at Warsaw at one o’clock on the morning of the third day, having made
two stops en route. Learning that the Russian army was at Pultusk,
about thirty miles to the north, he at once headed his corps in that
direction, and started for the front. The battle fought on the 26
December proved indecisive. The French, under the command of Lannes,
were inferior in numbers, and could make little progress against the
stubborn resistance of the Russians. The weather was frightful, and the
roads almost impassable. The short day was made even shorter by the
premature darkness due to the stormy cloudy weather. The Emperor, with
his Guard, lost the way, and arrived on the field of battle long after
the affair was over. In three letters to Joséphine, Napoleon tells of
his arrival at Warsaw and the events which followed:
_To the Empress, at Mayence_
WARSAW, 20 December 1806
I have no news of you. I am well. I have been here two days. My
affairs go well. The weather is very mild, and even a little
moist. As yet we have had no frost: the season is like October.
Adieu, ma bonne amie. I am very anxious to see thee; in five or
six days I hope to send for thee.
Tout à toi
NAPOLEON
GOLYMINE, 29 December 1806
I send you only a line. I am in a miserable barn. I have
defeated the Russians; I have taken 30 cannon, their baggage,
and 6000 prisoners. The weather is horrible: it rains, and we
are in mud up to our knees. In two days I shall be back at
Warsaw, and will write thee.
Tout à toi
NAPOLEON
PULTUSK, 31 December 1806
I had a good laugh over your last letters. You have formed an
idea of the fair ones of Poland which they little deserve.... I
received your last letter in a wretched barn, where there was
nothing but mud and wind, with straw for a bed. To-morrow I
shall be at Warsaw. I think that all is over for this year: the
army is going into winter quarters.
Tout à toi
NAPOLEON
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
1807
MADAME WALEWSKA
Napoleon’s First Meeting with Marie Walewska--Beginning of
Their Long Liaison--The Emperor Orders Joséphine to Return to
Paris--The Terrible Battle of Eylau--Napoleon Tries to Minimize
His Losses--Headquarters at Osterode--Napoleon’s Letter to
Joseph--His Brief Letters to Joséphine--The Empress Returns to
Paris--Her Cordial Welcome--Her Loneliness--Birth of Her First
Granddaughter--Napoleon Moves to Finckenstein--He Is Joined by
Madame Walewska--The Emperor Dictates Regarding Joséphine’s
Friends
On the first day of the new year, when the Emperor was returning from
Pultusk to Warsaw, he stopped to change horses at the gate of the
little city of Bronie. At that time Napoleon was the idol of the Poles,
who hoped through him to secure their independence, and an enthusiastic
crowd had gathered to welcome the “liberator.” Duroc descended from
the carriage, and with difficulty pushed his way through the throng.
Some one touched his arm, and he turned to look into the large innocent
blue eyes of a young girl who seemed almost a child. Her beautiful
face, fresh as a rose, was flushed with excitement; her figure was
small, but perfectly proportioned. She was very simply dressed, and
wore a black hat, with a heavy veil which almost concealed her blond
hair. As Duroc at a glance took in these details, a sweet voice said
to him in perfect French: “Monsieur, can you not arrange for me to
speak a moment to the Emperor?” Duroc conducted her to the door of the
carriage, and said to the Emperor: “Sire, here is a lady who has braved
all of the dangers of the crowd for you.” Napoleon bowed and started to
address her, but she did not allow him to finish. Carried away by her
enthusiasm she wished him a thousand welcomes to her native land, and
expressed her gratitude for what he had done to free it from the yoke
of Russia.
Napoleon was so struck with her beauty that he ordered Duroc to find
out the name of the “belle inconnue.” After many inquiries the marshal
learned that her name was Marie Walewska. Of an old but ruined Polish
family, two years before, at the age of sixteen, she had married the
chief of one of the most illustrious houses of Poland, a man seventy
years of age, with a grandchild nine years older than herself.
Comte Walewski, who was as intensely patriotic as his young wife,
was then staying at his town-house in Warsaw. The Emperor requested
Prince Poniatowski, in whose palace he was residing, to give a ball,
and invite the comte and his wife to be present. The prince called in
person to extend this invitation. Marie was frightened at this special
mark of attention, and at first refused to accept, but finally yielded
to the entreaties of her husband.
At the ball the Emperor paid her many compliments, and the following
day wrote her in terms of warm but respectful admiration. He also sent
her very handsome presents; but she refused to answer his letters
or accept his gifts. Her coldness only increased the ardor of the
Emperor, who never yet had met such opposition to his desires. Yielding
finally to the importunities of all around her--the chief magistrates
of Poland, her family, even her husband--Marie accepted a rendez-vous.
She was made to believe that the fate of her country was in her hands,
that Heaven had chosen her to be the instrument of reëstablishing the
ancient glory of Poland.
Up to this time Napoleon’s _affaires d’amour_ had been of short
duration, but this attachment was to end only with his departure for
Saint Helena. With the exception of Joséphine, Marie Walewska was the
only great love of his life.
During the winter Napoleon continued to write Joséphine as frequently
as before, but a change will be noted in the tone of his letters, which
must have been perceived at once by a woman as jealous and suspicious
as Joséphine:
_To the Empress, at Mayence_
WARSAW, 3 January 1807
I have received your letter, mon amie. Your grief has moved me,
but we must submit to circumstances. There are too many lands to
traverse between Mayence and Warsaw. Before writing you to come,
you must wait until I am able to return to Berlin. Although the
defeated enemy is withdrawing, there are many matters for me
to settle here. I am strongly of the opinion that you ought to
return to Paris, where you are needed.... I am well, but the
weather is bad. I dearly love thee.
NAPOLEON
WARSAW, 7 January 1807
Mon amie, I am touched by all that you say to me; but the season
is cold, the roads are very bad, and hardly safe; I cannot
consent therefore to expose you to so much fatigue and danger.
Return to Paris for the winter. Go to the Tuileries; give
receptions, and lead the same life that you usually do when I am
there. This is my wish. Perhaps I shall soon rejoin you there;
but you must certainly give up the idea of travelling three
hundred leagues at this season, across a hostile country, upon
the rear of the army. Believe that it costs me more than you to
delay by several weeks the happiness of seeing you, but such is
the demand of circumstances and the advantage of affairs. Adieu,
ma bonne amie; be happy, and display character.
NAPOLEON
In eight letters which Napoleon wrote during the following three weeks
there is only a repetition of the same words: The weather is too bad,
the distances too great, and the roads too dangerous for me to consent
to your making the journey; Paris demands your return, to give a little
life to the capital; I forbid you to cry, or be sad and uneasy; I wish
you to be amiable, gay and happy; you are very unjust to doubt my love
and devotion!
* * * * *
The winter was unusually mild for Poland, but the Emperor, whose troops
were in winter quarters, did not expect the campaign to reopen before
spring. In this he was doomed to disappointment: at the end of January
the Russians began a forward movement, and Napoleon was forced to leave
Warsaw to put himself at the head of his army.
_To the Empress, at Paris_
WITTEMBERG, noon, 1 February 1807
Your letter of the 11 January from Mayence made me laugh. I am
to-day forty leagues from Warsaw. The weather is cold, but fine.
Adieu, mon amie; be happy; show character.
NAPOLEON
EYLAU, 3 A.M., 9 February 1807
We had a great battle yesterday; the victory remained with me,
but my losses are very heavy. The losses of the enemy, which
are still greater, do not console me. Nevertheless I am writing
these few lines myself, although I am very tired, to tell you
that I am well, and that I love thee.
NAPOLEON
In another letter, written at six o’clock on the night of the same day,
and in four other letters sent during the week following, Napoleon
gives further details of the battle. Both in his correspondence and in
his bulletins he tries to minimize his losses, which had been enormous.
He states that he took 40 cannon, 10 flags, 12,000 prisoners, and only
lost 1600 killed, 3–4000 wounded. He says nothing of the vicissitudes
of this terrible day, of this victory which was so nearly a defeat; of
the terrible suffering of his army from cold and hunger; of regiments,
and even entire army corps, wiped out; of the great personal danger
which he had run in the cemetery when he was almost captured by the
Russian grenadiers, and only saved by the valor of his Guard. He does
not speak of the words wrung from his pale lips as the night fell on
this field covered with dead and dying: “This sight is enough to
inspire in princes the love of peace and the horror of war!” Well would
it have been for Napoleon if he had taken these words to heart!
After the battle the Emperor was too weak to follow up the retiring
Russians, and was glad to put his troops again in winter quarters. He
selected Osterode for his headquarters and here for weeks he shared
all the privations of his men. During all this time his only residence
was a miserable barn, and it was not until he moved to the castle
of Finckenstein the first of April that his quarters became more
comfortable.
Napoleon’s letters to Joséphine from Osterode were cold, brief,
commonplace, almost insignificant. He spoke of his health, the weather,
and ended always with the injunction to be gay! A letter to his brother
Joseph, under date of the first of March, gives a better idea of the
horrors of this terrible winter campaign:
_To Joseph, at Paris_
The officers of the general staff have not had their clothes
off in two months, some in four; I myself have gone a fortnight
without removing my boots. We are surrounded with snow and mud;
without wine or eau-de-vie; with no bread, eating only meat and
potatoes; making long marches and counter-marches; fighting
usually with the bayonet, and obliged to drag the wounded in
sleighs, without cover, over a space of fifty leagues.
NAPOLEON
In the eleven letters he sent to Joséphine from Osterode, Napoleon
says, in substance:
Endeavor to pass your time agreeably; do not worry.
I am in a wretched village, where I shall still pass considerable time.
I have never been in better health. I have ordered what you want for
Malmaison. Be gay and happy: it is my wish.
I am looking for the spring, which ought to come soon. I love thee, and
wish to see thee gay and happy. They say many foolish things about the
battle of Eylau; the bulletins tell all; the losses are exaggerated
rather than under-stated.
I learn that the gossip of your salon in Mayence has been renewed: make
them stop talking.
You should not go to a small box in a little theatre. That does not
accord with your rank: attend only the four large theatres and always
use the large box.
To be agreeable to me you must live in all respects exactly as you do
when I am in Paris. Grandeurs have their inconveniences: an empress
cannot go to the same places as a private individual.
Your letter grieves me. You must not die; you are in excellent health,
and you have no reasonable ground of chagrin. You should go to
Saint-Cloud for the month of May, but remain in Paris during April. You
must not think of travelling this summer. I know how to do other things
than make war, but duty is the first consideration. All my life I have
sacrificed everything--tranquillity, self-interest, happiness--to my
destiny.
These fine phrases were far from satisfying Joséphine, who knew that
her Napoleon, in spite of his pretended Spartan simplicity, sometimes
gave himself distractions!
For nearly four months at Mayence Joséphine had waited in vain for
the permission of the Emperor to rejoin him. Finally, on the 3 January
he had expressed his wish that she should return to Paris. This desire
he reiterates in four other letters, and in more positive form. It was
his letter of the eighteenth which decided her: “If you continue to
cry, I shall believe you devoid of courage and character. I do not like
cowards. An empress should have heart.” Nothing remained but to start.
The brilliant winter of 1805, after the Coronation, had been followed
by the two dead seasons of 1806 and 1807, and a Paris without a Court,
without balls, fêtes or receptions, was very hard on the merchants, who
complained bitterly. By order of the Emperor, the princes of the Empire
had opened their houses, but this did not make up for the absence of
the sovereigns.
Leaving Mayence on the 26 January, the Empress spent the following
night at Strasbourg, where a small fête had been improvised in her
honor. The hall of the hôtel of the préfecture was brilliantly
decorated. After a contredanse and a valse, the Empress made the
round of the room, addressing with her usual grace and affability a
pleasant word to each one of the ladies present. At an early hour on
the following morning Joséphine resumed her route, and arrived at
the Tuileries at eight o’clock on the night of the 31 January. Her
return to the capital was announced the next day at noon by a salvo
of artillery fired by the guns of the Invalides. A little fatigued by
her journey, the Empress did not hold a reception until the fifth,
when all the high officials of State called to render their homage. By
Monge, president of the Senate, by Fontanes, president of the Corps
Législatif, by the president of the Tribunal, the vicar-general of
Notre-Dame, and the préfet de la Seine, she was welcomed in speeches
almost as flattering as those usually addressed to the Emperor.
In spite of all this adulation, more or less sincere, Joséphine was
far from happy. She regretted the absence of her children, and of her
husband; she was worried over the dangers which Napoleon was running in
this distant campaign, and the reports of his liaison with the “belle
Polonaise.” A few days after her return she wrote Hortense:
My journey has been happy, if I may so call it when it has
separated me so far from the Emperor. I have received five
letters from him since my departure. I want you to write me,
especially as you are not now near to console me. Let me
know how you are, also your husband and children. Although I
indeed receive more people here than at Mayence, my heart is
nevertheless very lonely, and, in writing, you will still keep
me company. Adieu, my dear daughter. I love and embrace you
tenderly.
During the following month the heart of Joséphine was rejoiced by the
news of the birth at Milan on the 17 March of a daughter to Augusta and
Eugène, who was named Joséphine by order of the Emperor. This was the
princesse who twenty years later married the son of Bernadotte, Oscar,
crown-prince, and later King of Sweden. Joséphine longed to go to Italy
to see her first granddaughter in her cradle, but feared to leave Paris
without the permission of the Emperor. She wrote Hortense that Eugène
was delighted at the birth of his daughter, but complained that he
could hardly see her “as she slept all the time.”
The first of April the Emperor changed his residence to Finckenstein
where he occupied a fine château built by the governor of Frederick
the Great. At this time it was the property of Comte de Dohna, grand
master of the household of the King of Prussia. It is still owned by
the same family, and at a recent date the room occupied by Napoleon
was carefully preserved in the same condition. Here Napoleon was very
comfortably installed, with his staff and his military family. An
apartment adjoining his own was fitted up for Madame Walewska. She
left at Warsaw her aged husband, whom she was never to see again, and
spent three weeks with the Emperor. They took all of their meals alone,
and were served by Constant, the valet de chambre of Napoleon. When
the Emperor was not with her, Marie passed her time in reading, or in
watching from the windows the parades in the court of the château,
which were often commanded by the Emperor in person. She had a very
sweet, even disposition, was always gay and full of life, and Napoleon
became more attached to her every day.
During the two months that he lived at Finckenstein, Napoleon as usual
wrote Joséphine two or three times a week:
_To the Empress, at Paris_
FINCKENSTEIN, 2 April 1807
I have just moved my headquarters to a fine château, much like
that of Bessières, where there are many fireplaces. This is very
pleasant for me, as I often rise during the night, and enjoy
seeing the fire. My health is perfect. The weather is fine, but
still cold. The thermometer is at four to five degrees. Adieu,
mon amie.
Tout à toi
NAPOLEON
During the visit of Marie, the letters of Napoleon were even shorter
and more commonplace. In them there were only a few lines about the
weather, the temperature, the state of his health, and his desire to
know that she was “gay and contented.” Alas! poor Joséphine, her days
of happiness were about over.
After the departure of his inamorata Napoleon’s correspondence once
more becomes interesting:
_To the Empress, at Paris_
FINCKENSTEIN, 2 May 1807
Mon amie, I have your letter of the 23 April, and am glad to
see that you are well, also that you still love Malmaison. They
say that the arch-chancellor (Cambacérès) is in love. Is that a
joke, or is it true? It amuses me, but you have not said a word.
I am very well, and the weather is fine at last: springtime
appears and the leaves begin to push. Adieu, mon amie. A
thousand loving thoughts.
Tout à toi
NAPOLEON
FINCKENSTEIN, 10 May 1807
I have your letter. I do not know what you mean by ladies in
_correspondence_ with me. I love only my little Joséphine,
good, _boudeuse_ and capricious, who knows how to quarrel
gracefully, as she does everything else, for she is always
amiable--except when she is jealous: then she becomes a regular
little devil. But let us return to these ladies. If I must
occupy myself with some one among them I assure you that I
should wish them to be pretty rose-buds. Are those of whom you
speak in this class?
I wish you never to dine except with persons who have dined with
me; that your list should be the same for your assemblies; that
you never admit at Malmaison, in your inner life, ambassadors
and strangers. If you act otherwise, you will displease me.
Finally, do not allow yourself to be surrounded by people whom
I do not know, and who would not come to your house if I were
there. Adieu, mon amie.
Tout à toi
NAPOLEON
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
1807
DEATH OF NAPOLEON-CHARLES
Birth of Napoleon’s First Child--Death of the Crown-Prince
of Holland--Grief of Hortense--Joséphine Goes to Laeken--She
Is Joined There by Hortense--Napoleon’s Letters to His Wife
and Daughter--His Apparent Indifference--Joséphine Writes to
Hortense--The Emperor’s Letters after Friedland--The Peace
Conferences at Tilsit--Napoleon Declines the Queen’s Rose--His
Return to Paris
On the fifth of May, a date to be ominous in the annals of Napoleon,
the little crown-prince of Holland died at the age of four years and
seven months.
Only a few months before, in her hôtel in the Rue de la Victoire, at
Paris, a certain Mlle. Éléonore Dénuelle had given birth to a male
child who received the name of Léon. He was the fruit of a short
liaison between the Emperor and a reader of his sister Caroline. Léon,
who bore a striking resemblance to his father, but inherited none of
his talents, was destined to live through four Governments of France,
and die in poverty at Paris in April 1881 under the Third Republic.
These two events, apparently without any connection, were to change the
destiny of Napoleon, and to have a decisive influence upon the fate of
Joséphine. The heir-presumptive to the imperial throne was dead, and
for the first time the Emperor was convinced that it was possible for
him to have a direct heir of his own blood. Although the dénouement was
to be postponed for two years and a half, from that time the divorce
was absolutely certain.
Napoleon-Charles, the eldest son of Louis and Hortense, was a child
of unusual beauty and intelligence. The Emperor, who loved children,
was particularly fond of his little nephew, whom he fully intended to
adopt as his heir. He had played with the child, as a baby, and had
seen him develop with great interest. The little Napoleon was sweet,
loving, full of life and spirits, adored by his mother, and also by his
gloomy father. In her unhappy married life this boy was the joy and the
consolation of Hortense, her hope and her pride.
During the night of the fourth-fifth of May 1807 the little prince was
suddenly attacked by the croup, a disease little understood at that
time. In the morning he was better, and the physicians were hopeful of
his recovery. But the trouble returned again during the evening, and at
ten o’clock the child passed away.
No words can describe the despair of the unfortunate mother. Hortense
seemed petrified with grief, and they were afraid that she would lose
her reason.
[Illustration: QUEEN HORTENSE]
Joséphine also was overwhelmed with sorrow. She did not dare to leave
the Empire, to go to The Hague, but proceeded at once to the château of
Laeken, near Brussels, whence she wrote Hortense:
_To Hortense, at The Hague_
LAEKEN, 10 P.M., 14 May 1807
My dear child, I have just arrived at the château of Laeken,
where I await you. Come and give me life: your presence is
necessary, and you also must need to see me, and to weep with
your mother. I would have liked to go further, but my strength
failed me, and besides I have not had time to notify the
Emperor. I have found the courage to come thus far, and I hope
that you too will be brave enough to come to your mother. Adieu,
my dear daughter. I am overcome with fatigue, but above all with
grief.
JOSÉPHINE
The following night, Hortense and Louis arrived, with their only
remaining child, Napoleon-Louis, who was then two years and a half old.
Hortense was like a statue of despair. She did not shed any tears, and
her cold calm, her absolute silence, were more alarming than the most
violent manifestations of grief. When she spoke, which was rarely, it
was only to talk of _him_. When ten o’clock struck, she turned to
one of her ladies, and remarked: “It was at this hour that he died.”
A special courier had been sent to announce the fatal news to the
Emperor. He immediately wrote Joséphine:
_To the Empress, at Saint-Cloud_
(FINCKENSTEIN), 14 May 1807
I can conceive all the grief that the death of poor Napoleon has
caused you; you can understand the pain that I feel. I should
like to be near you, in order that you might be moderate and
reasonable in your grief. You have been fortunate enough never
to lose a child, but it is one of the conditions and penalties
attached to our human misery. Let me hear that you have been
reasonable and that you are well! Do you wish to increase my
pain?
Adieu, mon amie.
NAPOLEON
(FINCKENSTEIN), 16 May 1807
I have your letter of the 6 May. I see by it already the pain
that you feel; I fear that you are not responsible and that you
are too much afflicted by the misfortune which has come to us.
Adieu, mon amie.
Tout à toi
NAPOLEON
_To the Empress, at Laeken_
(FINCKENSTEIN), 20 May 1807
I am in receipt your letter of the 10 May. I see that you have
gone to Laeken. I think that you can remain there a fortnight:
that will please the Belgians, and will serve as a distraction
for you.
I have noticed with regret that you are not sensible. Grief has
its limits which should not be passed. Take care of yourself for
your friend, and believe me most sincerely yours.
NAPOLEON
It will be interesting to read here the letter written the same day by
the Emperor to his step-daughter:
_To the Queen of Holland_
FINCKENSTEIN, 20 May 1807
My daughter, all the news that I receive from The Hague tells me
that you are not reasonable: no matter how legitimate your grief
may be, it should have its limits. Do not let it affect your
health; look for distractions; know that life is full of such
trials, and may be the source of so many misfortunes that death
is not the greatest of all.
Your affectionate father
NAPOLEON
In two other letters to Joséphine at Laeken, the Emperor writes in much
the same vein:
_To the Empress, at Laeken_
(FINCKENSTEIN), 24 May 1807
I have your letter from Laeken. I see with regret that you are
still full of grief, and that Hortense has not yet arrived. She
is not reasonable, and does not deserve to be loved, because she
loved only her children.
Endeavor to calm yourself, and do not cause me grief. For every
evil without remedy, we must find some consolation.
Adieu, mon amie.
Tout à toi
NAPOLEON