I am in receipt your letter of the sixteenth. I see with
pleasure that Hortense has arrived at Laeken. I am annoyed at
your report of the kind of stupor which she still shows. She
should have more courage, and control herself. I cannot conceive
why they want her to go to the baths: she would be much more
diverted at Paris, and find more consolation. Control yourself;
be gay, and take care of yourself. My health is very good.
Adieu, mon amie. I suffer much on account of your grief, and
regret that I am not with you.
NAPOLEON
During a brief visit which he made to Dantzig the first of June, the
Emperor wrote Joséphine, and also Hortense at the same time:
_To the Empress, at Malmaison_
(DANTZIG), 2 June 1807
Mon amie, I have just learned of your arrival at Malmaison. I
have no letters from you. I am angry with Hortense: she has not
written me a word. I am grieved with all that you tell me of
her. How does it happen that you have not been able to divert
her a little? You cry! I hope that you will get yourself under
control, in order that I may not find you entirely sad.
I have been at Dantzig for two days. The weather is very fine,
and I am very well. I think more of you than you think of the
absent one.
Adieu, mon amie; a thousand loving thoughts. Send this letter to
Hortense.
NAPOLEON
_To the Queen of Holland_
2 June 1807
My daughter, you have not written me a word, in your just and
great grief. You have forgotten everything, as if you were never
in the future to endure other losses. They tell me that you no
longer care for anything; that you are wholly indifferent; I
perceive it from your silence. It is not well, Hortense! It is
not what you promised us. Your son was all in all to you. Your
mother and I are then of no account! If I had been at Malmaison,
I should have shared your grief; but I should also have wished
to have you turn to your best friends. Adieu, my child, be gay,
be resigned. Take care of yourself in order to fulfill all your
duties. My wife is very sad over your condition: do not cause
her more grief.
Your affectionate father
NAPOLEON
Two days after the battle of Friedland Napoleon again wrote Hortense:
_To the Queen of Holland_
(FRIEDLAND), 16 June 1807
My daughter, I have received your letter dated at Orléans; your
griefs touch me, but I would like to know that you had more
courage: to live is to suffer, and the worthy man strives always
to remain master of himself. I do not like to see you unjust
to the little Napoleon-Louis, and to all of your friends. Your
mother and I had hoped that we were of more account than we seem
to be in your heart. I gained a great victory the 14 June. I am
well, and love you dearly. Adieu, my daughter. I embrace you
with all my heart.
NAPOLEON
It must be admitted that Napoleon does not appear to advantage in
these letters. To a mother stupefied with grief, and to a grandmother
almost equally overwhelmed, he has nothing more consoling to say than
the injunction to be “gay,” and to seek “diversions.” Yet Napoleon
dearly loved the little prince, and had fully expected to make him his
heir. The loss of the child must have been a severe blow both to his
affections and his family pride. The Emperor had in his composition
much of the stoicism of the American Indian, and under this appearance
of _nonchalance_ he may have concealed his own deep sorrow. He
really had a very profound sensibility, and was not so callous as his
remarks on many occasions would lead one to think. To quote his own
words: “Man often appears more cold and selfish than he really is.”
At one moment he exclaims: “Friendship is but a name!” At another he
says: “We only feel how much we love when we meet again, or during
absence.” And again: “Love for one’s children and one’s wife are those
sweet affections which subdue the soul by the heart, and the feelings
by tenderness.”
In his letters to Fouché and Monge, the Emperor displayed more feeling.
To Fouché on the 18 May he wrote: “I have been much afflicted by the
misfortune which has befallen me. I had hoped for a more brilliant
destiny for this poor child.” To Monge: “I thank you for all that
you say regarding the death of the poor little Napoleon: it was his
destiny!” Again to Fouché: “The loss of the little Napoleon has caused
me much grief. I wish that his father and mother had received from
nature as much courage as myself to know how to endure the evils of
life; but they are younger and have reflected less upon the fragility
of earthly ties!” Such is his philosophy. He is too much of a fatalist
to feel any revolt against death. He is always ready; for every day, at
every moment, he faces it, and the unexpected does not disconcert him.
Manifestations of grief are forbidden by his calling, by his duty as a
commander: he had faced death on too many bloody fields to be appalled
by the everlasting night “when deep sleep falleth on men.”
After a short stay at Laeken, Hortense went with Joséphine to
Malmaison, and a few days later proceeded to Cauterêts in the Pyrenees
to take the baths. Her mother wrote her from Saint-Cloud on the 27 May:
I have often cried since your departure, my dear Hortense; this
separation has been very painful to me.... I have received news
of your son: he is at the château of Laeken, in good health,
and awaiting the arrival of the King. The Emperor has written
me again: he participates deeply in our grief. I needed this
consolation, for I have none since your departure.... Adieu, my
dear daughter; take care of yourself for a mother who tenderly
loves you.
On the 4 June Joséphine again wrote from Saint-Cloud:
Your letter has comforted me very much, my dear Hortense.... The
Emperor has been strongly affected: in all his letters he tries
to give me courage, but I know that he has been much moved by
this unfortunate occurrence. The King reached Saint-Leu last
night; he has let me know that he is coming to see me to-day;
he must leave the little one with me during his absence. You
know how much I love this child, and the care that I will take
of him. It is my wish that the King follow you: it will be a
consolation for you both to see each other. All the letters
that I have received from him since you left are full of his
attachment for you. Your heart is too sensitive not to be
touched by it. Adieu, my dear girl, take care of your health. I
embrace you tenderly.
This letter displays all the goodness and kindness of Joséphine’s
nature: she endeavors to soften the reproaches of Napoleon, and to
bring Hortense and her husband together. A week later she wrote: “Your
son is in splendid health: he greatly amuses me. He is so sweet: I
think that he has all the ways of the dear child whom we mourn.”
Joséphine knew how to console better than the Emperor!
* * * * *
While Hortense was in the depths of despair, and her mother was trying
to assuage her grief, the Emperor brought to an end this terrible
campaign of Poland by the brilliant victory of Friedland. He tells the
story to Joséphine in his usual concise, graphic style:
_To the Empress, at Saint-Cloud_
FRIEDLAND, 15 June 1807
Mon amie, I write you only a word, for I am very tired. My
children have worthily celebrated the anniversary of Marengo.
The battle of Friedland will also be celebrated, and equally
glorious for my people. The whole Russian army put to rout: 80
cannon, 30,000 men killed or prisoners; 25 generals, killed,
wounded or taken; the Russian Guard crushed--it is a worthy
sister of Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena! The bulletin will tell you
the rest. My loss is not considerable; I manœuvred the enemy
with success.
Be reassured and content.
Adieu, mon amie.
NAPOLEON
FRIEDLAND, 4 p.m., 16 June 1807
Mon amie, I sent you a courier yesterday with the news of the
battle of Friedland. Since then I have continued the pursuit of
the enemy. Kœnigsberg, a city of 80,000 souls, is in my power.
I have found there many cannon, large magazines, and more than
60,000 guns, brought from England.
Adieu, mon amie; my health is perfect, although I have a slight
cold from the rain and the coolness of the bivouac. Be content
and gay.
Tout à toi
NAPOLEON
From Tilsit, on the 19 June, the Emperor sent Joséphine the welcome
news that the victory had been decisive, and that the campaign was
over. A few days later he wrote that he had met the Czar Alexander, and
was very much pleased with him: “He is a very handsome, good and young
Emperor, and has more intelligence than most people think. He is coming
to-morrow to take up his residence in Tilsit.”
At Tilsit, the Czar and the King of Prussia dined every day with the
Emperor, as he tells Joséphine in his correspondence. An hour after
her arrival Napoleon paid a visit to the Queen of Prussia, who was one
of the most beautiful and most attractive women of her day. When she
came to dine with him that evening the Emperor received her with great
respect at the door of his mansion. But he was firm in his refusal
to mitigate at her request any of the hard conditions of the peace
which he imposed on Prussia. At dinner, that night, the Queen offered
a beautiful rose to Napoleon, saying with a gracious smile: “Take it,
Sire, but in exchange for Magdebourg.” This episode is alluded to by
the Emperor in the following letter:
_To the Empress, at Saint-Cloud_
(TILSIT), 7 July 1807
Mon amie, the Queen of Prussia dined with me yesterday. I had
to refuse to make some concessions to her husband which she
endeavored to obtain from me. But I have been gallant, while
adhering to my policy. She is very amiable. Later I will give
you the details which it would take too long to tell now. When
you read this letter peace with Prussia and Russia will be
concluded, and Jérôme recognized as King of Westphalia with
three millions of population. This news for you only.
Adieu, mon amie; I love thee, and wish to know that thou art gay
and contented.
NAPOLEON
After a last interview with the Czar, at the end of which the two
sovereigns embraced each other affectionately, the Emperor went for a
short visit to Kœnigsberg. Leaving there at six o’clock on the night of
the 13 July he travelled directly to Dresden, where he arrived at five
o’clock on the seventeenth. He spent ninety-two hours in his carriage,
stopping to rest only twice en route, and then only for very brief
intervals. From Dresden he wrote Joséphine the last of his letters
during this campaign:
_To the Empress, at Saint-Cloud_
(DRESDEN), Noon, 18 July 1807
Mon amie, I arrived at Dresden at five o’clock last evening,
feeling very well, although I remained a hundred hours in my
carriage without getting out. I am staying here with the King of
Saxony, with whom I am well pleased. I have therefore covered
half the distance to thee.
It may happen that one of these fine nights I shall fall upon
thee at Saint-Cloud like a jealous husband: I give thee fair
warning!
Adieu, mon amie; it will give me great pleasure to see thee.
Tout à toi
NAPOLEON
At six o’clock on the morning of the 27 July the Emperor was back at
Saint-Cloud, after an absence of over ten months.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
1807
THE COURT AT FONTAINEBLEAU
Talleyrand Appointed Vice-Grand-Électeur--Fête of the
Emperor--Marriage of Jérôme and Catherine--Return of
Louis and Hortense--New Quarrels--Louis Departs Alone
for Holland--Napoleon’s Power--The Court Goes to
Fontainebleau--Napoleon at Thirty-eight--The Emperor’s Program
of Entertainment--Life of Joséphine--Ennui of the Emperor
and His Guests--The Gazzani Affair--Jérôme’s Flirtation with
Stéphanie--Illness of Hortense--She Refuses Any Reconciliation
with Louis
The credit of Talleyrand had never stood so high as at this time. He
had been of great use to the Emperor in Poland, and had ably carried
out the negotiations for the Treaty of Tilsit. By way of recompense,
on the 9 August, the Emperor made him vice-grand-elector. This great
dignity of the Empire gave Talleyrand the right to replace Joseph on
all occasions of ceremony, but at the same time he was forced to give
up the portfolio of Foreign Affairs, as being beneath the dignity of
his new rank. The emoluments of his new office, added to his salary as
grand chamberlain and the revenues of his principality of Benevento,
gave him an income of half a million francs. At the same time his
personal fortune was estimated at fully six millions. Every treaty that
he had concluded had brought him enormous _gratifications_.
On the 15 August the fête of the Emperor was celebrated with great
magnificence. In the morning a _Te Deum_ was chanted at Notre-Dame. In
the evening there was a banquet at the Tuileries, followed by a concert
and a ballet. The salons of the Château were filled with all the
dignitaries of the Empire, in full evening dress. The Emperor appeared
on the balcony, holding the hand of Joséphine, and was cheered by an
immense crowd in the illuminated Gardens below.
A week later was celebrated the marriage of Jérôme with the young
Princesse Catherine of Würtemberg. The Pope had firmly refused to grant
the Emperor’s petition for an annulment of the Patterson marriage, but
the French ecclesiastical authorities proved more amenable, and in
October 1806 the marriage was declared null and void.
Jérôme, who was the youngest, and also the most worthless of the
Bonapartes, had just received from his brother the crown of Westphalia.
The princesse, who was nearly two years older than her husband, was
a woman of much charm. She was tall and beautiful; affable in her
manners, and of superior intelligence.
After a marriage by procuration at Stuttgart, Catherine came to Paris.
She arrived at the Tuileries on the 21 August; the contract was signed
the next day in the Galerie de Diane; and was followed on the 23 August
by the religious ceremony, which was performed in the chapel by the
Archbishop of Ratisbon, the Prince-Primate of the Confederation of the
Rhine. Thus was carried out the third part of the Emperor’s plan for
alliances with the royal families of Europe. This marriage also proved
quite a happy one. Catherine was devoted to Jérôme, notwithstanding
his many notorious infidelities, and refused to abandon him after the
fall of the Empire.
At the end of this month the King and Queen of Holland returned from
their visit to the baths in the Pyrenees. Hortense had been joined by
Louis at Cauterêts in June, and they had once more resumed their life
in common. At the time of their arrival at Saint-Cloud they seemed to
be on very good terms with each other, but still sad over their loss.
Hortense was very thin, and already suffering from the beginning of
her _grossesse_. At the baths she had met the secretary of Madame
Mère, Monsieur Decazès, who had just lost his wife, and the fact that
they were both in mourning had been a bond of sympathy between them.
Reports of their intimacy had reached Paris, and Caroline did not
hesitate to retail the scandal to her brother on his return, even going
so far as to insinuate that the interesting condition of Hortense was
due to the handsome young secretary. It did not take much to revive
the suspicions of the jealous Louis, and discord once more reigned
in the royal household. Louis naturally wished to take his wife and
son with him on his return to Holland, but the Empress, alarmed at
her daughter’s appearance, called a consultation of physicians, who
unanimously decided that it would be dangerous for Hortense in her
condition to return for the winter to the cold, damp climate of the
Low Countries. The Emperor therefore ordered that Hortense and her son
should remain in Paris. Louis submitted with apparent reluctance to his
brother’s command and departed alone for The Hague.
Hortense, who had previously endured without complaint the unjust
suspicions of Louis, was this time mortally offended, and conceived a
profound hatred for her husband. When she found that he had believed
her capable of an _intrigue galante_ at a moment when she was
thinking only of death, in the depths of her despair over the loss of
her favorite child, she resolved never to live with him again.
* * * * *
For the first time in his life the Emperor now decided to take a real
vacation of eight weeks, and the Court was ordered to assemble on the
21 September at Fontainebleau. This historic château was always a
favorite place of residence for Napoleon, and now that the Tuileries
and Saint-Cloud have disappeared it is the only royal palace with which
his name is identified.
In the autumn of 1807, Napoleon was at the zenith of his glory. He
never yet had known defeat: at Austerlitz, Jena and Friedland he
had conquered the three greatest nations of the Continent. To the
democratic days of the earlier period of the Empire had succeeded an
aristocratic régime. The Emperor posed as a new Charlemagne, the chief
of a family of sovereigns. To him the kings of Bavaria, Würtemberg,
Holland, Saxony, Naples and Westphalia owed their royal crowns. The
reigning princes of the Confederation of the Rhine were his vassals.
From the Baltic to the Pyrenees, from the Channel to the Adriatic, his
will was law.
[Illustration: CHÂTEAU OF FONTAINEBLEAU]
Accordingly the command had gone forth that the Court was to amuse
itself at Fontainebleau: _pleasure_ was the order of the
day. Never before had Europe witnessed such a gathering of kings
and princes. The Emperor and Empress arrived on the 21 September,
and within a few days there appeared; the Queen of Holland, the
Queen of Naples, the King and Queen of Westphalia, the Grand-Duke
of Berg (Murat) and his wife, Madame Mère, the Princesse Pauline,
Prince Charles of Baden and his wife, the Prince-Primate, the Duke
of Würzburg, and too many others to mention. The Emperor had also
commanded the presence of Talleyrand, Berthier, Champagny, and Maret;
all of the grand officers of the imperial household, the ministers of
the Kingdom of Italy, and several of the marshals.
This visit of the Court to Fontainebleau is one of the most interesting
episodes of life under the Empire and well deserves a chapter to
itself. The Emperor never again consecrated so long a period of time
solely to pleasure, and his Court was never more brilliant. Here
for the first and last time there was a renewal of the life of the
Ancien Régime, as it was in the days of the Grand Monarque: here came
to the surface the same interests, passions, intrigues, weaknesses,
treacheries--in a word, it was a real Court! It would require the pen
of a Saint-Simon faithfully to depict the scene, with all its changing
lights and shadows, to seize its full spirit, and make it live again.
It furnishes the theme of one of the most interesting stories in the
memoirs of Madame de Rémusat:
“At this time, Napoleon, oblivious of the past, certain of the future,
was proceeding with a firm step, anticipating no obstacle, or at least
certain that he could easily overcome any found in his path. It seemed
to him, it seemed to every one, that he could not fall except by an
event so unlooked for, so strange, and so catastrophic, that a mass
of interests in favor of order and repose were solemnly engaged in
his conservation. In fact, master or friend of all the kings of the
Continent, ally of many by treaties or foreign marriages, sure of
Europe by the new partitions he had made, having upon the most remote
frontiers important garrisons which insured the execution of his
will, absolute depository of all the resources of France, rich with
an immense treasury, in the flower of his age, admired, feared, and
above all scrupulously obeyed, it seemed as though he had overcome all
obstacles.”
Such is the picture which Madame de Rémusat draws of the Emperor at the
age of thirty-eight, in this autumn of 1807, and she remarks:
“Let us suppose that some one, ignorant of the past, had suddenly been
thrown into Fontainebleau at this time,--it is certain that, blinded
by the magnificence displayed in this royal habitation; struck by
the air of authority of the master, and the obsequious reverence of
the great personages who surrounded him,--this stranger would have
seen, or thought that he saw, a sovereign peaceably seated upon the
greatest throne in the world, with all the united rights of power and
legitimacy.”
As soon as the invited guests arrived at the Château they were informed
of the program drawn up by the Emperor for their entertainment. The
different evenings of the week were to be passed in the apartments of
the various great personages. One evening the Emperor would receive,
and there would be music, followed by games. Twice a week there was
to be a theatrical performance; on other nights, balls to be given
by the Princesses Pauline and Caroline; and finally, an assembly and
play in the rooms of the Empress. The princes and ministers, in turn,
were to give dinners and invite all of the guests in rotation; the
grand marshal and the lady of honor were to do the same, each having
a table for twenty-five persons every day; and finally there was to
be another table for all who were not invited elsewhere. Even the
kings and princes could not dine with the Emperor except by special
invitation. On certain days there was a hunt, which the guests followed
on horseback, or in very elegant calèches which were provided. The
Emperor liked the chase more for the exercise it gave him than for the
thing itself. He often abandoned the pursuit of the stag, and wandered
through the forest, lost in revery. He was a good, but very reckless
horseman, and always rode small Arabians specially trained for his
service.
The Emperor employed his vacation in working as usual. He rose at
seven o’clock, breakfasted alone, and, the days that he did not
hunt, remained in his cabinet until five or six. The ministers and
secretaries came from Paris with their despatch-boxes exactly the same
as though he were at Saint-Cloud. He never took account of time or
distance, either for himself or any one else.
While the Emperor was occupied in his cabinet, Joséphine, always
elegantly dressed, breakfasted with her daughter and her ladies, and
later received in her salon the visits of the guests at the palace.
She never liked to be alone, and had no taste for any kind of work. At
four o’clock the Empress dismissed her callers, and went to her room
for the rites of the evening toilette, always with her an important
function. Quite frequently during the week the Emperor came for his
wife between five and six, and they went for a drive together before
dinner. They dined at six, and afterwards went to the entertainment
arranged for that evening.
The great officials who had the privilege of the _entrée_ could
present themselves at the apartment of the Empress. They knocked at
the door, were announced by the chamberlain on duty, and admitted
by command of the Emperor. If it were a woman, she took her seat in
silence; if a man, he remained standing at the side of the room. The
Emperor promenaded back and forth, his hands behind his back, his head
bent forward, generally absorbed in his thoughts. Occasionally he asked
a question and received a brief reply. Of real conversation, there was
none. Every one stood in such awe of the Emperor that he feared to make
any remarks. At the assemblies it was the same. Everybody around the
Emperor was bored, and he was equally bored himself. One day he said to
Talleyrand: “It is a singular thing: I have brought together a crowd
of people at Fontainebleau; I have wanted them to be amused; I have
arranged all their entertainments, yet their faces are all long, and
every one has the air of being tired and depressed.” “The trouble is,”
replied Talleyrand, “that you cannot regulate pleasure by the beat of
the drum. Here, as in the army, you have always the air of saying to
each one of us, _Allons, messieurs et mesdames, en avant marche!_”