London: Published for HENRY COLBURN, February, 1836.
]
“During the reign of terror,” said the Emperor, “Josephine was thrown
into prison, while her husband perished on the scaffold. Her son Eugène
was bound apprentice to a joiner, which trade he actually learned.
Hortense had no better prospects. She was, if I mistake not, sent to
learn the business of a sempstress.”[14]
Footnote 14:
I have been assured that this circumstance is erroneous, and that
relative to Prince Eugène inaccurate.
Fouché was the first who ventured to touch the fatal string of the
Imperial divorce. He took upon himself, without any instructions, to
advise Josephine to dissolve her marriage for the welfare of France.
Napoleon, however, conceived that the proper moment had not yet arrived.
The step taken by Fouché was a source of great vexation and trouble: it
very much displeased the Emperor, and if, at the earnest solicitation of
Josephine, he did not dismiss Fouché, it was because he had himself
secretly determined on the divorce, and he did not wish, by thus
punishing his minister, to give any check to public opinion on the
subject.
However, it is but justice to observe that, as soon as the Emperor
shewed himself resolved on the divorce, Josephine consented to it. It
cost her, it is true, a severe sacrifice: but she submitted without
murmuring, and without attempting to avail herself of those obstacles
which she might, however uselessly, have opposed to the measure.[15] She
conducted herself with the utmost grace and address. She desired that
the Viceroy might be put at the head of this affair, and she herself
made offers of service to the house of Austria.
Footnote 15:
I received from the mouth of the Prince Primate some curious details
concerning Josephine’s marriage and divorce. Madame de Beauharnais was
married to General Buonaparte, by a non-juring priest, who, by mere
accident, had neglected to procure the requisite authority from the
curate of the parish. This, or some other informality in the marriage,
afterwards occupied the attention of Cardinal Fesch; and, whether from
his own scruples or otherwise, he succeeded at the time of the
coronation in persuading the Emperor and Empress to be married over
again by him, privately; or at least to go over as much of the
ceremony as he thought necessary. At the divorce, the civil separation
was pronounced by the Senate. With regard to the religious separation,
the Emperor would not apply to the Pope, and there was no necessity
for so doing. Cardinal Fesch having re-married the parties without
witnesses, the Officiality of Paris declared that no marriage had
taken place. On this judgment being delivered, the Empress Josephine
summoned Cardinal Fesch to Malmaison, and asked him whether he could
bear witness and sign a declaration that she had been married and
lawfully married. “Doubtless,” replied the Cardinal, “I can bear
testimony to the fact, and will sign the declaration,” which he
accordingly did.
“But,” said I to the Prince Primate, “what judgment was pronounced by
the Officiality of Paris?”—"The only proper one," replied the
Prince.—"What then became of the declaration of Cardinal Fesch? was it
false?"—"Not in his opinion," said the Prince. “He had acted upon the
Italian doctrine, by which Cardinals assume the right of marrying
without witnesses, which however is not recognised in France, where a
marriage is thereby rendered null.”
It appears, however, that Josephine required this declaration only for
her own satisfaction, and that she never made any other use of it.
Josephine would willingly have seen Maria Louisa. She frequently spoke
of her with great interest, as well as of the young King of Rome. Maria
Louisa, on her part, behaved wonderfully well to Eugène and Hortense;
but she manifested the utmost dislike and even jealousy of Josephine. “I
wished one day to take her to Malmaison,” said the Emperor; “but she
burst into tears when I made the proposal. She said she did not object
to my visiting Josephine, only she did not wish to know it. But whenever
she suspected my intention of going to Malmaison, there was no stratagem
which she did not employ for the sake of annoying me. She never left me;
and, as these visits seemed to vex her exceedingly, I did violence to my
own feelings and scarcely ever went to Malmaison. Still, however, when I
did happen to go, I was sure to encounter a flood of tears and a
multitude of contrivances of every kind. Josephine always kept in view
the example of the wife of Henry IV., who, as she observed, lived in
Paris, visited the Court, and attended the coronation after her divorce.
But she remarked that her own situation was still preferable, for she
already had children of her own, and could not hope to have more.”
Josephine possessed a perfect knowledge of all the different shades of
the Emperor’s character, and she evinced the most exquisite tact in
turning this knowledge to the best account. “For example,” said the
Emperor, “she never solicited any favour for Eugène, or thanked me for
any that I conferred on him. She never even shewed any additional
complaisance or assiduity, at the moment when the greatest honours were
lavished on him. Her grand aim was to prove that all this was my affair,
and not hers, and that it tended to my advantage. Doubtless she
entertained the idea that one day or other I should adopt Eugène as my
successor.”
The Emperor said he was well convinced that he was the individual whom
Josephine loved best in all the world: and he added, with a smile, that
he was sure she would have relinquished any assignation to attend him.
She never failed to accompany him on all his journeys. Neither fatigue
nor privation could daunt her; and she employed importunity and even
artifice to gain her point. "If I stepped into my carriage at midnight,
to set out on the longest journey, to my surprise I found Josephine all
ready prepared, though I had had no idea of her accompanying me. ‘But,’
I would say to her, ‘You cannot possibly go, the journey is too long and
will be too fatiguing for you.’—‘Not at all,’ Josephine would reply.
‘Besides, I must set out instantly.’—‘Well, I am quite ready.’—‘But you
must take a great deal of luggage.’—‘Oh, no! every thing is packed up;‘
and I was generally obliged to yield. In a word, Josephine rendered her
husband happy, and constantly proved herself his sincerest friend. At
all times and on all occasions, she manifested the most perfect
submission and attachment; and thus I shall never cease to remember her
with tenderness and gratitude.
“Josephine,” continued the Emperor, “placed the qualities of submission,
obedience, and complaisance in her sex on a level with political
address; and she often condemned the conduct of her daughter Hortense
and her relation Stephanie, who lived on very bad terms with their
husbands, frequently indulging in caprice, and pretending to assert
their independence.
“Louis,” said the Emperor, “had been spoiled by reading the works of
Rousseau. He contrived to agree with his wife only for a few months.
There were faults on both sides. On the one hand, Louis was too teazing
in his temper, and on the other Hortense was too volatile. They were
attached to each other at the time of their marriage, which was
agreeable to their mutual wishes. The union was, however, contrived by
Josephine, who had her own views in promoting it. I, on the contrary,
would rather have extended my connection with other families, and for a
moment I had an idea of forming a union between Louis and a niece of M.
de Talleyrand’s, who was afterwards Madame Juste de Noailles.”
The most ridiculous reports were circulated respecting an improper
intercourse between Napoleon and Hortense, and it was even affirmed that
the latter had had a child by the Emperor. “Such a connection,” said he,
"would have been wholly repugnant to my ideas; and those who knew
anything of the morality of the Tuileries must be aware that I need not
have been reduced to so unnatural and revolting a choice. Louis knew
perfectly well the value to which these reports were entitled; but his
vanity and irritability of temper were nevertheless offended by them,
and he frequently alluded to them as a ground for reproaching his wife.
“But Hortense,” continued the Emperor, "the virtuous, the generous, the
devoted Hortense, was not entirely faultless in her conduct towards her
husband. This I must acknowledge, in spite of all the affection I bore
her, and the sincere attachment which I am sure she entertained for me.
Though Louis’ whimsical humours were in all probability sufficiently
teasing, yet he loved Hortense; and in such a case a woman should learn
to subdue her own temper, and endeavour to return her husband’s
attachment. Had she known how to repress her temper she would have
spared herself the vexation of her late lawsuit; she would have passed a
happier life; she would have accompanied her husband to Holland, and
would have staid there. Louis would not then have fled from Amsterdam;
and I should not have been compelled to unite his kingdom to mine, a
measure which contributed to ruin my credit in Europe. Many other events
might also have taken a different turn.
“The Princess of Baden,” continued the Emperor, "pursued a wiser course.
On witnessing Josephine’s divorce, she recollected her own situation,
and used every endeavour to gain her husband’s affections. They were
afterwards a most happy couple.
"Pauline was too careless and extravagant. She might have been immensely
rich, considering all that I gave her; but she gave all away in her
turn. Her mother frequently lectured her on this subject, and told her
that she would die in a hospital. _Madame_, however, carried her
parsimony to a most ridiculous extreme. I offered to furnish her with a
very considerable monthly income, on condition that she would spend it.
She, on the other hand, was very willing to receive the money provided
she were permitted to hoard it up. This arose not so much from
covetousness as excess of foresight; all her fear was that she might one
day be reduced to beggary. She had known the horrors of want, and they
now constantly haunted her imagination. It is, however, but just to
acknowledge that she gave a great deal to her children in secret. She is
indeed a kind mother.
“Nevertheless,” continued the Emperor, “this woman, who was so reluctant
to part with a single crown, would willingly have given me her all, on
my return from the Island of Elba; and after the battle of Waterloo, she
would have surrendered to me all she possessed in the world, to assist
me in re-establishing my affairs. This she offered to do; and would,
without a murmur, have doomed herself to live on brown bread.[16]
Loftiness of sentiment still reigned paramount in her heart: pride and
noble ambition were not yet subdued by avarice.”
Footnote 16:
How justly did the Emperor paint his mother’s character! On my return
to Europe I was delighted to witness the literal confirmation of all
that he had said respecting her.
As soon as I disclosed to Madame Mère the Emperor’s real situation,
and declared my resolution to exert all my efforts to alleviate his
misery, the answer returned to me by the courier was, that her whole
fortune was at her son’s disposal, and that she would earn her
livelihood if necessary by going to service. She at the same time,
authorised me, though I was not personally known to her, to draw
immediately in her name for any sum that I might think necessary for
the Emperor’s use. Cardinal Fesch also tendered his services in the
most affectionate way; and I must take this opportunity of mentioning
that all the different members of the Emperor’s family evinced equal
love, zeal, and devotedness. So long as my health permitted me to keep
up a correspondence with them, I received a multitude of letters,
which form altogether a most interesting collection. They reflect
honour on the hearts of the writers, and they would have proved a
source of consolation to the Emperor, had the restrictions of the
English government permitted me to submit them to his perusal.
Here the Emperor observed that he had still present in his memory the
lessons of pride which he had received from his mother in his childhood,
and which had influenced his conduct through life. The naturally
powerful mind of Madame Mère had been exalted by the great events of
which she had been a witness; she had seen five or six revolutions; and
her house had been thrice burnt to the ground by factions in Corsica.
“Joseph,” said the Emperor, "rendered me no assistance; but he is a very
good man. His wife, Queen Julia, is the most amiable creature that ever
existed. Joseph and I were always attached to each other, and kept on
very good terms. He loves me sincerely, and I doubt not that he would do
every thing in the world to serve me. But his qualities are only suited
to private life. He is of a gentle and kind disposition, possesses
talent and information, and is altogether a very amiable man. In the
discharge of the high duties which I confided to him, he did the best he
could. His intentions were good; and therefore the principal fault
rested not so much with him as with me, who raised him above his proper
sphere. When placed in important circumstances, he found his strength
unequal to the task imposed on him.
“The Queen of Naples had chiefly formed herself amidst great events. She
had solid sense, strength of character, and boundless ambition.... She
must naturally suffer severely from her reverses, more particularly as
she may be said to have been born a Queen. She had not, like the rest of
us,” observed the Emperor, "moved in the sphere of private life.
Caroline, Pauline, and Jerome, were still in their childhood when I had
attained supreme rank in France; thus they never knew any other state
than that which they enjoyed during the period of my power.
“Jerome was an absolute prodigal. He plunged into boundless
extravagance, and the most odious libertinism. His excuse perhaps may be
his youth, and the temptations by which he was surrounded. On my return
from the Isle of Elba, he appeared to be much improved, and to afford
great promise. One remarkable testimony in his favour was the love with
which he had inspired his wife, whose conduct was admirable, when, after
my fall, her father, the despotic and harsh King of Wurtemberg, wished
to procure her divorce. The Princess then, with her own hands,
honourably inscribed her name in history.”
To our great regret, dinner was announced; but the Emperor continued to
be very talkative during the whole of the evening. He took a familiar
retrospect of various subjects, principally alluding to the conduct of
many persons of note during his absence and at the time of his return.
He did not retire until midnight, and he closed the evening’s
conversation with the following words:—"What is doing at this moment in
France and in Paris? and what shall we ourselves be doing on this day
twelvemonth!"