last time, at a fête given at the château of Grosbois by Marshal
Berthier, Prince de Neuchâtel et de Wagram. This fine residence had
belonged before the Revolution to the Comte de Provence, and later to
Barras and Moreau. The kings and princes then in Paris, and a large
part of the Court, were present. There was a hunt during the day,
followed in the evening by a dinner, a spectacle and a ball.
The evening was marred by a most unfortunate _contretemps_.
Berthier had arranged to entertain his guests with a comedy played by
Brunet, one of the most popular actors of the day. Brunet, who was
entirely ignorant of the coming event, chose from his répertoire a
very droll little play which turned on the subject of divorce. Imagine
the embarrassment, the stupefaction of poor Berthier, and the feelings
of Napoleon and Joséphine, when the actor announced his intention of
securing a divorce “pour avoir des ancêtres” (to have ancestors);
followed by a change of mind, with the sage remark: “I know what my
wife is, I do not know what the one I take may be like.”
This scene of comedy, in the drama of divorce, was worthy of the pen of
a Shakespeare. “Truth is stranger than fiction.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
1809
THE DIVORCE
Eugène Reaches Paris--His Difficult Position--He Arranges a
Final Conference--Refuses the Crown of Italy--The Family Council
at the Tuileries--Address of the Emperor--Josephine’s Touching
Reply--Eugene’s Address to the Senate--Napoleon Leaves for the
Trianon--Josephine’s Departure from the Tuileries--Annulment of
the Religious Marriage--The Legend of Joséphine
Prince Eugene arrived in Paris on the 8 December. At the time he
left Milan he was still ignorant of the reasons for his summons, but
Hortense, by order of the Emperor, met him at Nemours, a few miles
south of Fontainebleau, and broke the sad news. Joséphine had looked
forward to his arrival, with the hope that he might turn the Emperor
from his purpose, even at the last moment; but this illusion was soon
dissipated.
The position of Eugène was very difficult. He was devoted to his
mother, but he owed everything to the Emperor. It was not easy to
reconcile his feeling of filial tenderness, with the respect and the
gratitude which bound him to Napoleon. At his first interview he saw
that the divorce was no longer an open question, and that it would be
useless for him to raise any objections. He demanded the permission of
the Emperor to retire to private life, saying that he could no longer
hold the office of viceroy when his mother had ceased to be empress.
To which the Emperor replied: “Do you not realize how imperious are
the reasons which force me to take this step? If Heaven grants me the
object of my dearest hopes, the son so necessary to me, who will take
my place by his side when I am absent? Who will be to him a father, if
I die? Who will bring him up? Who will make a man of him?”
In order to settle the matter definitely, without any further delay,
Eugène asked the Emperor to consent to a meeting with Joséphine, where,
in his presence, they could have a final explanation. Napoleon agreed,
and the conference was held that same evening.
The Emperor stated that the divorce was an absolute necessity for the
stability of the Empire. Joséphine in turn said that this consideration
should outweigh any others, and that she was ready to make this
sacrifice for her country. Then she added, bursting into tears: “As
soon as we are separated, my children will be forgotten. Make Eugène
King of Italy.”
Eugène interrupted her with the indignant words: “No! I pray you, leave
me out of the question. Your son does not wish for a crown, which
would be the price of your separation. If you bow to the wishes of the
Emperor, it is of you alone that he must think.” Napoleon was touched.
“That is Eugène’s true heart,” he said. “He does well to trust to my
affection.”
Friday, the 15 December 1809, was the day chosen by the Emperor for the
dissolution of his civil marriage. The Family Council assembled at nine
o’clock in the evening at the Tuileries in the salon of the Emperor,
on the first floor, between the Throne Room and the Gallery of Diana.
All the members of the family were present except Joseph, who was in
Spain, Lucien, who was still in disgrace, and Élisa, who was expecting
a child. But Madame Mère, Louis, Jérôme and his wife, Pauline, Caroline
and her husband, Murat, were there, together with Eugène and his sister
as representatives of the Beauharnais. Cambacérès, the arch-chancellor,
and Regnault, secretary of state, were also present.
The palace was brilliantly illuminated, as on days of fête, and the
whole Imperial family was in full Court dress. Joséphine wore a
perfectly plain white robe, with no jewels. Although very pale, she
seemed calmer than either Eugène or Hortense, who were much agitated.
Around the room were arranged the seats for the members of the family,
in due order of precedence: armchairs for the Emperor, Empress, and
Madame Mère; chairs for the kings and queens; and stools for the others.
When all had taken their places, the Emperor arose, and began to read
his address:
“The policy of my monarchy, the interests and the needs of my people,
which have constantly guided my actions, demand that after myself, I
leave to children, heirs of my love for my people, this throne upon
which Providence has placed me. Nevertheless, for several years past, I
have lost the hope of having children of my marriage with my well-loved
spouse the Empress Joséphine. It is this which has led me to sacrifice
the dearest affection of my heart, to listen only to the welfare of the
State, and to desire the dissolution of our marriage.
“Arrived at the age of forty years, I can conceive the hope of living
long enough to bring up in my spirit and my thought the children
whom it may please Providence to give me. God knows how much such
a resolution has cost my heart; but there is no sacrifice above my
courage, when it is proved to me that it is for the benefit of France.”
The address of the Emperor had been carefully prepared and written out
in advance, but departing now from the text he continued:
“Far from ever having had to complain, I can, on the contrary, only
rejoice over the affection and tenderness of my well-loved spouse.
She has graced fifteen years of my life, and the memory of this will
remain ever stamped upon my heart. She was crowned by my hand; I desire
that she shall keep the rank and title of crowned Empress, but above
all that she shall never doubt my feelings, and that she shall have me
always as her best and dearest friend.”
It was now the turn of Joséphine to speak. She also had modified the
terms of the declaration prepared for her, which by its excess of
adulation would have taken, from her lips, a tone of irony. The words
which she used were well chosen, and apparently her own, as they were
written in her clear hand upon her usual paper. Once more she had given
proof of that tact which was one of her graces and her charms. But she
had only read a few sentences when her voice became choked with tears,
and she handed the paper to Regnault, who continued the discourse:
“With the permission of our august and dear spouse, I declare that,
since I have no hope of bearing children, who can satisfy the
requirements of his policy and the interests of France, it is my
pleasure to give him the greatest proof of attachment and devotion
which was ever given on earth. I owe all to his bounty; it was his
hand which crowned me, and seated me on this throne. I have received
nothing but proofs of affection and love from the French people. I
am recognizing all this, I believe, in consenting to the dissolution
of a marriage which is now an obstacle to the welfare of France,
and deprives her of the good fortune of being ruled one day by the
descendants of a great man, plainly raised up by Providence, to remove
the ill-effects of a terrible Revolution, and to set up again the
altar, the throne, and the social order. But the dissolution of my
marriage will make no change in the sentiments of my heart. The Emperor
will always have in me his best friend. I know how much this act,
which is made necessary by his policy and by such great interests, has
wounded his heart; but we shall win glory, both of us, by the sacrifice
which we have made in the interests of our country.”
Not only her children, Eugène and Hortense, but even the hostile
Bonapartes, were moved by these eloquent and touching words. The
meeting ended with the signature by each member of the Imperial family
of the document prepared by Cambacérès. The Emperor then conducted
Joséphine to her apartment, where he left her after a tender embrace.
But the night was not to end for Napoleon without one more painful
scene. He had hardly retired when the door opened and Joséphine
appeared. She threw herself into his arms, and Napoleon pressed her
to his heart, saying: “Come, my good Joséphine, be more reasonable.
Courage, courage, I shall always be thy friend.”
The following day Joséphine was to leave the Tuileries forever.
After a sleepless night she was occupied from early morning with her
preparations for departure. Her children were with her, but Eugène was
obliged to leave her at eleven o’clock for the meeting of the Senate,
where the decree was to be passed, annulling the imperial marriage.
It was the first appearance of the Viceroy in his quality of senator.
After taking his oath of office, he spoke in support of the resolution
offered by Comte Regnault, saying: “I think that it is my duty, under
the present circumstances, to make plain the sentiments by which my
family is animated. My mother, my sister, and myself, we owe everything
to the Emperor. To us he has been a real father. At all times he will
find in us, devoted children, and submissive subjects. It is important
for the welfare of France that the founder of this fourth dynasty shall
grow old surrounded by direct heirs who shall be our guarantee, as a
pledge of the country’s glory. When my mother was crowned before the
whole nation by the hands of her august spouse, she contracted the
obligation to sacrifice all her affections to the interests of France.
She has filled this first of her duties with courage, nobility and
dignity.”
Of the eighty-seven senators present, all but seven voted in favor of
the decree, with four blank bulletins. Attention was called to the
fact, often forgotten, that no less than thirteen of the predecessors
of Napoleon upon the throne of France had been constrained to dissolve
their marriage bonds, and among them four of the monarchs the most
admired and loved by the people: Charlemagne, Philip-Augustus, Louis
the Twelfth, and Henry the Fourth.
The first act of the program, the annulment of the civil marriage, had
been carried out, and no obstacle had been encountered. All of the
actors had filled their rôles better than any one could have expected.
There remained the religious marriage to dissolve, a very necessary
step if the Emperor were to espouse a Catholic princess.
While the chamber of the Senate was still echoing with the adulations
of the address unanimously voted to her by the members, the Empress
was leaving the Tuileries. It had been arranged that during the course
of the day Joséphine should go to Malmaison, which in the future was
to be her principal residence, while the Emperor was to depart for the
Trianon. He was to leave first, at four o’clock in the afternoon. When
his carriage was announced, he took his hat, called to his secretary,
Méneval, to follow him, and rapidly descended the private staircase
which led to the apartment of Joséphine in the _rez-de-chaussée_.
On the entrance of the Emperor, Joséphine, who was awaiting him alone,
threw herself into his arms, and Napoleon tenderly embraced her. Then
she fainted, and Méneval rang for her attendants. As soon as Napoleon
saw that she was recovering consciousness, to avoid a prolongation of
the painful scene, he took his departure. Enjoining upon his secretary
not to leave the Empress, he passed through the salons on the ground
floor to the court, and entered his carriage which bore him away to
Versailles.
When Joséphine perceived that the Emperor had left, she seized the
hands of M. de Méneval, and exclaimed: “Tell the Emperor not to forget
me. Assure him of my undying affection. Promise me to send me news of
him as soon as you arrive at the Trianon, and see that he writes me.”
It was now the turn of Joséphine to leave. All the members of the
palace household had gathered in the vestibule to salute the Empress as
she departed. She was loved and regretted by all, and many eyes were
filled with tears. To her they had always gone in their troubles, when
there was a favor to ask, or a fault to be pardoned. There was not one
who did not regard the good Empress as a guardian angel.
For the last time, Joséphine enters her carriage at the door of the
Tuileries, and leaves this abode of ten years, where she has spent so
many happy days, and also endured so many hours of anguish.
* * * * *
Cambacérès, who had the matter in charge, found great and unexpected
difficulties in procuring the annulment of the religious marriage,
and a whole month passed before the decree was published. The ground
taken was that the Emperor had been constrained, that his consent had
been neither voluntary nor free, and that under the circumstances
the marriage was null and void. The facts could not be disputed, but
matrimonial cases of sovereigns were by usage reserved for the Pope:
it was before the Supreme Pontiff that the cases of Louis the Twelfth
and Henry the Fourth had been taken. Now the domains of the Church had
been annexed to the Empire, and Napoleon had been excommunicated by
the Pope, who was at present his prisoner. Other means must therefore
be sought for the dissolution of the marriage. The various steps
are related in detail by M. Masson, to whom the curious reader is
referred. Suffice it here to state that on the 14 January 1810 the
_Moniteur_ announced to France and to the entire world the rupture
of the spiritual bond which united His Majesty the Emperor Napoleon and
Her Majesty the Empress Joséphine.
For several weeks the divorce was naturally the one topic of discussion
in Paris. Joséphine was an object of universal sympathy, and on
descending from the throne, as if she were already dead, she was
accorded all the virtues.
In the Army, the divorce was generally regretted. With the soldiers she
had long been legendary, and many of the officers also attributed to
her a beneficent effect upon the fortunes of Napoleon. When the hour of
defeat sounded, during the terrible retreat from Moscow, more than one
of the old _grognards_ were heard to exclaim: “The Little Corporal
should never have given up _la vieille_ (_the old woman_);
she brought good fortune to him and to us too.” It is doubtful if
Joséphine would have been entirely pleased with this compliment if she
had overheard it.
Beugnot, in his _Mémoires_, also speaks of the general belief that
Joséphine brought good luck to her husband. “I repeated it, and I even
almost believed it,” he writes, “that Joséphine was the good fortune
of the Emperor, and consequently of France, and that if she were ever
separated from her husband, she would carry that fortune with her.”
Joséphine, with her Creole tendency to superstition, probably believed
it, and certainly tried to make Napoleon believe it. Later on, when
overcome by reverses and betrayals, he was heard to say: “She was
right: our separation has brought me misfortune.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
1809–1810
JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON
Dowry of the Empress--Napoleon’s Liberality--Her Debts
Paid--The First Days at Malmaison--Napoleon’s Visits and
Letters--Christmas Dinner at Trianon--Joséphine Tires of the
Country--Her Interest in the Austrian Marriage--Napoleon
Arranges for Her Return to Paris--Her Arrival at the Élysée
Palace.
In fixing the dowry of Joséphine the Emperor had not been content with
the amount of two million francs granted her under the Constitution of
the Empire, from the State Treasury. By decree, he assured her from
the Crown Treasury an additional allowance of one million francs; by a
second decree he gave her for life the use of the Palais de l’Élysée;
and by a third sovereign act, he renounced in her favor all his title
and interest in Malmaison.
By these acts the Emperor had more than redeemed his promise to
assure her future. In Paris, Joséphine had for her residence the most
sumptuous and the most attractive of the imperial palaces, and at the
gates of the capital a château of her own choice, furnished to suit
her own taste. So far from being a drain on her resources, the woods
and lands of Malmaison in 1809 brought in a net revenue which exceeded
by fifty per cent. the cost of its upkeep. Aside from her magnificent
allowance of three millions, and her valuable collection of jewels,
however, Joséphine had no private fortune.
Napoleon knew by experience that the Empress must have some debts, and
he now demanded a detailed statement of the amounts. She was forced to
admit that these had accumulated since the last previous liquidation
three years before, and now reached a total of nearly two millions.
After a careful examination of the accounts, the amount was reduced
by a round half million, and the balance was paid by the Emperor with
the understanding that one-half the sum should be deducted from her
allowance for each of the two following years. By this arrangement the
income of the Empress was reduced to a little more than two millions
for the first two years. Having paid her debts, and provided her
with an ample allowance, Napoleon now arranged a careful budget for
Joséphine’s expenses in the future, but his past experience with her
should have taught him how useless it was to try to curb her mania for
spending.
* * * * *
Joséphine arrived at Malmaison after the close of the short December
day, under a cold, penetrating rain. She was accompanied by Eugène and
Hortense, who did their best to cheer and console their mother in her
new situation. The disposition shown by some members of her household
to desert her was checked by the Emperor, who gave express orders that
they were all to continue their services until the end of the year.
The first day at Malmaison was sad and depressing. The rain continued
to fall without ceasing. In the morning Joséphine was constantly in
tears provoked by the sight of “the places where she had lived so
long with the Emperor.” At an early hour Napoleon sent one of his
officers from the Trianon in search of news. “He tells me,” Napoleon
writes, “that since you are at Malmaison your courage has failed you.
Nevertheless, the place is full of souvenirs of our affections which
can never change, at least on my part. I am very anxious to see you,
but I must be sure that you are strong and not weak. I am also a little
weak myself, and that pains me much.”
At the Trianon the Emperor was surrounded by Pauline and her friends,
who did their best to amuse him and distract his thoughts. It was
impossible to walk, or drive, or hunt in the rain. The only recourse
was a game of cards, of which Napoleon soon tired. He ordered his
carriage and drove rapidly to the Tuileries. On his way back in the
afternoon he stopped to visit Joséphine at Malmaison. Between the
showers they walked in the park together as of old, but he only shook
her hand when he came and went, and did not kiss her. On his return to
the Trianon he wrote her:
8 P.M. (17) December 1809
Mon amie, I found you to-day weaker than you should have been.
You have shown courage, and you must find enough to sustain you.
You must not allow yourself to lapse into a fatal melancholy;
you must become content, and above all guard your health, which
is so precious to me. If you are attached to me and if you love
me you must bear yourself with strength and become happy. You
cannot doubt my constant and tender friendship, and you little
know all my regard for you if you imagine that I can be happy if
you are not, and contented if you are not tranquil. Adieu, mon
amie, sleep well, think that I wish it.
NAPOLEON
The second day at Malmaison passed in much the same way. The rain
continued, with a high wind, and it was impossible for Joséphine to
seek distraction by walking in the park. Eugène’s efforts to cheer her
up with a forced gaiety were of no avail. After déjeuner there were
many callers. With every new visitor who came to pay his respects, or
express his regrets, there was a new flood of tears. But in her grief
Joséphine displays her usual tact: “Not a word _de trop_, not a
harsh complaint, falls from her lips; she is really as sweet as an
angel.”
At Paris, the reports of her attitude produced an excellent effect.
Every one pitied her, and admired her courage and resignation.
On the eighteenth the Emperor, in the rain, hunted in the forest of
Saint-Germain, and sent no less than three times to demand news of
Joséphine. The following day, before departing for the hunt, he sent
Savary to see the Empress. Not content with writing, and receiving
her letters, he wished to have the report of a person in whom he had
entire confidence. On his return he found a letter from Joséphine, and
immediately wrote her:
7 P.M. (19 December 1809)
I have your letter, mon amie. Savary tells me that you are
constantly crying. That is not right. I hope that you have been
able to take a walk to-day. I have sent you some of my bag. I
will come to see you when you assure me that you are reasonable
and that your courage has got the upper hand. To-morrow I
have the ministers here all day. Adieu, mon amie. I, too, am
melancholy to-day. I want to hear that you are satisfied and to
learn of your self-possession. Sleep well.
NAPOLEON
The following day the Emperor wanted to visit her, “but he is very
busy, and a little indisposed.” The weather also is “damp and
unhealthy.” But during the day the sun comes out, and at night he
writes again: “As the day has been fine, I hope that you have been out
to see your plants. I have only been out for a short time, at three
o’clock this afternoon, to shoot some hares.”
Joséphine had indeed been out for the first time. Madame de Rémusat,
who had constituted herself Joséphine’s moral and physical director,
had persuaded the Empress to take some exercise, thinking that a
little fatigue might repose her mind. As Monsieur Masson well remarks:
If Joséphine had been willing to travel for a time, to go to Milan
or Rome, she might little by little have lessened the pain of her
downfall; but so near to Paris and the Trianon, at every moment the
same feelings are renewed: a note or some attention from the Emperor,
a face familiar at the Tuileries, a page, a servant, a soldier,--all
furnish an occasion for a new outbreak. The Emperor himself was largely
responsible for this state of affairs. Through pity for Joséphine, also
from weakness on his own part, he had not commanded her to go away, and
in thus prolonging the agony of the separation he was suffering as much
as the Empress from being “so near and yet so far.” Madame de Rémusat,
taking advantage of the fact that her husband was on duty at Trianon,
wrote him to “hint to the Emperor that he should write the Empress in
such a manner as to encourage her; and not in the evening, for his
letters give her nights of anguish; also, to moderate in his letters,
his expressions of regret and grief.”
The Emperor evidently took this advice in good part, for his future
letters were more manly. On the 23 December he wrote: “I should have
come to see you to-day, but for the arrival of the King of Bavaria. I
hope to see you to-morrow and to find you gay and self-possessed.” He
visited her as promised, but, although affectionate and tender in his
manner, he did not kiss Joséphine, and was not alone with her a moment.
The following day was Christmas, and he invited Joséphine and Hortense
to visit him at Trianon. He kept them for dinner, and, according to
Eugène, who was also present, “he was very good and very amiable to
her,” and she seemed to feel much better.