only subject discussed was the Cadoudal-Pichegru conspiracy, and orders
were issued for the immediate arrest of Moreau.
When a great crime is under investigation in France the prosecutor
always enjoins upon the agents of justice: “_Cherchez la femme!_”
The woman in this case was Madame Moreau. Without the jealousy
and petty vanity of this woman her husband, instead of meeting an
ignominious death fighting in the ranks of the enemies of his country,
would have become like Davout, Masséna and Ney, a duc and prince, a
maréchal de France.
Moreau had met Bonaparte for the first time after his return from
Egypt, and the two celebrated generals had become quite friendly. On
the 18 Brumaire Moreau had taken an active part in the coup d’état.
Exactly a year later, on the 9 November 1800, he married a Mlle. Hulot,
who had been a companion of Hortense in the school of Madame Campan.
Joséphine had contributed much to bring about this match, which she
thought would be useful to the interests of the First Consul. Ten
days after the wedding Moreau left Paris to take command of the Army
of Germany, and on the 3 December 1800 he gained the brilliant victory
of Hohenlinden, which led to the Peace of Lunéville two months later.
Shortly after the battle Madame Moreau rejoined her husband in Germany,
and her pride was increased by the sight of the _éclat_ with which
he was everywhere received.
On their return to Paris, the _amour-propre_ of Madame Moreau
was wounded on several occasions by what she considered to be the
incivility or social slights of the First Consul. Like Joséphine, she
was the daughter of a Creole, and her mother, who was a sensitive,
as well as a very vindicative woman, told her that she was younger,
prettier and better educated than Madame Bonaparte; that her husband
had commanded as large armies, and rendered as brilliant services to
the Republic as Bonaparte, and that there was no reason why General and
Madame Moreau should occupy a second place in the State.
There were only too many persons at Paris, both republicans and
royalists, who were interested in fanning the flames. The royalists,
in particular, paid very marked attentions to Madame Moreau, and
frequented her handsome hôtel in the Rue d’Anjou-Saint-Honoré.
Bonaparte was exasperated by the petty social war which was waged
against himself and his wife. He detested the pin-pricks, and feared
them more than the strokes of a dagger.
Influenced by his wife, Moreau refused an invitation for dinner at
the Tuileries, and also declined to accompany the First Consul to a
review. This coldness shortly degenerated into declared enmity. The
city hôtel of the general and his handsome country place, Grosbois,
soon became centres of opposition to the Consular government.
When Madame de Rémusat arrived at the Tuileries one February morning
she found Joséphine much troubled. Napoleon was seated near the
fireplace playing with the little Napoleon. “Do you know what I have
done?” he said. “I have just given the order to arrest Moreau.” He
continued: “Twenty times have I prevented him from compromising
himself; I have warned him that they would embroil us; and he felt
that I was right. But he is feeble and proud; the women directed him:
the parties urged him on.” Thus speaking, Bonaparte arose, went to his
wife, took her by the chin, and raised her head. “Everybody has not
a good wife like mine. You are crying, Joséphine, but why? Are you
afraid?” “No,” replied she, “but I do not like what they will say.”
Then turning to the lady of the palace, Bonaparte continued: “I have
no hatred, no desire for vengeance; I have deeply reflected before
arresting Moreau; I could have closed my eyes, and given him time to
escape, but people would have said that I was afraid to put him on
trial. I can convince them that he is guilty; I am the government;
everything will be easily settled.”
At the trial the evidence against Moreau was not conclusive. He was
condemned to two years in prison, but was accorded the permission to
retire to America. In order to furnish him with funds for his exile,
Napoleon purchased his Paris house for 800,000 francs, much more than
its real value, and presented it to Bernadotte; also his handsome
estate of Grosbois, which he gave to Berthier.
Pichegru was finally betrayed by an old companion-in-arms, one of his
most intimate friends, who came to the police and offered to give him
up for a hundred thousand crowns. On the last day of February he was
arrested in Paris, and six weeks later was found strangled in prison.
His death has often been charged to Napoleon, but without the slightest
evidence.
On the 9 March, Cadoudal was taken at seven o’clock in the evening in
the Place de l’Odéon, and was executed the last week in June.
According to the police reports the conspirators had expected the early
arrival in France of a prince of the royal house. Attention was at
first directed to the cliff of Béville, near Dieppe, where Cadoudal and
Pichegru were now known to have entered the country, but the watch was
in vain. Then the search was turned to the banks of the Rhine. It was
learned that the young Duc d’Enghien, the son of the Duc de Bourbon,
was at Ettenheim in the grand-duchy of Baden, just across the river.
As a youth of twenty he had served twelve years before in the army of
the Émigrés organized by his grandfather, the Prince de Condé, for
the invasion of France. In 1801, after the peace of Lunéville, he had
laid down his arms and taken up his residence in the former château
of Cardinal de Rohan on the right bank of the Rhine ten miles from
Strasbourg. Here he lived the life of a private citizen, in the company
of a young and charming woman who was devoted to him, the Princesse de
Rohan.
An under-officer of the gendarmerie was secretly sent in disguise
to Ettenheim in search of information. The prince at this time had
with him an émigré by the name of Thumery, which the German servants
pronounced Thoumeriez, and the spy reported that the French traitor
Dumouriez was with the Duc d’Enghien. This information reached Paris on
the 10 March 1804, and on the same day a servant of Cadoudal deposed
that a young man, who was treated with the utmost respect, on several
occasions had been in conference with the conspirators at Paris. On
the strength of these various reports the First Consul jumped to the
conclusion that the young Bourbon prince was deeply implicated in the
conspiracy against his life.
A special meeting of the Council was held at the Tuileries at ten
o’clock on the evening of the 10 March, at which were present the
three Consuls, and all the ministers. It was decided to issue orders
for the immediate arrest of the Duc d’Enghien and the supposed General
Dumouriez. Caulaincourt was sent with a letter to the Grand Duke of
Baden, explaining this violation of German territory.
Five days later thirty dragoons and twenty-five gendarmes under the
command of Colonel Ordener crossed the river at Rheinau, opposite
Ettenheim, and surrounded the château just as the day was beginning to
break. The prince was taken without any resistance, and was conducted
directly to Strasbourg, where he was interned in the citadel. At the
end of three days he was placed in a postal-chaise and transferred
to the château of Vincennes at Paris where he arrived late on the
afternoon of the 20 March.
Let us now see what was taking place at Paris during this time. On
Passion Sunday, the 18 March, Madame de Rémusat took up her duties
again as a dame du palais. Early in the morning she went to the
Tuileries to be present at the Mass, which at this time was celebrated
with much pomp. Afterwards, Joséphine held an informal reception in the
salons, and then descended to her own apartment, where she announced
that they were going to Malmaison to pass the week. Several hours
later they set out, Bonaparte in one carriage, and Joséphine with
Madame de Rémusat in another. Joséphine seemed sad and preoccupied,
and had little to say. Finally she remarked: “I am going to tell you
a great secret. This morning Bonaparte informed me that he had sent
Caulaincourt to the frontier to seize the Duc d’Enghien. They are going
to bring him here.” “Ah! mon Dieu, madame,” cried the lady, “what do
they intend to do?” “Why, I think they mean to put him on trial.”
Joséphine went on to say that she had done everything she could to
obtain an assurance from the First Consul that the prince should not be
condemned, but she was afraid that Bonaparte’s mind was made up, and
that the duc must die.
Before dinner the First Consul played chess, and appeared as calm
and serene as usual. After the dinner, at which nothing important
transpired, he retired to his cabinet to work with the police. The two
following days passed quietly and sadly. Convinced that the fate of
the prince was decided, Joséphine made no further efforts to turn her
husband from his purpose.
Tuesday morning Joséphine said: “It is all hopeless. The Duc d’Enghien
arrives this evening; he will be taken to Vincennes, and tried
to-night. Murat is in full charge. He is odious in this matter. It
is he who is urging Bonaparte on.... Bonaparte has forbidden me to
say anything more to him on the subject.” In the afternoon, the First
Consul again played chess, and insisted on having the little Napoleon
at dinner. He had the baby placed in the middle of the table, and
was much amused to see him upset everything around him. After dinner
Bonaparte seated himself on the floor, and played with the child.
Noticing the pallor of Madame de Rémusat he asked why she had forgotten
to put on her rouge, and added with a laugh: “That would never happen
to you, Joséphine!”
When they came downstairs at eight o’clock the next morning Savary
was already in the salon. Joséphine said: “Well, is it done?” “Yes,
madame,” he replied. “He died this morning, and, I must admit, with
fine courage.” He then gave the details, which are now well known.
By many persons, the execution of the Duc d’Enghien is considered the
greatest blot on the fame of Napoleon. Talleyrand, with his usual
cynicism, said: “It is worse than a crime; it is a blunder.” Naturally
there was a cry of indignation from the royalists everywhere. It was
perfectly legitimate for them to attempt the life of the plebeian
usurper, but he must not shed a drop of the blue blood of the Bourbons!
Napoleon himself never offered any excuses for his action on this
occasion. Upon the threshold of eternity, in his last testament at
Saint Helena, he wrote with his own hand: “I had the Duc d’Enghien
arrested and tried because it was necessary for the security, the
interest, and the honor of the French people, at a time when the Comte
d’Artois, by his own admission, was maintaining sixty assassins at
Paris. Under the same circumstances I would again do the same.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
1804
EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH
The Empire Proclaimed--The Ceremony at Saint-Cloud--Joséphine
Hailed as Empress--Dissatisfaction of the Bonapartes--Chagrin
of Caroline--Napoleon Yields--Joséphine’s Attitude--Eugène de
Beauharnais--The Fête of the 14 July--Visit to the Banks of the
Rhine--A Letter from Napoleon--The Court at Mayence--Return to
Saint-Cloud
There is no city in the world where things are forgotten so quickly as
in Paris, and the impression made by the death of the Duc d’Enghien
soon passed away. Even with the royalists the event caused more sorrow
than indignation. The First Consul decided to appear in public as
usual, and soon went with his wife to the Opéra, where he was greeted
with the customary applause. A week after the execution, the Senate
in an address formally called on Bonaparte to guarantee the future by
rendering his work “as immortal as his glory.”
In the Tribune, on the 28 April a member suggested a hereditary empire,
and five days later the proposition was adopted by the vote of all
the members except Carnot. The Senate disputed the initiative of the
Tribune in this matter, because six weeks before Fouché had made
an appeal to that body to establish hereditary power in the person
of Bonaparte as the surest means of preserving the benefits of the
Revolution.
At the session of the 18 May the Senate adopted a decree worded as
follows:
“The French people decree the heredity of the Imperial dignity in
the descent, direct, natural, legitimate, and adopted, of Napoleon
Bonaparte; and in the descent, direct, natural, and legitimate, of
Joseph Bonaparte and of Louis Bonaparte.”
Then the Senate adjourned, and proceeded in a body to Saint-Cloud to
hail the new sovereign, Napoléon I^{er}. Napoleon, in uniform, received
them in the magnificent Gallery of Apollo where four and a half years
before, in the early hours of a gloomy November morning, he had taken
his oath as consul. Now it is a day of splendid May sunshine, and
Joséphine, radiant with joy, is by the side of her husband, whose
triumph she modestly shares.
In the name of the Senate, Cambacérès pronounces a solemn discourse,
which ends with the expression of the hope that the decree shall
immediately be executed, and Napoleon instantly proclaimed as Emperor
of the French. There is enthusiastic applause in the gallery, which is
echoed throughout the château, and in the courts and gardens. The cry
of “_Vive l’Empereur!_” to be heard later on so many fields of
battle, for the first time splits the air.
Napoleon, arrived at the goal of his ambition, conceals his pride
under an air of outward calm. He is so much at ease in his new rôle of
monarch, that one would imagine he was born to the purple.
It is next the turn of the new Empress to receive the homage of the
Senate. Cambacérès, in his most flowery manner, conveys to Joséphine
the expression of the respect and gratitude of the French people for
her never failing kindness and sympathy in cases of misfortune, the
living remembrance of which would teach the world that, to dry the
tears, is the surest way to reign over the hearts. Behold therefore the
modest and gracious Creole elevated to the rank of sovereign!
In the chorus of acclamations which echoed from every part of France
there was scarcely a discordant note. The people ratified the
Napoleonic dynasty by the almost unanimous vote of over three and a
half millions in the affirmative against twenty-five hundred in the
negative--a majority larger than that obtained for the Consulate. If
supreme power is ever to be based upon the foundation of a nation’s
will, no ruler in history ever had a clearer title to his throne than
Napoleon Bonaparte!
In the midst of these scenes of joy, the only persons who appear
dissatisfied are the members of the new imperial family, who ought
to be the most delighted, and the most astonished at their grandeur.
Nothing seems sufficiently splendid to meet their extravagant desires.
When we think of the modest mansion of their father at Ajaccio, it
is impossible to suppress a smile at the pretentions of these new
princes and princesses of the blood. Of the four brothers of Napoleon,
two are absent and in disgrace: Lucien, for his marriage with Madame
Jouberthou; Jérôme for having wedded Miss Patterson. His mother has
espoused the cause of Lucien, and followed her son into exile at Rome.
Joseph and Louis are disappointed because their children, instead
of themselves, are designated in the line of succession. Élisa and
Caroline are full of chagrin because they are placed in the official
scale below their sister-in-law, the Empress, and they are plunged in
despair because they do not yet receive the title of princesse like
the wives of Joseph and Louis. They certainly must have expected that
the wife of the Emperor would receive an exalted rank, but they did
not imagine that Julie and Hortense, who were not of the _blood_,
could bear titles which they themselves did not have.
After the reception of the Senate at Saint-Cloud, at which Élisa and
Caroline were present, the Emperor asked them to remain for dinner.
As they were about to go to the table, Duroc announced the titles
which should be given to each one, and in particular to the wives
of the princes. Mesdames Bacciochi and Murat appeared astounded at
the difference between themselves and their sisters-in-law. Madame
Murat, especially, found it difficult to conceal her chagrin. About
six o’clock the Emperor appeared, and began, without any appearance
of embarrassment, to salute each one with his new title. The Empress
showed her usual amiability; Louis appeared satisfied; Madame Joseph,
resigned to what was expected of her; Madame Louis, equally submissive;
Eugène de Beauharnais, simple and natural, with an air free from all
signs of ambition or disappointment. It was not the same with the
new marshal, Murat, but fear of his brother-in-law forced him to
self-restraint, and he displayed a thoughtful reticence. As for Madame
Murat, she was in despair, and had so little self-control that when she
heard the Emperor, on several occasions during the dinner, address the
_Princesse_ Louis, she could not repress her tears; she drank in
succession several large glasses of water, in the endeavor to recover
her composure, but the tears continued to fall.
Her sister, Madame Bacciochi, older, and more mistress of herself, did
not cry; but she was brusque and cutting in her manner, and treated the
dames du palais with marked _hauteur_.
After a while the Emperor became annoyed, and increased the
discomforture of his sisters by teasing them with indirect banter. On
this occasion there were too many people present for the matter to go
further, but the following day at the family dinner, Madame Murat broke
out in tears and complaints. Napoleon lost his temper, and replied very
severely. Caroline, who could endure no more, fell on the floor in a
dead faint. This had an immediate effect on Napoleon, who calmed down,
and agreed to do what they wanted. The next day the official paper
inserted the following note: “To the French princes and princesses is
given the title of Imperial Highness: _the sisters of the Emperor
bear the same title_.”
In the midst of all these family _désagréments_ Joséphine
maintained her usual amiable serenity. The conduct of his brothers and
sisters was in such contrast with that of his wife and her children
that Napoleon could not help being impressed with the difference.
Except for money, from time to time, to pay her debts, Joséphine asked
nothing. For the rest, she accepted whatever it pleased her husband to
give her, but without any appearance of desiring it, and without any
pretention that it was due her. If he gave to others, she approved, and
never displayed any envy. Her conduct, whether calculated or not, was
so adroit that every one was struck by her disinterestedness, and her
husband most of all.
With respect to her children Joséphine showed exactly the same spirit.
As Napoleon himself stated later, she never asked anything for Eugène;
never even thanked him for what he did for her son, and never showed
any particular appreciation of his favors. At the début of the Empire,
Napoleon did nothing for Eugène, who found himself relegated, by his
duties and his rank, to the waiting-room the most distant from the
Emperor’s apartment. Eugène seemed to consider this entirely natural,
and made no complaint. When Napoleon offered him through Joséphine the
office of Grand Chamberlain, Eugène modestly declined, saying in excuse
that this employment suited neither his tastes nor his character, his
vocation being entirely military. No reply could have better pleased
the Emperor, who at once increased his allowance from 30,000 to 150,000
francs, and appointed him colonel-general of the Chasseurs à cheval,
which made him a grand officer of the Empire.
The new Empire opened brilliantly; and no one seemed to give a
thought to the Republic, of which almost the only vestige left was
the gold coins that continued for several years to bear the anomalous
inscription: “République Française, Napoléon Empereur.” The first
public appearance of the new sovereigns on a formal occasion was at the
fête of the 14 July, anniversary of the fall of the Bastille, which
this year was to be the occasion of the presentation of the crosses of
the Légion d’honneur. For the first time they traversed in a carriage
the grande allée of the Tuileries Gardens, and proceeded with great
pomp to the Hôtel des Invalides. The ceremony took place in the church,
which during the Revolution had been made a Temple of Mars, and was now
again consecrated for religious uses. After the Mass, and a discourse
by the grand chancellor of the Order, the Emperor pronounced the oath,
and each of the members cried: “Je le jure!” Napoleon then called to
him Cardinal Caprara, who had negotiated the Concordat, and who was
soon to be of great service in deciding the Pope to come to Paris for
the Coronation. Detaching from his neck the cordon of the Légion, the
Emperor presented it to the venerable prelate.
On this occasion the Empress had a great personal triumph. She wore a
robe of pink tulle covered with silver stars, with a very décolleté
corsage, as was then the fashion, although the ceremony took place in
full daylight. Clusters of diamonds crowned her head. Radiant with
happiness, she never appeared to greater advantage.
Four days later the Emperor left Saint-Cloud for Boulogne on a general
tour of inspection of the Channel ports from Calais to Ostende. He
left Joséphine occupied with the preparation of her toilettes for the
visit which she was soon to make with him to the banks of the Rhine. He
was to meet her the first of September at Aix-la-Chapelle, where the
Empress was to precede him by several weeks for the purpose of taking
the waters.
As was his custom, before leaving Saint-Cloud Napoleon dictated in
the minutest details the itinerary of the journey of the Empress.
Everything was worked out with the same precision that he would have
given to the orders for an army corps to arrive at a certain hour
on the field of battle. He also dictated the replies that Joséphine
was to make to the addresses of welcome that she would receive at
the different cities through which she passed. Every day, before her
departure, Joséphine could be seen, a large page of manuscript in her
hand, trying to commit these discourses to memory, as a school-girl
learns her lesson. Fortunately her replies were brief, and she soon
knew them by heart.
Joséphine’s life at Aix was very monotonous. After the morning
toilette, the Empress went to the thermal establishment for a bath.
An hour of rest followed, and then she dressed for breakfast. In the
afternoon she usually went out for a drive. Upon her return she again
changed her robe for dinner. In the evening, unless she went to the
theatre, she retired at an early hour.
It will be interesting here to read one of the letters written at this
time by Napoleon to Joséphine, if only for the purpose of comparing it
with the ardent effusions he sent her during the Campaign of Italy:
_To the Empress, at Aix-la-Chapelle_
CALAIS, 6 August 1804
Mon amie, I am at Calais since midnight; but expect to leave
for Dunkerque this evening. I am satisfied with my inspection,
and in quite good health. I trust that the waters will do you
as much good as the sight of the camp and the sea has done
me. Eugène has left for Blois. Hortense is well. Louis is at
Plombières. I long to see you. You are ever necessary to my
happiness. A thousand best wishes.
NAPOLEON
After a visit of nine days at Aix, where he arrived on the 2 September,
Napoleon left with Joséphine for Cologne. From there they travelled
separately to Mayence, which they reached on the 20 September. At
Mayence the sovereigns received the warmest of welcomes. The houses and
public buildings were all illuminated in their honor. The Emperor found
himself surrounded by a regular court of German princes. Performances
were given by the second company of the Théâtre-Français, which had
been summoned from Paris.