age, for she did not wish to admit the facts to this boy of twenty-six.
She placed the matter in the hands of her man of confidence, Calmelet,
who appeared before a notary and certified that “he knew Marie-Josèphe
Tascher, widow of the citizen Beauharnais; that she was a native of
the island of Martinique, in the Windward Islands; and that, at this
moment, it was impossible for him to procure her birth-certificate on
account of the actual occupation of the island by the British.” Armed
with this declaration, Joséphine was able to state to the civil officer
who performed the marriage that she was born on the 23 June 1766, while
she was really born three years before.
The marriage contract was one of the most remarkable ever drawn up in
France: no details of the bride’s property were given; all that she
possessed was to belong to the _communauté_ which existed between
her and the late M. de Beauharnais. For his part, Bonaparte did not
hesitate to admit his lack of fortune. He stated that he had nothing
except his wardrobe and his war equipment, upon which he placed a
merely nominal value.
The contract was signed the 8 March 1796, and the marriage took
place the following day, before a civil officer, who graciously gave
the groom twenty-eight years instead of twenty-six, and the bride
twenty-nine in place of thirty-two. This mayor, remarks a commentator,
had a mania for _égalité_! The witnesses were Lemarrois, an aide
de camp of the General, who was a minor; the inevitable Calmelet;
Tallien and Barras! No mention was made of the consent of the parents:
they had not been consulted.
Two days later Bonaparte was on his way to Italy, leaving his bride
alone in the Hôtel Chantereine. “Heureusement on avait pris des avances
sur la lune de miel.”
CHAPTER SIX
1796
THE VICTORY FESTIVALS
Bonaparte en Route for Italy--His First Letter to Joséphine--Her
Indifference--His Second Letter--Brilliant Opening of the
Campaign--Bonaparte’s Proclamation--He Writes Joséphine to
Rejoin Him--Presentation of the Battle Flags--Description of
Joséphine’s Appearance--Victory of Lodi--The Fête Given by the
Directory
From this time on, the life of Joséphine is so closely associated
with that of Napoleon that it is impossible to speak of her without
mentioning him.
Leaving Paris on the 11 March 1796, forty-eight hours after his
marriage, Bonaparte set out for Italy, accompanied only by his
aides de camp, Berthier, Duroc, Junot, Marmont and Murat, and his
paymaster-general Chauvet, who carried with him 48,000 francs in
gold--a small sum for the succor of an army which had long been
destitute of everything.
En route Napoleon stopped a night with the father of Marmont at
Châtillon-sur-Seine. Here he wrote Joséphine, enclosing a power of
attorney to enable her to collect some money which was due him.
On the 14 March, at six o’clock in the evening, from the relay station
at Chanceaux, he despatched his first long letter. He wrote:
“Every moment carries me further away from you, my dearest love, and
every instant finds me with less force to endure my separation from
you. You are the constant object of my thoughts, and my imagination is
exhausted in trying to conceive what you are doing. If I think that you
are sad, my heart is torn, and my grief intensified; if you are gay,
playful with your friends, I reproach you for having so soon forgotten
the painful separation of three days.... As you see, I am not easy to
satisfy; but, my dear love, it is very different if I fear that your
health is altered, or that you have reasons for grief: then I regret
the speed which carries me away from my heart. If I am asked if I
have slept well, before replying I must have a courier to let me know
that you have had a good night.... May my good angel, who has always
protected me in the midst of the greatest dangers, surround and cover
you, and leave me exposed.... Write me, my dearest love, and at length,
and receive the thousand and one kisses of the most devoted and most
faithful of lovers.”
At this time Joséphine was very far from reciprocating the love of
her husband. He adored her, while she was only moderately touched
by his passion. His strange, violent character, inspired her with
astonishment, rather than with sympathy. She was in her element in this
brilliant, but bizarre society of the Directory, which tried to imitate
the former splendors of Versailles. She enjoyed the opening of the
few salons, where her grace and amiability caused her to be generally
admired. She gave but few thoughts to this young Republican general,
to whom Destiny had united her, who seemed to her more of an eccentric
than a genius.
Napoleon turned from his route to pass two days with his mother at
Marseille and hand her a letter from Joséphine. His mother was not
yet reconciled to his marriage, and it was only after a hard struggle,
and a family council of war, that Madame Letitia was finally persuaded
to write a very formal and stilted letter of congratulation to her new
daughter-in-law.
A week later, the 29 March, Bonaparte arrived at Nice, and took command
of the Army of Italy. During the opening days of this marvellous
campaign, which was to render his name immortal, Napoleon was not so
carried away with ambition as to be forgetful of his love. Before the
first battle, he wrote Joséphine from Port-Maurice on the 3 April:
“I have received all your letters, but none of them has made such an
impression on me as the last. What can be your idea, my adorable love,
to write me in such terms? The sentiments that you express are like
fire: they consume my poor heart! Do you not think that my position is
already critical enough without increasing my regrets and upsetting my
spirit?... My only Joséphine, away from you there is no joy; far from
you, the world is a desert, where I am alone. You have taken away from
me more than my soul; you are the one thought of my life. If I am weary
with the burden of affairs, if I fear the outcome, if I am disgusted
with men, if I am ready to curse life, I place my hand upon my heart:
your portrait beats there; I regard it, and love is for me absolute
happiness: all is gay except the space that I am separated from my
love.”
His whole soul in a state of ecstasy over the receipt of a few tender
lines traced by the adored hand, he continues: “By what art have you
been able to captivate all my faculties, to concentrate in yourself
my moral existence? To live for Joséphine is the whole aim of my
life! I strive to be near you; I die to approach you. Fool! I did not
realize that I was separating myself from you. How many lands, how many
countries lie between us, how many days before you read these lines
which are but feeble expressions of a troubled heart where you reign.”
Unfortunately the sunshine of love is never long without its clouds,
and Bonaparte, who was then in the seventh heaven of joy and
confidence, was soon to become suspicious and jealous. Although he
did not as yet doubt either the love or the fidelity of his wife,
at times he was overcome with melancholy. But this feeling was not
of long duration. The lover soon was lost in the man of action.
Victory followed victory with amazing rapidity. From the heights of
Monte-Zemolo the army suddenly saw at its feet the fertile plains of
Italy, the promised land, with its splendid cities, its broad rivers,
its cultivated fields. A shout of joy broke from the ranks. The young
general, pointing to the scene of his coming triumphs, cried: “Hannibal
scaled the Alps; we have turned them!”
After the armistice of Cherasco, on the 28 April, Bonaparte thus summed
up in a few ringing words the achievements of his army:
“Soldiers! In two weeks you have gained six victories, captured
twenty-one flags, fifty cannon, several strong places, and have
conquered the richest part of Piedmont. You have made fifteen thousand
prisoners, and killed or wounded ten thousand men. Destitute of all,
you have supplied everything. You have gained battles without cannon,
crossed rivers without bridges, made forced marches without shoes,
often bivouacked without bread. Only Republican phalanxes are capable
of deeds so extraordinary. Thanks to you, soldiers!”
[Illustration: GENERAL BONAPARTE]
On the 24 April Bonaparte sent his brother Joseph and his aide de camp
Junot to Paris. Joseph was the bearer of a letter to Joséphine in which
her husband strongly urged her to rejoin him in Italy. Junot carried
the flags captured from the enemy, to be presented to the Directory.
In his _Mémoires_ Joseph tells the story of their journey. They
left in the same post-chaise, and reached Paris in five days after
their departure from Nice. En route they were everywhere received
with the greatest enthusiasm. At Paris the Directors expressed their
satisfaction with the army and its commander.
Murat, who had been sent directly from Cherasco with the papers of the
armistice, reached Paris before Joseph and Junot. Joséphine received
from the three envoys the most circumstantial details of the success of
her husband. Like Napoleon, she had passed in a few days from obscurity
to glory. For the first time she began to realize that she had not made
a mistake in marrying the young hero of Vendémiaire.
The _Moniteur_ of the 10 May 1796 contains a report of the formal
presentation of the flags to the Directory, by Junot, the future Duc
d’Abrantès.
In her interesting _Mémoires_ Madame d’Abrantès speaks of the
impression created on this occasion by Madame Bonaparte and Madame
Tallien who were present. “At that time,” she says, “Madame Bonaparte
was still charming, while Madame Tallien was in the full flower of
her beauty.” She continues: “One may well believe that Junot was not
a little proud to escort these two charming women when they left at
the end of the reception.... He offered his arm to Madame Bonaparte,
who, as the wife of his general, had the right to the first place,
especially on this occasion; the other arm he gave to Madame Tallien,
and so descended with them the staircase of the Luxembourg.” There was
an immense crowd outside the palace, and the people pushed and crowded
to obtain a better view. There were cheers for General Bonaparte, and
for his charming wife, who was acclaimed as “Notre-Dame-des-Victoires.”
The poet Arnault, in his _Souvenirs d’un sexagénaire_, recalls
the profound impression made upon him so many years before by the
loveliness of Joséphine on this occasion. He compares her with her
two competitors for the sceptre of Venus: Madame Tallien and Madame
Récamier. “Beside these two rivals,” he says, “although she was not
so brilliant or so fresh as they, thanks to the regularity of her
features, the elegant _souplesse_ of her figure, the sweet
expression of her countenance, she also was beautiful. I can still see
them, on this perfect May day, as they entered the salon where the
Directors were to receive the flags. Each of them was attired in the
toilette the best fitted to show off her particular advantages; their
heads were crowned with the most beautiful flowers: one would have
said that the three months of springtime had been reunited to fête the
victory.”
The same day that the flags were presented, the 10 May, Bonaparte
gained the spectacular victory of Lodi, which made so vivid an
impression on the popular imagination. Carrying a banner in his
hand, at the head of his grenadiers, the young general led the charge
across the long and narrow bridge upon which the fire of the enemy
was concentrated. From that time forth, his soldiers believed him
infallible and irresistible. Five days later he made his triumphal
entry into Milan.
The day after the battle of Lodi, Salicetti, the commissioner with
the army, wrote the Directory: “Citizen Directors, immortal glory
to the Army of Italy! Gratitude to the wisely audacious chief who
directs it! The date of yesterday will be celebrated in the annals of
history and of war.... When the Republican column was formed, General
Bonaparte rushed along the ranks. His presence filled the soldiers with
enthusiasm. He was received with cries a thousand times repeated of:
‘Vive la République!’ He ordered the drums to beat the charge, and the
troops, with the rapidity of lightning, rushed upon the bridge!”
To celebrate the new triumphs the Directory organized a fête, half
patriotic, half mythological, which was celebrated on the Champ-de-Mars
the 29 May. At ten o’clock in the morning a salvo of artillery
announced the beginning of the ceremonies. The National Guard of Paris
was present, under arms. Carnot, the president of the Directory,
delivered the oration, which was in the nature of a martial rhapsody.
He ended his discourse with a glowing tribute to the armies of the
Republic and their valiant chiefs.
After the fête the people danced on the Champ-de-Mars until nightfall,
and a grand dinner was given in the evening.
CHAPTER SEVEN
1796–1797
JOSÉPHINE IN ITALY
Bonaparte Enters Milan--Joséphine’s Life at Paris--She Finally
Starts for Italy--Her Regret in Leaving--Arrival at Milan--The
Palace Serbelloni--Her Ennui--Letter to Madame Renaudin--Her
Delayed Honeymoon--End of the Campaign--Napoleon’s Letters--The
Court of Montebello--The Bonaparte Family Reunion--Joséphine’s
Aid to Napoleon’s Policy--The Peace of Campo-Formio--Bonaparte
Leaves for Rastadt--His Return to Paris
On Sunday the 15 May 1796, Bonaparte made his entry into Milan
through streets lined by the National Guard, commanded by the Duc de
Serbelloni. When the general arrived at the Porta Romana the soldiers
presented arms. Preceded by a large detachment of infantry, and
surrounded by his guard of cavalry, he proceeded to the archducal
palace, where he took up his residence. In the evening, there was a
large dinner given in his honor, followed by a brilliant ball.
But in the midst of his triumphs, Bonaparte was far from happy. His
adored wife failed to respond to his letters praying her to join him in
Italy, and he had just received news of the proposal of the Directory
to divide his forces, giving the northern army to Kellermann, while he
was to be sent with the balance of the troops to conquer the southern
part of the Peninsula. He immediately wrote the Directory that he
considered it most unwise to divide the Army of Italy into two parts,
and against the best interests of the Republic to have two different
generals. The majority of the Directory accepted his view of the
situation and the order was at once cancelled.
Bonaparte found it more difficult, however, to overcome the resistance
of his wife. Joséphine was more interested in enjoying at Paris the
triumphs of her husband than in going to join him at Milan. She was
perfectly happy in her life at home, and had no desire to leave her
children and her friends. She loved the theatres, the manners of the
Ancien Régime, which were beginning to reappear, and the receptions at
the Luxembourg, where she was treated like a queen. It certainly was
not customary, since the beginning of the wars of the Republic, to see
the wives of the generals accompany the armies, and it was too much to
demand of the Creole nature of Joséphine that she should rush to Italy
at the first call of her husband, and expose herself to the fatigues
and dangers of a great war.
But Napoleon could not understand her hesitation. He wrote her letter
after letter, each one more burning and more pressing than the one
before. Murat, who carried to Paris the papers of the armistice, was
also the bearer of a letter to Joséphine urging her to rejoin him.
This letter, which she did not hesitate to show to her friends, was
characterized by the most violent passion, not entirely free from
jealousy. Arnault writes: “I can still hear her reading a passage
in which her husband cries, ‘What are you doing? Why do you not
come to me? If it is a lover who detains you beware of the poinard
of Othello!’ And Joséphine, smiling with amusement at his exalted
sentiments, says with her funny Creole accent, ‘Il est drôle,
Bonaparte!’”
In his _Life of Napoleon_, Sir Walter Scott writes that the
correspondence of Bonaparte with Joséphine reveals the curious
character of a man as ardent in love as in war: the language of the
conqueror who disposed of States according to his good pleasure, and
beat the most celebrated generals of his time, is as enthusiastic as
that of an Arcadian shepherd. The statements of the great English
writer are certainly borne out by the tone of the long passionate and
eloquent letter which Napoleon wrote Joséphine on the 15 June 1796
from Tortona. It was despatched by a special courier, who had orders
to remain only four hours in Paris, and to bring back her answer.
Joséphine could not resist this final touching appeal; and she decided,
although with great regret, to leave for Italy.
Her friend Arnault, in his interesting memoirs, gives us a curious
insight of the feelings of Joséphine at this time. He says that
the love which she inspired in a man so extraordinary as Bonaparte
evidently flattered her, although she took the matter much less
seriously than he; she was proud to see that he loved her almost as
much as his glory; she enjoyed this fame which increased from day
to day; but she wished to enjoy it at Paris, in the midst of the
acclamations which hailed her appearance, on the receipt of each new
bulletin from the Army of Italy. Her chagrin was great when she saw
that there was no chance for further hesitation. She would not have
exchanged her little hôtel in the Rue Chantereine for the palace
prepared for her reception at Milan--in fact, for all the palaces in
the world. It was from the Luxembourg that she finally set out for
Italy, after having supped there with a few friends. “Poor woman!” says
Arnault, “she broke out in tears, and sobbed as if she were going to
the scaffold. She was going to reign!”
Joséphine arrived at Milan the 9 July 1796, escorted by her
brother-in-law Joseph, by Napoleon’s aide de camp Junot, and by a young
officer on the staff of General Leclerc, named Hippolyte Charles, whom
we shall encounter later on in close connection with Joséphine.
Bonaparte, who had not expected so prompt a response to his last
appeal, was absent on a tour of the principal cities of northern Italy.
The first day of July he paid a visit to the Grand Duke Ferdinand at
Florence. From there he went to Bologna and Verona, and did not reach
Milan until the middle of the month.
What a change in the situation of Bonaparte in the four short months
since he parted from Joséphine at Paris! In order not to excite the
jealousy of the Directory he had abandoned the archducal palace, but
was lodged in almost regal state in the Serbelloni Palace on the
Corso Venezia, a few squares behind the cathedral. The Serbelloni is
far handsomer than the Royal Palace and perhaps the most beautiful
of all the palaces of Milan. Since the opening of the campaign in
April his troops had overrun nearly all of northern Italy. Piedmont,
delivered from the yoke of Austria, had made peace with France, and the
remainder of the Imperial army was blockaded at Mantua. He had treated
as an equal with the King of Sardinia, the Pope, the Duke of Modena,
and the Grand Duke of Tuscany, all of whom owed to his generosity
their political existence. Genoa and Venice, Rome and Naples, had
all withdrawn from the coalition. The great cities of northern Italy
had surrendered their most celebrated works of art to enrich the
collections of the Louvre. Millions of francs had been levied on the
different States, part of which had supplied his army, while the
balance had been transmitted to Paris to fill the empty coffers of
the Directory. What wonder that the name of Bonaparte was everywhere
acclaimed!
Joséphine passed the summer at Milan, except for a short visit to
headquarters before the battle of Castiglione. Having resumed the siege
of Mantua after this victory, Napoleon went to Milan where he spent
only twenty-four hours with his wife before rejoining his troops.
While Bonaparte was gaining his victories Joséphine was bored to death
in Italy. The feeling of sadness which oppressed her is shown in a
letter which she wrote at this time to her aunt Madame Renaudin, who
had finally married her old lover the Marquis de Beauharnais. The Duc
de Serbelloni who was going to Paris was charged with the delivery of
this epistle which ran as follows:
“Monsieur Serbelloni will tell you, my dear aunt, of the manner in
which I have been received in Italy. All the princes have given me
fêtes, even the Grand Duke of Tuscany, the brother of the Emperor.
Well, I prefer to be a simple private individual in France! I do not
care for the honors of this country; I am much bored. It is true that
my health contributes much to make me sad; I am often indisposed.
If good fortune could assure good health, I ought to be well. I
have the most amiable husband that a woman could hope for. I have no
chance to desire anything: my wishes are his. All day long he is in a
position of adoration before me, as if I were a divinity. I could not
have a better husband. He often writes my children of whom he is very
fond. He is sending Hortense by M. Serbelloni a beautiful enamelled
repeating-watch; to Eugène a handsome gold watch.”
Comparatively few of the letters of Joséphine have been preserved for
us, and this one is particularly interesting because it displays more
appreciation of her husband’s devotion than we should expect to find.
Ten days after the battle of Arcole, on the 27 November, Napoleon
returned to Milan, where he expected to find Joséphine. Great was
his surprise and disappointment to learn that she had accepted an
invitation from Genoa to pay a visit to the city. There she was given a
magnificent reception by the citizens who were favorable to the French.
On learning of Napoleon’s arrival Joséphine returned at once to Milan,
where they spent the month of December together at the Serbelloni
Palace. It was really their “lune de miel,” the first time that they
had been united for more than a few hours since their marriage nine
months before.
Lavalette, who had then just been appointed one of Bonaparte’s aides de
camp, gives us in his _Mémoires_ an interesting picture of this
kind of military court. He says: “The general-in-chief was then in
all the intoxication of his marriage. Madame Bonaparte was charming,
and all the cares of his command, all the tasks of the government of
Italy, did not prevent her husband from fully enjoying his domestic
happiness. It was during this short sojourn at Milan that the young
painter Gros made the first portrait that we have of the general. He
represents him upon the bridge of Lodi at the moment that he seized the
flag and called upon the troops to follow him. The artist could not
obtain time for a sitting, so Madame Bonaparte took her husband upon
her knees, after déjeuner, and kept him there for several minutes. I
was present at three of these sittings: the age of the young couple,
the modesty of the painter, and his enthusiasm for the hero excuse this
familiarity.”
With the beginning of the new year Austria resumed hostilities, and
Bonaparte left Milan to take command of his army. On the 14 January
he won the brilliant victory of Rivoli, and two days later that of La
Favorita, which settled the fate of Mantua. Without waiting to receive
the surrender of the fortress, he proceeded to Tolentino, where on the
19 February he concluded a treaty with the Pope. Two months later, at
Leoben, he signed the preliminary articles of peace with Austria, which
marked the end of the great Campaign of Italy.
During his absence from Joséphine, Napoleon as usual wrote her nearly
every day. Madame de Rémusat, who is always reluctant to admit that
Napoleon was ever more controlled by his heart than by his head, is
nevertheless struck by the passion revealed in every line of this
correspondence. In her _Mémoires_, she says: “I have seen the
letters of Napoleon to Madame Bonaparte at the time of the first
campaign of Italy.... These letters are very singular: a writing almost
illegible, a faulty spelling, a style bizarre and confused; but
withal, a tone so passionate, sentiments so strong, expressions so
animated and at the same time so poetic, a love so apart from all other
loves, that there is no woman who would not prize having received such
letters.”
* * * * *