, for she did not like the expression of his face and smile. The door was shut, and when they had gone a little distance from the chateau Napoleon, crossing his arms, turned to her and said — i8oi] AT XAI'OI.F.OXS CO CRT 173 "You think you are very clever." There was no answer. " \'ou think you are very clever, don't you ? " " I don't think myself cleverer than other people, but I don't think I am an imbecile ; " she answered, seeing that she must say something. " An iiiibecile, no ; but you are a fool." She was silent. "Can you explain to me for what reason you made \our husband stay here ? " " The explanation is simple and short, General. I lo\e Junot ; we are married, and I suppose there is no scandal in a husband being with his wife." " You knew that I had forbidden it, and that m\- orders ought to be obej-ed." " They have nothing to do with me. When Consuls have to decide on the degrees of intimacy allowed between married people and the length of their interviews I shall think about submitting to them. Until then. General, I can only say that I shall do as I please." " You had no other reason but j'our love for your husband when you made him stay ? " " Xo, General." " That's a lie." " General ! " " Yes, it is," he went on in a changed voice. " I guessed your reason. You had a distrust of me which you ought not to have felt. Ah ! you have nothing to say ! " " And if I had another reason than the distrust you speak of, General ; if I saw that your visits at .such an hour to the room ()f a woman of m\- age 174 -'^ LEADER OF SOCIETY [1801 would compromise me strange!}- in the eyes of every- body else in the house, and if I took this means of stopping them " Napoleon's face softened. " If that was it," he said, "why did not you tell me what troubled you ? Have not I shown you friendship enough, naughty child, for the last week to give you confidence in me ? " " Perhaps I was wrong, General," said Laura ; and she went on to allude to the affection her family had always shown him and the loyal devotion of Junot, to whom he could not wish to give pain. "It is almost a sermon that you are preaching me," said Napoleon. " Who wants to give Junot pain ? Why didn't you speak to me?" " How could I, General, when yesterday morning you employed means that might be called unworthy to get into my room although the measures I took ought to have shown you that I considered the early visits you were good enough to pay me to be com- promising, which they are. You came in for a moment with an offended air which certainly did not invite confidence. Therefore I had no one to appeal to but myself. I may have been mistaken." " Were not you acting under )-our mother's advice?" " My mother ? How could she direct me ? Poor mother ! I have not seen her for a month." " You can write." " Man General, I have not written to my mother that I am not safe under your roof It would have given her too much pain." " Madame Junot, you have known me long enough I Hoi] .it NAPOI.EOS'-S CO CRT 175 to understand that \ou will not continue to retain my friendship b)' speaking in that way. The only thing wanting to the wa\- you are acting is that }OU should have told Junot what >ou have been fanc)'ing." " I shall not answer such a cjuestion," said Laura angrily. " If you don't think I have either sense or reason, at least give me credit for good-feeling enough not to make him unhapp}\" " Again ! " cried Xapoleon, striking the side of the carriage with his hand — " Again ! hold \-our tongue ! " "Xo, I shall not hold my tongue. I shall go on with what I wish to have the honour of telling \ou. I beg you to believe that neither my mother, my husband, nor any of my friends know what has happened. As I did not suppose you had any bad intentions, it would ha\e been absurd to complain of a mark of friendship because it might compromise me, but I thought it best to stop it at any rate, and no doubt rny youth and inexperience have caused me to manage bad!}-, since I have displeased you. I am sorry, but that is all I can say." They were approaching the meet ; alreach- the sound of horns and barking of dogs was heard. Napoleon's face softened. " Will you give me your word of honour that your husband knows nothing of all this nonsense? " " Good God, General ! how can you think of such a thing, knowing Junot as you do? Why, if I had told him what has been going on for the last week neither he nor I would be here now." Napoleon said nothing at first, but drummed with his fingers on the edge of the carriage. Then turning to her, he said — i-jG A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1801 " Then you will not believe I meant no harm to you ? " " I am so sure of it that the attachment and admiration I have ahva)s had for you are the same as ever." She stretched out her hand to him, but he smiled and shook his head. " Then we are to quarrel," she said, " because you chose to do what was entirely your own fault, and now because you have given me pain you are going to let your beard grow and hang your dagger to your side ! " I He looked out of the carriage, and then, turning to her, said — " Believe that really I feel for you a friendship which it only depended upon yourself to make still stronger. But early education remains. You have been taught to be hostile to me ; you don't like me, and I am sure " " I take the liberty of interrupting you, General, and I beg of you not to talk in that way. You make me unhappy ; and besides, it is entirely untrue. Tell me you don't really think so ; it would be too painful to leave you so." " You are going ! " Laura showed him a letter, received that morning from her mother, urging her immediate return, as she was ill anfl wanted her. "And when will you come back?" he asked, with a sarcastic look that irritated Laura, who replied hastily — " Whenever I am wanted for m}' part. General ; but ' The sign of ixndclla in Corsica. i8oi] .17" X.H'OI.EOS' S COrRT 177 you can dispose of m)- apartment, for I shall not occupy it any more, I assure you." " As you please. And after this stupid affair it would not be very pleasant for either of us to sec each other. You are quite right. Jardin ! my horse." And he opened the door, jumped out, and rode a\va\'. Laura returned to Paris with Junot, and dined that evening with her mother. The next time she went to La Malmaison Xapoleon was all right again in his manner towards her. A year afterwards, when, after dining at La Malmaison, a storm came on and Josephine was trying to per- suade her not to return home that night as she jjersisted in doing, Napoleon, who was stirring the logs of the fire, said without turning round — " Torment her no more, Josephine. I know her ; she will not stay." Although Laura no longer lived at La Malmaison, she often went down there to act in the theatricals, of which they all, including the First Consul, were passionately fond. One day at dinner the conversation turned upon the delights of private theatricals, in which Cam- baceres, the Second Consul, a grave, solemn-looking personage, joined, when Napoleon observed that he must be judging from hearsay, as he certainly never acted. " And why not, citoyen premier consul ? Don't you think I look pleasant or amusing {plaisant) enough to act ? " " Well, citoyen Cambaceres," said Napoleon, " because, in fact, you don't look amusing at all {yous navez pas l\xir plaisant du tout). 178 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1801 " Well ! I have often acted, not only at Montpellier, but at the house of a friend of mine at Beziers, where theatricals went on half the year, and one of the parts in which I had great success was that of Renaud d'Ast." " What ! you sang," cried Madame Buonaparte. Every one laughed, but Cambaceres went on gravely — " And as any part suited me equally, I played just as well Montauciel in ' The Deserter.' " There was a burst of laughter all round the table, but Cambaceres, without attending to it, continued to relate one theatrical anecdote after another, illus- trating the intrigues, jealousies, and petty quarrels that prevail behind the scenes ; while the First Consul, who was himself the chief manager of the theatre at La Malmaison and its amateur company, listened intently with his elbows on the table. The First Consul told an amusing story of Count Louis de Cobentzel the Austrian ambassador to Russia, which happened in 1796, at the court of St. Petersburg. The Count de Cobentzel was no longer young, and had always been extremely ugly, but he was exceed- ingly fond of private theatricals, and had had a small theatre built at the Austrian embassy, where plays were constantly acted and patronised by the Empress Catherine, who was equally devoted to that diversion, and often wrote plays herself which were acted there. One day there was to be a grand representation, in which the Count de Cobentzel was to act the part of the Comtesse d'Escarbagnas (an old lady) in the presence of the Empress. He dressed early, in order to be ready to go upon i8oi] AT XAl'OLEOXS COrk'I 179 the stage directly the Empress should arrive, and waited in his dressing-room meanwhile. Just then a courier arrived from Vienna with important despatches which were to be delivered into the hands of the Ambassador himself, so he sent to request an audience. It was seven o'clock, and the Comte de Cobentzel, dressed as an old lady, with high heels, powdered and puffed hair, rouge, pam'ers, &c., was standing before the glass practising fanning himself and arranging the patches on his face. He sent word that he was engaged and would see the messenger the next morning. But the messenger, who was a young man and zealous, a complete contrast to Josephine's unlucky M, de Cere had a perfect mania for doing his duty. He had been ordered to arrive at St. Petersburg on a certain day before midnight, and having carried out his instructions, declared that he must see the Ambassador that night, and made such a noise and commotion that one of his secretaries went up to him again and told him. " Ah ! the devil's in the obstinate fellow ! " cried Cobentzel. " Well, let him come in." Without recollecting the necessity of explaining matters to the messenger, the .secretar\' introduced him into the room, saying — " There is M. I'Ambassadeur," and shut the door. An old lady advanced towards him, with one hand putting a patch upon her face and saying as she held out the other, " Well, Monsieur, let me see the.se famous despatches." The messenger looked around him in amazement, but there was no one else in the room. i8o .4 LEADER OF SOCIETY [1801 " I want to see the Ambassador," he said. " Well, here is the Ambassador. I am the Ambas- sador," cried the figure, snatching at the packet and pulling with all its might. The messenger thought it was a maniac, and keep- ing firm hold of the packet, ran to the door, calling for help. The Ambassador ran after him, trying to explain, and then, exclaiming, " Well, you shall see him, stupid, your Ambassador," he rushed into his bedroom, tore off the dress, and came back in black breeches, which made the rest of his costume look still more ridiculous. At that moment the secretary returned, saying that the Empress had arrived. He explained the truth to the messenger and made him give up the despatches to the Count, who, when he had read them, found them to be so important that they must be attended to at once. They referred to the progress of Napoleon in Italy, in order to check which the treaty now being arranged between Eng- land, Russia, and Austria must be signed and carried into execution. Cobentzel therefore sent for Lord Whitworth, the English Ambassador, a tall, hand- some, stately personage, who received the comm.uni- cations made by Cobentzel in his extraordinary dress with perfect composure, pointing out that the Empress must not be ke[)t waiting. He went to her at once and explained the cause of the delay, and it is believed that in her impatience to hear full particulars of what was indicated to her by the English Ambas- sador she would not wait any longer, so the Austrian Ambassador had to appear at the interview in tlic dress of the old Comtesse d'Escarbaunas. CHAPTER XI 1 801-1802 THE theatricals at La IMalmaison usually took place on Wednesdays, and there were generally forty or fifty people at dinner and about a hundred and fifty in the evening. The best actors of the C(jinpan\', or troupe, were Hortcnse and Eugene de Keauharnais, Bourrienne, Eauriston, Lallemand, and a young officer called lsabe\'. Lucien Buonaparte was also good. The First Consul took the deepest interest in these performances, and was so critical and sarcastic that he terrified most of the actors. General Lallemand, who was one of Junot's aides- de-camp, used to have lessons from a famous comic actor called Michau, a great favourite with the public. "It is always useful to be able to make people laugh," observed Michau one day ; and he proceeded to tell his hearers that on one occasion during the Terror he was stopped in the streets of Paris b}- one of those troops of ruffians who went about commit- ting murders in the da\'s of what even to this da\- man)- French and some other persons of radical opinions call la belle Revolution. i82 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1801-1802 By these worthy patriots he was seized, and in spite of his entreaties and remonstrances they were proceeding to express their favourite principles of " Hberty, equaHty, and fraternity " by hanging him to the pole of a lamp which they had taken down for that purpose, when a baker with a red, merry face rushed into the midst of them, caught him up as if he were a child, and carried him away from them, exclaiming, " What are you about, you fellows ? Don't you know \\\& pouricJibiel (polichinelle) of the Republic,^ then ? " whereupon about two hundred ruffians made their excuses to him for trying to hang him, as if they had been apologising for treading on his foot. An unlucky adventure befell young Isabey, who happened, on going into a gallery at La Malmaison, to see a man wearing the uniform of the cJiasseurs dc la garde whom he took for Eugene de Beauharnais (then colonel of that regiment) looking at a book of engravings lying on a table at the other end. He approached very softly, and when he had come close behind him without his being aware of it he sprang with one bound on to his shoulders. The man raised himself up and shook him violently off. It was the First Consul ! " What is the meaning of this joke ? " he asked in a severe voice. " I thought it was Eugene " stammered Isabey. " And if it had been Eugene, was that any reason why you should break his shoulders?" returned the l^^irst Consul. And he walked out of the gallery. The story got about by some indiscretion, and not ' The C'omcdic l""rain;ai.se was then called Thuatrc dc la Kcpubliquc. i8oi-i8o2] AT XAPOLEON'S COl'RT 1S3 long afterwards, for no ostensible reason, Isabey was obliged to leave La Malmaison. The prosperity of the country was growing rapidly. The numerous balls, dinners, and other files, with the increasing luxury- of dress and living, gave an impetus to trade ; every one flocked to the theatre where Mademoiselle Mars and Talma were in their glory. There was an exceedingly good Italian opera, and the Louvre was filled with all the most splendid statues, bronzes, pictures, and other works of art, the plunder of Italy, and later on of Spain, Germany, and the rest of Europe, waiting until a few )-ears later the victorious armies of the Allies should restore them to their lawful owners. By the peace of Luneville between France and Austria the left bank of the Rhine from Holland to Switzerland was made the boundary of France, the possession of Venice was confirmed to Austria, and that of Parma and her other Italian conquests to France, to whom also were ceded the Ionian Isles. The joy and triumph of this successful treat)' concluded in February, 1801, was, however, followed in March by the loss of Egypt. The English general, the gallant Abercrombie, was killed in the battle of Alexandria, but the French army capitulated, and a treaty was concluded between the two nations, which put an end for ever to Napoleon's plans for making Eg)'pt a stepping- stone to the ruin of England. Xews travelled slowl\- in those dax's ; and it was a beautiful summer's morning when Laura and her husband, knowing nothing of what had happened, received a visit from Rapp, who .-^aid he had come to 184 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1801-1802 breakfast with them, as the First Consul had sent him from La Malmaison to say that he wished to see Junot and wanted Laura to come too and spend the day. Rapp was in bad spirits, and said as they drove down that the First Consul had certainly received some bad news, he seemed so gloomy, scarcely ate anything, but pushed away his chair, threw down his serviette, and asked for three cups of coffee in one hour. Laura laughed, and said that very likely he was only out of temper. When they arrived Junot went at once to the First Consul and remained with him till dinner-time, either shut up in his study or walking in an avenue in the garden. Napoleon placed Laura next to him at dinner and began to talk to her on indifferent matters, but she saw at once that something was wrong. It was not, however, until they returned to Paris that Junot could tell her what Napoleon had communicated to him before it w^as made public — the disaster in Egypt. He well knew all the dreams and aspirations of which Egypt and the East had been the subject in the mind of Napoleon, even in the early days when they had wandered about the boulevards of Paris together, planning their future ; and understood what, amidst all the success and splendour of his present position, he must have felt when he said, "Junot, we have lost Egypt." It was the first serious check to his victorious career, from the nation he always regarded as his most deadly enemy, and there appeared to be some- i8oi-i8o2] AT XAPOI.EOXS COl'RT 185 thing almost prophetic in the depression and gloom with which it seemed to overshadow his spirits. The invasion of England was always a favourite project of Napoleon, and Boulogne was the head- ciuarters of the activity which now prevailed in the building and arming of numbers of vessels of different kinds, while camps were pitched on the coast of the channel at this and other places. One night as the French flotilla lay at anchor near the shore it was suddenly attacked by Nelson, whose intention was to cut it off by getting in between it and the land. Although, owing to the protection given to the French flotilla by the forts and batteries close at hand, this plan was frustrated and the English fleet sustained heavy losses, Nelson gained a victory, which still further exasperated Napoleon. The autumn and early winter passed away ; it was the 5th of January, and Laura was daily expecting the birth of her child. The weather was so cold and the streets so slippery that Madame Permon, who was now too great an invalid to come to her daughter, had forbidden her to go out ; therefore their only communications were the letters they wrote every day to each other. Junot's mother, who was very fond of Laura, had come to stay and take care of her, and on the evening of this day they were giving a supper-party to General Suchet and some other friends to celebrate the first da}'s of the New Year. Every one drank Laura's health in champagne, and she rose to return the compliment with a glass of water in her hand ; for it was a singular thing that while Laura could never bear to touch wine of any kind, Junot had a sort of aversion, which i86 A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1801-1S02 he could never explain, to seeing women drink it. So strong was this unreasonable fancy (for he always drank it himself) that he told Laura that if he had seen her drink wine he should not have married her. " Well, but," said she, laughing, when he told her this, " what about Madame M , who used, I am told, to drink a bottle of champagne and half a bottle of Madeira at dinner and supper? It is said that you loved her." " Oh ! what does that matter ? " replied he, laughing also. " A mistress counts for nothing in a man's life. What does he care for her faults or virtues, so long as she is pretty, which is all he wants ? " As Laura stood at the head of her table with her glass of water, amongst the laughter and com- pliments of the sixteen or seventeen people present, a sudden and terrible pain made her sink back with a cry into her seat, while the glass dropped from her hand and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again she saw Junot, white with fear, his glass still in his hand, and everybody else looking at her in consternation. With the courage of Jeanne d'Albret at the birth of Henri IV. she tried to resume the talk and laughter that had been interrupted, but it was useless. There was an end of the supper-party. Her mother-in-law took her away into her own room, Junot hurried off to send for Marchais, a famous doctor of the day, and all night long she lay between life and death. The next morning Junot became so frightened and miserable that he could not endure to stay in the house any longer. He seized his hat, ran i8oi-i8o2] AT X.lPiV.KOXS COCRT 1S7 downstairs into the street, and did not stop until he got to the Tuileries. He rushed upstairs into the ante-chamber of Napoleon, where several of his friends were standing, who exclaimed in astonish- ment, " Good God ! Junot, what is the matter?" Junot asked onl\' for the First Consul, who received him with great kindness and sympathy. " My old friend," he said, pressing his hand, " you have done well to come to me at this time." He sent a messenger immediately to inc[uire for Madame Junot, walking up and down the gallery with Junot and tr\-ing to comfort him until the news was brought that a daughter was born and that Laura's danger was over. Junot returned home, enchanted with his child and at the favourable turn things had taken, the only drawback being that his father, old M. Junot, had made himself disagreeable as usual, and when he heard that the child was a girl, having set his mind on having a grandson, he made such a grumbling and became so ill-tempered that Laura was very nearly made ill, the doctor was furious and so was his wife, who dro\e him away in a torrent of in- dignation, and told Junot that she had "arranged" his father, and she did not think he would ever behave so again. For some time the First Consul had resolved to re- establish religion in F'rance, and now, the concordat upon ecclesiastical affairs having been signed by the Pope and the Consuls, he resolved that a grand service should be held to celebrate its promulgation. Accordingl)- on Easter Sunday a great festival was organised at Notre Dame (1802). i88 ■ A LEADER OF SOCIETY [1801-1802 For the first time the household of the First Consul wore liveries, and besides her four dames de compagnie, sixty or eighty wives of the chief officers and functionaries were chosen to accompany Josephine, amongst whom, of course, was Laura. At half-past ten an immense procession left the Tuileries the cathedral of Notre Dame was crowded with women in splendid toilettes, and men in uniform, and the gorgeousness of the newly restored ceremonial, the holy chants and sacred music mingling with salvos of artillery, tramp of cavalry, and clash of swords, made a strong impression upon the spectators who thronged the church and streets. The fanatical Republicans and enemies of religion were furious, and one of them. General Delmas, when asked by the First Consul how he liked the ceremony, replied — " It's a fine mummery enough. To make it better still you only want the million of men who gave their blood to destro)- what you have just re- established." Napoleon was very angry with this answer, in which he said there was as little sense as good taste, what so man}' men had given their lives to destroy not being religion at all, but the aiicicn regime, which was a very different thing ; and although he now created nine archbishops and forty-seven bishops, of whom Laura's uncle was one,' they only received small salaries instead of the magnificent property lost for ever in the Revolution. A terrible calamity soon afterwards befell Laura ' Bishop of Metz. i