fr\ "Un livre est un ami 
 que ne change jamais" 
 
 EX LIBRIS 
 IRENE and ERNEST PACE 
 
 C.S.COCKBURN . 
 SUTTON ROCK, 
 CHESTERFIELD.
 
 2?
 
 NAPOLEON 
 
 AND THE FAIR SEX
 
 UKSIKl'ilJ, QUEEN OF SWEDEN.
 
 NAPOLEON 
 
 AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Translated from the French of 
 
 FREDERIC MASSON 
 
 LONDON 
 
 WILLIAM HEINEMANN 
 1896 
 
 [AU rights rt screed}
 
 Second Edition 
 First Edition, October 1894
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 INTRODUCTION ... ... I 
 
 I. YOUTH ... ... ... ... ... 28 
 
 II. MATRIMONIAL PROJECTS ... ... 39 
 
 III. JOSEPHINE DE BEAUHARNA1S ... .%. ... 50 
 
 IV. CITOYENNE BONAPARTE ... ... ... 62 
 
 V. MADAME FOURES ... ... ... ... 75 
 
 VI. THE RECONCILIATION ... ... ... 87 
 
 VII. GRASSINI ... ... ... ... ... 98 
 
 VIII. ACTRESSES ... ... ... ... IIO 
 
 IX. READERS ... ... ... ... 123 
 
 ~ x. JOSEPHINE'S CORONATION ... ... ... 137 
 
 XI. MADAME * * * ... ... ... ... 150 
 
 XII. STEPHANIE DE BEAUHARNAIS ... ... ... 162 
 
 XIII. ELEONORE ... ... ... ... 174 
 
 XIV. HORTENSE ... ... 185 
 
 XV. MADAME WALEWSKA... ' ... ... ... 194 
 
 XVI. THE DIVORCE ... ... ... ... 233 
 
 XVII. MARIE-LOUISE ... ... ... ... 248 
 
 XVIII. ELBA ... ... ... ... ... 276 
 
 XIX. THE HUNDRED DAYS ... ... 292 
 
 XX. CONCLUSION ... ... ... ... 302 
 
 2038912
 
 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 A LARGE proportion of the chapters in this book 
 
 appeared in the literary supplement of the Figaro 
 
 .from April to September, 1893. The idea of 
 
 writing them was suggested to me in the following 
 
 manner. 
 
 In the Chronicle published periodically in connec- 
 tion with the journal, an anonymous correspondent 
 asked the questions : " Witk what women is 
 Napoleon known to have had temporary relations as 
 a young man, as Consul, and finally, as Emperor ? 
 Had he an absorbing passion for any one woman ? 
 And if so, for whom ? " 
 
 Answers to these queries appeared at intervals, 
 but were far from convincing. It came to the 
 knowledge of M. Perivier, the editor of the literary 
 supplement, that I had for some time past col- 
 lected documents bearing on the private life of 
 Napoleon. He applied to me for the desired in- 
 formation, and I gave it. But it was impossible
 
 2 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 to do justice to the subject within the prescribed 
 limits, and my summary was but a brief outline of 
 the facts I had gathered. It was then suggested 
 that I should fill in this outline, and the result 
 was a series of articles, in the form and production 
 of which I was allowed absolute liberty, but to 
 which the Figaro offered a hospitality I now most 
 gratefully acknowledge. 
 
 The articles found favour with the public, and 
 were quoted in many journals, both at home and 
 abroad. But on the other hand, they drew down 
 upon me no small share of anonymous abuse and 
 covert reproach. 
 
 Many of those with whom I had stood shoulder 
 to shoulder in the Bonapartist ranks between 1870 
 and 1879, from the fall of the Empire to the 
 death of the Prince Imperial, took exception to 
 these articles as ill-timed and disrespectful. Though 
 they acquitted me alike of dissimulation of present 
 sympathies, or treachery to past traditions, they 
 held and some among them openly told me that 
 my passion for writing, my desire to figure pro- 
 minently in a well-known review, and to cater 
 for a public greedy of unpublished gossip, had 
 seduced me into revelation and discussion of 
 matters I ought to have suppressed. They pro- 
 nounced my Bonapartism not at all to their liking, 
 and declared that a devotee of Napoleon who dealt 
 thus with his memory was hardly to be distinguished 
 from his enemies. 
 
 Such were the accusations brought against me. 
 I seek neither to exaggerate nor to minimize them. 
 It would be easy to pass them over in silence. 
 But for twenty years I shared the passions, the
 
 INTRODUCTION 3 
 
 hopes, the joys and sorrows of my accusers. 
 The friendship of many among them is very dear 
 to me ; nor would I willingly forfeit the esteem 
 of any. I therefore gladly take this opportunity 
 of justifying myself. I ask the indulgence of a 
 public to whom these disputes are of little interest, 
 to whom my very existence is almost unknown, 
 who are ignorant of my past, and who may look 
 upon these pages as a superfluous affix to the 
 book for which they have paid their money. 
 But hitherto my loyalty has never been called 
 in question. I have held my course with all 
 singleness of heart and purpose, and it would ill 
 become me to shrink from an explanation which 
 has long seemed to me necessary, and has now 
 become imperative. The present book is the 
 first of a series of studies I propose to publish 
 successively. In these it is my intention to 
 give the result of my researches with absolute 
 independence. I therefore owe it to my old political 
 friends to explain what led me formerly to join 
 their ranks, and why I now feel at liberty to 
 follow my own bent, and write after my own fashion, 
 recognizing in them no rights either as dictators 
 or censors. 
 
 The Bonapartist staff after 1870 was largely 
 recruited from the ranks of the Orleanist and 
 Legitimist parties ; even those sometime supporters 
 of the Revolution of 1848 who had rallied to Prince 
 Louis Napoleon were largely influenced by re- 
 actionary sympathies. They were all pledged to 
 the cause of the fallen Empire by virtue of places 
 they had held, favours conferred on themselves 
 or their families, anxiety to play a new part, and
 
 4 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 a very natural ambition to recover a lost position, 
 or achieve one yet more brilliant. 
 
 They prided themselves on their knowledge of 
 the sole system of administration proper to their 
 country. This system they had applied with unques- 
 tionable ability, with a rectitude to which the world 
 is now beginning to do tardy justice, and with a 
 professional equity no longer to be found among 
 politicians. Each one among them may fairly 
 claim to have largely contributed to the material 
 prosperity enjoyed by France for forty years. They 
 had all the virtues of their caste, together with 
 one not common in that caste the virtue of self- 
 sacrifice. 
 
 They were agreed that in 1852, as in the year 
 XII., the Empire was clearly in principle a dele- 
 gation of the national sovereignty. Great there- 
 fore as was the repugnance of some among them 
 to universal suffrage, they were bound to refrain 
 from overtly attacking it. But they held the rights 
 of discussion already acquired to be amply sufficient, 
 resigned themselves much against the grain to a 
 new plebiscite, and looked with abhorrence on all 
 schemes of democratic government which ignored 
 hereditary rights. The Empire found favour among 
 them, not only because it was an authoritative 
 system agreeable to men who frankly detested 
 Parliamentarianism, at least so long as they them- 
 selves had no part in it, but because they saw 
 in its dynastic and hereditary formulae a practical 
 compromise between the monarchy they regretted, 
 and those elements of democracy they recognized as 
 inevitable. They beheld in the Emperor, not the 
 predestined organizer of a new society, but the
 
 guardian of the interests of the old. On these issues, 
 the majority of them were so closely allied to 
 Conservatism, that they were finally merged among 
 the Conservatives, or partisans of the two Bourbon 
 dynasties. With these they were agreed on all 
 points, save that of the origin of authority, and some 
 few secondary details of its application, and doubt- 
 less had a Napoleon set himself to impugn their 
 doctrines, they would have sacrificed the leader to 
 the creed. 
 
 The legislative, religious, and political programme 
 formulated in the first Napoleon's acts, edicts, and 
 plans of government were accepted by them with 
 certain explicit reservations ; on some points they 
 altogether withheld their adhesion. But Napoleon 
 III. was too present a reality to be thus set aside 
 upon occasion. His advanced tendencies were, 
 however, freely canvassed ; some of the measures 
 proposed by him were denounced as strangely 
 revolutionary ; and though his followers were by no 
 means loath to accept the credit of certain im- 
 provements in the condition of the people iaitiated 
 by him, they considered that the maximum had been 
 attained in this direction, and that further progress 
 on lines formerly marked out would imperil the 
 whole social fabric. To give but two instances 
 in illustration, it is undeniable that the right of 
 workmen to strike, and the necessity of primary 
 education, had few, if any, supporters. In foreign 
 policy, the anomaly was even greater : not one 
 among them would have upheld the principle of 
 nationality ; nor would any voice have been raised 
 in defence of the war undertaken in the cause of 
 Italian independence ; the Crimean and Chinese
 
 6 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 campaigns found few apologists. In fact, any who 
 had attempted to sum up the opinions held by 
 Napoleon III., which the chiefs of the Bonapartist 
 faction had assimilated, would have been surprised 
 to find how few were the doctrines in common 
 between the chief and his followers. The latter, 
 indeed, professed theories adapted from Legitimists, 
 Orleanists, and even Parliamentary Republicans. 
 And thus there grew up a Bonapartism lacking 
 Bonapartist spirit, as conspicuously as it now lacks a 
 Bonaparte. 
 
 This annihilation of the Napoleonic doctrine by 
 those who in all sincerity declared themselves its 
 champions was a gradual process. The work of 
 disintegration was first clearly manifested w^hen 
 certain members of the party in the National 
 Assembly formed a faction, and combined with 
 other factions for the overthrow of Thiers, and the 
 nomination of MacMahon. Thenceforward they 
 formed a mere item in the conservative union, and 
 as the great majority of that union were Royalists, 
 the Bonapartist interest was gradually merged in 
 theirs. Daily contact, parliamentary alliances, and 
 social intimacy caused a fusion of opinions which 
 differed rather in degree than in principle, until, 
 after a lapse of twenty-three years, it is difficult to 
 distinguish between the politics of deputies who 
 were elected as Bonapartists, and those who had 
 declared for monarchy. 
 
 It may be readily supposed that this group of 
 politicians considered themselves invested by popular 
 mandate with special authority. They naturally 
 held that their presence in the field of politics, 
 their participation in the actual government of
 
 INTRODUCTION 7 
 
 the country, and their facilities for keeping watch 
 on the course of public events, marked them out as 
 guardians of their party's interests. They therefore 
 only accepted their Prince's mandates ad referen- 
 dum, and subject to discussion, on many occasions 
 rejecting them altogether. When the execution of 
 his orders seemed likely to imperil their re-election 
 they openly rebelled, for it was a cardinal doctrine 
 with them that their presence in the senate was 
 essential to the welfare of the party. And thus, 
 unconscious apparently that they were degrading 
 the one political principle that remained to them, 
 they substituted for the doctrine of authority a 
 Parliamentarianism all the more rigid, that the 
 atoms of their own parliamentary microcosm had 
 lost the habit of obedience, each considering himself 
 peculiarly fitted to command. 
 
 Thus by degrees the stronger elements of Bona- 
 partism were watered down. During the minority 
 of the Prince Imperial, Parliamentarianism gained 
 ground among the leaders of the party. When, on 
 the attainment of his majority, the Prince sought 
 to assume his rightful authority, he met with such 
 strong opposition that he probably planned his 
 expedition to Zululand in the hope of winning a 
 prestige that would enable him to hold his own 
 on his return. No sooner did Prince Napoleon 
 attempt to assume the leadership than the party 
 broke into open revolt, which was even more violent 
 in its manifestations when he ventured to dissociate 
 himself from the Royalists. Matters are less com- 
 plex at the present time ; both faction and party 
 are no more. The one has effaced the other. The 
 party is merged in the nation. But should the
 
 8 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 nation discover a man in whose person her aspira- 
 tions towards glory, authority, and social reform take 
 tangible shape, the popular current will revert to its 
 former channel, the party will take a new lease of 
 life, and if the man be equal to his destiny, the 
 machinations of the middle-class Parliament man 
 will prove futile indeed when opposed to the 
 triumphant progress of him whom Carlyle so aptly 
 calls " The Hero." 
 
 Such a vision will find realization sooner or later, 
 or France will be no more. This is my earnest 
 conviction, a conviction that has survived even the 
 strange episode of some few years ago. The man 
 whose wonderful fortune seemed to be bearing him 
 on towards supreme power failed to grasp the prize, 
 and fell almost at the moment of attainment. But 
 this was because of his own inherent weaknesses ; 
 he was unequal to the great part he was called upon 
 to play. A Csesar is neither to be improvised nor 
 developed ; he must be born. 
 
 I owed nothing to the Empire ; no family ties, 
 no past favours bound me to the Bonapartes. Up 
 to the age of sixteen I received a national pension 
 of six hundred francs, the price of my father's life. 
 He was killed June 23, 1848. The Republic, adopt- 
 ing me and other orphans in the same cause, made 
 the award. It will hardly be contended that it was 
 excessive, or that I became a Republican on the 
 strength of it. 
 
 An ardent Republican I was, however, under the 
 Empire, a result brought about by my classic educa- 
 tion, my lonely youth, my passion for literature, and 
 a certain austerity of temperament. I dreamed of
 
 INTRODUCTION 9 
 
 a Republic founded on virtue, such as Montesquieu 
 desired, and seen through the mists of legend, the 
 men of the Revolution seemed to me the most 
 virtuous beings who had ever existed. I had no 
 misgivings as to the rectitude of their successors, 
 and believed the Mountain to be the chosen asylum 
 of high-minded patriots, pure of soul and spotless 
 of hand. One alone of all constitutions seemed to 
 me to rest on a legal basis, to emanate from the 
 sovereignty of the people, and to contain the funda- 
 mental articles of the Republican faith ; this was 
 the Constitution of '93. It is true that it had never 
 been carried out to its logical conclusions ; but its 
 theories might have been the creation of Rousseau 
 himself. 
 
 Such dreams are healthy. Napoleon himself has 
 said " There have been good men among the 
 -Jacobins. At one period all exalted natures were 
 attracted to Jacobinism. I myself was so attracted, 
 like thousands of other well-meaning persons." I 
 need not blush to confess myself of the company. 
 Those who feel no draught towards such notions 
 in their youth, who are never in extremes, who 
 confine their ambitions to the practical and the 
 moderate, will no doubt prove the better architects 
 of their own fortunes, the surer guardians of their 
 own interests. But these will never have felt 
 upon their brows the refreshing shadow of those 
 vast wings on which the spirit soars above the 
 mud of earth to the eternal home of true and 
 generous souls, the land of the sage and of 
 the seer. They will not have retained, from this 
 rapid flight through ideal heights, a perpetual 
 aspiration towards progress, the one religion that
 
 io NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 stands the test of criticism and analysis. They 
 will know nothing of the joys of disinterested search 
 after truth. They will be men, not of principles, 
 but of expedients. They will adapt themselves to 
 circumstances, and will support the form of govern- 
 ment that offers them the highest wages. These 
 are the successful men, who are praised for their 
 dexterity. But for oneself, it would seem the better 
 part to accept the blame of the herd, and to dwell 
 among honest men. 
 
 Belief in the Constitution of 1793 is apt to be 
 a passing phase with one who has a taste for re- 
 search and a passion for knowledge. My enthusi- 
 asm for the men of the past gradually died out 
 under the weight of evidence gleaned from books, 
 pamphlets, and newspapers, and a little experience 
 of humanity showed me the men of the present very 
 much as they actually were. 
 
 Among the constitutions which had been sub- 
 mitted to the nation, and so were of legal origin 
 according to the democratic code, that of the year 
 VIII. seemed to me to have been vitiated by 
 Brumaire the i8th, that of 1852 by December the 
 2nd ; yet I found it difficult to understand why such 
 a solemn consultation, four times repeated, should 
 have had identical results. Whatever the pressure 
 brought to bear upon the people, was it possible to 
 suppose that they could not have found some means 
 of expressing their hatred and contempt, if the men 
 who solicited their votes were indeed as odious to 
 them as they were represented to be, and if the 
 programme submitted to them were indeed so re- 
 pugnant to their feelings ? This was a mystery on 
 which I pondered deeply. Further, if ti\<t plebiscite
 
 INTRODUCTION it 
 
 of 1851 were void, the popular election of 1848 held 
 good, and in that connection there could be no 
 question of pressure or intimidation. If undue 
 influence had been used, it had been on the other 
 side. The popular mind, throwing off the trammels 
 of the middle classes, had declared itself with one 
 accord on that eventful day, and with marvellous 
 unanimity had pronounced for Napoleon. And 
 this in the face of the most unblushing official 
 candidature, the most frantic Parliamentarian efforts, 
 the dread of deportation, the shadow of civil war, 
 the spectacle of blood-stained bayonets in the face, 
 too, of ridicule and lampoons, of an unscrupulous 
 press, of the whole body of the police in full cry, 
 of a ministry of worthy gentlemen stopping coaches. 
 It was a manifestation no less magnificent than 
 extraordinary, and almost unique in history. Here 
 was the true birth-certificate of the Second Empire, 
 a document of unimpeachable authenticity. I re- 
 cognized its authority, and this recognition was of 
 no slight moment, seeing that it involved condon- 
 ation of a violated oath, of projected massacres, of 
 the dissolution of the Assembly, and a negation of 
 all the doctrines of the Chdtiments, the text-book of 
 my generation. This was not to be achieved with- 
 out a struggle, especially by one who had contributed 
 to the literature of the political controversy. 
 
 I had reached this stage of my mental evolution, 
 when in May, 1870, the Emperor proposed a renewal 
 of the compact between himself and the people. 
 No open-minded witness can contend that the sub-- 
 sequent deliberations were not absolutely free, nor 
 deny that the enemies of the Empire had recourse 
 to the most unworthy weapons, while the defence of
 
 12 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 their opponents was unparalleled in its moderation. 
 I was present at fat plebiscite, and took part in it. 
 The result made it evident that the treaty between 
 sovereign and people, if proposed by the former, 
 had been solemnly ratified by the latter. It was 
 idle to hark back upon December 2, and to main- 
 tain that its events vitiated the vote of some nine- 
 teen years later. 
 
 Yet this was but a part no inconsiderable part 
 assuredly, but still only a proportion of the satis- 
 factions demanded by the theoretic mind. For one 
 who was haunted by the desire " to ameliorate the 
 condition of the poorest and most populous class 
 of the community," there was another set of ideas 
 which a government was bound to apply, before 
 it could be admitted as a desirable government, 
 suitable both to present and future requirements. 
 
 Left without a leader, a nation perishes. With 
 a leader, even when that leader has not been freely 
 chosen, even when he has seized, rather than 
 accepted, supremacy, a nation lives. But when 
 the chief is chosen by the voice of the whole people, 
 how great is his power for good, how vast the field 
 opened out to him for the accomplishment of 
 his work ! The plebiscite is the only instrument 
 by which it is possible to restrict and direct the 
 powers of that Third Estate, which has hitherto 
 furnished orators and wire-pullers to every party, 
 even to the most avowedly democratic, from the 
 ranks of which all governments have recruited 
 their administrators, and in which consequently 
 all power is vested, even in the days of universal 
 suffrage. This has been the case for a century, 
 the only interludes in this dictatorship of the
 
 INTRODUCTION 13 
 
 Third Estate being the periods of Imperial sway. 
 The Constituent Assembly proclaimed the apothe- 
 osis of the middle classes, and suppressed the 
 three powers that held them in check the King, 
 the nobility, and the clergy. The bourgeoisie became 
 supreme in the Legislature and the Convention. 
 The Directory existed by and for it. Important as 
 were its functions under the Restoration, the latter 
 was not sufficiently submissive for its taste, and it 
 accordingly substituted the Monarchy of July, under 
 which its supremacy was assured. In the Con- 
 stituent Assembly of '48, as in the Legislature, it 
 attacked the anointed of the people, firstly because 
 of the popular origin of his power, secondly because 
 it dreaded to find in him an adversary such as it 
 had encountered half a century before. The coup 
 (Ce"tat of December the 2nd was an attack, not upon 
 -the sovereignty of the people, for its author was 
 the chosen leader of the people, but upon the 
 sovereignty of the middle classes in the persons 
 of their parliamentary representatives, whose 
 resentment was the keener that they foresaw further 
 encroachment on their usurpations, and feared 
 that the popular Dictator would take the utmost 
 advantage of the national vote, which had invested 
 him with supreme powers. 
 
 Simultaneously with this assumption of political 
 authority by the middle classes from 1830 onwards, 
 an economic transformation had been taking place. 
 The toil of the individual workman, and the output 
 of small workshops directed by petty traders, who 
 worked side by side with their employes, had been 
 gradually superseded by vast collective enterprises, 
 by huge factories, depending on anonymous and
 
 14 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 external funds, under the control of impersonal 
 and irresponsible managers. 
 
 These funds were furnished by the Third Estate, 
 whose first thought was the highest return possible 
 for their capital, to secure which they placed the 
 laws, the government and the army at the disposal 
 of their agents. They invented Protection, to 
 increase the value of their goods, and inaugurated 
 a long series of petty tyrannies, by which they 
 forced the proletarian manufacturer to remain 
 wretched and poverty-stricken, and prevented the 
 coalition by which he might have improved his 
 status. They thus created antinomy as between 
 capital and labour, and justified the reprisals of 
 that class which we are beginning to call the 
 Fourth Estate. Two dates will be sufficient to 
 mark the genesis and growth of this new power : 
 June, 1832, when a popular outbreak lasted barely 
 two days ; and June, 1848, memorable for an insur- 
 rection which took an army to quell it, and cost the 
 lives of more generals than a great battle. It was 
 easy to foresee the Commune from the very first 
 days of 1870. 
 
 One course only could have prevented this 
 revolution, which was merely postponed by the 
 victory of the Third Estate in 1871, from becoming 
 in due time, not only in France, but throughout 
 the world, the most bloody and terrible ever dreamt 
 of, a catastrophe which will replunge humanity 
 into barbarism. This course was the establishment 
 of a moderate Dictatorship, with a Dictator suffi- 
 ciently alive to the interests of the Third, and the 
 needs of the Fourth Estate to act as mediator 
 between the two, to enforce the sacrifices necessary
 
 INTRODUCTION 15 
 
 on both sides, and to bring about a sort of con- 
 cordat between the conflicting classes. But the 
 authority of a dictator who should successfully bring 
 about such an evolution in the industrial order 
 as was accomplished by Napoleon I. in the agrarian 
 order, could only be sustained by national suffrage, 
 and this, by virtue of its democratic character, 
 would restore the balance of power as between 
 the moneyed minority and the indigent majority, 
 and ensure the election of a chief by that majority. 
 If a sovereign, basing his claims on divine right, 
 be radically disqualified for such leadership by his 
 origin, his surroundings, his supporters, the very 
 principle of his power, how much more is this the 
 case of an assembly made up of the very persons 
 it is proposed to dispossess ? The nobility indeed 
 may cite that 4th of August, when it renounced its 
 hereditary privileges. The sacrifice was immense, 
 but it was a sacrifice of pride only, and not of 
 purse. The nobles did not renounce their pecuni- 
 ary privileges, but agreed to their redemption 
 by the nation. There will be no 4th of August 
 in the history of the Third Estate. Its privileges 
 are based on money, and money it will never be 
 induced to relinquish. 
 
 Personally, Napoleon III. perceived the greatness 
 of his mission. Personally, not as a man of strong 
 will, for he had little force of character, nor as a man 
 of genius, for he had no genius, but as a man of 
 intelligence, honesty, and deep convictions, he had 
 prepared himself to play his part. Unhappily, 
 throughout his reign he was the hostage of the Third 
 Estate, in spite of which, and as the opponent of 
 which, he had been elected. Forced by the
 
 16 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Constitution from the very beginning to choose his 
 ministers from a middle-class assembly avowedly 
 hostile to him, he was obliged to govern through an 
 executive not one member of which had voted for 
 him. In later times, when he had shaken off the 
 yoke of the Assembly, he was driven by force of 
 circumstances to choose all his instruments of 
 government from among the Third Estate. Whether 
 they came from the Right or the Left, they were all 
 alike, and it was only by dint of that gentle obstinacy 
 peculiar to him that the Emperor succeeded in 
 forcing upon them those principles of social reform 
 he himself had at heart. Had he not found sup- 
 porters among a certain class of men, whose middle- 
 class extraction had been neutralized by a phase 
 of adhesion to the Saint-Simonian sect, and who 
 still professed the cult of Humanity, the dreams of 
 the exiled author of L? Extinction du Paupdrisme 
 would have remained but dreams. It is possible 
 that a greater part might have been played by some 
 other leader. But none other, fettered as he was, 
 could have shown a more entire comprehension of, 
 and devotion to, the cause of the people. 
 
 At the time, however, I saw nothing but the result. 
 It was already great ; but realities will always fall 
 far short of a youthful ideal, with its impatience of 
 gradual development. It was no inconsiderable 
 victory over my acquired prejudices, to admit that 
 the imperial power rested on a legitimate basis. The 
 further concession, that the man who wielded this 
 power had to a great extent understood and fulfilled 
 his mission, was a logical result of wider experience, 
 and honesty itself compelled it. But to establish in 
 my mind the sovereign conviction that absorbs all
 
 INTRODUCTION 17 
 
 other sentiments, and produces the fanaticism born 
 of faith, some electric spark, falling upon the scattered 
 elements, and fusing them into sudden illumination, 
 was still necessary. This too was forthcoming. I 
 lived through September the 4th and all its horrors 
 the disgrace of that shameful revolt in the enemy's 
 presence, of cries for " Peace ! " raised among 
 soldiers laying down their arms. Rage against the 
 invader, disgust at imbecile bravado, hatred of the 
 Orleanist lawyers who flung open the gate of that 
 Palace in which they had sworn fidelity to the 
 Emperor to a horde of ruffians and prostitutes I 
 suffered the tortures of all these. In the brilliant 
 autumn sunshine, I saw and heard a reeling, dancing 
 mob pour into the Rue de la Paix, insulting the 
 column as they passed, plunge into the Rue de 
 Rivoli, and blacken as with a darkly swelling tide 
 the Place de la Concorde. I saw and heard, and 
 would have gladly laid down my life to save France 
 from the shame of these things on the morrow of 
 Sedan. 
 
 And the justification of this betrayal of their 
 country by certain Parisians was offered in the very 
 phrase which our good friends the allies were fond 
 of using in 1814: "Prussia is not at war with 
 France, but with the Emperor ! " Then I felt and 
 understood that, consciously or not, those who argued 
 thus were the accomplices of the invaders ; that the 
 overthrow of the Empire meant the surrender of 
 France ; that now as then, the Napoleons and the 
 nation were inseparable, not only as for us, but as 
 against monarchical Europe, and that they alone 
 had made the nation formidable. 
 
 Meanwhile a tumult of half- forgotten youthful
 
 1 8 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 sensations rose once more in my breast. The 
 religion that had breathed round me in my cradle, 
 the teaching of a time distant and dimly remembered 
 as if it had formed part of some previous life, awoke, 
 and claimed its disciple. I recalled gentle old men, 
 who loved children and flowers, and whose tender 
 patience overcame my childish timidity. I remem- 
 bered how they would take me on their knees, and 
 with failing voices, the tones of which linger in my 
 hearing after forty years, would tell me things like 
 some strange fairy tale, but even more marvellous ! 
 For they had seen and taken part in the wonders of 
 their story, and if I seemed to doubt, they would 
 take my little fingers in their maimed hands, and 
 make me touch the scars left by ball, or lance, or 
 sword. And my curiosity, inexhaustible as their 
 patience the infinite patience of the strong plied 
 them with never-ending questions about him whose 
 marble face, pale and superb, rose above us in the 
 hall, like that of a god above his altars. 
 
 They told what he had done and suffered, how 
 he had lived ; they spoke of battles, victories, apo- 
 theoses ; of conquered capitals and liberated peoples ; 
 of armies swimming across icy rivers ; of Cossacks 
 carried off and cast at his feet ; of levies raised 
 spontaneously by the magic of his name ; of duels, 
 combats about his memory. And we wept together 
 they, his old soldiers, and I, a little child. Sacred 
 are those tears, which I have seen flowing on proud 
 faces seamed with scars, when, after some such 
 burst of speech, the iron veterans would sit silent 
 awhile, with lips compressed, so pale that their 
 wives, rising, would rebuke them tenderly " You 
 should not talk of these things. It is bad for
 
 INTRODUCTION 19 
 
 you ! " To which they would answer " It is right 
 that the child should hear ! " Those tears, falling on 
 my brow, were my baptism, a baptism to which I 
 am still faithful. 
 
 That infant faith of mine may have slumbered 
 for many years. On that memorable day it awoke, 
 and mastered my whole being. I too witnessed 
 things strange and terrible, such as my old friends 
 had told me : a treacherous faction striking down 
 the Elect of the People, and giving up their father- 
 land to the invader. I saw joy which made me 
 think of the joy of noble ladies, kissing the lips of 
 the Cossacks ; I saw the human brute let loose 
 against the vanquished, while urging it on, goading 
 its frenzy, and directing its attack, I saw the same 
 men as of old, with like passions and appetites ; 
 and with them others, like unto them, the children 
 ef our own century our governors of yesterday, 
 our governors of to-day. 
 
 From that day forward I neither reasoned nor 
 doubted. I acted. An unknown volunteer, I served 
 the Emperor Napoleon III.; a nameless soldier, I 
 served the Prince Imperial. Later, I held the 
 post assigned to me in my brigade, and obeyed 
 orders, for which I may claim some credit, seeing 
 that at the time the Napoleonic Party was, to my 
 mind, diverging lamentably from its true precedents 
 and its rightful goal. But I had faith in the future. 
 The young leader had the virtues proper to a 
 Napoleon faith, courage, sincerity ; he would 
 have understood and accomplished his mission. 
 He disappeared, and chance brought me into con- 
 tact with Prince Napoleon. He honoured me with 
 a confidence unsolicited on my part, and deigned to
 
 26 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 call me his friend. In his will, my name occurs 
 immediately after those of his own family. He 
 called upon me to vindicate his memory, and if I 
 have not yet accomplished the task, it is through 
 no fault of mine. 
 
 I feel that an impassable gulf now separates me 
 from those in whose ranks I once fought. We 
 have not a thought, not a hope left in common. 
 My place is among the dead ; I have finished with 
 conflict, and the opinions I cherish are purely 
 historical. All that remains to me of activity, of 
 energy, of faculty for work, I desire to dedicate to 
 the study of him whom I look upon as our saviour 
 in the past, and whose tradition now distorted and 
 forsaken might have been our salvation in the 
 present. For the last twenty years I have been 
 endeavouring to form an idea of him, and everything 
 I have read has proved to me more and more con- 
 clusively that the history of Napoleon has yet to 
 be written. Going back to the root of the matter, 
 I have tried to consider him apart from the deeds 
 he accomplished, and the events he brought to pass. 
 As legislator, as diplomatist, as financier, as ad- 
 ministrator, his figure is a great and attractive one ; 
 but it is not that of the man himself. Before we 
 can form any just idea of the man, must we not see 
 how his brain worked ; how each minute of his 
 time was spent ; what proportion of it he bestowed 
 on pleasure ; how far he was influenced by the 
 senses, the passions, the affections ; what part he 
 played as son, as lover, as husband, as father ? At 
 the present distance of time it is necessary, in 
 order to reconstruct the man, to inquire carefully 
 into his daily life, and to invoke all available testi-
 
 INTRODUCTION 21 
 
 mony. This it has been my endeavour to do. I 
 have collected round me all I could find that shows 
 him as he was, that speaks of, or that emanated from 
 him : manuscripts, books, pamphlets, newspapers, 
 drawings, engravings, busts, statues. In this task 
 I have found many powerful allies, and have re- 
 ceived many flattering marks of confidence. I had 
 no intention of publishing my notes. I felt my own 
 limitations too deeply to aspire to be the biographer 
 of Napoleon. But the endless scribblers who have 
 furnished more or less apocryphal accounts have 
 at last forced me to break silence, were it only in 
 the cause of truth. So it has come to pass that I 
 have distilled the essence of documents that have 
 been accumulating for years, consisting of notes 
 gleaned from State or private archives, from books, 
 newspapers, and pamphlets all I had seen, read, or 
 heard that seemed to me of some value as evidence. 
 The result is a narrative of the facts as they appear 
 to me from these various evidences. 
 
 Neither in this volume, nor in those that may 
 follow it, shall I reveal my sources of information. 
 Many to whom I owe valuable documents exacted 
 a secrecy which debars me from any public ex- 
 pression of my gratitude. As I cannot name them, 
 it seems to me better to name no one. Neither 
 do I care to draw attention to certain items taken 
 from private papers in my possession. Such refer- 
 ences often serve no other purpose but to gratify 
 the vanity of the writer. Besides which, such dis- 
 plays of erudition, calculated to dazzle a certain 
 section of the public, are by no means proof of good 
 faith. Several authors, whose attacks upon Napoleon 
 have been recently printed, bristle with references
 
 22 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 to authorities. In each case where I have veri- 
 fied these references, I have found them to be 
 false. For my own part, I have given my best 
 work to my task. I am convinced of the authen- 
 ticity of the documents I have used, as I am 
 ready to prove by offering my portfolios for in- 
 spection. But I neither care nor intend to con- 
 vince any who doubt my good faith. As is the 
 historian, so is the history. Hitherto I have been 
 accounted an honourable man, and such I claim 
 to be. The circulation of these articles has been 
 very considerable, yet I have only received two 
 corrections as to matters of fact. One referred to 
 a date, the other to the name of a place. I therefore 
 venture to think that had more serious errors crept 
 in, they would have been pointed out to me. I am 
 far, however, from supposing that my work is 
 absolutely free from mistakes or omissions. And 
 in laying these collected essays before the public, I 
 cordially invite communications from any who may 
 have information to give, or documents to make 
 public. 
 
 As to the spirit in which these studies have been 
 produced, I have heard it said that I have lowered 
 the reputation of my hero, and be-littled the man I 
 sought to magnify. This may be the result of the 
 minute analysis and precise detail of my narrative. 
 To show the Emperor as he was, it was necessary, 
 not to chant his glory in the sonorous periods of the 
 poet, but to examine the more intimate habits and 
 functions of his personality. To this end, no cir- 
 cumvolution of his brain was without interest, no 
 motive of his actions insignificant, no fact in his life 
 without its bearing, nor any individual of his circle
 
 INTRODUCTION 23 
 
 altogether unimportant. My long preparation was 
 for other purposes than the drawing up of a decla- 
 matory apologia, or unsupported generalization. 
 My inquiry is rigorous as that of a judge, bound to 
 neglect no element of his case. In the following 
 pages this inquiry turns upon the feelings and affec- 
 tions ; later, it will be occupied with the Emperor's 
 domestic life, and with certain periods of Napoleon's 
 career, in dealing with which I feel qualified to bring 
 out his character, his modes of thought and action. 
 Will the final result justify my endeavours ? I have 
 every confidence that it will. But if I falsified 
 evidence to give a favourable turn to the inquiry, if 
 I failed to allow due weight to every fact that presents 
 itself, I should fail in my duty, and forfeit my claims 
 to belief. 
 
 Are there any who wish to see Napoleon painted 
 other than as a man ? who conceive of him as 
 having lived without the daily development of his 
 nature ; who think of him as the same in 1769 as in 
 1821 ; who admit of no modifications between his 
 apparition in France as the young scholar of Autun, 
 and his death at St. Helena, after having dominated 
 nations, and swayed the destinies of Europe ? Would 
 they have had him pass from the cradle to the grave 
 guiltless of an indiscretion, superior to impulse, un- 
 touched by experience ? W T ould they have had him 
 so far above the rest of humanity as never to have 
 shared its passions, felt its emotions, nor yielded to 
 its governing instincts ? Were these things true of 
 him, he would have been no man, but a god ; one of 
 those supernatural beings created by the imagination 
 of a people, whose first lispings proclaim truths divine 
 as those of his maturest utterances ; who have
 
 24 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 neither childhood, youth, nor maturity, seeing that 
 throughout their earthly passage they are but the 
 instruments of a divine mission. But if we take it 
 that Napoleon was a man like other men, though of 
 exceptional intellectual gifts, it is evident that his 
 ideas, and the actions these ideas suggested, were 
 not classified and regulated for him by a special 
 providence from his birth ; they were his own, and 
 not the promptings of a god ; the product of his 
 brain, and not the effect of external influences. He 
 himself was not the predestined instrument, the germ 
 of which, passing spotless and incorruptible through 
 a long line of elect beings, is transmitted from 
 generation to generation, from sex to sex, bearing 
 in that atom which is to become its brain the 
 fate of nations. He was a being who retained, 
 no doubt, some confused impressions of previous 
 atavisms, but whose mind was formed by education, 
 instructed by history, who gleaned some new idea 
 from every fresh experience, whose gradual evolu- 
 tion may be followed, his passing sensations observed, 
 a being in whom his fellow-man can recognize a 
 brother, for he shared the emotions common to 
 mankind at large. 
 
 And therefore it is essential to note Napoleon's 
 relations with women. Nature has associated with 
 the special function of the male animal, the propaga- 
 tion of species, a host of sensations which govern and 
 subjugate him, which determine his course, and to 
 which the majority of his actions are subordinated. 
 In the case of man, these sensations are active and 
 even violent ; they inspire a large proportion of his 
 sentiments and ideas, and occasion or determine the 
 liveliest manifestations of his character. Even when
 
 INTRODUCTION 25 
 
 the man in question is Napoleon, and woman plays 
 a comparatively mediocre part in his life, it is 
 essential to see what sort of woman attracted him, 
 what were his relations with her, and what the 
 feelings, physical or moral, she inspired in him ; to 
 inquire which of his actions were attributable to 
 woman's influence, and how far his thoughts and 
 ideas were modified by the beauty and conversation 
 of women in daily intercourse. 
 
 He who embarks on an inquiry of this nature, of 
 course lays himself open to the charge of mere 
 scandal-mongering. The lists I have drawn up, 
 the evidences I have collected, the details I have 
 accumulated will no doubt shock the modesty of 
 Tartuffes, who, fresh from an attempt on Elmire's 
 virtue, exhort Dorine to cover her breast. There 
 are beings so ethereal and spotless that they can 
 brook no allusion to the process without which all 
 animated nature would perish, a process which, if in 
 itself unvarying, and consequently uninteresting, is 
 capable of infinite variety in its preliminaries and 
 its consequences ; which exhibits man in the most 
 diverse aspects ; which explains and annotates his 
 life, revealing its secrets, and strengthening its 
 foundations. Of this process we must needs take 
 cognizance, for without it, preliminaries and conse- 
 quences would be alike unmeaning ; yet, strange to 
 say, it is held to be indecent to allude to it in 
 connection with historical personages, although it 
 is avowedly the text of all conversation, the chief 
 interest of all social gatherings, the attraction of 
 every ball, the nucleus of every play, the theme of 
 every novel, the basis of family life, the tie that 
 binds society together. History, nevertheless, must
 
 26 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 be expurgated, as if its public were recruited solely 
 in young ladies' schools. The writer of history 
 alone is forbidden to show that one of the strongest 
 motives of human action is the desire to find favour 
 with woman. He alone is expected to ignore that 
 love or what passes for such has been the root of 
 most of those events which have shaped the destinies 
 of the human race. This form of hypocrisy I will- 
 ingly leave to others. A candid account of some 
 liaison of Napoleon's throws more light on his 
 character, to my mind, than the history of a campaign 
 or a treaty. What we desire to know is the man 
 himself, his soul, his heart, his mind. And it will 
 hardly be contended that such knowledge is com- 
 plete, if we ignore his attitude towards women, 
 and the part they played in his life. 
 
 The contemporary novelist is permitted, in 
 deference to the exigencies of a thesis which in- 
 variably deals with sexual passion, to analyze every 
 amorous sensation, moral or physical, of his imagin- 
 ary hero ; the public applauds his inventions, women 
 wax hysterical in admiration, drawing-rooms and 
 academies combine in ecstatic eulogy. The psycho- 
 logy of such books is certainly interesting, but it 
 is purely fictitious, built up on hearsay, or based 
 on confidences and episodic observation. Never- 
 theless, it is accepted as a science ; it receives 
 official recognition, and soon, no doubt, it will 
 be taught from professorial chairs in the Sorbonne, 
 just as it is already expounded and demonstrated 
 in society. But dare to inquire how a man, who 
 holds perhaps the supreme place in history, under- 
 stood, judged, and loved women, basing your 
 inquiry on the letters, admissions, and conversations
 
 INTRODUCTION 27 
 
 of the man himself, on a wide variety of evidences, 
 and on every sort of information that affords 
 material for the reconstruction of his career ; ap- 
 proach your subject never so frankly, liberally, and 
 chastely, eschewing all coarseness of expression, 
 all superfluous details and you will be branded 
 as one of those pornographic scribblers whom all 
 serious students despise ! So be it ! 
 
 I honour the incomparable man to whom I would 
 fain see altars raised by his countrymen, after my 
 own fashion. I am convinced that the more deeply 
 one studies his history, the greater is one's admira- 
 tion for him ; that one cannot do his memory a 
 greater service than by making known the facts 
 of his life ; that my present contribution to such 
 knowledge, indispensable to the appreciation of his 
 moral being, will have its value to the sincere and 
 unbiassed section of the public ; and looking for no 
 reward, aspiring to no place, seeking no suffrages, 
 I go my way. 
 
 FREDERIC MASSON. 
 
 Clos des Fees. 
 August 15, 1893.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 " Thursday, November 22, 1787. 
 " Paris, Hotel de Cherbourg, Rue du Four St. Honore. 
 
 " I HAD come out from the Italiens, and was 
 walking rapidly along the alleys of the Palais 
 Royal. That tumult of strong emotions peculiar to 
 my temperament made me indifferent to the cold 
 for a time ; but as my imagination cooled, I became 
 conscious of its severity, and sought the shelter 
 of the arcades. I was at the threshold of the iron 
 gates when my eyes fell upon a woman. The time 
 and place, no less than her general appearance and 
 her extreme youth, left no doubt in my mind as to 
 her calling. She stopped, and I noticed that her 
 bearing was not in the least brazen, but had a 
 certain propriety that harmonized with her person- 
 ality. This (the next word is illegible] impressed 
 me. Encouraged by her timidity, I spoke to her 
 I, whose repugnance to her class is such, that I 
 feel myself contaminated by a glance from one of 
 its members ! But her pale complexion, her frail 
 physique, and her soft voice decided me at once. 
 ' Either,' said I to myself, ' this is a person who
 
 YOUTH 29 
 
 will be useful to me for the observations I wish to 
 make, or a mere simpleton.' 
 
 " ' You are very cold,' I began ; ' how can you 
 venture into these alleys ? ' 
 
 " ' Ah, sir, the cold refreshes me. I must finish 
 my evening.' 
 
 " The indifference of her manner, the business-like 
 nature of her reply interested me, and I turned to 
 walk by her side. 
 
 " ' You look delicate. I am surprised at your 
 taking to such a calling.' 
 
 " ' Ah, well, sir, one must do something! ' 
 
 " ' Certainly. But are there not other pursuits of 
 a healthier kind ? ' 
 
 " ' No, sir ; one must live.' 
 
 " I was delighted. I saw that she was willing at 
 least to answer my questions, a measure of success 
 which had not always crowned similar attempts on 
 my part. 
 
 " ' You must be a native of some northern district, 
 as you bear the cold so well.' 
 
 " ' I come from Nantes, in Brittany.' 
 
 " ' I know it well. . . . Mademoiselle, you must 
 tell me your story. How came you to lose your 
 virtue ? ' 
 
 " ' I was seduced, sir, by an officer.' 
 
 " ' And do you regret your fall ? ' 
 
 "'Oh, yes, indeed.' (Her voice took on a 
 sweetness, an unction I had not before remarked.) 
 ' My sister is comfortably married, and I might 
 have been as she is.' 
 
 " ' How did you get to Paris ? ' 
 
 " ' The officer who ruined me, and whom I hate, 
 deserted me. I fled from my mother's anger. A
 
 30 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 second presented himself, and brought me to Paris. 
 He left me in his turn, and was succeeded by a 
 third, with whom I lived three years. Though a 
 Frenchman, he was called to London on business, 
 and is there now. Let me come home with you.' 
 " ' What shall we do there ? ' 
 
 " ' Oh, we can warm ourselves, and then 
 
 " I had no scruples in the matter. I had led her 
 on in order that she might not be able to escape 
 when pressed by the train of reasoning I had pre- 
 pared while counterfeiting a severity I determined 
 to show her was not natural to me." 
 
 When he wrote the above, Bonaparte was eighteen 
 years and three months old. He was born on 
 August 15, 1769. 
 
 There is every reason to suppose that this was 
 the first woman to whom he had addressed himself ; 
 a hasty glance through the records of his childhood 
 will suffice to show the grounds of this conviction. 
 The more important dates he noted himself, and 
 where it has been possible to verify these, they have 
 proved scrupulously exact. 
 
 He left Ajaccio for France on December 15, 
 1778, at the age of nine years and a half. His 
 feminine reminiscences of his native isle centred 
 round his foster-mother, Camilla Carbone, afterwards 
 the widow Ilari, his elderly nurses, and a little 
 school-fellow, La Giacominetta, of whom he often 
 spoke at St. Helena. In his later life he showered 
 benefits upon his foster-mother, upon her daughter, 
 Madame Tavera, and her grand-daughter, Madame 
 Poli, to whom he had himself given the name of 
 Faustina at her baptism. If he did nothing for
 
 YOUTH 31 
 
 his foster-brother, Ignatio Ilari, it was because the 
 latter espoused the English cause at an early age, 
 and entered the British navy. 
 
 One of his nurses, Minana Saveria, remained in 
 Madame Bonaparte's service till her death ; the 
 other, Mammuccia Caterina, died long before the 
 Empire, as did also the little Giacominetta, whose 
 childish tears Napoleon had so often dried. 
 
 During his sojourn at the College of Autun, from 
 January i to May 12, 1779; at Brienne, from 
 May, 1779 to October 14, 1784; at the military 
 college in Paris, where he spent a year, from 
 October 22, 1784 to October 30, 1785, we find no 
 mention of any woman. If, as Madame d'Abrantes 
 states, he spent a week at M. Pennon's house, No. 
 5, Place Conti, contrary to the regulations of the 
 military school, to recover from a sprain, it was 
 when he had just completed his sixteenth year. 
 
 Any adventure prior to that of November 22, 
 1787, could therefore only have taken place between 
 the dates of his quitting the military school and of 
 his return to Paris. But if Bonaparte started for 
 Valence on October 30, 1785, he left Valence for 
 Corsica during the term, on September 16, 1786, 
 after a sojourn of less than a year. He did not 
 return from Corsica till September 12, 1787, on 
 which occasion he made the journey to Paris. 
 
 His emancipation did not take place in Corsica, 
 nor at Valence, during the ten months of his first 
 sojourn. He was known there as a shy, somewhat 
 melancholy youth, much engrossed in study, but 
 anxious nevertheless to make a good impression, 
 and find a favourable reception in society. Mon- 
 seigneur de Tardivon, Abbe of Saint- Ruff, to whom
 
 32 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 he had been recommended by the Marbeufs, and 
 who, as a mitred dignitary, and general of his order, 
 took the lead in social life at Valence, introduced 
 him to some of the best houses, among others to 
 those of Madame Gregoire du Colombier, Madame 
 Lauberie de Saint - Germain, and Madame de 
 Laurencin. 
 
 These ladies, especially the two latter, were 
 among the best bred people in the province. 
 Members of the lesser nobility, or of the more 
 aristocratic section of the middle class, they were 
 very particular about the conduct of the officers they 
 admitted into their circle, and would not allow any 
 intercourse between their daughters and young men 
 whose morals could be called in question. 
 
 Bonaparte, though he was but seventeen and 
 the lady was older, seems to have had some vague 
 ideas of a marriage with Caroline du Colombier, 
 whose mother allowed her rather more liberty than 
 was usual. But the mutual fancy they may have 
 felt for one another resulted only in a chaste and 
 reserved courtship, of a somewhat infantile character, 
 quite in the spirit of Rousseau the Rousseau of 
 Mademoiselle Galley. Bonaparte may have said 
 to himself, when gathering cherries with Made- 
 moiselle du Colombier " Would that my lips were 
 cherries! How gladly would I offer them to her 
 thus ! " She soon became the wife of Monsieur 
 Garempel de Bressieux, a retired officer, who took 
 her to live at his country - house near Lyons. 
 Nearly twenty years later, towards the end of the 
 year XII., Napoleon, who had never met his 
 cherry-gatherer again, received a letter from her at 
 the camp of Boulogne, recommending her brother
 
 YOUTH 33 
 
 to his notice. He replied by return of post, promis- 
 ing to take the first' opportunity of serving Monsieur 
 <lu Colombier, and assuring Madame Caroline de 
 Bressieux that " his recollections of her and of her 
 mother had always been among his most interesting 
 memories." " I see by your letter," he continues, 
 " that you live near Lyons, and I take it somewhat 
 ill that you did not come to the city during my stay 
 there, for it would have been a great pleasure to me 
 to meet you." 
 
 The hint was not lost on Madame de Bressieux. 
 When the Emperor passed through Lyons on his 
 way to be crowned at Milan (Germinal 22, year 
 XIII.; April 12, 1806), she was one of the first to 
 -n-et him. She was much changed and aged a 
 mere shadow of the fair Caroline of his youth. In 
 spite of which the Emperor granted every request 
 she made : erasures from the lists of dmigrds, a post 
 for her husband, a lieutenancy for her brother. In 
 January, 1806, she wrote to the Emperor for the 
 new year, inquiring after his health. He replied 
 himself at once. In 1808 he appointed her Lady- 
 in-Waiting to his mother, and appointed Monsieur 
 de Bressieux President of the Electoral College of 
 Isere ; in 1810 he made him a Baron of the Empire. 
 
 Such was the grateful remembrance in which he 
 held all who had shown him kindness in his youth, 
 that there was not one among them whose fortune 
 he did not make, and whose name was not often on 
 his lips during his captivity. To women he showed, 
 if possible, a double portion of this gratitude, and 
 even when he had good reason to bear them malice, 
 it was enough that they had once felt kindly to- 
 wards him to make him forget the rest. Thus,
 
 34 NAPOLEON AXD THE FAIR SHX 
 
 Mademoiselle de Lauberie de Saint-Germain, whom 
 he once thought of marrying-, preferred her cousin, 
 M. Bachasson de Montalivet, a native, like herself, 
 of Valence, and a comrade of Napoleon's. Bona- 
 parte showed no resentment, and it is notorious 
 how richly M. de Montalivet benefited by his 
 friendship, receiving successively the posts of Prefet 
 of the Manche and of Seine-et-Oise, Director- 
 General of Roads and Bridges, Minister of the 
 Interior, and Count of the Empire, with a settlement 
 of 80,000 francs. Madame de Montalivet, "whose 
 virtues he had once loved as much as he had 
 admired her beauty," as he himself puts it, he 
 appointed Lady-in- Waiting to the Empress in 1806. 
 She accepted the post on certain conditions. " Your 
 Majesty," she said, "knows my convictions as to 
 woman's mission here below. The much-coveted 
 honour you graciously bestow on me would become 
 a misfortune, to my mind, if it prevented me from 
 nursing my husband when he has the gout, or my 
 children, if Providence should grant me any." The 
 Emperor frowned at first, but presently bowed 
 graciously "Ah, Madame de Montalivet, you make 
 conditions, and I am not used to that. However, I 
 submit. You must be a lady-in-waiting, and matters 
 shall be so arranged that your duties as wife and 
 mother shall not be neglected." Madame de 
 Montalivet was exempted from regular attendance, 
 and Napoleon never failed to treat her with special 
 distinction. He had a great affection for the whole 
 family. " They are scrupulously honest," he used 
 to say, " and sincerely affectionate. I have every 
 confidence in their attachment." 
 
 Such were the cherished memories Napoleon
 
 YOUTH 
 
 35 
 
 carried away from Valence. They are such as any 
 young girl might be proud to inspire. No other 
 intimacies are recorded, even in his most private 
 notes, which show him as an Hippolytus, in love 
 with glory rather than with woman. We may quote 
 the following in proof " If I had to draw a com- 
 parison between our own times and those of Rome 
 and Sparta, I should say that love was the ruling 
 power in the one, and love of country in the other. 
 The effects of these two passions are so diverse, 
 that we may well pronounce them incompatible. 
 It is not to be denied that a people given up to 
 gallantry soon loses even the strength of mind 
 necessary to conceive of the existence of patriotism. 
 To such a condition we seem to have come in our 
 own age." We may conclude that his adventure 
 with the young woman of the Palais Royal was his 
 first experience of the sort. Commonplace as it is, 
 the episode is strongly characteristic. We recognize 
 his misogynistic tendencies, his critical spirit, his 
 brusque affirmations, his habit of cross-examining 
 his interlocutor, and also his extraordinary memory, 
 for he reproduces the girl's words, phrases, and 
 exclamations, even the familiar expletives that pro- 
 claim her Breton origin. 
 
 Did he ever see her again ? Probably not. 
 Among the papers written by him during this 
 sojourn in Paris is one on patriotism, addressed 
 to a young lady. But this was hardly a subject 
 of much interest to a frequenter of the Palais Royal 
 arcades. 
 
 After this sojourn in Paris from October to 
 December, 1787, we find that Bonaparte returned 
 once more to Corsica, where he arrived on January i r
 
 3 6 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 1788. He spent his furlough there, rejoining his 
 regiment at Auxonne on June i. We find no 
 trace of any love-affair at this period. At Seurre, 
 however, where he was sent on detachment duty 
 at the beginning of 1789, he is supposed to have 
 
 made conquests of a certain Madame L z, 
 
 ne N s, wife of the collector of the salt 
 
 dues ; of Madame G 1, a farmer's wife, 
 
 whose dairy he visited to drink new milk ; and 
 of " the daughter of the house in which he 
 lodged." It is a good record for a term of some 
 twenty-five days, during which his note-books 
 further prove him to have been working strenu- 
 ously ! But it is nevertheless true that fourteen 
 years later, on Germinal 16, year XIII. (April 
 6, 1805), when Napoleon passed through Seurre 
 on his way to Milan, M. de Thiard, his chamber- 
 lain, presented the " young woman " to him, and 
 that he gave her a scholarship at one of the 
 government schools for her son, a child of twelve 
 years old. The age of the boy precludes the 
 idea that Napoleon may have thought it his 
 own. If he had felt any doubts on this score, 
 his bounty would have been not only greater, but 
 unsolicited. 
 
 We hear of nothing during his sojourn at 
 Auxonne throughout the year 1 790 ; nothing either 
 during his stay at Valence, in Corsica, or in Paris, 
 in the middle of the year 1792, nor during the 
 first southern campaign against the Federals, nor 
 at Toulon. 
 
 We must pass over a space of some four years. 
 The lieutenant has become a general ; Bonaparte 
 commands the artillery in the army of Italy.
 
 YOUTH 37 
 
 Attached to this army, as emissary from the Con- 
 vention, was the citizen Louis Turreau, called 
 Turreau de Lignieres, one of its most influential 
 members. Accompanied by the young wife he 
 had lately married, the daughter of a surgeon of 
 Versailles, he arrived at Cairo in Piedmont, where 
 Napoleon was quartered, at the close of the year II., 
 probably on the fifth Sans-culottide, September 21, 
 1 794. Bonaparte found great favour with the 
 deputy, and still more with the deputy's wife. 
 Their connection can hardly be termed a liaison, 
 for Madame Turreau was the most fickle of her 
 sex, but it was more than a mere passing caprice. 
 So much were both husband and wife impressed 
 by the young general's talents, that Turreau, con- 
 jointly with Barras, moved that the command of the 
 troops should be given to Bonaparte, on the I3th of 
 Vendemiaire, that day of peril for the Convention, 
 and associated himself with the Corsican deputies 
 as surety for his nominee. 
 
 Bonaparte remembered this service. On his 
 appointment as Commander-in-Chief of the army 
 of Italy, he took Turreau, who had not been 
 re-elected, as store-keeper. Turreau was again 
 accompanied .by his wife, who, failing generals 
 on this occasion, was content with smaller game. 
 Hence many storms in the Turreau household, 
 and the husband is even said to have died of grief 
 at his wife's conduct. Madame Turreau returned 
 to Versailles, and lived there for a time in great 
 poverty during the Empire, after various fruitless 
 attempts to find a protector. One day at a hunting- 
 party, Napoleon mentioned her to Berthier, who 
 had known her from her childhood, being like
 
 38 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 herself a native of Versailles. He had hitherto put 
 her off when she appealed to him, but now took 
 the opportunity of presenting her to the Emperor. 
 " Napoleon at once granted all her requests, and 
 even went far beyond her expectations." 
 
 The love-passages of Napoleon's youth seem 
 so far to have consisted of unimportant flirtations, 
 or commonplace intrigues. 1 
 
 With the exception of Madame Turreau, who 
 threw herself at his head, and may be accounted a 
 conquest, women seem to have taken little notice 
 of the young officer, thin, pale, badly dressed, and 
 careless of appearances. He, on his part, seems 
 to have been too much occupied with dreams of 
 glory to bestow much thought on them. Another 
 excellent reason for his chastity existed. He was 
 poor, and like other poor men, he began to think 
 of securing a woman for himself by marriage. 
 
 1 It is impossible to give the slightest credence to the fables 
 in a pamphlet called Forty Unpublished Letters of Napoleon, col- 
 lected by L F . Paris, 1825. 8vo.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MATRIMONIAL PROJECTS. 
 
 WHEN visiting his sister-in-law, Madame Joseph 
 Bonaparte, at Marseilles, Bonaparte amused himself 
 by playing the lover to Madame's sister, Desiree- 
 Eugenie Clary, a pretty girl of sixteen, whom he 
 was fond of calling his " little wife." Desiree took 
 
 * <j 
 
 the matter seriously ; her childish ways were soon 
 laid aside, and as by magic, a passionate attachment 
 was developed. " Oh ! my beloved ! " she writes 
 to Napoleon, " take care of yourself, if only to 
 preserve your Eugenie, who could not live without 
 you. Be faithful to the vows you made me, as 
 I will be to mine." 
 
 There is a genuine and spontaneous tenderness 
 in these letters of Eugenie's. After the fashion 
 of the day, the young girl, who was known by 
 the name of Desiree, re-christened herself for her 
 lover's benefit, desirous that the name by which 
 he called her should be sacred to him alone. Rough 
 copies of the letters were discovered sixty-five 
 years later among the papers of her who had written 
 them, and preserved them as relics. They are 
 conceived in the very spirit of that age, an age
 
 40 NAPOLEON AND THE EAIR SEX 
 
 of reaction towards love and life, after a period 
 when death had long been the only spectacle, 
 the only pre-occupation. Women, more especially, 
 were turning to love as to a new religion the only 
 creed that had survived the wreck of civilization. 
 
 The acquaintance dated from January of the year 
 1 795. The betrothal, if any formal engagement were 
 entered into, must have taken place on April 2 1 , the 
 day that Napoleon passed through Marseilles on his 
 way to Paris. 
 
 Joseph and his wife, Julie Clary, favoured the 
 match. They, in fact, had planned it together, and 
 no opposition was to be feared from the Clary 
 family. The father, to whom has been attributed 
 the remark that " one Bonaparte was enough in a 
 family," died on January 20, 1794 (Pluviose i. 
 year II.). Desiree, who was not thirteen or four- 
 teen at the time, as she afterwards wrote, declared, 
 and caused to be officially printed, but sixteen or 
 seventeen, the date of her birth being November 
 9, 1777, had only her mother and sister to consult, 
 or rather, seeing the strength of character she ex- 
 hibited, it would perhaps be nearer the mark to 
 say that she had only herself to please. 
 
 No objection could be made on the score of age. 
 In those days it was usual for girls to marry before 
 eighteen, and the author of the first Civil Code 
 
 *^ 
 
 had just fixed the legal age at thirteen for the 
 woman. As to fortune, if Julie had been content 
 with the elder brother, who had no sort of position, 
 Desiree might well take the younger, who was at 
 least general of his brigade. 
 
 Bonaparte, who arrived in Paris in May, in a very 
 poverty-stricken plight, placed all his hopes on this
 
 MATRIMONIAL PROJECTS 41 
 
 marriage. If it should fall through, there seemed 
 to be nothing left for him but to go and take service 
 in Turkey, or to become, like so many others, a 
 speculator in the national property. Even when his 
 fortunes mended somewhat, and he was employed by 
 the Commission of Public Safety in drawing up 
 plans of campaign, he felt that the occupation 
 chance had procured for him was extremely pre- 
 carious. From these difficulties Desiree alone 
 could deliver him, and he pressed his brother to get 
 him an answer. In every letter he wrote to Joseph 
 there were messages for her. She, for her part, 
 was also corresponding with him. She asked for 
 his portrait. He had it taken, and sent it to her. 
 When she travelled to Genoa with her sister and 
 brother-in-law, and ceased to write, he reproached 
 her for her silence, and remarked that " the river 
 Lethe had apparently to be crossed by those who 
 entered Genoa." At last he abruptly demanded a 
 definite answer. Joseph was commissioned to speak 
 to Eugenie's brother. " Let me know the result, 
 and end the matter." 
 
 The next day, before Joseph could receive his 
 letter, he wrote again " The affair must be settled 
 one way or the other," he declares : "I await your 
 reply impatiently." A month passed, bringing 
 nothing but occasional messages of remembrance. 
 Between him and the little fourteen-year-old 
 maiden of Marseilles, not strictly beautiful perhaps, 
 but full of charm, with her pencilled eyebrows, her 
 soft eyes, her tip-tilted nose, her delicately curling 
 lips, her chaste, reserved, yet tender air, Paris had 
 interposed that great unknown city which Bona- 
 parte had entered with patched boots, a shabby
 
 42 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 uniform, and two famished aides-de-camp. And 
 Paris had shown him her women, creatures matchless 
 in grace, in elegance, in trickery, whose painted 
 cheeks lend a strange brilliance to their eyes, whose 
 cunning toilettes accentuate all the charms of their 
 persons, and disguise, or rather beautify, all their 
 doubtful points ; beings of gaiety and pleasure, modi- 
 fied and refined by society, like hot-house fruits in 
 their opulent maturity, decked by the merchant for 
 the market with false colours and a suspicious bloom, 
 that; have never felt the touch of sun or wind- 
 fruits very different to the somewhat green produce 
 of the ungrafted tree, which, ripening under the 
 flame of the one and the keen blast of the other, is 
 apt, in spite of its fresh and tonic properties, to leave 
 a slightly crude and pungent flavour on the palate. 
 
 " Here alone," wrote Bonaparte, " among all the 
 places upon earth, woman might justly aspire to 
 dominion. A woman needs six months of Paris to 
 learn what is due to her, and what her empire may 
 really be." And a few days later he writes 
 " Women, more beautiful here than anywhere in 
 the world, are the all-absorbing business of life in 
 Paris." 
 
 Yes, they were indeed the fairest of their century, 
 those women of thirty, of thirty-five, and even of 
 forty years old, adepts in the art, if not of loving, 
 of making themselves beloved. Bonaparte, having 
 nothing but his hand to offer, promptly offered that 
 to Madame de Permon, and to Madame de la Bou- 
 chardie, afterwards Madame de Lesparda, before that 
 eventful Vendemiaire came round, when Madame 
 de Beauharnais was finally induced to take him at 
 his word.
 
 MATRIMONIAL PROJECTS 43 
 
 Hence silence, complete and unbroken on his side, 
 towards Desiree, and on hers a lament, soft and 
 tender as the vibration of broken heart-strings 
 " You have made my life a misery, and I am yet 
 weak enough to forgive you. So you are married ! 
 Your poor Eugenie must no longer love you, 
 or think of you. . . . My sole consolation now 
 is to know that you believe me faithful to your 
 memory. Beyond this I have nothing to desire but 
 death ! 
 
 " Life has become a torture to me, now that I 
 may no longer hope to dedicate it to you. You 
 married ! I cannot face the thought ! I cannot 
 survive it ! You shall see that I will be truer to our 
 vows, and though you have broken the bonds that 
 united us, never will I plight my troth to another, 
 ^never will I marry. ... I wish you all happiness 
 and prosperity in your marriage. I pray that the 
 wife you have chosen may make you as happy as I 
 had hoped to make you, and as you deserve to be. 
 Hut, in the midst of your happiness, pity the fate of 
 Eugenie, and do not quite forget her." 
 
 Bonaparte, -whose nature was incapable of forget- 
 fulness, looked back with a regret not untinged with 
 remorse upon the episode. The youthful love, of 
 which he had no doubt inspired a larger share than 
 he had felt, had been at first a childish pastime, on 
 which he had gradually built up a scheme of ambition. 
 But it had broken the heart of the young girl. He 
 seems all his life to have sought to atone for and 
 repair the disaster. When at Milan in 1797, he 
 devised a marriage for Desiree, who at the time 
 was at Rome with her sister, and her brother-in-law, 
 Joseph, who held the appointment of ambassador at
 
 44 NAL'OLEOX AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 the Papal Court. He despatched General Duphot, 
 with a warm letter of recommendation " a dis- 
 tinguished officer, a man of the highest character. 
 A marriage with him would be most advantageous." 
 Duphot arrived, and was well received ; the betrothal 
 was about to take place. Then came the terrible 
 scene of December 28, Desiree's bridal robe was 
 stained with her lover's blood. 
 
 At last, after rejecting various proposed suitors, 
 Desiree agreed to marry General Bernadotte. This 
 was during Bonaparte's Egyptian campaign. The 
 suitor was undeniably a good match, though one of 
 the most insufferable of Jacobinical prigs, a Bearnais 
 without the quick wit and lively manners of the 
 Gascon, but with a calculating astuteness that stood 
 its owner in good stead in the double game he was 
 constantly playing. Madame de StaeTs congenial 
 pedantry was his ideal of feminine perfection, and 
 he spent his honeymoon in giving dictation-lessons 
 to his young wife. The news of the marriage 
 reached Bonaparte at Cairo. It was not altogether 
 to his taste, for Bernadotte was his enemy, but he 
 cordially wished Desiree happiness " the happiness 
 she deserves." 
 
 One of his first suppliants after his return from 
 Egypt was Desiree. She begged him to be god- 
 father to her infant son. A son ! the gift so coveted 
 by Bonaparte already, so doubly to be coveted in 
 the future ! Desiree, not averse to this form of 
 revenge upon her hated rival, the ''old woman " as 
 she called Josephine, paraded her maternity to the 
 utmost ; and Napoleon, hiding his chagrin under a 
 gracious bearing, accepted the sponsorship, and 
 chose the name of Oscar, from the lavs of his
 
 MATRIMONIAL PROJECTS 45 
 
 favourite Ossian. A trifling gift this ! But he held 
 richer ones in reserve for his godson. 
 
 " Bernadotte may thank his marriage for his 
 marshal's baton, his principality of Pontecorvo, and 
 his crown," said Napoleon. "His treacheries under 
 the Empire were overlooked on the same grounds." 
 
 The record of these treacheries is no trifling one ! 
 Bernadotte proclaimed his opposition at the outset, 
 on Brumaire 18. Notwithstanding which, he was 
 summoned to take part in the Council of State of 
 the following day, and appointed to the command 
 of the Army of the West. Holding this post, he 
 not only opposed, but conspired against the First 
 Consul, and even attempted to raise an insurrection 
 against him. The details have become history. 
 For this offence he received no punishment what- 
 ^ever. Bonaparte contented himself with endeavour- 
 ing to get rid of him by appointing him ambassador 
 to the United States. Bernadotte characteristic- 
 ally agreed to go, but by a series of adroit manoeuvres 
 contrived to postpone indefinitely the equipment of 
 the frigates that were to convey him. 
 
 A year later he was implicated in Moreau's con- 
 spiracy, and escaped because Bonaparte spared him 
 once more, for Eugenie's sake. He did a good deal 
 more than spare him, in fact. For having bought 
 all Moreau's possessions, his estate at Grosbois, and 
 his house in the Rue d'Anjou, he presented the 
 latter, for which he had paid 400,00x3 francs, to 
 Bernadotte: 
 
 Then came the days of the Empire, when 
 Eugenie's husband was made a Marshal of the 
 P'mpire, Commander of the eighth cohort of the 
 Legion of Honour, President of the Electoral
 
 46 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 College of Vaucluse, and Knight of the Black Eagle. 
 On Eugenie herself he bestowed a revenue of 
 300,000 francs, a sum of 200,000 francs in ready 
 money, and the sovereignty of the principality of 
 Pontecorvo. For her sake he forgave Auerstadt, 
 Wagram, and Walcheren, and overlooked two mili- 
 tary blunders, undoubtedly deserving" of a harsher 
 name, following on an intrigue with the royalists, in 
 which Bernadotte, Fouche, and Talleyrand essayed 
 the methods that resulted finally in the return of 
 Louis the Desired in 1814. 
 
 Meantime he was unwearying in attentions and 
 kindnesses to Desiree, which might seem excessive, 
 but for his evident anxiety to make reparation. 
 When Bernadotte was wounded at Spanden, Napo- 
 leon wrote to him two days afterwards, rejoicing 
 that " Madame Bernadotte was able to be with 
 him," and adding " Give Madame la Marechale 
 a thousand kind messages from me, together with 
 one little reproach. She might have written me 
 a few lines, telling me the Paris news, but I will 
 defer my quarrel with her on this score until we 
 meet." 
 
 There was no end to the marks of favour by 
 which he distinguished her. One of the three 
 magnificent fur pelisses presented to him by the 
 Emperor of Russia after Erfurth was put aside for 
 Desiree. Costly gifts Sevres vases, Gobelin tapes- 
 tries were sent to her on all occasions, though she 
 seldom appeared at Court, and made no secret of 
 her hatred for Josephine and the Beauharnais. Was 
 it not of Desiree Napoleon was thinking, when- 
 after Walcheren ! he proposed the appointment of 
 Bernadotte as Governor-General of Rome and
 
 MATRIMONIAL PROJECTS 47 
 
 consequently as grand dignitary of the Empire ta 
 hold a vice-regal court at the Ouirinal, with a civil 
 list of three millions, a position equal in splendour 
 to that of Borghese at Turin, and Elisa at Florence, 
 and little inferior to that of Eugene at Milan? 
 
 When Bernadotte was elected hereditary Prince 
 of Sweden, after the rejection of the title by Eugene, 
 who declined to apostatize, the result was largely 
 due to the benevolent neutrality of Napoleon. The 
 Emperor's policy on this occasion has seemed to 
 some obscure and unintelligible. They failed to- 
 read his heart. " He was dazzled by the prospect 
 of seeing a woman in whom he took an interest a 
 queen, and his godson a royal prince." He himself 
 arranged all the details of Desiree's presentation at 
 Court, when she came to take leave as Princess of 
 JSweden. He invited her to the family dinner on 
 Sunday, an unprecedented honour. To Bernadotte 
 he made a grant of a million francs from the public 
 service fund ; he further compounded handsomely 
 with him for the various benefactions he had himself 
 made him, notably the principality of Pontecorvo, 
 and crowned his bounty with a pension and a title 
 to Bernadotte's brother. 
 
 He had indeed proved his right to say in a 
 subsequent letter to Eugenie " I am sure you have 
 long been convinced of my strong attachment to 
 your family." 
 
 Four months later, Bernadotte leagued himself 
 with Russia against Napoleon, and in less than a 
 year a rupture between France and Sweden was 
 imminent. Desiree had only consented under strong 
 pressure to a short sojourn at Stockholm. " I 
 thought." she said, "that Sweden, like Pontecorvo r
 
 48 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 was merely a place from which we were to take our 
 title." At the first signs of the approaching- storm, 
 she hastened back to her house in the Rue d'Anjou. 
 
 Napoleon very cautiously approached the Minister 
 for Foreign Affairs at this juncture, desiring him to 
 hint to the Swedish Minister his great regret that 
 the Princess of Sweden should have returned tt> 
 Paris without permission, and the desirability of 
 showing her that her conduct was contrary to 
 etiquette, and her absence from her husband at such 
 a crisis most unseemly. Desiree chose to ignore 
 the message, and made all preparations for remaining. 
 In November, on the eve of the declaration of 
 war, the Emperor wrote again. He sent word by 
 Cambaceres to the Queen of Spain (Desiree's 
 sister), that he wished the Princess to leave at once 
 and return to Sweden ; that her presence in Paris 
 at such a time was scandalous. 
 
 Desiree, however, had made up her mind to stay. 
 She went on ordering dresses from Leroy, receiving 
 her friends, and giving entertainments. She went 
 to drink the waters with her sister, came back to 
 Auteuil, and finally returned to Paris as if nothing- 
 had happened. She even thought it very extra- 
 ordinary that her French friends should blame 
 the former Marshal of the Empire, who had now 
 become Generalissimo of the combined forces of 
 Northern Germany. If we are to accept the 
 testimony of several well-informed persons, w r e must 
 believe that while conveying Napoleon's final 
 adjurations to Bernadotte, she also acted on various 
 occasions as intermediary between her husband, 
 Fouche, and Talleyrand. 
 
 If it could be clearly proved that Desiree took
 
 MATRIMONIAL PROJECTS 49 
 
 advantage of the Emperor's weakness for her to be 
 the willing tool of conspirators who knew each other 
 of old, what should we be forced to think of her? 
 Let us give her the benefit of the doubt, and believe 
 that her motives in remaining were her passion for 
 Paris, and her reluctance to give up her sister, her 
 nieces, her favourite society and habits. 
 
 She was still in Paris in 1814, and took part 
 in the reception of the Russian Emperor. She 
 was there, too, in 1815, during the Hundred Days, 
 and on June 17, the eve of Waterloo, she ordered 
 from Leroy a nankeen riding-habit, and a cambric 
 dressing-gown trimmed with Valenciennes. 
 
 It was Eugenie now who was forgetful ! l 
 
 1 A communication from M. Felix Verany, author of the inter- 
 esting pamphlet, The Clary Family and Oscar II., Marseilles, 
 1,893, enabled me to rectify the date of De'siree's birth, and gave 
 me various other items of information.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 JOSEPHINE DE BEAUHARNAIS. 
 
 TOWARDS the close of Yendemiaire. year IV. 
 (October, 1795), chance brought about a meeting 
 between the Vicomtesse de Beauharnais and General 
 Bonaparte. The latter had suddenly become 
 famous ; the name, which was almost unknown but 
 a day before, the name with which Barras was so 
 unfamiliar that he wrote it Buona-Parte, had echoed 
 through France with the thunder-peals of the 
 cannon that scattered the rebel sections of the 
 Convention. 
 
 Appointed second in command of the Army of the 
 Interior, and afterwards General-in-Chief, one of 
 Bonaparte's first measures was the disarmament 
 of the Parisians. A youth presented himself at 
 head-quarters, and begged for permission to keep 
 his father's sword. Bonaparte saw the lad himself, 
 took a fancy to him, and granted his request. 
 Whereupon he received a visit of thanks from the 
 boy's mother, a lady, a great lady, a ci-dcvant 
 vicomtesse, the widow of a President of the Con- 
 stituent Assembly, a courtier, a general in command 
 of the army of the Rhine. All of which, the title
 
 JOSEPHINE I)E BEAUHARNAIS 51 
 
 and rank, the refinement, the easy and aristocratic 
 grace of his visitor, made a great impression upon 
 Bonaparte. For the first time, the provincial of 
 twenty-six, hitherto unnoticed by any Woman of this 
 class, found himself face to face with one of those ele- 
 gant, seductive, delicate beings whom he had hitherto 
 admired from afar. And the part of protector he was 
 called upon to play for the first time flattered his 
 prick-, and was eminently to his taste. 
 
 Josephine, who was in extremities, at once saw 
 with what manner of man she had to deal. A 
 Creole from Martinique, married at the age of 
 sixteen to the Vicomte de Beauharnais by an adroit 
 aunt, who lived openly with the Vicomte's father, 
 the Marquis cle Beauharnais, Josephine Tascher de 
 la Pagerie had led a stormy life since her arrival in 
 J } ;iris in 1779. Her husband, after deceiving and de- 
 serting her, had separated from her through no fault 
 of hers. She had no social amusements to console 
 her, for her aunt's equivocal position had barred the 
 entrance both to the Court and to society. After 
 her separation from her husband she had more 
 liberty and took advantage of it, said scandal. 
 She travelled, and spent a considerable time in 
 Martinique. After the Revolution, she was recon- 
 ciled to her husband, who became successively 
 
 4 
 
 deputy in the States-General, President of the 
 Constituent Assembly, and Commander-in-Chief of 
 the army of the Rhine. For a brief space she lived 
 happily, and had a salon, finding herself for the 
 first time in "the world," and profiting by the 
 experience. Then came the Terror. Beauharnais 
 was imprisoned, guillotined ; she herself, also a 
 prisoner, escaping death by a miracle.
 
 52 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 When she was released from the Prison des 
 Carmes on Thermidor 9, she was past thirty ; 
 she had two children, and was completely ruined. 
 By the help* of certain feminine friends she had 
 made, chiefly in prison, for few others were left 
 (her, she again entered society. Borrowing right 
 and left, running into debt, and eking out these 
 resources by occasional supplies from the West 
 Indies, she managed to keep up appearances. She 
 left her lodging in the Rue de 1'Universite, and 
 took a small house, No. 6 in the Rue Chantereine, 
 which she rented from Louise- Julie Carreau', 
 Madame Talma, for 4000 livres, or 10,000 livres 
 in assignats. There she installed herself on Ven- 
 clemiaire 10, year ILL (October 17, 1794). 
 
 A year passed. Debts accumulated, but nothing 
 came in to meet them. No doubt her sunshiny 
 Creole disposition enabled her to drift along, shutting 
 her eyes to the critical facts of her position, or hoping 
 to be presently delivered from them by a miracle- 
 some such miracle, perhaps, as her aunt had encoun- 
 tered in the person of M. de Beauharnais ! At the 
 places of amusement she frequented, and in the so- 
 called "society" of the day a society that came 
 together in public gardens, where good company 
 was to be had for a few pence ! Josephine had 
 made a few acquaintances, who exerted themselves 
 on her behalf, and effected the restitution of some 
 few acres that had belonged to her husband. But 
 she had realized, and was gradually consuming these. 
 Other resources she had none ; the nominal dowry 
 of 100,000 francs she had received at her marriage 
 was to have produced an income at five per cent, 
 interest on the capital. But her father had died, her
 
 JOSEPHINE I)E BEAUHARXAIS 53 
 
 mother was left in poverty, and the West Indian 
 colonies were blockaded by the English. She 
 had further been portioned by her aunt, Madame 
 Renaudin, with the reversion of certain properties, 
 which had since been sold, and with claims on certain 
 creditors, which had lapsed. This, however, was of 
 little moment, for the lady could not live on a rever- 
 sion. Madame Renaudin gave her some little help, 
 which she supplemented by loans from complaisant 
 bankers, who accepted drafts on Martinique, and 
 who even advised her to go to Hamburg, where she 
 would be able to receive remittances more easily. 
 Hut her credit was waning, her years increasing. 
 What card had she yet to play ? 
 
 At this critical juncture General Bonaparte "rang 
 at the outer gate to return the Vicomtesse de 
 .Beauharnais' call. He did not know that the house 
 belonged to the Citoyenne Talma, and was, in fact, 
 a present from a rich protector of the days when 
 she was known as Mademoiselle Julie. Nor did 
 he note that the house and its surrounding 1200 
 metres of land, in this outlying quarter of the city, 
 close to the Rue St. Lazare, was worth barely 50,000 
 francs, the sum it fetched in 1781, and was again to 
 fetch in 1796. 
 
 The gate having been opened by the concierge 
 for a concierge there was the General traversed a 
 1< nig passage, on one side of which he saw the stables, 
 with two black horses of about seven years old, and 
 a red cow. The coach-house on the other side 
 discreetly concealed its shabby carriage. 
 
 The passage gave admittance to a garden, in the 
 centre of which stood the dwelling-house. On the 
 ground-floor were four lofty windows, surmounted by
 
 54 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 a low- attic storey. The kitchens were underground. 
 Bonaparte passed up four stone steps to a terraced 
 platform enclosed by plain balusters, and entered 
 an ante-room, the scanty furniture of which con- 
 sisted of a copper urn, an oaken chest, and a deal 
 cupboard. 
 
 The man-servant Gonthier conducted him into a 
 small dining-room, and left him to seat himself on one 
 of the four horsehair chairs near the round mahogany 
 table, or to examine the half-dozen prints in black 
 and gold frames on the walls. There was little of 
 luxury in his surroundings ; but remnants of former 
 elegance were scattered here and there, in the shape 
 of tables and dumb-waiters of mahogany, and the 
 yellow wood of Guadeloupe, with marble tops, and 
 gilded copper mouldings, while in two large cup- 
 boards with glass doors, a tea-urn, some vases, and 
 a series of table accessories in Britannia metal did 
 their best to supply the place of silver. Of this 
 latter commodity the house could boast no more 
 than fourteen spoons, fifteen forks, a soup-ladle, 
 six soup-spoons, and eleven coffee-spoons. 
 
 But of all this Bonaparte knew nothing. 
 
 Josephine, fresh from the hands of her maid, 
 the citoyenne Louise Compoint, emerges from her 
 dressing-room, and hastens into the dining-room to 
 receive this visitor, the harbinger of better fortunes. 
 She cannot well receive him elsewhere ; for on the 
 ground-floor she has only, besides the dining-room, 
 a little semi-circular chamber, of which she has made 
 a dressing-room, and her bedroom. The latter is 
 pleasant, but simple enough. The furniture is 
 upholstered in blue nankeen, with a pine pattern of 
 blue and red ; the little bed is of plain wood ; a few
 
 JOSKl'HINK 1)E BHAUHAKNAIS 55 
 
 more elegant pieces of furniture, made of mahogany, 
 or of the yellow wood of Guadeloupe, complete the 
 plenishing, together with a harp by Renaud, and a 
 little bust of Socrates in white marble, the only 
 ornament of the room. In the dressing-room, the 
 most important feature, after a piano by Bernard, 
 were the mirrors. One stood on a large dressing- 
 table, another on a mahogany chest of drawers, a 
 third on a side-table, while a fourth, an ornamental 
 glass with two panels, crowned the mantel-shelf. 
 
 Such were the household goods of this lady of 
 fashion ! Her table was served with earthenware, 
 except on great occasions, for which she reserved 
 a dozen blue and white china plates. The table- 
 linen consisted of eight table-cloths, so much the 
 worse for wear that they, together with the table- 
 jiapkins, were valued at four livres in Josephine's 
 inventory. But Bonaparte knows nothing of this. 
 How should he know that the charming woman 
 before him, whose infinite grace dazzles him, whose 
 tasteful costume is a positive feast to the eye, pos- 
 sesses in all but four dozen chemises, a good deal 
 worn, two dozen handkerchiefs, six petticoats, six 
 night-jackets, six pockets, eighteen lawn necker- 
 chiefs, and a dozen pairs of silk stockings of different 
 colours? As a set-off, however, to this meagre 
 linen-chest, she owns six muslin scarves, two taffetas 
 gowns of brown and violet respectively, three muslin 
 dresses embroidered in colours, three plain muslin 
 dresses, two of Indian muslin, three of cambric, one 
 summer taffetas gown, three of woollen material, 
 and one of white embroidered lawn. The scanty 
 under-linen and the comparative wealth of outer 
 garments is characteristic of Josephine ! Her six
 
 56 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 petticoats as against her sixteen frocks reveal the 
 woman ! 
 
 But all this matters little ! Bonaparte sees only 
 the dress, or rather he sees only the wearer. Her 
 chestnut hair, fine and silky rather than abundant, 
 was less remarkable for quantity than quality in 
 those days of blonde wigs and powder. Her skin, 
 somewhat brown in colour, and no longer youthfully 
 smooth on the face, owed not a little of its bloom to 
 rouge and white paint. Her teeth were bad, and 
 she never displayed them, the dainty mouth wearing 
 invariably a faint, sweet smile, in charming harmony 
 with the infinite sweetness of the deeply-fringed 
 eyes, the tender expression of the features, and the 
 exquisite modulations of a voice which in later years, 
 it is said, would cause the very servants passing 
 along the corridors to pause and listen. A delicate 
 nose, small, mobile, slightly retrousst, the nostrils 
 quivering at the least emotion, was not the least 
 provocative feature of the attractive face. 
 
 The face, however, was insignificant as compared 
 with the beautifully moulded figure, and long, lithe 
 limbs, terminating in a pair of dainty feet, arched 
 and slender, the feet of a queen, made for homage 
 and kisses ! We can divine their form and texture, 
 see them, feel them almost, as we look at the shoes 
 that once encased them. Of stays, or any artificial 
 support, her figure was innocent ; the slender and 
 even meagre development of the bust enabling her 
 to dispense with such contrivances. Hers was an 
 individual charm that triumphed over minor defects, 
 an elegance of which she alone possessed the secret ; 
 it was said of her that " she even went to bed 
 gracefully." Her grace was due to the perfect pro-
 
 JOSEPHINE DE BEAUHARNAIS 57 
 
 portion of the supple limbs to the lissom figure, a 
 proportion which resulted in an easy elegance of 
 movement that made her seem tall, though she was 
 really of mediocre height. Add to all this, a pro- 
 found knowledge of effect in pose and gesture, a 
 coquetry that displayed itself in infinite refinement, 
 neglecting no opportunity, and leaving nothing to 
 chance, and that indefinable languor that makes the 
 Creole the most essentially feminine of women, that 
 sensuous element, vague yet intoxicating, that seems 
 to pervade the facile abandon of her personality. Was- 
 not the vision one that might have charmed the most 
 experienced ? How much more then such a novice 
 as Bonaparte ? Captivated by the woman, he was 
 dazzled by the lady, awed by her air of dignity and 
 breeding : " the calm and noble bearing of the old 
 ^French aristocracy," as he himself expresses it. 
 
 She, for her part, saw that he was won. He 
 returned the next day, and the next. Soon no day 
 passed without a visit from him, and when he found 
 Madame de Beauharnais surrounded by personages 
 of the late court, men whose birth seemed to him of 
 the highest compared with his own "petty gentility," 
 as he called it when he saw her treated as a friend, 
 an equal, in fact somewhat as a comrade, by a 
 Segur, a Montesquiou, a Caulaihcourt, he did not 
 detect the shade of familiarity in their bearing, 
 nor does he seem to have been struck by the fact 
 that these men, whose prestige was so great in his 
 eyes, paid their visits alone, and that their wives 
 were never seen in Madame de Beauharnais' salon. 
 Fresh from the Jacobinical society in which he 
 had lived at Vaucluse, at Toulon, at Nice, and in 
 Paris, and to which he owed his promotion, he
 
 5 8 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 felt an infinite satisfaction at finding himself in 
 such company. He took appearances for realities, 
 and, dazzled by his senses, continued .to accept 
 them as such. For all here was equally unreal 
 the lady's wealth, birth, position, and apparent 
 social standing. 
 
 A fortnight after the first meeting Bonaparte 
 was her lover. The letters exchanged at this elate 
 seem to imply that as yet there was only friendship 
 between them. But, says a contemporary, delicate 
 transitions were unusual in those tumultuous times, 
 and progress was rapid. 
 
 " They loved each other passionately." It was 
 natural enough in his case, and it seems not un- 
 likely that Josephine herself was sincere at this 
 stage. Bonaparte was a new experience for her, 
 a savage to tame, the lion of the day to lead about 
 captive. The dawn of passion in the young man, 
 his southern ardour, and youthful fire, his rapturous 
 worship of her personality, were homage that 
 could not fail to touch a woman of her age, a 
 delicious evidence that she was still beautiful, that 
 she would never lose her charm. But it was as a 
 lover he commended himself to her, not as a husband. 
 And now, he offers her his hand, he presses her to 
 become his wife ! After all, she has little to lose 
 by such a transaction. She is desperate, and this 
 may be a winning hazard. He is young, ambitious ; 
 he commands the Army of the Interior. The 
 Directory remembers that he furnished the plans 
 for the last campaign in Italy ; Carnot is prepared 
 to give him the command in the next. This way, 
 perhaps, salvation lies. And at the worst she enters 
 into a contract from which she can easily seek
 
 JOSEPHINE DE BEAUHARXAIS 59 
 
 release in a divorce, if need be, for there is no 
 question of priests, or a religious ceremony. 
 
 What is there then to fear ? The bargain will hold 
 good as long as the contracting parties are pleased to 
 observe it, but it is one which will not be considered 
 binding, either by the woman's conscience, or by the 
 opinion of her former world, if that should trouble 
 itself at all in the matter. And a great stake 
 worth winning may be the portion of the skilful 
 player in such a game, for the young man may rise 
 to 'treat heights. If he should be killed, there is 
 
 O O 
 
 always the pension. 
 
 She takes certain precautions, nevertheless. First 
 < >f all, she busies herself with the falsification of her 
 
 age, lor she cannot own to thirty-two, either to 
 a lover of twenty-six, or any one else. Calmelet, 
 
 Jier business adviser, the guardian of her children, 
 goes to a notary, in company with a certain Lesourcl. 
 " They declare themselves perfectly acquainted with 
 Marie- Josephe Tascher, widow of the Citizen Beau- 
 harnais, and certify that she was born at Martinique, 
 in the Windward Islands, and that it is at present 
 impossible for her to procure a certificate of her 
 birth, owing to the occupation of the island by 
 the English." This was all ; there was no further 
 declaration, and no dates were given. Armed with 
 this document, Josephine informed the registrar of 
 the civil marriage that she was born on June 23, 
 1767, whereas she was as a fact born on June 23, 
 1 763. But she was not pressed very closely on this 
 point. 
 
 She determined to keep up a similar fiction with 
 regard to her means. This seemed more difficult at 
 the first blush. But Bonaparte was in a mood to be
 
 60 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 readily cajoled. The most extraordinary marriage 
 contract ever received by a notasy was drawn up 
 privately, in the presence only of Lemarrois, the 
 General's aide-de-camp. No community of goods of 
 any kind, or in any degree ; each contracting party 
 to have the sole control of his or her property ; all 
 administrative power secured to the future wife by 
 the future husband in advance ; the children of the 
 first marriage to be under the sole guardianship of 
 the mother ; a jointure of fifteen hundred livres per 
 annum in the event of her becoming a widow, in 
 which event she should also be entitled to take 
 possession of all goods she may certify as her own. 
 
 There is no mention of other settlements. All the 
 future wife's property is said to be secured to the* 
 joint estate of herself and the late M. de Beauharnais. 
 No inventory had as yet been made, and until this 
 was done she could not be called upon either to 
 accept or renounce. When two years later the 
 inventory was drawn up, she renounced her claims, 
 fortune having brought better things in the interim. 
 Bonaparte's avowal of his poverty was made with less 
 circumlocution. " On his part the future husband 
 declares that he owns neither lands nor goods beyond 
 his personal wardrobe and his military accoutre- 
 ments, the whole valued by him at ... which he 
 assigns." This was indeed, as the notary said to- 
 Madame de Beauharnais, the proverbial Cloak and 
 Sword. The General, however, came to the con- 
 clusion that the declaration was superfluous, and 
 struck the paragraph out of the contract. 
 
 The document bears the date, Ventose 18, year 
 IV. (March 8, 1796). The marriage took place the 
 next day before the registrar, who obligingly described
 
 JOSEPHINE DE HEAUHARXAIS 61 
 
 the bridegroom as twenty-eight years old, instead of 
 twenty-six, and the bride as -twenty-nine instead of 
 thirty-two. He was evidently an official with a 
 strong sense of proportion. Barras, Lemarrois, who 
 was still a minor, Tallien, and the inevitable 
 Calmelet, were the witnesses. No reference was 
 made to the consent of the parents on either side. 
 They had not been consulted. 
 
 Two days later General Bonaparte left to join the 
 army in Italy. Madame Bonaparte remained in the 
 Rue Chantereine. Fortunately, they had anticipated 
 the honeymoon.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CITOYENNE BONAPARTE. 
 
 THE journey from Paris to Nice was accomplished 
 in eleven stages ; from each of these, and from 
 almost every posting-house where the General halted 
 for relays, a letter was despatched to the Citoyenne 
 Bonaparte, care of the Citoyenne Beauharnais. 
 These letters breathe nothing but passion ; ambition 
 finds no expression here, so confident is the writer 
 in his destiny. He seems to feel no doubt, no un- 
 certainty as to the future ; his confidence is so com- 
 plete that it has no need of utterance. He indulges 
 in no speculations, gives no hint of his plans, and 
 seems to feel no uneasiness as to his means. He 
 might be one of those princes of some two centuries 
 ago setting out to preside at a victory. He writes 
 of nothing but love, of her, and of himself. 
 
 At Nice, whether issuing his laconic orders to the 
 unruly hordes out of which he is to mould an army, 
 or subduing with one frowning glance such mutinous 
 subalterns as Augereau and Massena ; or rapidly 
 devising a system whereby his exhausted soldiers 
 may be fed, equipped, and disciplined in preparation 
 for that rush upon the Alps with which they are
 
 CITOYKXM: IIOXAI'ARTK 63 
 
 t<> open the campaign, letter after letter flies t<> 
 Josephine. "When I am inclined to curse my fate. 
 I lay my hand on my heart and feel your portrait 
 there ; I look at it, and love fills me with joy un- 
 speakable ; life seems to have no sorrow, save that 
 of separation from my beloved." This portrait he 
 never laid aside. He showed it to every one, said 
 his prayers before it, and was in an agony of despair 
 when the glass was broken, a mishap which he 
 looked upon as an omen of death. 
 
 It was the worship of a fanatic, the rapt adoration 
 of a devotee. Had his soldiers known of it, they 
 would not have laughed at him ; they were of his. 
 own age and race. Like him, their brains were 
 diz/y with supernatural visions. He was a fit 
 general for this strange army. At its head, he, the 
 yjxmg man of twenty-six, pale, thin, and impassible 
 of feature, his long hair slightly powdered, his deep- 
 set eyes flashing a fire that penetrated the very 
 souls of men, awing and subjugating the most 
 unruly. Under him, adventurers of every type 
 . \ugereau, a deserter from every standard of Europe, 
 an effusive swashbuckler, roysterer, and bully ; 
 Massena. a successful smuggler, a pirate upon 
 occasion, an ardent lover of women and of money, 
 and as little fastidious in his taste for the one as in 
 his pursuit of the other. 
 
 . They would have rejoiced at the downfall of the 
 little ci-devant who had been exalted above them. 
 Hut his keen eye is fixed steadily upon them, and. 
 growling fiercely, the wild beasts grovel at their 
 master's feet. The inferior officers and soldiers as 
 a whole (for there are individual rebels such as 
 Landrieux) do not need taming ; they gave in their
 
 <5 4 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 adhesion at the first word. The majority of them 
 are recruited from the army of the Eastern Pyrenees. 
 They have gone through the ordeal of self-renunci- 
 ation, and each man has in him something of the 
 spirit of La Tour d'Auvergne. Their thoughts are 
 of glory and of fatherland. In the coming war 
 there were found officers who declined promotion as 
 if it had been an insult, corporals who turned the 
 tide of battles, private soldiers who approved them- 
 selves good generals in an emergency, and divined 
 all the intricacies of strategy. An electric current 
 of genius thrilled through the ranks, filling each 
 young heart with a like disdain of death, a like 
 cheerfulness in peril, a like joyful stoicism, a like 
 romantic conception of love. Here, again, Bona- 
 parte showed himself worthy to be their leader. 
 Victory was a means of seeing her again, of 
 possessing her, of having her near him, with him 
 always. 
 
 With such thoughts in his mind, he had gained 
 six victories within a fortnight in the month of 
 April 1796, taken twenty-one standards, and com- 
 pelled the capitulation of Piedmont. " Soldiers, we 
 thank you ! " Yes, from our hearts, for Josephine is 
 coming. Junot, who has been despatched to Paris 
 with trophies, is to bring her back. He cries out 
 for his wife. "Come, come! If you linger, you will 
 find me ill on your arrival. The fatigues I have 
 undergone, and your absence, are too much." It 
 was no excuse to hasten her. He was consumed 
 by fever, exhausted by an incessant cough. The 
 scurvy contracted at Toulon had weakened and 
 emaciated him. And the one longing, the one idea 
 possessed him day and night "You will come?
 
 CITOYENNE BONAPARTE 65 
 
 You will be here beside me, on my heart, in my 
 arms ? Oh, that you had wings ! Come, come ! " 
 
 The world contained but this one woman for him. 
 At Cairo, the mistress of a Piedmontese officer was 
 brought before him. She was young, and ex- 
 quisitely beautiful. A momentary fire flashed into 
 his eyes as he looked at her. Then, motioning his 
 officers to remain, he received the captive with calm 
 dignity, and gave orders for her safe-conduct through 
 the lines, and restoration to her lover. 
 
 Such an act may be attributed to policy. But 
 when Grassini offered him her love at Milan, and, 
 in despair at his coldness, breathed her soul out in 
 strains so pathetic and melodious that the whole 
 army was converted to a passion for music, he 
 showered money on the singer, and rejected the 
 mistress. All womanhood for him was comprised 
 in one woman, and all the joys of love began and 
 ended only in her. 
 
 Why did she delay her coming? Truth to tell, 
 the thought of following the drum by no means 
 attracted her. She greatly preferred to rejoice over 
 the results of the campaign in Paris, where it was 
 delightful to find herself at the summit of her 
 desires at last, a recognized queen and leader in 
 the new capital ! Bonaparte sent her liberal supplies, 
 and there was unlimited credit for the wife of the 
 commander-in-chief of the victorious army. She 
 took part in every fete, in every assembly, in every 
 reception at the Luxembourg, which had regained 
 something of its princely splendour under Barras. 
 Here a prominent place was always assigned to 
 Josephine beside Madame Tallien, the reigning 
 divinity.
 
 66 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 She was conspicuous in the front row of 
 spectators when Junot presented the twenty-one 
 banners to the Directory, and left the hall on Junot's 
 arm, sharing in all the glories of the triumph. Then 
 there were " first nights " at the play, when the pit 
 rose up to greet her as she entered her box, and she 
 tasted the sweets of popular acclamation ; then official 
 fetes, the Festival of Gratitude and Victory, which 
 seemed to be given specially in her honour ; and 
 above all, or rather summing up all, there was Paris, 
 the city of which she was so enamoured that she 
 could scarcely live outside it, the Paris which so 
 fascinated her that her chief pre-occupation through- 
 out the eighteen years of life that yet remained to 
 her was how so to contrive as to remain in it. 
 
 Meanwhile Bonaparte, waiting, hoping, raging at 
 the delay, tortured by jealousy, anxiety, and longing, 
 wrote letter after letter, despatched courier upon 
 courier. What was she doing? What was she 
 thinking of? She had taken a fresh lover, no doubt 
 "one of about nineteen" this time. "If so, let 
 her beware of Othello's dagger." At which outpour- 
 ings she would smile, and protest with her pretty 
 Creole lisp, that Bonaparte was really very droll ! 
 
 An excuse of some sort must be found, however. 
 Joseph Bonaparte is in Paris, urging her departure ; 
 Junot, pleasant as he finds it to play the part of 
 dashing hussar in Paris, is about to rejoin the army. 
 Lodi has followed on Crasco, and the troops are 
 now at Milan. A palace and not a camp awaits her. 
 Josephine is at her wits' end. An ordinary illness 
 is too hackneyed an excuse. But how would it be 
 to declare herself enceinte ? She catches at the 
 idea. Bonaparte is enraptured at the news. "How
 
 C1TOYENNE BONAPARTE 67 
 
 shall I ever atone," he writes, " for all my hard 
 thoughts of you ? You were ill, and I accused you 
 of lingering in Paris ! Forgive me, my beloved. 
 My passion robs me of my reason, and I shall 
 never recover it. Mine is a disease for which there 
 are no remedies. I am oppressed by mournful 
 forebodings. There are times when I should be 
 content to see you once more, to press you once 
 more to my heart, and then to die with you. . . . 
 A child, sweet as its mother, is soon to lie in your 
 arms ! Oh, to be with you but for one day ! " 
 
 He writes the same evening to Joseph " I am in 
 despair, my brother. My wife, the creature I love 
 best in the world, is ill. My brain reels at the 
 thought. The darkest forebodings oppress me. I 
 implore you to tell me exactly how she is, what 
 .there is to fear. I beseech you, by our brotherhood, 
 by the tender affection there has always been be- 
 tween us since our childhood, watch over her, tend 
 her as I should be proud to do myself. You cannot 
 bring my heart to the task, but you, and you alone, 
 can in some measure take my place. You are the 
 only man in the world for whom I have a true and 
 lasting affection. After her, after my Josephine, 
 you hold the first place in my heart. Comfort me. 
 Tell me the truth. You know me. You know my 
 passionate nature. You know too that Josephine is 
 the only woman I have ever really loved. The 
 thought of her illness drives me distracted. No one 
 writes to me, all have forsaken me. Even you do 
 not write. I am alone with my fears, my misery. If 
 she is better, and can safely undertake the journey, 
 I long unspeakably to have her with me. I want to 
 see her, to hold her in my arms. I love her so
 
 68 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 madly, I cannot live without her. If she were to 
 die, there would be nothing left me to live for. 
 Oh, my good brother, I rely on you. See that my 
 messenger remains no more than six hours in Paris, 
 and send him back with new life to me. ..." 
 
 His patience is at last exhausted. He threatens 
 to resign his command, and return to Paris, if his 
 wife does not join him. Josephine sees that it 
 would be dangerous to trifle further. The most 
 plausible of her excuses, the one that appealed most 
 strongly to Bonaparte, is no longer available, if, 
 indeed, it ever had any foundation in fact. Joseph 
 is not to be deceived by the plea of illness, for he 
 sees her taking part in all the pleasures of society, 
 and very well able to bear their fatigues. 
 
 Josephine resigns herself to her fate. After a 
 farewell supper at the Luxembourg, she takes her 
 seat in a travelling carriage, weeping copiously, and 
 sobbing aloud. Her dog Fortune, Joseph, Junot, 
 Citizen Hippolyte Charles, aide-de-camp to Adjutant- 
 General Leclerc, and Citoyenne Louise Compoint, 
 accompany her. The maid is served at the same 
 table with her mistress, and dressed in the same 
 style. Her room in the Rue Chantereine is not 
 that of a servant ; it is better furnished than that of 
 her mistress, with curtains and portieres of Oriental 
 chintz, alabaster candlesticks mounted in gilded 
 copper, Sevres figures of Cupids and shepherdesses, 
 and a handsome Regency bureau, with copper 
 fittings and marble top. It has been suggested 
 that there was something mysterious in Louise 
 Compoint's relations with Josephine. She seems, 
 however, to have been merely a confidante with 
 whom her mistress thought it well to be on good
 
 CITOYENNE BONAPARTE 69 
 
 terms, and Josephine continued to pay her a pension 
 till 1805, in spite of the rupture that took place 
 subsequently. During the journey, which seems to 
 have been prolonged somewhat unnecessarily, Junot 
 made the best of his opportunities with Mademoiselle 
 Louise, and Josephine, though, to judge by the sequel, 
 she found Monsieur Charles by no means indifferent 
 to her own charms, is said to have been irritated 
 at the preference shown to her favourite. 
 
 The travellers had set out at the end of June 
 (Messidor, IV.) ; on July 8, (Messidor 20,) they 
 were approaching Milan, and Napoleon, who was 
 obliged to meet the advance of Wurmser's army, 
 implored Josephine to join him at Verona. " I 
 shall need you," he wrote, "for I am going to be 
 ill." She preferred, however, to await his return to 
 Milan. He hastened back to her, and after two 
 days of rapture and caresses, the great crisis of 
 Castiglione was upon them. The difficulties and 
 perils of the situation could hardly be over-stated. 
 The question was not so much how to avoid defeat, 
 as how to escape destruction. Yet, while busily 
 despatching orders for the mustering of his divisions, 
 and working out schemes to minimize the shock of 
 impending disaster ; at this crisis, unparalleled in his 
 career, when Fortune seemed about to forsake him, 
 when his prestige was at stake, and he himself for 
 the first time seemed to have lost confidence in his 
 resources, he found time for a long love-letter each 
 day. " Ah ! it were better to show me some of 
 your faults. Be less lovely, less graceful, less 
 tender, less kind. But never be jealous ; never 
 weep. Your tears drive me distracted, they set my 
 blood on fire. Come to me here, that we may at
 
 70 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 least be able to say before we die : We had so many 
 days of happiness ! " 
 
 And the next day, and the next, and every day 
 that they are apart, he breaks out into the same 
 frenzy of passion, showering imaginary kisses and 
 caresses upon his idol from afar. He orders, com- 
 mands, entreats her to come to him, if but for a 
 night, an hour. Josephine, who has grown some- 
 what more submissive, feeling vaguely, on the soil 
 of conquered Italy, in the presence of the enthusi- 
 astic army, that he is of the race of chieftains to 
 whom it is well to yield at least a semblance 
 of obedience, makes an effort to join him. And 
 then begins a strange progress through endless 
 lines of soldiers, one day a fugitive, the next the 
 heroine of a triumphal entry ; now received with 
 regal honours by the magistrates of the new Italy, 
 now under the fire of the Austrian batteries. 
 Carriages are overturned, impeded by the debris of 
 victorious or disbanded armies, and a love-drama 
 is enacted to the beating of drums, the whistle of 
 bullets, and the flaming of bombarded cities. 
 
 When she was with Bonaparte, "he was all day 
 at her feet, as before some divinity." When absent 
 from him, post after post was despatched with 
 letters to her. From each of the obscure villages 
 whose names he has immortalized he sent letters, in 
 which declarations of tenderness, confidence, and 
 even of gratitude are mingled with jealous impre- 
 cations and frenzied expressions of passion. Upon 
 her worldly, expert nature he lavishes all the 
 youthful ardour of the young man of twenty-six, 
 whose life has been chaste hitherto ; and these 
 outpourings are the wail of unsatisfied desire,
 
 CITOYENNE BONAPARTE 71 
 
 exasperated by illness, fever, and incessant mental 
 labour. 
 
 Half unconsciously, the expression of his passion 
 is tinged by his recollections of La Nouvelle Helo'ise, 
 and his burning periods borrow an added glow from 
 Rousseau's pages. Though his passion was abso- 
 lutely sincere, and in no sense a pretext for fine 
 writing, yet he too had loved in this manner, had 
 learnt the formula, and could speak of. love in no 
 other language. In those days he was a son of 
 Jean Jacques, and, like all those who have ''plucked 
 the periwinkle blossom," his heart retained its 
 perfume for ever. 
 
 The periwinkle blossom was, unfortunately, not 
 at all to Josephine's taste. She was of a different 
 generation, a different country, a different education, 
 ' a more artificial temperament. Bonaparte's per- 
 petual rhapsodies wearied and annoyed her. It 
 was delightful, of course, to be loved so deeply ; at 
 first it had all the charm and interest of novelty ; 
 but it became fatiguing after a time, and the want 
 of tact, the crudities, the inexperience of youthful 
 passion offended her maturer and more fastidious 
 senses. There were, of course, certain compen- 
 sating advantages, presents from municipalities and 
 princes, offerings from the generals, commissions 
 from contractors. Lavish as was her expenditure, 
 Josephine was never mercenary. Wasteful and 
 improvident, always open to temptation, and per- 
 petually tempted, she often accepted out of mere 
 civility just as she bestowed out of mere caprice. 
 Obeying her instincts in such matters, she was 
 only dimly conscious of wrong-doing. Neverthe- 
 less, she so contrived that Bonaparte should be kept
 
 72 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 in the dark. She knew him to have scruples that 
 seemed strange to her, judged by the standard of 
 her own circle and the society in which she had 
 lived. But, such as he was, she must make the best 
 of him. Soon after her arrival he had expressed 
 himself very severely about a box of medals Josephine 
 had received, and she had been forced to return 
 them. Thenceforth, such matters were kept from 
 him. If he had suspicions, Josephine, who secured 
 accomplices beforehand, was always ready with some 
 adroit lie to account for pearl necklaces, diamond 
 parures, valuable pictures, and priceless antiques. 
 
 These were not the only secrets of which Bona- 
 parte was ignorant. He scarcely knew of the ex- 
 istence of Monsieur Charles, adjutant to Leclerc, 
 who had travelled from Paris with Josephine. 
 Monsieur Charles had remained at Milan, in the 
 streets of which he showed to great advantage in 
 a smart cavalry uniform ; and whenever the General 
 was absent from the Palazzo Serbelloni, Monsieur 
 Charles appeared. Josephine indeed declared that 
 Monsieur Charles only came to amuse her, talk to 
 her, and make her laugh ; that the intimacy was 
 purely Platonic. Monsieur Charles was a lively 
 young man, robust and athletic, and remarkably 
 lithe and active in person. He had the most im- 
 perturbable assurance, never spoke without a jest or 
 a pun, and was an adept in all feats of strength or 
 skill, and a master of drawing-room pastimes, mys- 
 tifications, and caricature. He was the link between 
 Josephine who was always in want of money and 
 the contractors, who imagined that Josephine's 
 influence might be of use to them. In this capacity 
 he showed a light-hearted liberality, a frankness, a
 
 CITOYENNE BONAPARTE 73 
 
 gaiety that compared very favourably in Josephine's 
 eyes with Bonaparte's austerity in such matters. 
 The General, however, became suspicious of Mon- 
 sieur Charles, as he had been of Murat. Monsieur 
 Charles was arrested, it is said, probably only on 
 the grounds of his dealings with the contractors. 
 However this may have been, he left the army and 
 returned to Paris, where, through Josephine's inter- 
 vention, he became a member of the Compagnie 
 Bodin, and made a great fortune as a contractor. 
 
 Monsieur Charles was a distraction after Jose- 
 phine's own heart. He came from Paris, that Paris 
 she loved Paris the gay, the noisy, the frivolous, 
 the licentious. She wanted the help of a Monsieur 
 Charles to endure the ennui that oppressed her. 
 " I am bored to extinction," she wrote to her aunt. 
 Yes, everything bored her her young husband's 
 love, Milan, Genoa, where the Senate received her 
 like a queen, Florence, where the Grand Duke 
 greeted her as his cousin, Montebello, where she 
 held her court, Passeriano, and even Venice all, 
 everything wearied her, except Paris ! And yet, 
 when Bonaparte at last set out for Paris, she did 
 not accompany him. She had a fancy to see Rome, 
 or at least said so, and it was not till a week later 
 that she rejoined her husband in the Rue Chante- 
 reine, Rue de la Victoire, in the house for which 
 she had ordered furniture and decorations amounting 
 to 1 20,000 francs, the house Bonaparte bought some 
 four months later (March 31, 1798) for 52,400 francs. 
 
 Thus, for a mere caprice, she renounced the 
 glories of the triumphal journey through Italy and 
 Switzerland, and the public entry into Paris on the 
 arm of the man with whose name the whole country
 
 74 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 was ringing A month after Bonaparte's departure 
 from Milan he was still alone. She arrived at last 
 at the end of December. 1 
 
 Although Napoleon no longer felt that frenzy of 
 passion which Josephine had at first inspired, his 
 wife was still the one woman he really loved. This 
 he publicly avowed. " I love my wife," he told 
 Madame de Stael. He was constantly with her, and 
 was not concerned to hear it said that he was ex- 
 tremely jealous. She was no longer beautiful. " She 
 was nearly forty, and looked her age." But what of 
 that ? To Bonaparte she could not grow old, and 
 though the first flush of passion was over, he retained 
 so warm and grateful a memory of his first love, that 
 Josephine, in spite of all that was to come, remained 
 the creature he had loved above all others, the only 
 woman who had held absolute sway alike over his 
 heart and his senses. 
 
 1 A chronicler, whom I quote only because it is well to sup- 
 press no evidence that throws any light upon such matters, states 
 that on the morning when Bonaparte received the oath of alle- 
 giance of the officers of the civic guards, he had in his room an 
 actress, the former mistress of a Piedmontese officer, for whom he 
 had sent. After the ceremony, Bonaparte, he further declares, 
 went out on foot, and bought jewellery to the value of 128 livres 
 from the jeweller Manini, in the Passage dei Figini. From another 
 source we learn that before the siege of Milan he had an intrigue 
 with the Marchesa de Bianchi, a very beautiful woman, who had 
 come to claim twenty-five horses belonging to her husband, which 
 had been requisitioned in Parma. Gossip further tells of his 
 relations with a singer, named Ricardi, to whom he sent a carriage 
 and six horses by Duroc; also with a dancer seventeen years 
 old, Mademoiselle Therese Campini, and with the daughter of a 
 furrier in the south, who had married a Piedmontese patriot, one 
 Caula. This would make five altogether. None of these adven- 
 tures are authenticated in any way, and the probabilities against 
 them are very strong from the psychological point of view.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MADAME FOURES. 
 
 ON the 2gth of Floreal, year VI., at Toulon, Bona- 
 parte stood on the bridge of the Octan, the vessel to 
 which he had entrusted his fortunes, and gazed, as 
 long as he could see it, at the handkerchief Josephine 
 was waving. He still loved this woman, no longer 
 'with the passion of young love, but with all the 
 tenderness inspired by gratified desires and flattered 
 affection. He loved her as the incarnation of grace 
 and elegance, his ideal of femininity, the first woman 
 who had shown him tenderness, the first who had 
 really given herself to him. 
 
 He had arranged with her, that as soon as he had 
 completed the conquest of Egypt of this result he 
 was perfectly confident she should join him there. 
 A frigate was to be despatched for the journey. Jose- 
 phine may have made the compact in all sincerity. 
 But very soon the thought of such a long journey to 
 unknown regions disturbed and alarmed her. In 
 Paris, she gradually became absorbed once more by 
 old habits, old friends, the pleasures of society, and 
 above all, by the lovers who had followed her from 
 Milan. Her indiscretions at last roused Bonaparte's 
 suspicions.
 
 76 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 He began to show his uneasiness even during the 
 voyage from Toulon to Malta, and hence to Alexan- 
 dria. Old doubts rose again in his mind. He wished 
 to make sure ; he questioned his friends, and they 
 answered him. On various occasions he took aside 
 those in whom he had most confidence, and who were 
 least likely to withhold the truth from him, and in- 
 sisted on hearing from them what had been said of 
 his wife in Italy. 
 
 To all that had happened before his marriage with 
 Josephine he professed indifference. When, on the 
 23rd of Prairial, year IV., he wrote to her from Milan 
 " Everything about you was but an added charm in 
 my eyes, even the recollection of your errors, and of 
 the sorrowful scene that took place a fortnight before 
 our marriage," he gave the keynote of his own 
 character, and of his comprehension of love. His 
 claims upon the heart, mind, and senses of the woman 
 he loved he conceived of as dating only from the day 
 when she pledged herself to him, accepted his love, 
 and seemed to return it. But from that day forth 
 she belonged to him absolutely, and woe betide her 
 should she deceive him ! 
 
 No sooner were Bonaparte's eyes opened, no sooner 
 was the delusion he had cherished at an end, than the 
 idea of a divorce suggested itself to him. He con- 
 sidered the bond broken between his wife and himself. 
 Had it been possible to preserve his ignorance, he 
 would, no doubt, have been as faithful to her in 
 Egypt as he had been in Italy. But now he may 
 well have felt that there was no obligation to con- 
 tinence. Why, he may have argued, should he not 
 take advantage of any distractions that might relieve 
 the tedium that weighed upon the invading army ?
 
 MADAME FOURES 77 
 
 Such distractions, but a few months ago, he would 
 have looked upon as treason to a beloved and 
 faithful mistress. Now they seemed but the natural 
 weaknesses of a man of nine-and-twenty. 
 
 He seems to have felt an attraction of curiosity 
 towards the women of the East, as had many of his 
 officers. Some half-dozen were brought before him, 
 but their appearance, and notably their obesity, filled 
 him with disgust, and they were hastily dismissed. 
 He was already remarkable for the extraordinary 
 fastidiousness of his senses, in especial for his sus- 
 ceptibility to smells, and the irritable delicacy of his 
 
 nervous organization. 
 
 Greater attractions were to be found at the Tivoli 
 Egyptien. This was a pleasure-garden, modelled on 
 the Parisian Tivoli, the enterprise of an dmigrd, 
 formerly a member of the Garde du Corps, and a 
 fellow-student with Bonaparte at Brienne, who had 
 obtained leave to follow the army. As at Paris, 
 there was a club, all manner of games, wooden 
 horses, swings, jugglers, almdes ; the spectators ate 
 ices as they watched the performers, or listened to 
 military bands. All this would have been charming, 
 had it not lacked its chief essential, the feminine 
 element of its French counterpart. But there were 
 very few European women in Egypt, to the great 
 disgust of the army of occupation. Numbers of 
 the officers, resigning themselves to the inevitable, 
 married native wives. 
 
 The only European women who frequented the 
 Tivoli had followed the army. The most stringent 
 orders had been given before the embarkation that 
 all officers' wives were to remain at the brigade- 
 depots. Those who had reached Cairo, therefore, had
 
 78 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 all got there by means of some stratagem, the most 
 common device being the donning of male dress. 
 Thus disguised, they had escaped the vigilance of 
 sentries, and had made the voyage concealed in the 
 hold of one or other of the troop-ships. 
 
 They were naturally for the most part women of 
 free and audacious manners, ready for adventure, 
 bold, and even martial in an emergency, like General 
 Verdier's wife, who handled a gun like any soldier. 
 The flower of the flock was a little fair-haired lady, 
 with a 'brilliant complexion, and exquisite teeth. She 
 would have been attractive anywhere ; in Egypt she 
 was adorable. 
 
 Her name was Marguerite Pauline Belleisle. While 
 apprenticed to a milliner at Carcassonne, she had 
 succeeded in marrying her employer's nephew, a 
 handsome young lieutenant of the 22nd Chasseurs, 
 called Foures. In the middle of the honeymoon 
 came the order for the bridegroom to embark. The 
 bride put on a chasseur's uniform, and sailed in the 
 same ship with her husband. At Cairo she resumed 
 her feminine habit. " She held little communication 
 with the other officers, and the young couple were 
 cited as models of wedded bliss." On Frimaire 20, 
 year VII. (December i, 1799), a fte was held at 
 Esbekieh, the chief feature of which was the launch- 
 ing of a balloon, a phenomenon intended to astonish 
 the natives of Cairo, who were, however, so little 
 impressed that they scarcely turned their heads to 
 look at it. Bonaparte's two young aides-de-camp, 
 Merlin and Eugene de Beauharnais, pointed out 
 Madame de Foures, with such vehement praises of 
 her beauty that Bonaparte in his turn noticed her, 
 and began to make inquiries about her.
 
 MADAME FOURES 79 
 
 In the evening he met her again at the Tivoli 
 Egyptien, exchanged glances with her, approached 
 her, paid her all manner of compliments, and spent 
 half the evening at her side. The attack thus 
 opened, auxiliaries at once came forward to help in 
 the siege. 
 
 Prompted either by virtue or prudence, the little 
 woman held out for some time. Protestations, 
 declarations, letters, costly presents were necessary. 
 At last she surrendered. On the 1 7th of December, 
 Foures received orders to embark alone this time 
 on the Chasseur, Captain Laurens, to make for 
 the coast of Italy, and thence to carry despatches to 
 the Directory. At Paris he was to see Joseph 
 and Lucien Bonaparte, and to return promptly 
 to Damietta. He returned rather sooner than he 
 was expected. 
 
 The very day of Foures' departure, Napoleon 
 gave a dinner-party to the little wife and several 
 other French ladies. Madame Foures sat beside 
 him, and he did the honours with great gallantry. 
 All of a sudden he threw over a decanter of iced 
 water, as if by accident, and on the pretext of re- 
 pairing the damage done to his neighbour's dress, 
 carried her off to his own room. 
 
 " Appearances were almost saved," it was re- 
 marked. Almost indeed ! But the prolonged 
 absence of Madame Foures and the General soon 
 made evident the real nature of the episode. 
 
 The most charitable could hardly feel any further 
 doubt on the subject, when a house was hastily 
 furnished close to the General's palace of Elfi Bey, 
 for Madame Foures' reception. She was scarcely 
 installed when Foures suddenly returned.
 
 8o NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 The Chasseur, which had set sail on December 
 28, had been captured the very next day by an 
 English cruiser, the Lion. The English, perfectly 
 well informed of all that was going on at the French 
 head-quarters, mischievously released Foures, and 
 sent him back on parole, on his pledging himself 
 not to serve against them throughout the rest of 
 the campaign. 
 
 Marmont vainly endeavoured to retain Foures at 
 Alexandria. He arrived at Cairo in a fury of wrath, 
 and gave his wife every reason to regret her esca- 
 pade. Madame Foures demanded a divorce, " to 
 escape his violence," and this was granted in the 
 presence of a commissary of the army. On his 
 return from the Syrian expedition, the husband was 
 again ordered to return to France, and an urgent 
 order to give him every facility on his journey was 
 addressed to the naval commissary. 
 
 After the divorce Madame Foures, who had 
 resumed her maiden name of Belleisle, but who was 
 better known throughout the army, as formerly at 
 Carcassonne, by the pretty sobriquet Bellilote, 
 appeared openly as the General's mistress. Richly 
 dressed, and living in great luxury, she did the 
 honours of the palace to the few French ladies 
 with the army, and entertained the generals at 
 dinner-parties. She was constantly to be seen on 
 the public promenades, either driving by Bonaparte's 
 side in an open carriage, the aide-de-camp on duty 
 riding beside Eugene de Beauharnais among others 
 or riding an Arab horse that had been trained for 
 her, in a general's uniform, a three-cornered hat on 
 her head. " There's our Generaless," the soldiers 
 would cry. The more cultured called her Clioupdtre.
 
 MADAME FOURES 81 
 
 Round her neck she always wore a long chain, to 
 which was attached her lover's miniature. The 
 liaison thus flaunted in the eye of day caused very 
 little scandal. From '92 onwards, it was usual to 
 find among the staff of a Republican general, young 
 women in male attire, who sometimes performed the 
 duties of aides-de-camp, like the Demoiselles de 
 Fering, sometimes other functions, like Illegrine de 
 Morency, Ida St. Elme, and others. 
 
 A suit of man's clothes was an essential item 
 in the wardrobe of all the emancipated women of 
 those days, and the custom of carrying a mistress, 
 or even a wife, to the seat of war became so usual 
 among the generals, that from the time of the 
 Peninsular campaign to the end of the Empire, 
 scarcely one among them was unaccompanied. We 
 may instance Masse*na in 1810 1811. Eugene at 
 last took exception to the public drives. He 
 retained his post as aide-de-camp to his step-father, 
 however, and was exempted from duty on these 
 occasions. 
 
 Bonaparte became so infatuated with Bellilote 
 that he discussed with her the possibility of repudi- 
 ating Josephine, and even proposed to marry her, 
 the ex-milliner of Carcassonne, in the event of her 
 bearing him a child. " But the little idiot doesn't 
 know how to have one," he pettishly remarked. To 
 which Bellilote retorted, when the speech was re- 
 peated to her, that it " certainly was not her fault ! " 
 
 She remained at Cairo during the Syrian expedi- 
 tion, and Bonaparte wrote her the most affectionate 
 letters. When, after the battle of Aboukir, the 
 General embarked for France on the Muiron, he left 
 orders that the ci-devant Madame Foures should
 
 82 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 rejoin him as soon as possible, in the first vessel 
 that could be equipped. 
 
 Kleber, however, had his own views on the 
 subject. Succeeding Bonaparte in the command of 
 the army, he no doubt considered Bellilote one 
 of the perquisites of the Commander-in-Chief, and 
 put one obstacle after another in the way of 
 her departure. At last, thanks to Desgenettes, 
 Madame Foures was allowed to embark with 
 Junot, and a few scientific men who had accompanied 
 the expedition Rigel, Lallemand, and Corancez 
 the younger on a neutral vessel, the America. 
 The America, however, fell into the hands of the 
 English. 
 
 Bellilote remained a captive for a time. She was 
 finally released, and sent under safe-conduct to 
 France. When she arrived, however, it was too 
 late. A complete reconciliation had taken place 
 between Josephine and Bonaparte, and the events 
 of Brumaire the i8th had made her lover the 
 first magistrate of the Republic, the man to whom 
 all looked for an example of dignity of life and 
 austerity of morals. 
 
 It has been said that he forbade Bellilote to enter 
 Paris. Be this as it may, she appeared openly at 
 the Fran9ais, and other theatres. The Consul, 
 however, always refused to see her. 
 
 On the other hand, he granted every request she 
 made for money. On March n, 1811, he made 
 her a grant of 60,000 francs from the theatrical 
 fund, in addition to large sums already received. 
 He bought a country-house for her near Paris, and 
 married her to a returned e'migre', M. Henri de 
 Ranchoup, a sometime artillery officer.
 
 MADAME FOURES 83 
 
 The marriage took place in 1800 at Belleville. 
 The husband, who was of a good Auvergnat family, 
 received as a wedding gift the Vice-Consulship of 
 Santander, whence he was promoted in 1810 to 
 Gothenburg. 
 
 In spite of her new husband's appointments, 
 Madame de Ranchoup seems to have spent most of 
 her time in Paris. She was there in 1811, and 
 again in 1813. In 1814 she had become a persona 
 grata in fashionable circles, and was a frequent 
 visitor at the houses of the Baronne Girard, the 
 Comtesse de Sucy, and the Baronne Brayer. She 
 also made an excursion into literature, and Delaunay 
 published a novel in two volumes by her, called 
 Lord Wentworth, This, however, concerns us less 
 than the novel she herself had lived. 
 * She painted too, and not without a certain charm, 
 to judge from a pretty portrait, in which she has 
 represented herself plucking the petals from a daisy. 
 A strange fancy, for, if she had known something 
 of " passionately," she had undoubtedly concluded 
 with "not at all!" Her saucy, vivacious head 
 is charming, though it smacks somewhat of the 
 milliner ; the hair is cut short, and curls all over, 
 like a child's ; the figure is delicate and seductive, 
 the arms remarkably beautiful. The whole has 
 a something fresh, gay, and attractive, a blooming 
 grace that atones for the lack of distinction. 
 
 About 1816, Madame de Ranchoup, having 
 finally separated from her husband, sold her furniture, 
 which was of considerable value, and sailed for 
 Brazil with a certain Sieur Jean Auguste Bellard, 
 a retired officer of the Guard. There were rumours 
 in Paris that she had realized her entire fortune,
 
 84 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 and that she proposed to open up communications 
 with St. Helena, and effect the escape of the 
 Emperor. Nothing was further from her thoughts, 
 as a fact. She had taken a strong aversion to her 
 former lover, and professed the most rigid Legitimist 
 principles. When Madame d'Abrantes repeated 
 the rumour in her Memoirs, with many admiring 
 comments, Madame de Ranchoup protested. It 
 might have got her into bad odour with the police, 
 who kept her under surveillance as "a former 
 mistress of Bonaparte's," and who had her every 
 movement carefully watched when she returned 
 with Bellard in 1825. 
 
 Her sole object, indeed, seems to have been the 
 
 re-construction of her fortunes. She took over a 
 
 cargo of goods, which she bartered in Brazil for 
 
 rosewood and mahogany. Returning with the 
 
 woods, she sold them, bought another stock of 
 
 furniture, which she again took out to Brazil, and 
 
 continued these journeys to and fro until 1837, when 
 
 she settled again in Paris. She then turned once 
 
 moKe to literature, and published a second novel, 
 
 A Chatelaine of tke Twelfth Century. In her 
 
 modest dwelling in the Rue de la Ville-l'Eveque, 
 
 surrounded by her pet birds and monkeys, she led 
 
 a life which many would envy up to the advanced 
 
 age of ninety, for her death did not take place until 
 
 March 18, 1869. Her faculties remained unimpaired 
 
 to the end ; she wrote, painted, played the harp, 
 
 bought pictures, renewed her friendships of earlier 
 
 days, and even formed new ones, among others, an 
 
 intimacy with Mademoiselle Rosa Bonheur. 
 
 Her artistic sympathies may be divined from 
 the pictures she bequeathed to the Museum of
 
 MADAME FOURES 85 
 
 Blois. (She had been attracted to Blois by her 
 friend the Baronne de Wimpffen.) They com- 
 prised a good many copies, a good many so-called 
 pictures of the schools of Raphael, Titian, Leonardo, 
 and Boucher ; a few canvases attributed to Prud'hon, 
 others ascribed to Reynolds, Terburg, Jan Miel, 
 Carlo Maratti, and Jeaurat ; two modern pictures, 
 one by Rosa Bonheur, the other by Compte-Calix ; 
 Infant Christs, Gipsies, Venuses^ Cupids, Psyches, 
 Hermits, Flute-players not a hint of her Egyptian, 
 days, of the palace of Elfi Bey, of the man who had 
 played so important a part in her life. Before her 
 death, Madame de Ranchoup the Comtesse de 
 Ranchoup, as she liked to be called burnt all the 
 letters written to her by Bonaparte. 
 
 It seems as if she had wished to destroy even the 
 memory of that love which still invests her name 
 with an interest for the student of history, a youthful, 
 sensual, unsophisticated passion, chiefly important as 
 giving the first indications of the desire that was to 
 become so imperious an ambition Bonaparte's 
 longing for a child, a son to whom he might be- 
 queath the heritage of his name and his glory. 1 
 
 1 After the publication of this chapter in the Figaro, an 
 interesting communication was made to a local newspaper in 
 the Haute-Loire by Monsieur Boutin, of Craponne " Madame 
 de Ranchoup lived at Craponne from August, 1812 to March, 
 1814. The Ranchoup family, originally of Craponne, quitted 
 the neighbourhood at the beginning of the eighteenth century. 
 Their estates, Ranchoup and Polagnat, were acquired by the 
 Torillons and the Sasselanges. 
 
 "The name was almost forgotten in the district, when, in July, 
 1812, M. Barres, Secretary-General to the Prefecture, and after- 
 wards Vicar-General at Bordeaux, wrote to M. Charles Gallet, 
 then a lawyer at Craponne, desiring him to receive Madame de
 
 86 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Ranchoup, banished by Imperial decree from Paris. A few 
 days afterwards, a young lady, very fashionably dressed, arrived 
 with a servant. She announced herself as one of the Empress's 
 Ladies-in-Waiting, who had come into the country for her health. 
 She received a number of newspapers, which she read, seated in 
 front of M. Gallet's house, or smoking at the open window, to 
 the great amazement of the ladies of Craponne, with whom she 
 was not chary of her sarcasms. She often went out walking ac- 
 companied by a dog with long silky hair, for which she had a 
 great affection, generally taking him to church with her, to the 
 great scandal of the devout. She left Craponne at the approach 
 of the first invading army." 
 
 It is not impossible that Madame de Ranchoup may have been 
 requested to try the air of Craponne. I think, however, that she 
 was in Paris in 1813. 
 
 For a communication of still greater importance, which I 
 received at the last moment, I must refer the reader to Note A. 
 at the end of this volume.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE RECONCILIATION. 
 
 JOSEPHINE was dining at the Luxembourg with 
 Gohier, President of the Directory, when she re- 
 ceived the startling news that Bonaparte had landed 
 at Frdjus. She seems to have almost forgotten his 
 existence, and to have given up all thoughts of his 
 return, so little place had he in her plans for the 
 future, and so kindly had she taken to the part of a 
 widow in search of consolation. 
 
 While the husband was considering the possi- 
 bilities of a divorce in Egypt, the wife was making 
 repudiation a duty in France. 
 
 Forsaking Barras, who could scarcely be re- 
 garded as a lover, whose influence also was on the 
 wane, and whose term of power was almost at an 
 end, she made desperate overtures to the Gohiers, 
 husband and wife, as soon as the husband became a 
 member of the Government after the coup d'ttat of 
 Prairial, year VII. 
 
 Gohier, a citizen of Rennes, who affected a Spartan 
 integrity and purity of manners, was Minister of 
 Justice under the Terror, and the author of the legal 
 formulae insisted on by Fouquier-Tinville. He was
 
 88 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 the casuist of the guillotine. Nothing gives such 
 a semblance of austerity as the constant search after 
 judicial expedients ; it is the form of hypocrisy 
 which best cloaks prevarication. Gohier was re- 
 puted austere. This reputation, together with Jose- 
 phine's influence, had won him his office. She 
 had made him the confidant of her love-affairs, and 
 Gohier, in his character of protector, had urged 
 her to divorce Bonaparte, and marry M. Charles. 
 Divorce is a legal and republican institution, enabling 
 a woman who has been a man's mistress to become 
 his concubine. 
 
 Josephine hesitated, almost persuaded. Mean- 
 while she came to open rupture with her brothers- 
 in-law, Joseph and Lucien, who were Gohier's 
 strongest opponents in the Council. The Bona- 
 partes headed the faction favourable to Napoleon, 
 those who expected, hoped for, and staked their 
 future on his return, and had dreams of re-construct- 
 ing France with his help. Gohier was the leader 
 of the opposition, comprising Napoleon's bitterest 
 enemies Bernadotte, Championnet, Jourdan, Moulin, 
 all fat political generals. The Jacobins had invented 
 Gohier, the virtuous Republican civilian, only to 
 checkmate the conqueror. But the more Gohier 
 showed himself hostile to Bonaparte, the more ac- 
 ceptable he seemed to Josephine. To secure the 
 continued protection and help of the Gohiers, she 
 even proposed a marriage between their son and 
 her daughter Hortense, the girl whose happiness 
 she invariably subordinated to her own interests and 
 convenience, and whom she was now prepared to 
 sacrifice without the least remorse, as indeed she 
 effectually did later on.
 
 THE RECONCILIATION 89 
 
 The negotiations were at their height, and the 
 families were dining quietly together, when the news 
 burst upon them. Bonaparte had landed, and was 
 on his way to Paris. Swift as the posts had been, 
 he was doubtless following close on their heels. He 
 would not have broken quarantine in order to make 
 triumphal entries into the towns on his route. There 
 was no time to deliberate or ask counsel. Only one 
 course was open to face the situation boldly, and 
 carry matters with a high hand. This Josephine 
 at once proceeded to do with Gohier, whose ad- 
 hesion she was determined to secure at any price. 
 "President," she said, "have no fears as to Bona- 
 parte's intentions. They are not hostile to liberty. 
 But we must combine to prevent him from falling 
 under the influence of traitors ! " 
 * Gohier will serve his turn, no doubt, upon occasion, 
 but at the moment Bonaparte is the all-important 
 person. Josephine orders post-horses without a 
 moment's delay. She proposes to meet the traveller 
 half-way, thus avoiding all explanations, to fall into 
 his arms, to revive his dying passion, and, her lover 
 recaptured, to enter Paris in his carriage, to return to 
 the Rue Chantereine on his arm, and thus to receive 
 the mortified Bonapartes, who would never dare to 
 speak under such conditions, or, if they did, would 
 speak to deaf ears. This time there was none of 
 the hesitation and delay that had marked the de- 
 parture for Italy. Dispensing alike with Louise 
 Compoint, Fortune, and baggage, Josephine flew 
 forward on the road to Burgundy. 
 
 Bonaparte, however, had taken the Bourbonnais 
 route, and while Josephine was urging on her postil- 
 lions, and straining her eyes to catch sight of the
 
 90 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 expected carriage, her husband was already in the 
 Rue de la Victoire. She hastened back, but she had 
 been obliged to travel as far as Lyons, where the 
 two roads, which divide at Fontainebleau, re-unite. 
 Three days had passed, during which Bonaparte, 
 his determination to break with Josephine confirmed 
 by the stories he had heard in Egypt, had questioned 
 his brothers, his sisters, and his mother. No 
 possible doubt remained as to her conduct in 
 Milan, and the even more scandalous proceedings 
 of the last seventeen months. Anxious to spare 
 either her or their brother, the Bonapartes seem to 
 have withheld a good deal ; possibly they did not 
 know all. However, what they told was sufficient. 
 Napoleon announced his decision. It seemed irre- 
 vocable, and was entirely approved by his family. 
 
 It was in vain that friends to whom he confided his 
 wrongs, begged him to put aside his private griefs in 
 the presence of a people's acclamations, reminding 
 him that the country who looked to him for 
 salvation, should be spared a scandal which touched 
 his honour ; that the reconstruction of the State 
 was his first duty, and that his divorce was no such 
 pressing matter ; that to proclaim himself an out- 
 raged husband was to court ridicule, and that 
 ridicule is fatal in France. But Bonaparte was 
 immovable. " She shall go," he protested ; " what 
 do I care what people say ? They will gossip about 
 it for two days, and on the third it will be forgotten." 
 No consideration availed to touch or soften him. 
 His own interests weighed as nothing in the balance 
 against his just indignation. To avoid an interview 
 which might shake his resolution for he knew full 
 well how great was Josephine's power over his
 
 THE RECONCILIATION 91 
 
 senses, he still feared her power over his heart 
 he caused her clothes, jewels, and all her personal 
 property to be removed from the house, and lodged 
 with the concierge. Making an appointment with 
 his brothers for the next morning, when he pro- 
 posed to go into the necessary formalities, he shut 
 himself up in his own room on the first floor, and 
 waited. 
 
 At last Josephine arrived, in a state of mind 
 bordering on frenzy. Her all was at stake, and 
 the game was more than half lost. For the first 
 time in her life, perhaps, she had reflected seriously 
 during her journey, and all the terrors of her 
 position forced themselves upon her. If she failed 
 to see him, to make her peace with him, what 
 would become of her ? Where would she find 
 shelter ? Flirtations such as that with M. Charles 
 were all very well for a month, a year. But how 
 could she have been so foolish not as to have had 
 a lover, but as to have allowed herself to be found 
 out ! Then there was Barras, and others, and the 
 open warfare with the Bonapartes, and her debts, 
 above all, her debts ! 
 
 Her brain reeled at the thought ! Incapable 
 of the simplest calculations, always buying, never 
 paying, or perhaps imagining, as frequently hap- 
 pened, that she had discharged the whole debt 
 when she had merely paid some trifling sum on 
 account, she was already harassed, as she continued 
 to be throughout the Empire, and to the end of 
 her days, by a long train of creditors who were 
 always tempting her to some fresh extravagance, 
 and whose accounts she was perpetually swelling, 
 heedless of the inevitable day of reckoning. When
 
 92 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 this at last overtook her, she would lose all self- 
 control, weep, sob, make the most extraordinary 
 proposals, invoke the help of Heaven or the devil, 
 and, if she managed to gain a little time, would 
 imagine her difficulties at an end. Such a crisis was 
 upon her at this very time. She is said to have 
 been twelve hundred thousand francs in debt to 
 her tradespeople alone ! It is very possible ; her 
 bankruptcies were generally on this Homeric scale. 
 There were besides other secret transactions. She 
 had bought " national property " to the value of 
 1,195,000 francs in the canton of Glabbaix, Depart- 
 ment of Dyle, and still owed two-thirds of the sum ; 
 the other third was to have been furnished by her 
 aunt, Madame Renaudin, afterwards Madame de 
 Beauharnais, who could not produce a sixpence. 
 Josephine had also bought from Citizen Lecouteulx, 
 on Floreal the 2nd, year VII., the estate and 
 domain of Malmaison 225,000 francs for the main 
 purchase, 37,516 francs for mirrors, furniture, 
 and domestic utensils, and 9, 1 1 1 francs in stamp 
 duties, fees, etc. She finally paid the 37,516 
 francs for the furniture with " her diamonds and 
 jewels." But the rest was still owing, and who 
 would pay ? 
 
 She could say with truth that Bonaparte had 
 visited Malmaison before his departure, and had 
 offered 250,000 francs for the property, very nearly 
 the price she had paid for it. But after this, 
 Bonaparte had seen Ris, to which he had taken 
 a still greater fancy, abandoning it, however, in 
 favour of an estate in Burgundy. Besides which, 
 Josephine had no powers to represent her husband 
 in any business transaction. He had left his money
 
 THE RECONCILIATION 93 
 
 in the hands of his brother Joseph ; Josephine's 
 annual allowance of 40,000 francs was paid by 
 Joseph ; and to Joseph alone he had confided his 
 plans ; at this time his letters to his wife had entirely 
 ceased. Joseph indeed paid an advance of 15,000 
 francs to the Lecouteulx, but the receipt, dated 
 Messidor 17, year VII., was made out to the 
 General, and Josephine was still responsible for the 
 15,000 francs, as she had elected to be married on 
 the system of separate estate. 
 
 Nothing was her own, not even the house in the 
 Rue de la Victoire ; it had been bought and paid for 
 by Bonaparte. Her last resource was her jewel- 
 casket, filled to overflowing during the Italian 
 sojourn. She is said to have delighted in exhibiting 
 its contents, which, as a feminine contemporary 
 -declared, were worthy to figure in the Arabian 
 Nights. She had also the pictures, statues, and 
 antiquities gleaned during the Italian campaign. 
 But what were all these as compared with the 
 sums she had to pay ? What, indeed, as compared 
 with those she had forgotten ? 
 
 The case was truly a desperate one, for she 
 was now too old for further conquests. Years had 
 left their traces on a skin that had been ruined 
 by paint. Her figure was graceful and supple 
 as ever, but her face was losing its charm. A 
 Creole, married at sixteen, fully matured at twelve, 
 (Tercier relates how in 1776 or 1778 he paid his 
 court to her,) she was much older than a woman 
 of the same age in our latitudes ; at thirty-seven 
 she was almost an old woman. It is her last 
 chance therefore. And realizing to the utmost 
 the desperate nature of her fortunes, she clung
 
 94 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 passionately to the hope that Napoleon would 
 see her, and that she should be able to soften 
 him. 
 
 She succeeded in forcing an entrance into the 
 house, but now Bonaparte's personal stronghold 
 had to be stormed. After knocking repeatedly at the 
 door in vain, she knelt down, sobbing aloud. Still the 
 door remained shut. The scene was prolonged for 
 hours, for a whole day, without any sign from within. 
 Worn out at last, Josephine was about to retire 
 in despair, but her maid, Agathe Rible, led her 
 back to the door, and hastily fetched her children ; 
 Eugene and Hortense, kneeling beside their mother, 
 mingled their supplications with hers. Hereupon 
 the door opened ; speechless, the tears streaming 
 from his eyes, his face convulsed with the terrible 
 struggle that had rent his heart, Bonaparte appeared, 
 holding out his arms to his wife. 
 
 It was pardon, no grudging pardon, to be re- 
 scinded at leisure, or at best to be turned as a 
 weapon against the sinner upon occasion, but re- 
 conciliation generous and complete, forgiveness, nay, 
 oblivion of past errors. Bonaparte possessed the 
 rare faculty of being able to forget at will, and, his 
 confidence once restored, of ignoring crimes and 
 faults he had been pleased to overlook, of wiping 
 them out of his imperturbable memory. Not only 
 could he forgive the faulty wife, he showed the 
 rarer virtue of magnanimity to her accomplices. 
 "He was never known to deprive any of them of 
 life or liberty." He scorned to injure them, even 
 in their fortunes ; but it is recorded that on meeting 
 any of them suddenly he would turn very pale. 
 
 The fault, he argued, lay not so much with these
 
 THE RECONCILIATION 95 
 
 men as with himself. He should have kept a 
 stricter watch over his wife. A man had been 
 allowed to enter the harem. Obeying the instincts 
 of his sex, he had persuaded ; and she had yielded, 
 as it was her nature to yield. If the erring wife 
 were no longer beloved, the husband would do well 
 to repudiate, to cast her off. But he loves her still. 
 Then what remains but to pardon, and take her 
 back to his heart ? Reproaches will avail nothing. 
 In the face of accomplished facts, Bonaparte is 
 disarmed. He bows to the inevitable. He is able 
 to take things as he finds them, and his fellow- 
 creatures as they are, and ceases to exact from a 
 woman the purity she has ceased to possess. But 
 henceforth he will be more vigilant, and knowing, 
 or at any rate believing he knows, what woman's 
 virtue and morality are worth, he will make it a funda- 
 mental rule that no man shall ever be alone with his 
 wife on any pretext whatever ; she shall be watched 
 and guarded night and day ; such surveillance he 
 takes henceforth to be the sole condition of marital 
 safety ; and if we find him occasionally relaxing this 
 rule in the case of Josephine, by whom he no longer 
 had any hopes of offspring, we shall see that it 
 was rigorously enforced with his second wife. 
 
 Josephine was triumphant ; she had crushed the 
 Bonapartes, who had not only opposed her marriage, 
 but had planned, and almost succeeded in bringing 
 about, its dissolution. A crowning gratification was 
 the association of Napoleon with herself in her 
 triumph over his brothers. The morning after the 
 great scene and the reconciliation, Lucien, the most 
 eager advocate of the divorce, presented himself 
 according to arrangement for an early interview,
 
 96 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 and was received in Josephine's apartment, where 
 Napoleon was still in bed. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to speak of the debts, for 
 after what he had brought himself to forgive, 
 Bonaparte was- not inclined to be severe about 
 money transactions. On Brumaire the 2ist, he 
 paid off the 1,195,000 francs on the "national 
 property " in the Department of Dyle. The estate 
 served eventually as a dowry for Marie- Adelaide, 
 called Adele, a natural daughter of the late M. 
 de Beauharnais, when Josephine married her on 
 Frimaire the 8th, year XIII., to Francois-Michel- 
 Augustin Lecomte, captain of infantry^ who was 
 appointed special Receiver at Sarlat on the occa- 
 sion. He also paid the money owing on the 
 purchase of Malmaison, a comparative trifle of 
 225,000 francs; and he paid the 1,200,000 francs 
 due to decorators and upholsterers, or rather, after 
 going into the accounts, deducting goods never 
 delivered, and extortionate over-charges, he brought 
 the sum total down to about half, and compounded 
 with the creditors for 600,000 francs. 
 
 Here was indeed food for reflection, had Jose- 
 phine been capable of it. A husband who pays 
 off two million francs of debts is a rara avis who 
 may fairly claim certain concessions, and Josephine 
 resolved to make them. Her superficial conduct, at 
 any rate, gave no occasion to her enemies from this 
 time until her divorce. She had, as she herself said, 
 a wholesome fear of risking her position. 
 
 To the Gohiers she gave substantial proof of her 
 gratitude. On the evening of Brumaire the i/th, 
 she invited them to breakfast the following morning ; 
 Gohier being unable to attend, she begged Madame
 
 THE RECONCILIATION 97 
 
 Gohier to urge her husband's acceptance of a 
 prominent post in the new Government. Gohier, 
 austere as ever, refused it indignantly ; but when, 
 after holding sulkily aloof for two years, he came to 
 the First Consul for a place, Josephine obtained for 
 him the post of Commissary-General at Amsterdam, 
 a position so much to his taste that he held it for 
 ten years, and would no doubt have retained it till 
 his death, but for the suppression of the office in 
 1810. He is said to have refused the offer of 
 transfer to New York after this, but he accepted a 
 comfortable pension, which was continued to him 
 under the Restoration. He maintained his pose 
 of virtuous Republican, however, to the last, and 
 was buried, by his expressed desire, without religious 
 ceremony.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 GRASSINI. 
 
 BONAPARTE had found it possible to forgive ; he 
 had even forced himself to forget. But his attitude 
 towards Josephine in the year VIII. was very 
 different to that of his first meeting with her, when 
 the possession of the woman and the lady flattered 
 his inexperience of love and of the world, intoxicated 
 his awakening senses, and appealed with irresistible 
 force to his newly-developed temperament. His 
 liaison with Madame Foures had given him a taste 
 for the freshness of youth, the incomparable bloom 
 of eighteen, and comparisons unfavourable to 
 Josephine could not but present themselves. He 
 had learned the charm of novelty, and henceforth 
 he neither wished nor intended to be a faithful 
 husband. 
 
 The part he would fain have assigned to Jose- 
 phine in the future was that of friend rather than 
 mistress, of confidante rather than wife ; he sought 
 in her the tender counsellor, to whom, in quiet 
 evening hours, he might confide the thoughts that 
 agitated him, and to whom he might turn for 
 guidance in the usages of a society with which he
 
 C.RASSIXi 99 
 
 had had no time to become familiar ; the affection- 
 ate nurse, who would tend him in illness with almost 
 maternal care, watch over him, pity and console 
 him, on whose lap he might lay his aching head, 
 and whose slender hands would soothe its pain with 
 caresses, as if he were a child once more. 
 
 And yet there were still to be times (for she 
 could never wholly lose her charm in his eyes) 
 when she would be the wife, and even the mis- 
 tress, but a mistress with whom he could be per- 
 fectly at his ease ; who accepted his melancholy 
 or his gaiety with the same apparent equability ; 
 who never showed signs of fatigue, but was always 
 ready for journeys, expeditions, perpetual movement 
 from place to place ; who was always willing to wait, 
 and never kept him waiting ; who, without his own 
 feverish activity, contentedly took part in all his 
 occupations, sat beside him when he drove his 
 four-in-hand, joined in the romping games he 
 affected, followed him in the hunt, or accompanied 
 him to the theatre with the same soft smile on her 
 lips, the same sweetness in her voice. 
 
 In his political schemes, a more important part 
 was reserved for Josephine. The nation he had 
 determined to reconstruct lacked, he considered, 
 two of its essential elements the nobility and the 
 clergy. The latter he undertook to conciliate ; he 
 looked to Josephine to rally the former. Ignorant 
 of the mystic hierarchy which governed the French 
 society of the monarchy, the minute gradations 
 distinguishing one set from another, the impassable 
 gulfs dividing them. Napoleon proposed to deal 
 with this society in the mass. Josephine, he argued, 
 had belonged to it. She could restore it. She
 
 ico NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 would be a fit and natural intermediary between 
 himself and the emigrants, courtiers, and nobles, 
 all who had formed part of the old order. She 
 should dispense favours and benefactions, inquire 
 into wrongs, repair injustices, and gradually detach 
 from the opposing camp all those deserters whom 
 Napoleon wished to bring back into France ; later 
 on, she would be the link between the remnant of 
 the old regime and the representatives of the new. 
 
 The part thus marked out for her was a brilliant 
 and dignified one. Josephine had many of the 
 qualities essential to its success ease of manner, 
 courtesy, elegance. She had to a remarkable 
 degree the gift of well-chosen and appropriate 
 speech, generosity, a charming grace in conferring 
 favours or bestowing gifts, a politeness tinged with 
 respectful deference towards a guest, and an adapta- 
 bility of character which made her at home in every 
 circle she entered. As a fact, she was far from 
 possessing the interest and influence in the society 
 of the past ascribed to her by Napoleon ; the 
 intimacies she had formed since the Revolution 
 were of little use, and might, indeed, have materially 
 damaged the new Government, had not the First 
 Consul exacted their discontinuance. 
 
 Her position was consequently a very isolated one 
 at first. But as Bonaparte's power increased, social 
 obstacles seemed to disappear ; fine distinctions were 
 no longer insisted on, as new ambitions sprang into 
 being. Both in the emigrant colony and in Paris, 
 there were many eager to establish some chance 
 connection with the Beauharnais or Taschers ; distant 
 kinships and alliances, hitherto ignored, were now 
 ostentatiously proclaimed. Old servants, and under-
 
 (1RASSIXI 101 
 
 s of every grade, were used as stepping-stones ; 
 and soon all the needy a'nd importunate survivors of 
 the former order were setting in a steady stream 
 either towards the yellow saloon of the Tuileries, or 
 the stuccoed reception-rooms of Malmaison. 
 
 It must not be supposed, however, that this current 
 flowed towards Josephine as the scion of the Taschers 
 or the Beauharnais. Her prestige was due to the 
 fact that Bonaparte had made hen the partner of his 
 fortunes. Her attraction lay in her position as the 
 wife of Bonaparte, a possible intermediary with the 
 master. The ambitious would have gathered round 
 her whatever had been her name, her origin, or 
 her past history, for was she not the satellite of that 
 planet to whom they looked for light ? Jose- 
 phine, however, perhaps honestly enough, attributed 
 *he result to her own personality. She persuaded 
 Bonaparte that she was rendering him the most 
 important services, and strange to say, he believed 
 it implicitly. Confident that he himself had conquered 
 the clergy, he was easily convinced that his wife had 
 won over the nobility. 
 
 What woman might not have been content with 
 such a measure of honours, and gratified by the 
 performance of duties so important and so varied ? 
 Had not the Consul some right to expect that 
 Josephine, bearing in mind her own lapses, and 
 grateful for the generosity that had condoned them, 
 realizing with advancing years the disparity of age 
 between herself and her husband, and judging 
 leniently of weaknesses from which she herself had 
 not been exempt, would have shown some indulgence 
 to fancies that left her position and Bonaparte's 
 affection for her untouched fancies which the
 
 io2 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Consul's dread of scandal, and his sense of what 
 was due to himself, combined to veil in decorous 
 secrecy ? 
 
 Such a view of the situation was far enough from 
 Josephine's mind. Not that she was moved by a 
 renewal of passion for her husband, nor that admira- 
 tion and gratitude had awakened in her an affection 
 so tender and entire that she could not restrain her 
 jealousy. Her thoughts were all of herself, of her 
 position. She imagined that Bonaparte's gradual 
 detachment from her would culminate in her divorce. 
 Hence she lived in a state of perpetual terror, spying 
 upon him, and paying others to spy upon him, abas- 
 ing herself by the most unworthy devices, wearying 
 him by stormy scenes, tears, hysterics, confiding her 
 suspicions to any one who would listen, and in default 
 of evidence, inventing misdemeanours which she 
 declared she had herself witnessed, and was ready 
 to attest on oath. 
 
 The Consul's first infidelities were, nevertheless, of 
 slight importance. A day or two after his triumphal 
 entry into Milan, a concert was improvised on 
 Prairial the i4th or i5th, in which the two most 
 famous of Italian artistes, Marchesi and Grassini, 
 took part. Grassini was twenty-seven (she was 
 born at Varese in 1773), and her beauty was no 
 longer what it had been two years before, when, in 
 that very city, she had used her utmost art to attract 
 Bonaparte, and win him from Josephine. 
 
 Her figure had become somewhat heavy and 
 over - abundant. Her face, always of a massive 
 cast, with strongly-marked features, jet-black eye- 
 brows, and quantities of dark hair, had lost its refine- 
 ment. She was still beautiful, but with a beauty to
 
 GRASSIXI 103 
 
 be met with in every street in Italy ; brilliant eyes, 
 ;i rich olive skin, and an air of southern warmth and 
 passion that her actual temperament is said to have 
 by no means justified. She had had scores of lovers 
 not from mercenary motives, for she was far from 
 venal but in consequence of misconceptions acted 
 upon in all sincerity on either side. There was not 
 one among them whom she had failed to proclaim 
 " an angel " at first, but her honeymoons rarely 
 lasted beyond the first quarter. 
 
 Though Grassini's beauty was,, already on the 
 wane, her voice was at its best, and the purity and 
 expressive power of her singing was incomparable. 
 She was not a great musician, and had no very 
 logical conception of the principles of her art. But 
 she herself was an embodiment of that art. Her 
 .voice, a contralto of extraordinary sweetness and 
 pathos, pure and equal throughout its compass, was 
 in itself a system of harmony. 
 
 To hear her was to listen, not to a singer, but 
 to a Muse. Her phrasing was inimitable. As an 
 interpreter of serious opera she was without a rival 
 (in opera bouffe she was less successful), and none 
 of her contemporaries came within measurable 
 <1 istance of her in breadth and grandeur of tragic 
 sentiment, or in the magnetic power with which she 
 could thrill a whole audience and hold it spell-bound. 
 Bonaparte throughout his life was peculiarly sensi- 
 tive to music, especially that of the human voice. 
 Of all the arts, music was the only one for which he 
 had a personal taste and predilection. The rest he 
 encouraged, partly from policy, partly out of his 
 passion for the grandiose, and his yearning for 
 immortality. But in music he found a real enjoy-
 
 io 4 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 ment ; he loved it for its own sake, and for the 
 sensations it awoke in him. It calmed his nerves, 
 glorified his day-dreams, soothed his melancholy, 
 and warmed his heart. 
 
 It mattered little that he sang out of tune himself, 
 had a bad memory for an air, and did not know his 
 notes. Music moved him so deeply that he was no 
 longer master of himself under its spell, as, for 
 instance, on that occasion when he bestowed his 
 Order of the Iron Crown on the tenor Crescentini. 
 Does not such an act show a comprehension of 
 music deeper than many whose technical knowledge 
 is unassailable ? 
 
 It was the singer far more than the woman who 
 fascinated him in Grassini. She, for her part, had 
 been waiting two years for his notice. Her resist- 
 ance, as may be supposed, was not very protracted. 
 The day after the concert she was breakfasting in the 
 First Consul's room, with Berthier as a third, and it 
 was then arranged that she should precede Bonaparte 
 to Paris, and that an engagement should be offered 
 her at the Theatre de la Republique et des Arts. . 
 
 The episode, with certain modifications as to its 
 details, figures in the fourth bulletin of the army of 
 Italy, so worded as to disarm Josephine, and fore- 
 stal her objections to the arrival. " The Com- 
 mander-in-Chief (Berthier) and the First Consul 
 attended a concert, which, though improvised, was 
 very enjoyable. Italian singing has a charm that 
 is ever new. The famous Billington, Grassini, and 
 Marchesi are expected shortly at Milan. It is said 
 that they will afterwards proceed to Paris, where 
 they intend giving a series of concerts" 
 
 The trick is somewhat clumsy; but in this bulletin.
 
 GRASSIXI 105 
 
 which was evidently written solely for Josephine's 
 benefit, we are struck by the pains Bonaparte was 
 at to conceal his infidelity, his dissimulation in the 
 matter of the dates, and the introduction of Mrs, 
 Billington's name to mask that of Grassini, the only 
 one of importance to him ! 
 
 During this sojourn at Milan, immediately before 
 and after the battle of Marengo, Napoleon spent 
 every leisure hour in listening to Grassini. 
 
 Her miraculous voice possessed him, as it were. 
 He looked upon it as one of the most glorious 
 trophies of his campaign, and resolved that it should 
 celebrate his triumph and sing his victory. To this 
 end he directed that Grassini should be in Paris for 
 July 14, the Feast of Concord, to sing an Italian 
 duet with Bianchi. The Minister of the Interior 
 *A\as directed forthwith to procure the composition of 
 an ode " on the deliverance of the Cisalpine penin- 
 sula, and the glory of our arms some fine verses 
 in Italian," insisted the Consul, "set to good music." 
 
 Twenty-three days later, official France met in 
 solemn assembly in the Church of the Invalides, 
 a Temple of Mars " splendidly and appropriately 
 decorated." The First Consul, taking his place on 
 the platform, was greeted by Grassini's voice, lead- 
 ing off the duet with Bianchi or rather duets, for 
 the first yas followed by a second. " Who," ex- 
 claimed the Moniteur, " should more fittingly cele- 
 brate the victory of Marengo than those whose 
 peace and happiness are thereby assured ? " 
 
 It was audacious enough of Bonaparte to make 
 his mistress sing at this official function, and loud 
 would have been the outer) 7 had the liaison been 
 suspected. But no one seems to have surprised the
 
 io6 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 secret so far, not even Josephine, who accepted the 
 statement of the bulletin in all good faith. The 
 fancy, too, was not long-lived. Intoxicated by a 
 conquest she had long sighed for in vain, Grassini, 
 before quitting Milan, imagined that she was about 
 to play as great a part in politics as on the stage. 
 She supposed her influence to be unbounded, and 
 .as she was good-natured and obliging, she left 
 Italy laden with requests and petitions from her 
 compatriots. 
 
 But Bonaparte was not the man to tolerate 
 business discussions when he was in the vein for 
 Jove-making. He further insisted that Grassini 
 should live in great retirement, occupying a small 
 house in the Rue Chantereine, and rarely showing 
 herself abroad. Such conditions were ill-suited to 
 the taste of the lady, who had planned a very differ- 
 ent existence for herself, and had dreamt of such 
 public marks of favour from the conqueror as should 
 make her name, her beauty, and her talent the talk 
 of Europe. Constancy was never her strong point 
 at the best of times ; she was bored to extinction, 
 and had not even the distractions of her profession, 
 for the terrible jargon she made do duty for French 
 closed the doors of the opera against her, and there 
 was no Italian opera company at Paris in the year 
 IX. In desperation she took a new lover,^Rode the 
 violinist. Bonaparte's discovery of the intrigue 
 caused a definite rupture between himself and the 
 prima donna ; but Rode's fears as to the conse- 
 quences of his own success proved groundless, and 
 neither he nor his mistress was ever called to 
 account by Bonaparte. The Consul even gave 
 them the use of the Theatre de la Republique for
 
 GRASSINI ,07 
 
 concerts on two occasions (March 17, and October 
 10, 1801). The second was particularly brilliant. 
 The receipts amounted to 13,868 francs, and Suard's 
 descriptive notice in the Moniteur rose to flights of 
 almost lyric eloquence. 
 
 After this Grassini resumed her eventful career 
 as a star of the opera, going and coming between 
 Berlin, London, Milan, Genoa, and the Hague, 
 feted and flattered wherever she appeared, and 
 receiving ^"3000 sterling for an engagement of five 
 months. When passing through Paris she fre- 
 quently knocked at the secret door of the Tuileries, 
 which never failed to admit her. Her visits were 
 perfectly unimportant, though they alarmed and 
 incensed Josephine beyond measure. " I find," she 
 writes to one of her confidantes, "that Grassini has 
 *bcen in Paris for tlie last ten days. Site, it appear S, 
 is the cause of all my sorrow. I assure you, my dear, 
 I would tell y OIL frankly if I had the least reason to 
 reproach myself. You had better send Julie (the 
 maid) to find out whether any one is admitted. Try 
 to discover where that woman is living." 
 
 This letter is a complete index to Josephine's 
 character. There could be no question of rivalry 
 between Grassini and herself. She knew that a 
 serious liaison between the singer and the First 
 Consul was impossible, and that his relations with 
 her were the outcome of memories rather than . of 
 passion. Nevertheless, she could not master her 
 curiosity, her inclination to play the spy, and arm 
 herself with an additional weapon against her hus- 
 band ; nor could she refrain from complaints and 
 lamentations to a woman Bonaparte hated, and had 
 all but turned out of the Tuileries.
 
 io8 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 She seems, however, to have come to a more 
 reasonable frame of mind in 1807, wnen the Chamber 
 of Music was in process of organization, and Napoleon 
 recalled Grassini to Paris. He offered the singer 
 the singer and not the woman a salary of 36,000 
 francs, an annual bonus of 15,000 francs over and 
 above such occasional benefactions as mi^ht accrue 
 
 O 
 
 to her, and a pension of 15,000 francs on retirement. 
 She was further to give a concert once a year, either 
 in the Opera House or at the If aliens, for her own 
 benefit, and to be at liberty to appear wherever she 
 chose during her holidays, and to announce herself 
 by the imposing title of First Singer to His Majesty 
 the Emperor and King. 
 
 Her title availed little, however, to protect her 
 against the robbers who infested the highways, and 
 on October 19, 1807, near Rouvrai, on the borders 
 of Yonne and the Cote d'Or, her post-chaise was 
 attacked by four deserters from a Swiss regiment. 
 The unhappy traveller was most barbarously treated, 
 outraged, and stripped of all she had. Two days 
 afterwards, however, the offenders were brought to 
 justice, and the Emperor bestowed the Cross of the 
 Legion of Honour on one Durandeau, commandant 
 of the National Guard at Viteaux, who killed two 
 of the ruffians with his own hand, and arrested a 
 third. 
 
 A story has been told in this connection which 
 relates that when the robbers snatched from her a 
 portrait of Bonaparte, set in brilliants, Grassini 
 implored them to keep the diamonds, and give her 
 back the picture of her " ctier gmwernement ! " It 
 was she who exclaimed in a drawing-room where 
 
 o 
 
 the gift of the Iron Crown to Crescentini was the
 
 C.RASSINI 109 
 
 subject of much indignant criticism " Eh bien ! 
 mais vous oubliez sa blessoure ! " She could be witty 
 upon occasion, with the artist's wit, as a man of the 
 world who knew her has remarked in reference to that 
 audacious humour, intensified by her Italian accent, 
 which seemed curiously in harmony with her freedom 
 of speech, and set all the rules of what Boileau calls 
 propriety at naught. 
 
 From 1807 to 1814 the arrangements we have 
 described were adhered to. Grassini received from 
 the Emperor 70,000 francs a year, in addition to 
 what she received from the public. As years went 
 by Napoleon's enthusiasm cooled ; he was present 
 at the Italiens, however, in November 1813, when 
 Cimarosa's Horatii and Curiatii was given with 
 great magnificence. At the Court theatre her 
 "success was as great as ever, and was acknowledged 
 by the Emperor with a like generosity and courtesy. 
 All his favours failed, however, to compel her 
 gratitude. After the fall of the Empire she con- 
 sented to sing for Wellington, and her complaisance, 
 it seems, did not end here. She was addicted to 
 gambling, and may have been in want of money. 
 Or it may be that she was moved by her passion 
 for attracting the notice of famous men, and attaching 
 herself to them. 
 
 The Duke had a curious fancy for Napoleon's 
 leavings. He wished to have his portrait painted 
 by David, who declined, on the grounds that he 
 painted only historical pictures. He had better 
 luck with Grassini, who, at forty-two, became his 
 diva and his mistress. But the cricket is a prover- 
 bially irresponsible creature.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ACTRESSES. 
 
 GRASSINI'S influence on Napoleon was transient, 
 and jealous as Josephine was for a time, her fears 
 were soon allayed. But other actresses were ad- 
 mitted into the secret apartments at the Tuileries, 
 whose visits became more or less habitual. Here 
 again, however, there was no cause for alarm. They 
 were young women of easy virtue, for whom it was 
 impossible that Bonaparte should have any serious 
 feeling. All he asked of them was that they should 
 be beautiful and amiable in the brief intervals he 
 spent in their company. The presence of one of 
 these visitors, nevertheless, excited Josephine's fears 
 to the verge of frenzy. Candle in hand, she would 
 wander about the corridors, trying locks and bolts, 
 possessed by the idea of surprising her husband, 
 and bringing his enormities home to him in an 
 effective scene. 
 
 Many of the scandals in this connection would 
 have been unknown but for Josephine. She it was 
 who unearthed them, noised them abroad, repeated 
 them ad nauseam, and even invented them at will, 
 for she was incorrigibly untruthful. Trivial as these
 
 ACTRESSES 1 1 1 
 
 interludes were in general, they were part of the life 
 of Napoleon, and as such we must glance at them r 
 for they give certain indications of his character not 
 to be found elsewhere. 
 
 The only singers who attracted him were Grassini, 
 as we have seen, and perhaps Madame Branchu, a 
 woman so singularly plain that the idea of his having 
 distinguished her would seem almost grotesque, if it 
 were not that the dilettante in him may have been 
 fascinated for the moment by the expressive power 
 and tenderness of the tragedian who re-created Dido, 
 Alcestes, and the Vestal. 
 
 Xo dancer caught his fancy, though dancers had 
 a great vogue at the time. Those were the days- 
 when Clotide, to whom Prince Pignatelli made an 
 allowance of a hundred thousand francs a month, 
 -was offered an additional four hundred thousand a 
 year by Admiral Mazaredo ; when Bigottini, gather- 
 in g the golden harvest on every side, accumulated 
 millions wherewith to dower her descendants, who- 
 became in due time very desirable prizes in the 
 matrimonial market. 
 
 Neither do we find him looking with favour upon 
 any of the comedy actresses of the day, though these 
 included Mademoiselle Mars, who, however, was 
 hardly beautiful at her di { but> owing to her excessive 
 thinness ; Mademoiselle Devienne, the incomparable 
 soubrette, whose bright face sparkled with humour, 
 but who nevertheless was overcome with bashfulness 
 when the Emperor made some courteous remark to- 
 ner out hunting ; Mademoiselle Mezeray, who, to- 
 tell the truth, was fully occupied with Lucien Bona- 
 parte ; and Mademoiselle Gros, who had captivated 
 Joseph.
 
 ii2 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 There is room for doubt, perhaps, in the case of 
 Madame Leverd who was made a member of the 
 Comddie Franfaise in 1808, after a single perform- 
 ance at St. Cloud. It was certainly not Monsieur 
 Remusat, the comptroller of the theatre, who procured 
 her admission ; he had an inveterate dislike to 
 her, and persecuted her later on relentlessly, in 
 defiance of requests, orders, and even decrees from 
 the Emperor. To whom then did she owe her 
 promotion ? She is said to have been charming ; 
 with a grace, a coquetry, a gaiety that gave her a 
 dangerous fascination more serviceable than her 
 somewhat mediocre talent. 
 
 If Napoleon had really a passing fancy for her 
 and it is by no means certain it was unique. His 
 tastes and temperament inclined him to an almost 
 exclusive admiration of the tragic school. 
 
 It was the golden age of tragedy at the Thddtre 
 Franfais. The company, selected with marvellous 
 judgment, and trained to exceptional proficiency, 
 were fit exponents of an epic literature to an 
 audience as exceptional as themselves an audience 
 made up of men of letters, prompt to resent any 
 derogation from their ideals, and of soldiers, respon- 
 sive to every lofty sentiment of the drama. 
 Bonaparte, an enthusiastic patron of the actors, was 
 as lavish of criticisms as of money in his dealings 
 with them. He looked upon the drama as the 
 school of the nation, essential less to its literary 
 education than to its moral growth. " Tragedy," 
 he said to Goethe, " should be the school of kings 
 and peoples. It is the highest exercise of the 
 poet's art." The oft-quoted sentence " If Cor- 
 neille were living I would make him a prince," was
 
 ACTKHSSKS 113 
 
 the sequel to an earlier utterance " Tragedy fires 
 the soul, elevates the heart, and creates heroes." 
 
 He cared little for drama, which he considered 
 "a mongrel art," and had but a poor opinion of 
 comedy, disliking the factious element in Moliere 
 and Beaumarchais, the repulsive in Le Sage, the 
 improbable in Fabre d' Eglantine. Farces he could 
 not understand, nor could he find the least amuse- 
 ment in them. 
 
 He had no appreciation for mere verbal jingles, 
 puns, irrelevancies, wit that played round its subject, 
 and was not, as he expressed it, of its essence, but 
 an embellishment ; no taste for society verses, 
 neatly-turned couplets, the skilfully balanced rhythms 
 that almost succeed in imposing themselves upon 
 us as thoughts. All such trivialities he despised, 
 and, indeed, knew nothing of. Tragedy, on the 
 other hand, appealed to him by its gravity, nobility, 
 and strength. Here there was no vulgarity. He 
 communed with his equals, kings, heroes, and gods. 
 He listened to his own speech, for thus he would 
 tain be made to express himself to posterity, when 
 in the fullness of time he too should be the poet's 
 theme. 
 
 \\ ith this passionate admiration for tragedy, 
 he naturally addressed himself to the interpreters 
 of tragedy. The sly glances of the soubrette, the 
 studied fascinations of the practised coquette, the 
 mock modesty of the ingenue, with all these he 
 was familiar at his own Court, and all the actresses 
 in the social comedy were ready to come at his nod ; 
 but Phaedra, Andromache, Iphigenia, Hermione, 
 were something more than mortal women ; they 
 were supernatural, almost divine beings, glorious with
 
 Ji4 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SKX 
 
 all the treasures of poetry and history. His imagin- 
 ation kindled at the thought of them ; the actresses 
 who represented them attracted him, not on their 
 own merits, but as embodiments of the characters 
 they personated. There was no sense of degrada- 
 tion in intercourse with these, and thus he veiled a 
 purely sensual satisfaction in a mist of poetic feeling. 
 
 There were times, no doubt, when prose got 
 the better of poetry. Engrossed by great affairs, 
 and with little leisure for dalliance, unaccustomed 
 to the polite phrases of convention, and unable 
 to conceal his scorn for those who came to offer 
 themselves in obedience to a servant's message. 
 he now and then indulged in a brutality of speech 
 and bluntness of manner that in another man would 
 have been profoundly cynical. At heart, how- 
 ever, he was anything but a cynic. "He invested 
 all that pertains to the pleasures of the senses with 
 a romantic aspect, and poetic terms," says one of 
 the followers who knew him best. His very rough- 
 ness was but a mask for the slight embarrassment he 
 habitually felt with women, no matter of what class. 
 He took refuge in bravado, and boasted of vices 
 of which he was innocent. Thus, in conversations 
 at St. Helena, he professed himself more intimate 
 with sensations than with sentiments, though, as a 
 fact, few men were more sentimental than himself. 
 
 In many instances, of course, there was little room 
 for sentiment. It is true that his desires were the 
 outcome less of sensual passion than of an excitable 
 imagination. Often, when one of his facile conquests 
 was at hand, the caprice had passed away, or his 
 mind was fully absorbed in affairs of State. When 
 engrossed in work every distraction was a trouble
 
 ACTRESSES 115 
 
 and vexation to him. The announcement of some 
 arrival would be made by a discreet knock at the 
 door. " Let her wait ! " The knock would be 
 repeated after an interval. " Let her go away ! " 
 And he would resume his work. 
 
 The anecdote is told in connection with 
 Mademoiselle Duchesnois, but she was accustomed 
 t<> such adventures. The story of her admission 
 to the Francais is perhaps not generally known. 
 
 In the early days of the Consulate a young dandy, 
 who had lately inherited a fortune, invited a party 
 of friends to celebrate his good luck at a country- 
 house near St. Denis. After breakfast a hunting- 
 part) was proposed, but the guests soon wearied 
 of the amusement. " A messenger was accordingly 
 despatched to a well-known house in the Chaussee 
 tl'Antin to fetch some ladies, of a class not remark- 
 able for severity of manners, and generally ready to 
 accept a good dinner." Each cavalier chose his 
 partner. One girl, however, was left without a mate, 
 every one declaring that she was "too ugly." Yet 
 she had fine eyes, a well-moulded figure, much 
 sweetness of expression, and a touching air of sad 
 submission to disdain. The party played games in 
 the park. She ran like a young deer, her light 
 garments displaying the grace and freedom of her 
 movements to great advantage. Her voice was soft 
 and melodious ; in mind she seemed more refined 
 and intellectual than her companions. One of the 
 \ ( >ung men present took compassion on her, and 
 talked to her at some length. He mentioned her 
 to Legouve\ who asked to see her, made her read 
 him some verses, and was surprised in his turn at 
 her intelligence.
 
 n6' NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Legouve gave her good advice, introduced her 
 to Madame de Montesson's salon, where she met 
 General Valence, influenced Madame Bonaparte 
 in her favour, and obtained permission to bring 
 her out. She played Phedre for the first time on 
 Thermidor the i6th, year X. Her adventure at the 
 Tuileries is supposed to have taken place some two 
 years later. But there are memories that nothing 
 can efface from a woman's mind, and all her life 
 Mademoiselle Duchesnois retained a sort of timid 
 melancholy, a reminiscence of the days when she 
 was a servant, and something less reputable, a 
 perpetual apprehension of the dreaded words 
 " She is too ugly." 
 
 Therese Bourgoin was another who was dismissed 
 in very cavalier fashion. But the woman who sent 
 the insolent missive " Neither seen nor known," 
 signed Iphigdnie en Tauride, in reply to an inquiry 
 from a Duchess concerning a lost parrot, was not 
 disposed to accept an insult with the resignation of 
 Mademoiselle Duchesnois. The wound to her vanity- 
 was envenomed by a more material injury, the loss 
 of a rich lover, his Excellency the Minister of the 
 Interior. This was Chaptal. After her second 
 appearance, which was very sharply discussed, he 
 ordered her admission to the franfais, and by way 
 of gloss to the favour, wrote a public and official 
 letter to Mademoiselle Dumesnil, who had given the 
 dtbitiante some instruction at his request, in which he 
 begged her acceptance of a gratification from the 
 Ministry, and thanked her for having " employed the 
 leisure of her retirement in forming a pupil, worthy 
 of her and of dramatic art." He put the official 
 newspapers at Mademoiselle Bourgoin's disposal,
 
 ACTRESS I ;s 117 
 
 paraded his relations with her. and was soon the talk 
 and laughing-stock of Paris in this connection. 
 
 The Bourgoin, who was known as " the goddess 
 of love and pleasure," was certainly a very desirable 
 mistress for a man fifty years old. Chaptal might 
 have been pardoned his admiration for her round 
 face, her innocent air, her mischievous smile, her 
 limpid eyes, so unaccountably chaste and candid in 
 expression, her audacious speech, and highly-spiced 
 pleasantries, had he but made a certain concession 
 to appearances, preserved his dignity, and refrained 
 from the gross absurdity of accepting Mademoiselle 
 Bourgoin as a model of virtue. Napoleon was 
 malicious enough to undeceive him. One night, 
 when he had made an appointment with the Minister, 
 he arranged a visit from Mademoiselle Bourgoin, and 
 ordered her to be announced in Chaptal's presence. 
 Napoleon first desired her to wait, and finally dis- 
 missed her curtly enough. But Chaptal, on 
 hearing Mademoiselle Bourgoin announced, had 
 gathered up his papers and left the room. He sent 
 in his resignation the same night. 
 
 Henceforth it was war to the knife on the actress' 
 part. At St. Petersburg, where she went after the 
 Peace of Tilsit, she amused her admirers with all the 
 epigrams at the Emperor's expense current in Paris. 
 
 It was Napoleon's turn at Erfurt, where he regaled 
 Alexander with stories about Mademoiselle Bourgoin, 
 and warned him against the young lady's facile in- 
 discretion, in terms which no doubt proved a 
 stumbling-block to her adventurous career. After 
 the Restoration, she was loud in her professions of 
 loyalty. Presented to the King by the Due de Berry, 
 she had excellent reasons for her affection to the
 
 u8 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Bourbon dynasty. During" the Hundred Days, she 
 made an ostentatious display of the Royalist colours ; 
 her challenge passed unnoticed, however, and the 
 Due de Berry's neglect of her after his return from 
 Ghent perceptibly cooled her ardour. 
 
 The Duchesnois and Bourgoin episodes were 
 evidently unimportant. Mademoiselle George proved 
 a more seductive visitor, and was not dismissed un- 
 noticed when she presented herself at the Tuileries. 
 
 It is true, that on her first visit Napoleon bluntly 
 accused her of concealing her feet, because they 
 were ugly. The phrase, no doubt, escaped him 
 involuntarily, in his dismayed perception of a defect 
 in one so exquisitely formed. 
 
 He had a great admiration for pretty hands and 
 feet. They were the first points he noticed in a 
 woman, and when they were ill-formed, he condemned 
 them in the terse and untranslatable phrase " Ellc 
 a les abatis canailles" George, who at seventeen 
 was so magnificently moulded, whose head, shoulders, 
 arms and body were of ideal perfection, had very 
 coarse extremities. Her feet were especially bad. 
 Two years earlier she was treading them out of 
 shape in ragged slippers, as she swept the causeway 
 in front of her home at Amiens, where her father was 
 leader of the orchestra, and manager of the theatre. 
 
 Napoleon was just installed at St. Cloud, when, 
 in the month of Nivose, year XL, he first received a 
 visit from Mademoiselle George, in a small room 
 adjoining the orangery. That year he made a long 
 sojourn in his new abode, passing nearly the whole 
 winter there, and Mademoiselle George was often his 
 companion. He had a great admiration for her 
 beauty, and was amused by her ready and lively wit.
 
 ACTKKSSKS n 9 
 
 She entertained him with all the gossip of the side 
 scenes, and the humours of the green-room at the 
 Fraiicais, where many curious stories were to be 
 gleaned in those clays. \Yhen he came to Paris, she 
 visited him occasionally in the secret apartments at 
 the Tuileries, but he never went to her house, and 
 so was spared the embarrassment of a meeting with 
 Coster de St. Victor and other lovers. The liaison 
 lasted some two years, according to George's account, 
 and she declared that she was faithful throughout. 
 If so, it was more than Bonaparte exacted from her. 
 
 Josephine soon discovered her husband's new 
 lancy. She was greatly disturbed, and gave way to 
 the most violent distress and excitement. " She 
 takes things far too seriously," said Bonaparte. 
 " She is always afraid that I shall fall deeply in love. 
 Tan she not understand that love is not for me? 
 What, indeed, is love ? A passion that casts aside 
 all the world in favour of some one beloved object. 
 Such exclusiveness is not in my nature. Why then 
 should she make herself miserable about amusements 
 in which my affections have no part?" 
 
 The logic was unimpeachable, but Josephine had 
 no turn for logic. She must, however, have drawn 
 some consolation from the discretion with which the 
 secret was kept. 
 
 There was no scandal, no public display of prefer- 
 ence. As an actress, ( icorge was never distinguished 
 above her fellows. \Vhen she failed in her attend- 
 ance, the Prefect of the Palace roundly threatened to 
 send her to prison, and she took the warning in good 
 earnest. If she played at Court, she received the 
 same payment as her comrades, and on one occasion, 
 when she ventured to ask Bonaparte for his
 
 i2o NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 portrait, he handed her a double Napoleon, saying 
 " Here it is ; I am told it is a good likeness." 
 
 No doubt she received large sums of money from 
 him. The entry, " Remitted to his Majesty the 
 Emperor," occurs frequently in the accounts of the 
 Privy Purse, against sums ranging from 10 to 
 20,000 francs, but there is nothing to indicate their 
 final destination. Once only, on August 16, 1807, 
 George figures as the recipient of 10,000 francs. 
 But at this date her intermittent visits to the Tuileries 
 had ceased for over three years, and the en ft was 
 
 * o 
 
 no doubt a souvenir, presented on the Feast of 
 St. Napoleon. 
 
 A month later, on Mav 1 1 , 1 808, George left 
 
 * o> 
 
 Paris surreptitiously accompanied by Duport, the 
 opera dancer, who, fearing to be stopped at the 
 barrier, had disguised himself in woman's dress. 
 Regardless alike of her engagement at the Theatre 
 Francais, and of her numerous creditors, she 
 escaped from France to join a lover in Russia, who 
 is said to have promised to marry her. This was 
 Benckendorff, brother of the Countess Lieven, who 
 had come to Paris in the suite of the Russian 
 ambassador, Tolstoi. He had lately been recalled, 
 and had determined to introduce his mistress to the 
 inhabitants of St. Petersburg, and above all to the 
 Emperor. 
 
 The project masked a Court intrigue, the object of 
 which was to detach the Czar from Madame Narish- 
 kine by means of a fugitive liaison with the French 
 actress, from which it would be easy to bring him 
 back to the Empress. George, who had no sus- 
 picion of these secret combinations, extolled the 
 virtues of her " good Benckendorff" in long letters
 
 ACTRESH.- 121 
 
 to her mother, which she signed George BenckcndorJ}. 
 She was presented to the Emperor Alexander, who 
 sent her a handsome diamond clasp, and summoned 
 her to Peterhoff, but never repeated the invitation, 
 A certain Grand Duke, who said, commenting on 
 her performance of Phedre "Your Mademoiselle 
 George does not seem to me so fine in her way as 
 my favourite horse in his," took to visiting her daily r 
 and " loved her like a sister," as she herself declared. 
 
 He was not the only visitor who was well re- 
 ceived ; she smiled upon court and city alike. But 
 this was hardly what the wire-pullers who had 
 brought her to Russia had planned, nor what 
 Napoleon had sanctioned when the stratagem was 
 laid before him. Nevertheless, when George made 
 up her mind to return to France, after 1812, and 
 hastened to rejoin her fellow -players at Dresden, 
 whither Napoleon had summoned them during the 
 armistice, the Emperor not only re-instated her as 
 a member of the company, but ordered that her six 
 years' absence should be included in her term of 
 service, a favour her comrades never forgave her. 
 
 During the Hundred Days, she sent the Emperor 
 word that she had papers to place in his hands 
 deeply compromising to the Duke of Otranto. 
 Napoleon sent a confidential servant to receive 
 them, and on his return asked " Did she tell you 
 she was badly off? " " No, Sire, she only spoke of 
 the importance of sending you the papers." " I 
 know all about it," said the Emperor ; " Caulain- 
 court told me ; he also told me she was in want. 
 Send her 20,000 francs from the Privy Purse." 
 
 George, at any rate, was grateful. There is no 
 doubt that the attacks made upon her by gentlemen.
 
 122 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 of the Chamber, and frequenters of the pit, which 
 ended in her brutal expulsion from the Theatre 
 Francais, were directed mainly against the political 
 opinions she always frankly professed. In her last 
 days, when she was a very old woman, retaining no 
 vestiges of the triumphant charms of her youth, she 
 could never speak of Napoleon but with a break in 
 her voice, a thrill of genuine emotion, so pene- 
 trating and magnetic that the youths who listened 
 to her now almost old men can never forget the 
 impression. It was not her lover she recalled, but 
 the Emperor. She spoke of him with a sort of 
 timid reverence, and seemed to have forgotten that 
 he had once thought her beautiful, and had told her 
 so. This reticence was not the tardy modesty 
 of old age, for she spoke freely of other lovers. 
 It was rather that she saw in him, not the part he 
 had played to her, but the part he had played to 
 France, like to those nymphs of old who, honoured 
 by the embraces of a god, were so dazzled by 
 the blinding light of his glory that they never 
 beheld his face.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 READERS. 
 
 MANY others, besides the famous actresses we 
 have mentioned, climbed the dark staircase, and 
 guided by Constant or Roustam, passed along the 
 dim passage, where the oil-lamps burnt night and 
 day, to the small room in the half-storey formerly 
 occupied by Bourrienne, which communicated by 
 means of a secret staircase with the official apart- 
 ments. Madame Bernard, the Court florist, arranged 
 a bouquet every morning for the secret room, for 
 which she received an annual payment of 600 francs 
 a year. But the flowers thus renewed each day 
 faded less swiftly than the fancies inspired by the 
 visitors. 
 
 So numerous did these become as Bonaparte's 
 power increased, that it would be a difficult matter 
 even to give the names of the multitude, who, urged 
 by avarice, ambition, or a love of intrigue, flocked 
 after him. A like experience has been the lot of 
 every man who has risen to supreme greatness ; the 
 conqueror of every age has found himself beset by 
 a like band of venal beauties, ready to yield at his 
 ^lightest nod, haunting his path, dogging his foot-
 
 i2 4 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 steps, their very glances soliciting his notice, and 
 craving a profitable dishonour. 
 
 It cannot be too much insisted on that Napoleon 
 was thirty-one years old in 1800, and forty-one in 
 1810. From 1800 to 1810 he was therefore in the 
 prime of vigorous manhood, and though he never 
 went in pursuit of passing distractions, neither did 
 he reject them when they came in his way. Broaclly 
 speaking, he may be said to have given little time 
 or thought to women, though two, not to mention 
 Josephine, undoubtedly inspired him with a passion 
 which greatly modified his normal character. But 
 in general no woman had the power to disturb his 
 work, distract his thoughts, retard his projects, or 
 interfere with his course of life. Such amusements 
 as presented themselves, however, he took without 
 hesitation. 
 
 Was this immorality ? What man in his position 
 would not have done the same? What sovereign 
 would not have far exceeded such limits ? W T hat 
 mattered it that a veiled woman now and then came 
 under cover of night to the secret staircase, so 
 long as no woman, either wife or mistress, found 
 her way into the council-chamber, or intruded in 
 the study ? The best of husbands are sometimes 
 the worst of kings. 
 
 If we were dealing only with Napoleon and his 
 idiosyncrasy, enough perhaps would now have been 
 said on this head. But one or two of those he dis- 
 tinguished have not scrupled to make money in the 
 literary market out of their souvenirs, and to this 
 end have given piquancy to their adventures by the 
 invention of a host of details, or by arrogating to 
 themselves a part very different to that they actual ly
 
 KKADKRS 125 
 
 played in events ; and hence has arisen malice 
 so clamorous, calumny so perfidious, that here as 
 elsewhere it behoves us to search out the truth. 
 One of these women, she who is best known as 
 ;i writer, and whose obligations both to Consul 
 and Emperor were deepest, shall be allowed to 
 escape analysis this time ; presumptive evidence, 
 strong though it be, must not be allowed the weight 
 
 o o o 
 
 of material proof; but a study of characters analo- 
 gous to her own may suffice to indicate the place 
 she ought to occupy. 
 
 Another, much less famous, who nevertheless 
 furnished a text to endless pamphleteers, was a 
 certain Madame de Vaudey, who, on the proclama- 
 tion of the Empire, was appointed Lady-in- Waiting 
 at the earnest recommendation of M. Lecouteulx de 
 Canteleu. 
 
 She was well-born, being the daughter of the 
 distinguished strategist, Michaud d'Arqon, who in- 
 vented the insubmersible batteries used in the siege 
 of Gibraltar, furnished the plans of the Dutch cam- 
 paign of 1/93, took Breda, and was one of the 
 first senators of the Consulate. She had married 
 well ; her husband, M. de Barberot de Vellexon, 
 lord of Vaudey, captain in the Royal- Bonrgoync 
 regiment, belonged to an ancient family, originally 
 of Alsace, which settled at Gray in the fifteenth 
 century. She was furthermore a very lovely 
 woman, with a lively wit, a taste for intrigue, 
 A fine voice, and a fluent pen. She was ap- 
 pointed Lady-in-Waiting in July, 1804, together 
 with Madame Re"musat and her companions, and 
 was thus among the first on whom the honour 
 was conferred. The Empress was on the eve of
 
 i 2 6 XAI'OI.KOX AX I) THK FAIR SKX 
 
 departure for Aix-la-Chapelle, and Madame de 
 Yaudey attended her. 
 
 When, at the beginning of September, Napoleon 
 rejoined Josephine at Aix, for the triumphal progress 
 up the Rhine, Madame de Vaudey was a prominent 
 figure at all the festivities, and undertook to amuse 
 the conqueror. On returning to Paris, she felt suffi- 
 cient confidence in her own position to brave the 
 wrath of the Empress, whose jealousy had been 
 roused. She accumulated debts as lavishly as 
 Josephine herself, and set up the establishment of 
 an acknowledged favourite. In the pretty little 
 Chateau de la Tuilerie, afterwards the abode of 
 Rachel and of Thiers, and now the Convent of the 
 Assumption, she was the centre of a brilliant circle, 
 gave magnificent receptions, and lived in almost 
 regal state. 
 
 After a long interview with Napoleon, she laid a 
 statement of her debts before him for the first time ; 
 they were promptly paid. On a second occasion 
 she was equally successful. On a third. Napoleon 
 bluntly refused the interview she requested. "' I am 
 neither rich enough nor good-natured enough," he 
 said, " to pay so dearly for what I can get so cheaply. 
 Thank Madame de Vaudey for her kindness to me, 
 and let me hear no more of her." 
 
 Hereupon followed a pathetic letter from the lady, 
 who vowed she would poison herself if her clebts^ 
 debts of honour ! -were not paid in twenty-four 
 hours. The aide-de-camp on duty was despatched to 
 Auteuil, where he found her not at all bent on 
 self-destruction ! She was requested to resign her 
 post immediately, and her name consequently does 
 not appear in any of the Imperial almanacs.
 
 RKADKKS 127 
 
 At a later period, when her brain seems to ha\v 
 somewhat affected, she went to M. de Poligriac, 
 
 o 
 
 aiul urged him to murder Napoleon. Reduced to- 
 poverty, almost blind, and paralyzed in one arm, 
 she hawked about her Souvenirs of the Directory 
 and the Empire, mainly as an excuse for begging. 
 She it was who furnished the publisher Ladvocat 
 with those Memoirs of a Lady-in- Waiting , which 
 served as padding for his edition of Constant's 
 Memoirs. The best that can be said of her is that 
 she was poverty-stricken and half-crazed. Others 
 had not even this excuse. 
 
 It was Josephine who introduced Madame de 
 Vaudey to Court, at the instance of Lecouteulx. 
 She had a swarm of prote'ge'es of the same, and of an 
 inferior order, whose social sponsors were persons 
 -rven less considerable, and whose only claim to a 
 place at Court seems to have been their readiness to 
 amuse the master. 
 
 In all this, however, there was no premeditation 
 on Josephine's part, and the idea that she had 
 become so far resigned as to provide distractions 
 for her husband, rests on a radical misconception 
 of her character. In her Creole temperament there 
 was a singular inclination to surround herself with 
 dependants drawn from a sort of debatable land 
 1>< 'tween the world of gentility and that of domestic 
 service, young women whose pretty faces were 
 pleasant to look at, who amused her by their lively 
 prattle, entertained her with their accomplishments, 
 and gave a certain gaiety and animation to that pal act . 
 " dreary as greatness," out of which she never set 
 foot. She engaged them without much inquiry as 
 to their antecedents, moved by some tale of woe, or
 
 128 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 attracted by a slim figure, a piquant expression, an 
 unexpected answer. Of these young people, many 
 had known adventures, all were bent on conquests. 
 Poor and unscrupulous, they and their meagre little 
 toilettes were suddenly introduced to the most 
 elegant Court in the world. They had no regular 
 occupation, and shut up in idleness in the private 
 apartments of the Empress, they had nothing to do 
 but to flirt with the brilliant officers, whom they 
 dreamt of as possible husbands for had not many 
 no better than themselves married generals, who 
 were now Marshals of the Empire ? He who was 
 the fountain of honours, who could make or mar 
 fortunes by a sign, passed in and out familiarly 
 among them at all hours. They lay in wait for 
 him, longing for such a sign, ready to risk all for 
 attainment some among them had little enough to 
 risk and, as they showed their complaisance thus 
 plainly, as they were always in evidence, and always 
 -eager to please, as the Emperor's subordinates were 
 always on the watch, like the valets in a comedy, to 
 see whether the master showed a preference, a 
 bargain was readily concluded, and things followed 
 their inevitable course, without the least attempt at 
 seduction on the one hand, or pretence of love on 
 the other. However secretly such an intrigue was 
 conducted, Josephine invariably discovered it sooner 
 or later. Then there would be a stormy scene ; the 
 young woman would be dismissed, generally with a 
 substantial dowry, which enabled her to make an 
 excellent match with some not too rigid gentleman, 
 and to rear a family of the first distinction. 
 
 Among the bevy was one Felicite Longroy, the 
 daughter of one of the ushers of the Council, whom
 
 READERS . 129 
 
 Josephine had engaged to announce the Imperial 
 entry. In readiness for this office she sat all day in 
 an ante-room leading to the private apartments, her 
 only duty being to throw open doors before the 
 Emperor and Empress. Her salary for this office 
 was 3,600 francs a year, and in 1806 Josephine 
 increased the sum by 600 francs. But Felicite" 
 Longroy was an unimportant personage, scarcely 
 more than a servant. 
 
 Mademoiselle Lacoste was rather above this 
 level. She was a pretty blonde, somewhat too thin, 
 but with a graceful figure, and a refined and intelli- 
 gent face. She was an orphan without a penny, 
 brought up by an aunt who was an adept in 
 stratagems, and who, indeed, brought about her 
 introduction to Josephine by a series of ingenious 
 ^contrivances. The Empress received her kindly, 
 and bestowed on her the somewhat vague title of 
 Reader. No very severe tax was made upon her in 
 this capacity, for immediately after her nomination 
 the Court left for Milan, where the coronation was 
 to take place. Mademoiselle Lacoste followed 
 the Court, without, as it were, belonging to it. As 
 reader, she was not associated with the suite, nor 
 could she fraternize with the ladies'-maids, next to 
 whom she lodged in solitude, much oppressed with 
 the loneliness of her new life. At Stupinitz, the 
 Emperor glanced at her; at Milan, he remarked 
 her. The subsequent negotiation was neither diffi- 
 cult nor prolonged ; but Josephine discovered that it 
 was concluded. A terrible scene followed ; the reader 
 was dismissed ; her aunt was summoned from Paris 
 to take her away. Before her departure, however, 
 the Emperor stipulated that she should appear once
 
 1 3 o NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 at the Empress's reception. Here was a fresh 
 scandal ; for it was against etiquette for a reader to 
 be seen outside the private apartments. Josephine 
 had, nevertheless, to yield. After his return to 
 Paris, Napoleon arranged a marriage for Mademoi- 
 selle Lacoste. She became the wife of a rich 
 financier, proved an excellent wife and mother, and 
 was seen no more at the Tuileries. 
 
 At Genoa, during the same Italian tour, on the 
 occasion of the festivities held to celebrate the union 
 of the Lugurian Republic with France, a certain 
 Madame Gazzani, or Gazzana, was designedly thrown 
 in the Emperor's way. Her maiden name was 
 Bertani, and she was the daughter, some say of a 
 singer, others of a dancer, at the Grand Theatre. 
 She had been summoned to Milan as one of the 
 very mixed company which received Josephine, 
 that company in which, side by side with great 
 ladies of the Negrone, Brignole, Doria, and Remedi 
 families, was to be found that Bianchina La Fleche, 
 for whom was reserved such a brilliant career in 
 Westphalia. 
 
 Carlotta Gazzani was tall, somewhat too slight 
 for perfect beauty, but very gracefully formed, save 
 that her feet and hands were ugly, a defect she 
 concealed to some extent by never appearing with- 
 out gloves. Her face was exquisite, a perfect type 
 of Italian beauty in its absolute purity of outline. 
 Her dark eyes were large and beautiful, and the 
 delicate harmony of her features was enhanced by 
 an arch smile that displayed the most beautiful 
 teeth. Every woman who saw her praised her 
 loveliness a proof that she was unquestionably 
 beautiful, but that she lacked the supreme charm
 
 READERS 131 
 
 that rouses the envy of other women. M. Remusat, 
 the Grand Chamberlain, was Madame Gazzani's 
 social sponsor. "He persuaded the Emperor to 
 make her one of the Empress's readers." We 
 quote from Madame Remusat herself. It seems 
 that Talleyrand was not alone in having " his 
 pockets always full of mistresses," as Napoleon 
 said. 
 
 Madame Gazzani, who was usually styled Gazzani 
 Brentano, and who at a later period took the title 
 of Baronne de Brentano, on what grounds we know 
 not, accordingly became reader in the place of 
 Mademoiselle Lacoste, at a salary of 500 francs a 
 month. 
 
 From 1805 to 1807 little was heard of her. The 
 Emperor was constantly on the march. Austerlitz 
 jvas followed up by the Prussian and Polish 
 campaigns. After his return she began to marshal 
 her forces, first at Paris, afterwards at Fontainebleau. 
 Six thousand francs was not exactly the income she 
 considered adequate to meet her own expenditure, 
 advance her husband's interests, and give her 
 daughter such a dowry as to enable her to make 
 a brilliant marriage. Her opportunity came, and 
 she seized it. She was so lodged that she could 
 answer a summons from the Emperor at any hour, 
 and when such a summons came, she responded 
 with alacrity. She showed no arrogance, however, 
 never posed as a favourite, and accepted her 
 equivocal honours with due humility. The Em- 
 press, whose jealousy had been roused at first, 
 was reassured when Napoleon himself confided 
 the whole history of his ephemeral weakness to 
 her.
 
 132 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Towards Josephine, Madame Gazzani's attitude 
 was uniformly respectful and submissive. She kept 
 in her proper place, and was perfectly unpretentious. 
 She was accorded the privilege of joining the 
 Imperial circle, and was admitted to the society 
 of the Empress's suite. With this exception, how- 
 ever, Napoleon showed her no particular atten- 
 tion in public. He allowed the ladies-in-wait- 
 ing to treat her as they pleased, a liberty they 
 took advantage of to isolate her on all possible 
 occasions, withdrawing from the corners in which 
 she seated herself, and pointedly ignoring her 
 presence. 
 
 This state of affairs was not of long duration. 
 In time many, and these not the least haughty of 
 the band, relented, and received Madame Gazzani 
 into their midst. She had obtained something- 
 
 o 
 
 more substantial than Court honours namely, her 
 husband's appointment as Receiver-General for 
 Evreux. After the divorce, she joined him there, 
 and being within easy distance of Navarre, where 
 Josephine was living, she became one of the inti- 
 mates of the house. Her chief bond of union with 
 Navarre was her liaison with one of the Empress's 
 equerries, M. de Pourtales, who contributed largely 
 to her expenditure until his marriage with Made- 
 moiselle de Castellane. After the Fontainebleau 
 episode, the Emperor never met her but by chance. 
 He never professed any love for her, and seems 
 scarcely to have mentioned her name in after 
 years. 
 
 Madame Gazzani was not inconsolable. Her 
 daughter, Charlotte- Josephine- Eugenie-Claire, styled 
 Baronne de Brentano, married M. Alfred Mosselman,
 
 READERS 133 
 
 by whom she had a daughter, who became the wife 
 of M. Eugene Le Hon. 1 
 
 On the other hand, Napoleon frequently recalled 
 a certain Mademoiselle Guillebeau, the daughter, it 
 was said, of an unsuccessful banker, who in 1808 
 was appointed to share Madame Gazzani's duties as 
 reader. Madame Guillebeau, her mother, an Irish- 
 woman by birth, had three daughters, two of whom 
 had been trained to dance in drawing-rooms, playing 
 tambourines, and striking attitudes. The eldest was 
 taken up by the Princess Elisa, who married her 
 very well, and the younger of the two, whom, said 
 scandal, neither Murat nor Junot had found inflexible, 
 managed to attract the notice of Queen Hortense, 
 who was fascinated by her pretty face and graceful 
 ^ dancing. 
 
 At a masked ball given by the Princess Caroline 
 at the Elysee, Hortense, who was to lead a quadrille 
 of vestals, took it into her head to dress Made- 
 moiselle Guillebeau as Folly, and to make her head 
 the procession; tambourine in hand. Caroline, who 
 had double cause for jealousy, rushed forward as 
 
 1 I have been unable to trace the Gazzani family, but they 
 boast a fine coat of arms. In an ex libris of M. Alfred Mossel- 
 man's, I find two shields, dissevered : one, that of the ' hus- 
 band, surmounted by a count's coronet, has beautiful quarterings, 
 one of which is a shower of fleurs-de-lis on an azure field ; 
 but the wife's shield is still more imposing ; the quarterings, sur- 
 mounted by a ducal coronet, are as follows : the first, an 
 Imperial eagle, sable, crowned, on a field, or ; the second, barry of 
 eight pieces, argent and gules ; the third, an adder, sable, 
 crowned, on a field, gules ; the fourth, a lion rampant, or, armed 
 and crowned, on a field, sable ; in the centre, a shield of pretence, 
 charged with a cask, or some measure for liquids, on a field, 
 azure.
 
 134 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 soon as she recognized her rival ; after a stormy 
 scene between the sisters-in-law, the obnoxious 
 Folly was finally ejected. 
 
 By way of avenging her favourite and herself at 
 once for the above was an episode in the struggle 
 that was constantly maintained between Bona- 
 partes and Beauharnais -- Hortense presented 
 Mademoiselle Guillebeau to her mother, who re- 
 torted on Caroline by appointing the young lady 
 her reader. This was shortly before the journey 
 to Bayonne. 
 
 After the installation of the Court at Marrac, 
 Mademoiselle Guillebeau, whom Court etiquette 
 excluded from the drawing-rooms during the day, 
 and who only entered them occasionally in the 
 evening to entertain the company with her music, 
 passed most of her time in what was called her 
 room, a mere garret in reality, for the Chateau de 
 Marrac was a small building, by no means adapted 
 to the bestowal of a Court. 
 
 Mademoiselle Guillebeau was vain and coquettish; 
 she had ambitious dreams ; she was bored to death 
 at Marrac. Needless to say that she was by no means 
 recalcitrant when a servant the Mameluke in fact 
 came to announce a visit from the Emperor. Things 
 were going on very much to her satisfaction, when 
 Lavallette, who, in his capacity as Postmaster- 
 General, kept an eye on the correspondence of the 
 Imperial household, sent Napoleon a letter addressed 
 to the young lady by her mother. " The document 
 gave her careful instructions as to the part she was 
 to play, recommending her above all to secure such 
 evidences as might best enable her to retain her hold 
 on the Emperor, and either to confirm her position or
 
 READERS 135 
 
 to retire with advantage therefrom." The baseness of 
 this intrigue, in which Napoleon afterwards declared 
 he had detected the influence of the Prince of Bene- 
 vento, so disgusted the Emperor, that the young 
 woman was invited to step at once into a post-chaise, 
 which conveyed her back to Paris under the charge 
 of a servant. M. de Broglie saw her as she passed 
 through Les Ormes, where he was visiting his 
 father-in-law, M. d'Argenson. 
 
 After her return to Paris, Mademoiselle Guille- 
 beau married a certain M. Sourdeau, who was given 
 a Receivership at the Emperor's instance. He ac- 
 quitted himself ill in this office, squandering the 
 funds entrusted to him. The Restoration came very 
 opportunely to extricate him from his difficulties. 
 Madame Sourdeau procured a presentation to the 
 Due de Berry, who pronounced her " charming," 
 and her eyes " the most beautiful in the world," and 
 marked his appreciation of her beauty by getting 
 her husband appointed French consul at Tangiers. 
 
 Enough has been said to show of what slight 
 importance were these transient caprices in Napo- 
 leon's career. They made little impression on his 
 senses, none at all on his heart. They give no 
 insight into his affections, and are mainly interesting 
 from the side-lights they throw upon his habits 
 and upon such characteristics as his hatred of 
 intrigue, and his generosity. Other adventures of a 
 like nature might be cited, the history of which has 
 no further interest. They all deal with such facile 
 garrison conquests as might have fallen to the 
 share of any captain in his army. He met with 
 these or rather they were thrown in his way at 
 Berlin, Madrid, and Vienna. Like the marshals
 
 136 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 and soldiers who served under him, he had the 
 weaknesses common to humanity. But he was in 
 no sense the slave of his senses. 
 
 At Vienna he was struck by the appearance of 
 a young girl, who professed an enthusiastic worship 
 for him. By his orders a message was sent to her, 
 summoning her to an interview at Schonbrunn. She 
 obeyed, and was brought into his presence. She 
 could only speak German and Italian. The con- 
 versation was opened in Italian. Napoleon soon 
 discovered that she was the daughter of respectable 
 parents, and that her passionate admiration for him- 
 self was of the most innocent and ingenuous descrip- 
 tion. He gave orders that she should be at once 
 conducted to her home, undertook to find her a 
 suitable husband, and gave her a dowry of 20,000 
 florins. 
 
 Such an instance of respectful chivalry was by 
 no means unique in Napoleon's career. It was 
 thrice repeated, the last time at St. Helena !
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 JOSEPHINE'S CORONATION. 
 
 JOSEPHINE'S life had become a round of perpetual 
 anxiety and ceaseless agitation within very narrow 
 limits. It was a life at once without occupation and 
 ^without repose, spent in spying upon her husband, 
 watching all comers and goers, and questioning 
 servants and attendants pursuits varied only by 
 five toilettes a day, visits from lady friends, and 
 the purchase of useless and costly trifles from every 
 dealer who approached her. This existence, which 
 resembled nothing so much as that of some sultana, 
 grown old in the indolent luxury of the harem, 
 lacked the elements of stability ; and she felt that 
 there was but one thing which could assure her 
 future, vindicate her position, and protect her against 
 all mischances, namely, the birth of a child. 
 
 During the first Italian campaign she had, as we 
 know, feigned to be enceinte, but this was merely 
 a pretext to defer her departure from Paris. Seeing 
 how readily Napoleon swallowed the bait, Josephine, 
 though far from grasping the full significance of the 
 situation, felt a vague consciousness in her butterfly 
 brain of her husband's passionate desire for posterity.
 
 138 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 On more than one occasion she played upon this 
 desire for her own ends, using it to gratify her 
 taste for journeys and prolonged absences, which 
 would scarcely have been permitted in the ordinary 
 course of things. Among such pilgrimages was 
 the journey to Plombieres when Bonaparte sailed 
 for Egypt. But as the First Consul's power in- 
 creased, she felt more and more strongly that in 
 her case maternity was not so much a convenient 
 pretext, as an urgent necessity. That throne, the 
 steps of which he was steadily ascending, would be 
 but insecure without an heir. Bonaparte, Consul 
 and head of a democratic Republic, or Bonaparte, 
 the restorer of the Bourbons, content with a life- 
 tenure of some brilliant office under the reinstated 
 monarch, might dispense with a son. But the con- 
 tingent splendours of one who should play the part 
 of Monk to the exiled dynasty had little attraction 
 for him, neither could he emulate the disinterested 
 simplicity of a Washington. A force invisible and 
 extrinsic, one of those popular currents that no 
 power can stem, those great tides of public opinion 
 that carry all before them, was sweeping away the 
 obstacles in his path, and bearing him on, first to 
 the Consulate of the year VIII., still a Republican 
 institution, then to the Consulate of the year X., a 
 purely autocratic organization, separated from the 
 monarchy only by a name, and by the thorny ques- 
 tion of heredity. 
 
 Around this question, the solution of which rested 
 with her, Josephine saw that all the ambitions of 
 the one faction, all the anxieties of the other, now 
 centred. She saw that each of Bonaparte's brothers 
 aspired to the succession ; that his sisters were not
 
 JOSEPHINE'S CORONATION 139 
 
 without hopes as to the possible claims of their 
 respective husbands ; that every general and senator 
 who had risen to greatness in the Revolution dreamt 
 of possibilities still more splendid ; and that the 
 nation itself, after the convulsions through which 
 it had passed, longed for a stability that should rest 
 on some less temporary basis than the life of one 
 man, and should ensure its security for a prolonged, 
 an indefinite lapse of time. 
 
 If a monarchy were re-established, to whom should 
 the reversion be assigned ? To the Consul's brothers ? 
 And if so, on what grounds ? Hereditary monarchy, 
 in its Christianized form, as derived from Hebraic 
 institutions, implies divine sanction. But this 
 sanction applied only to the founder of the dynasty 
 and to his descendants in a direct line, and was 
 never extended to collaterals. To create a claim 
 for Bonaparte's brothers to the succession, it would 
 have been necessary to have recourse to a fiction 
 familiar in ancient law, and assume that the late 
 Charles Bonaparte had been Emperor of the French. 
 But who would have accepted such a fiction ? An 
 alternative suggested itself, that of abandoning the 
 Hebraic institution, or divine right, in favour of the 
 Roman law of adoption, the Consul choosing him he 
 deemed worthiest to succeed him, either from among 
 or beyond the members of his own family. But 
 such a resolution would have been the signal for 
 endless competition and intrigue. And would the 
 nation have understood it ? Could it have cast aside 
 its prejudices touching the predestination of race, 
 the divine vocation of a dynasty ? The only solution, 
 both in law and fact at once simple and unimpeach- 
 able, the only one which could crush ambition on
 
 140 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 the one hand and satisfy legitimate aspirations on 
 the other, was the birth of an heir to Napoleon. 
 But this longed-for child was not forthcoming. 
 Whose was the fault his or Josephine's ? 
 
 On this point Josephine felt that her position was 
 vulnerable. She racked her brains for remedies. One 
 after the other, she visited all the mineral springs 
 reputed to be of special virtue in such cases Forges, 
 Plombieres, and Luxeuil ; she assiduously followed 
 the treatment indicated by Corvisart ; she consulted 
 quacks ; she visited charlatans ; she made pilgrim- 
 ages. At Plombieres she betook herself to the 
 Capuchin's Cave, where Frere Jean, its guardian, 
 vainly promised her the fulfilment of her wishes. 
 Deluded by false hopes, she repeatedly inspired 
 Napoleon with joyful anticipations, which he could 
 not refrain from communicating to his intimates. 
 When these proved illusory, his vexation would 
 master him, and find vent in cutting sarcasms. One 
 day, when he had arranged to hunt in the forest at 
 Malmaison, Madame Bonaparte came to him in tears. 
 "How can you think of such a thing? All our 
 animals are with young ! " " We must give it up 
 then," was the retort ; " it seems that everything here 
 is prolific, except Madame." 
 
 In public he persistently cast the blame upon her ; 
 but in his secret thoughts doubts had arisen which 
 Josephine took care to foster. Perhaps the fault 
 lay with himself. He remembered Madame F cures, 
 among others. Josephine had borne her first 
 husband children. On every possible occasion she 
 brought them forward to prove that the common 
 misfortune was not to be laid to her account. Her 
 incessant harping on this theme exasperated Madame
 
 JOSEPHINE'S CORONATION 141 
 
 Bacciochi, who silenced her at last by the caustic 
 remark " But, my dear sister, you were a good deal 
 younger in those days." 
 
 Nevertheless, she contrived to imbue the whole 
 family more or less with this idea. Napoleon him- 
 self tacitly accepted the imputation. Often he would 
 say to his brother Joseph " I have no children, 
 and you all say I shall never have any ; Josephine 
 is not likely to have any more at her age, though 
 she has all the will in the world to prove the 
 contrary. Therefore I say, after me the deluge ! " 
 When, after his return from Spain, Lucien suggested 
 a divorce, and a marriage with one of the Infantas, 
 a variety of motives led the Consul to reject his 
 propositions. But it is not improbable that the chief 
 among them was his distrust of himself. Marriage 
 -with a Bourbon would be a decisive step towards the 
 throne ; but would such a stake be worth playing 
 for if children were denied him ? Nevertheless the 
 idea had been mooted, and by Lucien, for whom 
 Josephine had little love already, and who had 
 suggested the divorce on Bonaparte's return from 
 Egypt. Napoleon was fond of declaring that his 
 wife was as " incapable of resentment as a pigeon " ; 
 but this was only true of her when her position was 
 not attacked. From this time forth she did her 
 best to estrange the brothers ; she enlisted her 
 friends in the cause, and did not scruple to repeat 
 doubtful slanders, and to insist on damaging facts. 
 She felt no regret when the rupture was finally 
 brought about. It was an enemy the less. 
 
 The doubts with which she had succeeded in 
 inspiring Napoleon in 1801 had served her by ban- 
 ishing the idea of a divorce for a time ; but chance
 
 i 4 2 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 might dissipate these doubts, and Josephine felt 
 herself completely at the mercy of such a hazard. 
 There was certainly little danger to be feared from 
 the actresses he had hitherto met. Had any one of 
 them given birth to a child, Bonaparte had hardly 
 a sufficient stock of simplicity to claim a paternity 
 so many might have disputed with him. Neither 
 was there much ground for uneasiness in his intrigues 
 with the married ladies of the Consular Court. 
 Here again it would be impossible to affirm the 
 paternity of the child, difficult even to have any 
 conviction on the subject, unless on the evidence 
 of some striking physical resemblance, which so far 
 had not proclaimed itself. But it needed only some 
 such adventure as the liaison with Madame Foures 
 to convince Napoleon of the possibility of his 
 becoming the father of an heir to the throne. And 
 this consummation once arrived at, Josephine felt 
 that the downfall of her fortunes would be imminent. 
 For Bonaparte now claimed equality with any 
 ancient dynasty in Europe, much more then might 
 he consider himself the peer of the noblest families 
 among the old French aristocracy. And there was 
 no lack of intermediaries such as Talleyrand, " the 
 accursed cripple," ready to tempt him with sugges- 
 tions of names, and promises of help. 
 
 Failing a child, the only thing, as Napoleon him- 
 self said, "that would have tranquillized Josephine, 
 and put an end to the jealousy with which she 
 harassed her husband," how should she contrive 
 to attach him to her so closely that it would be 
 impossible for him to break his chain ? Her position 
 was in itself a strong one. From the year XI. 
 onwards, she had been associated with Bonaparte
 
 JOSEPHINE'S CORONATION 145 
 
 in all his public and official acts. She had been 
 received like a sovereign at the gates of cities, had 
 held her receptions in the galleries of St. Cloud 
 and the Tuileries, surrounded by what was a court 
 in all but name ; at Napoleon's express command,, 
 she had taken precedence of every woman in 
 France, his mother not excepted, even in the 
 privacy of the family circle. Placed thus promi- 
 nently before France and Europe as the great- 
 est lady of the Republic, her humiliation could 
 not be accomplished without a public scandal, and 
 the divorce would certainly be ill received by 
 the majority. Napoleon had not yet climbed so 
 high that he could safely dispense with her help. 
 Gifts and honours had been allowed to flow so- 
 freely through her hands that she had necessarily 
 fliany adherents among those whom Bonaparte 
 had himself constituted her clients. But as he 
 rose in power his wife's social prestige diminished - T 
 she might well fear lest a sudden fit of anger, 
 provoked perhaps by some imprudence on her 
 own part, should carry away the whole structure. 
 She could no longer rely on her personal attractions 
 to restrain him, for though he continued very 
 susceptible to their influence, the frequent infidelities 
 he now permitted himself could not fail to grad- 
 ually emancipate him. As a last resource, she could 
 only reckon on habit, on the strong affection he 
 still bore her, and on his unwillingness to make her 
 suffer. He himself would suffer, perhaps, more 
 than she. But would this deter him ? When a 
 victory was at stake, did he consider the men he 
 was bound to sacrifice, even when these were friends 
 he loved ? No ; all such checks would be valueless
 
 i 4 4 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 in the crisis ; the only lasting bond between them 
 would be a child. An idea, in which there was 
 a touch of genius, flashed into Josephine's brain. 
 Why should not Napoleon procure himself an heir 
 by adoption, make a son of his nephew and her 
 grandchild the son of Hortense and Louis Bona- 
 parte? Here was a solution which met every 
 difficulty ; it would satisfy the Bonapartes, the heir- 
 presumptive being one of themselves, and it would 
 assure her own future by effectually disposing of 
 the question of a successor. Her mind full of this 
 project, she communicated it to Bonaparte, who 
 accepted it favourably, and laid it before Louis. 
 But Louis was indignant. He insisted on the claims 
 of his brother Joseph, on his own claims, on their 
 joint claims to their brother's heritage. In deference 
 to these absurd pretensions, which had absolutely 
 no foundation, which were equally at variance with 
 historical precedent and with the monarchic theory, 
 Napoleon, moved by family feeling, agreed to press 
 the matter no further, and thus renounced the sole 
 expedient by which he might have established his 
 dynasty without violating the most sacred principles, 
 or incurring the odium of the divorce. 
 
 What further resources were open to Josephine 
 when this golden opportunity had been lost, through 
 no fault of hers ? True, she enjoyed the advantages 
 of possession, she had advanced stage by stage at 
 Bonaparte's side, as events had carried him on 
 from glory to glory. The elevation of the First 
 Consul to the purple had made her Empress ; 
 she had received the homage of the great State 
 bodies, and had been addressed by the title of Her 
 Majesty. After her triumphal progress through
 
 JOSEPHINE'S CORONATION 145 
 
 Aix-la-Chapelle and Mayence, her return to Paris, 
 heralded by the cannon of the Invalides, her re- 
 ception of the highest dignitaries and officials from 
 the throne, her position had been much strengthened, 
 and the divorce seemed to have retired into the 
 region of improbable contingencies. Yet it needed 
 but some unfavourable incident to destroy her hold 
 on Napoleon. Fate might sweep her away as 
 yesterday the wind had swept away the powder 
 burnt in her honour on the Esplanade. 
 
 Matters were at this crisis when one day at 
 St. Cloud she observed that a lady who had come 
 to call on her rose and left the room. She had 
 long had suspicions of her visitor, and immediately 
 followed her. Passing through the Emperor's 
 cabinet, she mounted the secret staircase, and 
 "reached the room on the half-landing. Listening, 
 she recognized the voices of the Emperor and the 
 lady, demanded admission, made a scandalous scene, 
 and roused Napoleon to fury. He vowed that he 
 was weary of her surveillance, that he would put an 
 end to it, that he would follow the advice of his 
 friends, and divorce her. He sent for Eugene to 
 arrange the preliminaries. Eugene came, and 
 sternly refused all compensation, favour, or indemnity, 
 both for his mother and himself. Two days went 
 by. Josephine, violent no longer, wept unceasingly. 
 Napoleon thought " tears very becoming to a 
 woman." He felt himself in the wrong, and re- 
 cognized that a step of such importance should 
 not be the outcome of a fit of exasperation. Had 
 she held her ground against him he would have 
 insisted. But he was not proof against her tears. 
 A final conversation took place on the subject
 
 146 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 " I have not the courage," he said at last, "to carry 
 out my resolution ; if you show me so much affection, 
 if you obey me in all things, I feel that I shall 
 never have the strength to send you from me ; but 
 I confess I wish very much that you could resign 
 yourself to the necessities of my policy, and yourself 
 point the way out of this painful dilemma." He 
 wept freely himself as he spoke. But Josephine 
 was equal to the occasion. She had no taste for 
 self-sacrifice. It was not her part to decide her 
 fate, but his, since he had ordered it so far. She 
 was ready to obey ; but she would wait till he 
 commanded her to descend from that throne to 
 which he had raised her. 
 
 Napoleon himself was hard beset by his own heart, 
 by the uncertainty of his policy, by his doubts as 
 to the probability of his ever becoming the founder 
 of a race, by his affection for his step-children, by 
 his reluctance to shatter the life he had bound up- 
 with his own, by his pain at the thought of renounc- 
 ing the woman he still loved. Exasperated by the 
 triumphant air and scarcely concealed delight of 
 Josephine's enemies, and profoundly touched by the 
 resignation of the Beauharnais, he once more put 
 aside the idea of a divorce, and, as if to cut off 
 his own retreat from this position, he commanded 
 his wife to make all necessary preparations for her 
 coronation. 
 
 Her coronation ! To be crowned by a Pope, to 
 share the triumph of the modern Charlemagne, to 
 realize she, a little Creole, brought from her native 
 island by the whim of M. de Beauharnais' mistress 
 the dream of splendour imagined by all the 
 Queens of France, and achieved by so few ; to-
 
 JOSEPHINE'S CORONATION 147 
 
 receive the triple unction from the Supreme Pontiff, 
 and the crown from the Emperor ! Was not this 
 enough to satisfy, not ambition, for what ambition 
 could have aimed at such glory? but the wildest 
 dreams of fancy ? And after such consecration and 
 coronation, would it be possible to repudiate her? 
 Was not this the seal of Napoleon's covenant with 
 her, and could she desire any stronger earnest of 
 future security ? 
 
 Yet there was something more she coveted. 
 Hitherto, that is to say, for some eight years, her 
 conscience had in nowise troubled her on the score 
 of her civil marriage, and she had been quite content 
 to live with Bonaparte, dispensing with a priestly 
 blessing on their union. She knew there would be 
 many obstacles to overcome before she could obtain 
 the Emperor's consent to a religious marriage. He 
 would object that it was undesirable to draw atten- 
 tion to the fact that the rite had been dispensed with. 
 Most of the men about him were in the same case 
 as himself, and his example in such a matter would 
 bring about a series of rehabilitatory functions which 
 might easily be construed as an attack on the civil 
 law, a revulsion in favour of the ancient rdgime, or, 
 at best, as an indication that the head of the State 
 considered the only form of marriage recognized by 
 the State insufficient. He would find plenty of strong 
 arguments against the measure, without revealing 
 the determining cause of his refusal, namely, that 
 though he had decided to abandon the divorce, he 
 had no intention of binding himself irrevocably in 
 the future, or ignoring possible contingencies. He 
 knew that the Church is accommodating in her deal- 
 ings with the great, and that in an extreme case she is
 
 i 4 8 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 empowered to loosen the knot she herself has tied. 
 But if he should ever be constrained to annul his 
 marriage, he would prefer to act on his own authority, 
 and to dispense with priestly intervention. 
 
 Josephine knew there was little hope of moving 
 him on this point. What could she plead in sup- 
 port of her request ? Her conscientious scruples ? 
 They would be the laughing-stock of Napoleon and 
 his whole Court ! But the Pope would treat them 
 with more respect. 
 
 On Monday, Frimaire the 5th, the day after Pius 
 VI I. 's arrival, he paid his second visit to Josephine, 
 who had carefully prepared the ground beforehand. 
 She had corresponded with the Pope for some years 
 past, and had sent him a magnificent lace rochet by 
 the hand of her cousin Tascher, in Nivose of the year 
 XII. She now confided in him. She confessed to 
 her spiritual father that she had not been married 
 according to the rites of the Church ; and the Pope, 
 commending his daughter's anxiety to conform to 
 the holy ordinance, promised to press the religious 
 marriage upon the Emperor. 
 
 Napoleon was completely circumvented. A Pontiff 
 of Pius's character, education, and cast of mind would, 
 he felt, be quite capable of postponing the coronation, 
 or of making the one ceremony a condition of the 
 other. The coronation, originally fixed for Brumaire 
 the 1 8th, had been put off first to Frimaire the ist, 
 afterwards to Frimaire the nth. Each delay had 
 entailed immense expenditure, and had provoked 
 much discontent and anxiety. All the civil and 
 military deputations had arrived ; Paris was full of 
 them ; they had been accommodated with great diffi- 
 culty. What a scandal if the Pope, after coming to
 
 JOSEPHINE'S CORONATION 149 
 
 Paris to crown the Emperor, should return to Rome 
 without having performed the ceremony ! Napoleon 
 accepted the inevitable. On the morning of the 
 9th, Cardinal Fesch pronounced the nuptial blessing 
 over the pair. If ever there was a case of compulsion 
 it was here, and Napoleon did not scruple to affirm at 
 a later period that he had no choice in the matter, and 
 that in default of consent on his part, the religious 
 ceremony was not binding. Josephine was Empress, 
 married by a priest, on the eve of her consecration 
 by the Pope, her coronation by the Emperor. 
 Surely she might now sleep in peace !
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 MADAME * * * 
 
 INTRIGUES of a purely material nature, such as 
 many of those we- have touched upon, provided 
 occasional distractions, and served as interludes 
 in the drama of Napoleon's career. But there 
 was a side to his character which demanded satis- 
 faction less gross than was afforded by a venal 
 and transient connection. There was a fund of 
 unsuspected melancholy in his nature, a longing for 
 solitude in the midst of the crowd with one beloved 
 companionship, a craving for sentimental affection 
 which increased as he grew older, and as his oppor- 
 tunities for mere sensual gratification multiplied, 
 while at the same time his lofty destiny raised him 
 more and more above his fellows, to heights of 
 isolated greatness. 
 
 The dawn of such a sentiment may be traced 
 towards the close of the Consulate. From that 
 period onward it gradually developed. It had 
 little in common with the tempest of youthful 
 passion evoked by Josephine, but its periodic ebul- 
 lition shows Napoleon as a being whose stormy soul, 
 ever athirst for the unknown, cherished a dream of 
 happiness side by side with dreams of ambition.
 
 MADAME * * 151 
 
 While the sentiment was as yet vague and 
 confused, possession, which he had ardently desired, 
 the more ardently in proportion to the obstacles that 
 intervened, had the immediate effect of suppressing 1 
 desire, for reality fell short of the anticipation of his 
 senses ; but these in their turn were chastened and 
 spiritualized ; physical possession ceased to be the 
 sole object of his thoughts, and in this phase of his 
 passion we recognize a new Napoleon, differing 
 altogether from him whose material aspirations 
 sought satisfaction in the veiled visitors of the 
 secret staircase a Napoleon full of delicate senti- 
 ment, whose thoughts found utterance in language 
 worthy of a hero of the Astrcsa. 
 
 Such an aspect of his character is, of course, an 
 unfamiliar one, and one which we should hesitate to 
 "attribute to him without abundant evidence of the 
 most precise and authentic nature. But, supported 
 by such evidences in connection with a later period 
 of his life, we may fairly apply the inductive method 
 to earlier episodes, and confidently interpret indi- 
 cations which appear insignificant at the first 
 glance. 
 
 It is obvious that we can hardly expect to find 
 direct proofs in this connection, and the difficulties 
 of investigation are great. The women to whom 
 Napoleon revealed this phase of his character were 
 not eager to tell the story of their conquest ; they 
 were rather careful to destroy every trace that 
 might betray them. They had husbands to con- 
 sider, reputations to protect. Their descendants 
 have carefully guarded their secrets. Those indis- 
 creet enough to babble of the romance suppressed 
 the real names of the characters, and even after
 
 152 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 the lapse of a century it would not be well to lift 
 the slight veil that shrouds them. Nor can we be 
 certain that this veil always conceals the same 
 woman ; raising it, we should perhaps discover 
 several where we looked for one. 
 
 In one instance, however, we are able to trace 
 an identity of many physical and mental features 
 throughout ; there are characteristic facts which 
 scarcely allow of misconception, especially when the 
 impression of a certain face has been clearly and 
 indelibly impressed on one's mind from childhood. 
 But I am no longer dealing with documents here, 
 and I can only proceed with the utmost caution ; 
 even at the risk of seeming obscure, I must leave 
 many details in the shade. 
 
 Among the ladies of the Consular Court there 
 was a young woman of twenty, married to a man 
 thirty years her senior. 
 
 The husband, a man of the highest character and 
 the most indefatigable industry, who had served the 
 State with credit in a variety of capacities, was one 
 of those admirable public servants who, under the 
 old regime, were made heads of departments, and 
 under the new, directors-general. He had par- 
 ticularly distinguished himself in a special matter of 
 great importance in its bearing on national finance, 
 and had himself organized the department over 
 which he presided to such good purpose, that its 
 present administration is based upon his precepts 
 and traditions. 
 
 His wife was charming, a creature all grace and 
 sweetness, with a pretty face, beautiful teeth, and 
 abundant fair hair ; her nose was aquiline, and 
 though somewhat too long, delicately arched, and
 
 MADAME * * * 155 
 
 full of character ; her foot was very small, her hand 
 perfectly modelled. Her features were irregular, 
 but her smile was bewitching, and combined with 
 the long glances of a pair of deep blue eyes, gave 
 an expression of peculiar harmony to her face. 
 
 Those blue eyes, indeed, conveyed any sentiment 
 their mistress chose to affect, and limpid as they 
 were, they lacked sincerity ; but it needed a woman 
 and a rival to discover this. Their owner danced 
 and sang exquisitely, played the harp, could read or 
 listen with equal grace, and at this time made no 
 great display of the remarkable intellectual powers 
 she afterwards developed. She was amply endowed 
 with strength of will, ambition, and worldly acute- 
 ness, and was troubled by few scruples when her 
 ^interests were at stake ; but this hardness of 
 character was veiled by a grace and distinction no 
 less remarkable than her beauty, and though of 
 middle-class origin, she excelled many of the 
 greatest ladies of her day in the perfect courtesy 
 of her manners, the elegance of her toilettes, and 
 the stately dignity of bearing proper to Court 
 etiquette. " She had a natural aptitude for the 
 graces and refinements of good society, and an 
 instinctive knowledge of that art which, as has 
 been truly said, may be divined, but cannot be 
 taught." She had withal a superb and lofty air, as 
 if her forefathers had been dukes and peers, rather 
 than provincial citizens of very humble rank. 
 
 When did Bonaparte fall in love with this young 
 woman ? Certain evidences seem to indicate 
 Brumaire, year XII. (November, 1803). But the 
 rapidity with which the preliminaries had been con-
 
 154 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 ducted in the case of the woman whom Josephine 
 surprised in the Orangery at St. Cloud, seems 
 hardly to agree with this hypothesis, in spite of the 
 additional probability it derives from the fact of a 
 birth which took place exactly nine months later 
 (August 5, 1804). 
 
 True, the child then born developed no very 
 significant traits either of mind or person ; but 
 features so characteristic as those of the Bonapartes 
 not unfrequently pass over a generation, and lay the 
 tell-tale impress of their sovereign beauty on some 
 descendant. Such was, no doubt, the case here ; 
 and this freak of nature, while inspiring Napoleon 
 with doubts as to his own paternity of the child, left 
 the husband's confidence unshaken, secured the 
 wife's safety, and, after the lapse of a generation, 
 revealed a secret that had been kept with almost 
 complete success hitherto. 
 
 Was this lady of St. Cloud the mysterious un- 
 known who, towards the close of the Consulate, 
 inhabited a small house in the Allee des Veuves, to 
 which Napoleon paid frequent secret visits ? Was 
 she the same woman to whose house in the middle 
 of Paris he occasionally found his way, alone and 
 disguised ? It is impossible to decide. The St. 
 Cloud adventure seems to have been one of those 
 trivial intrigues which have no sequel ; but the 
 nocturnal expeditions are very significant in the case 
 of one who so seldom quitted the shelter of his 
 own roof as Napoleon. They seem to point to an 
 impetuosity by no means normal. The subject is 
 shrouded in a mystery we cannot undertake to solve 
 at present, a mystery that chroniclers or their 
 publishers have been careful to preserve in deference
 
 MADAME * * * 155 
 
 to the reputation of the woman, and the sus- 
 ceptibilities of her descendants. But there is one 
 point at which all evidences converge, all testimonies 
 reinforce and corroborate one another. If material 
 proofs are still lacking, the very strongest presump- 
 tions may at least be adduced. 
 
 The Emperor proceeded to Fontainebleau to 
 receive the Pope on the Pontiff's arrival from Rome 
 for the coronation. He was attended by the Court. 
 It was soon evident that his temper had become 
 more serene, his manner more affable. After the Pope 
 had retired into his own apartments, he remained 
 with the Empress, conversing with the ladies of her 
 household. Josephine became uneasy, her jealousy 
 was aroused ; such proceedings seemed to her 
 uryiatural, and she suspected some hidden intrigue. 
 Who was the offender ? Whom should she accuse ? 
 At last she fixed on Madame Ney, who defended 
 herself vigorously to Hortense, her former school- 
 fellow. She declared that the Emperor paid her 
 no attention whatever, that he was entirely ab- 
 sorbed in a lady of the household, whom Eugene 
 de Beauharnais also greatly admired, and to whom 
 Josephine had shown favour in consequence. 
 Eugene was only a blind ; the lady might return 
 his glances, and seem to take pleasure in his con- 
 versation, but, as a fact, she was the sworn ally of 
 the Murats, or rather of Caroline, for it was she 
 who was the moving spirit in such machinations. 
 Hating her sister-in-law, and always ready to annoy 
 her, she directed this intrigue, as she afterwards 
 directed many others. 
 
 The Court returned to Paris ; nothing decisive 
 had happened so far. Napoleon was obviously in
 
 156 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 love ; he had great difficulty in tearing himself away 
 from the Empress's apartments when a certain lady 
 was in attendance. Rejoined Josephine at the play 
 if a certain lady accompanied her. He arranged 
 parties in the smaller boxes, though he generally 
 insisted that his family should appear at the theatre 
 in state. Josephine, yielding to her growing ex- 
 asperation, attempted expostulations, which were 
 very ill received. Though gayer, franker, and more 
 gracious in public than he had ever been, Napoleon 
 was irritable and gloomy in private when a certain 
 lady was not of the company. "Not a day passes 
 without some outbreak from Bonaparte," writes 
 Josephine; "and always without the least cause. 
 Life is not worth living under such conditions." 
 
 The Emperor had taken to playing cards in the 
 evening, or at any rate to a pretence of playing. 
 Every night he summoned his sister Caroline to his 
 table, and two of the Court ladies, of whom the 
 favourite was always one. Holding his cards 
 negligently, and making the proposed game a mere 
 screen for conversation, he would discourse on the 
 various aspects of Platonic and ideal affection, or 
 deliver himself of violent tirades against jealousy 
 and jealous women. 
 
 At the other end of the room, Josephine, engaged 
 in a dreary game of whist with certain Court dig- 
 nitaries, would glance sadly from time to time at 
 the favoured table, listening eagerly to the words of. 
 the sonorous voice that penetrated to the farthest 
 extremity of the apartment, amidst the respectful 
 silence of attentive courtiers. 
 
 At a fete given to the sovereigns by the War 
 Minister in honour of the coronation, the ladies
 
 MADAME * 157 
 
 only were seated at supper, as was customary. The 
 Empress, with some of her ladies, and the wives 
 of the great Crown officials, presided at the table 
 of honour. Napoleon had refused to take his place. 
 He passed along the room, addressing each of the 
 ladies in turn, gay, courtly, and gracious. He 
 served Josephine, taking a dish from one of the 
 pages to present it to her. "He wished to charm 
 one woman only, but was anxious that others should 
 not perceive it. This in itself was a sign of love." 
 
 After having perambulated the whole room, with 
 a word or two to every one of the ladies, he felt he 
 had purchased the right to speak to the real object 
 of all his gallantry. Approaching her, he began, in 
 some embarrassment, by addressing her neighbour. 
 Leaning between the two chairs, he soon drew her 
 into conversation, anticipating her wants, and hand- 
 ing her the dishes she pointed out. One of these 
 contained olives. " You ought not to eat olives at 
 night," he remarked ; " they will make you ill." 
 Then, turning to her neighbour " I see you do not 
 eat olives. You are quite right, and doubly right 
 not to imitate Madame * * *, for she is inimitable." 
 
 Josephine was fully alive to all these manoeuvres. 
 If any doubts had lingered in her mind, they had 
 been dispelled by a recent pilgrimage to Malmaison, 
 undertaken in the depth of winter at the sudden 
 desire of the Emperor. All her arrangements had 
 been upset by this inopportune journey, in addition 
 to which there had been no time to heat the stoves, 
 and the first night had been spent in a veritable ice- 
 house. But Napoleon, indifferent to the cold, was 
 not deterred from a midnight expedition through 
 the flagged corridors, as Josephine ascertained by
 
 158 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 concealing herself behind a glass door, from which 
 hiding-place, after a long spell of waiting, she sur- 
 prised her husband's secret unobserved. 
 
 The Court returned to Malmaison after the minis- 
 terial fete, and on the following day the Empress 
 found a pretext for summoning the lady who had 
 refused the olives. After some desultory conversa- 
 tion, she asked her what the Emperor had said to 
 her the night before, and finally, what he had said 
 to her neighbour. "He advised her not to eat 
 olives at night," was the reply. "Well," retorted 
 the Empress, "while the Emperor was ad vising your 
 friend, he might have told her that it is ridiculous 
 to attempt the part of Roxalana with a nose as long 
 as hers." Then, turning over the leaves of a book 
 upon the chimney-piece, La Duchesse de la Vallicre, 
 by Madame de Genlis " This is the book," she said, 
 *' which turns the heads of all young women with fair 
 hair and slender figures." 
 
 There was a good deal of truth in the stricture, for 
 La Duchesse de la Valliere was to be found in the 
 room of every lady at Malmaison. Its extraordinary 
 success stood the test often editions, and many aspir- 
 ing La Vallieres no doubt profited by its lessons. 
 
 But the Emperor had no intention of establishing 
 a favourite. " There shall be no petticoat government 
 at my Court," he said. "It was the bane of Henri 
 IV. and Louis XIV. My mission is a graver one 
 than that of either sovereign, and Frenchmen have 
 become too serious to tolerate recognized favourites 
 and official mistresses." His true mistress, as he 
 often said, was power. "Its conquest has cost me 
 too dear," he would add, " for me to allow of its being 
 snatched from me, or even coveted by another." He
 
 MADAME * * * 159 
 
 felt that insidious advances had been made. The 
 lady was too clever and too well-tutored to formulate 
 demands on her own account. She could not have 
 accepted marks of distinction that would have given 
 rise to comment, or roused the suspicions of a husband 
 by no means disposed to be complaisant. The ut- 
 most she had ventured to solicit on her own behalf 
 was the post of Lady-in-Waiting, a dignity from 
 which her youth, her birth, and her position seemed 
 to preclude her ; nor was it possible to justify her 
 preferment on the grounds of any former connection 
 with the Bonapartes. The appointment, therefore, 
 caused some discussion, and many a covert smile. 
 But the favourite's moderation in her own case put 
 her at greater advantage in furthering the cause of 
 others, her patrons of yesterday, her proteges of 
 to-day. 
 
 Murat, already Marshal of the Empire, was pro- 
 moted to the dignity of Prince High Admiral, which 
 admitted him to rank after Cambaceres and Lebrun 
 among the Serene Highnesses. But at the same 
 time Napoleon, on his own initiative, appointed 
 Eugene de Beauharnais Prince Arch-Chancellor of 
 State, of equal rank with Murat. By this measure 
 the balance was struck between Bonapartes and 
 Beauharnais, with some slight inclination in favour 
 of the latter. There is a striking difference between 
 the terms in which the Emperor announced the twa 
 decisions to the Senate ; every turn of expression 
 seems to mark the space that divided his step-son 
 from his brother-in-law in his affections. 
 
 In the one case, we feel that he yields to outside 
 pressure, to family expediency, to selfish solicitations ; 
 in the other, the words gush from a fount of pure
 
 i6o NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 feeling, and give an echo of his best self " Amidst 
 the cares and trials inseparable from our high rank, 
 we have sought and found solace in the tender 
 affection and faithful friendship of this dear child of 
 our adoption. . . . Our paternal blessing will follow 
 the young Prince throughout his career, and, with 
 the help of Providence, he will not fail to deserve the 
 praise of posterity." And Eugene had asked for 
 nothing. He had seemed perfectly content with his 
 honours as grand officer of the Empire, and his 
 command as Colonel-General of Chasseurs, and was 
 already on his way to Milan, at the head of the 
 Cavalry of the Guard. His new position was a 
 distinguished one, and there is a curious fatuity in 
 Madame Remusat's contention that this, the highest 
 compliment the Emperor could have bestowed on a 
 general of twenty-three, was, in fact, a punishment. 
 
 In any case, this punishment, which she supposes 
 to have been the result of an outbreak of jealousy on 
 the Emperor's part, was of brief duration. Eugene 
 set out on January 16, in obedience to an order dated 
 January 14, that the Guard should proceed to Milan 
 in readiness for the coronation. A fortnight later, 
 he received a private letter from the Emperor, en- 
 closing a copy of the message to the Senate, and his 
 nomination as Prince Arch-Chancellor of State. 
 
 No more significant proof could have been given 
 that Napoleon was reconciled to Josephine, that he 
 was no longer to be played upon, and that the passion 
 on which so many hopes had been built had died 
 out. When no longer quickened by restraints, it 
 had perished of satiety. The intrigue began at 
 Malmaison in the depth of winter ; it closed at 
 Malmaison, before the spring.
 
 MADAME * * * 161 
 
 During a sojourn of a week or two made there by 
 the Court, on which occasion the usual formalities 
 were much relaxed, Napoleon was able to walk and 
 talk constantly with the lady, and to visit her when- 
 ever he pleased. Josephine kept her own room, and 
 spent her time in tears, growing thinner and more 
 melancholy every day. One morning the Emperor 
 came to her apartments, addressed her with all the 
 kindness of former days, acknowledged that he had 
 been very much in love, but that it was all over, and 
 begged her to help him out of his entanglement. 
 Josephine readily undertook the task ; she summoned 
 the lady, who showed herself equal to the occasion, 
 betrayed no emotion, and met the Empress's attack 
 in haughty silence, with a face of marble impassibility. 
 
 She always retained a faithful attachment to the 
 Emperor, though he seems never to have renewed 
 his homage after Austerlitz. If he ever yielded to a 
 passing return of his former fancy, the feeling was so 
 fugitive that it was barely noted by the most observ- 
 ant. He invariably treated her with the greatest 
 consideration, was prodigal of such privileges and 
 favours as were compatible with her husband's 
 position, and always included her among the first 
 recipients of Court honours and distinctions. In 
 return, she showed herself one of the most faithful 
 adherents of his fallen fortunes. Her beauty graced 
 the fetes of the Hundred Days, and when the victim 
 of Waterloo was about to quit his country for ever, 
 she was one of the last to visit him, on June 26, 1815, 
 at Malmaison, the scene of the dawn and eclipse 
 of their brief romance, offering the discrowned 
 Emperor the tribute of her respectful attachment 
 and imperishable devotion.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 STEPHANIE DE BEAUHARNAIS. 
 
 EVEN before Austerlitz was lost and won, Napo- 
 leon determined to strengthen the political alliances 
 he had entered into with the reigning houses of 
 Germany by a network of domestic contracts. He 
 was convinced that his system would never be 
 firmly established in Europe until the blood of the 
 Napoleonides had mingled with that of more ancient 
 dynasties. In default of such hopes as he might 
 have entertained in his own person, he gathered all 
 the marriageable youths and maidens of his family 
 round him, and awaited his opportunity for the 
 formation of the ties he considered all-important, 
 because he judged them to be beyond the hazards 
 of political fortune. In this way he hoped to bind 
 the princes to him by means of family interests and 
 affections. 
 
 The first result of this policy was the marriage of 
 Eugene de Beauharnais and the Princess Augusta 
 of Bavaria, immediately after the conclusion of the 
 campaign. She was betrothed to the Prince of 
 Baden, but this was an obstacle of slight moment. 
 As a set-off to the husband he had bestowed on the
 
 STEPHANIE DE BEAUHARNAIS 163 
 
 Princess, Napoleon was quite prepared to find a 
 wife for the Prince. His choice fell on another 
 Beauharnais, Stephanie- Louise- Adrienne, daughter 
 of Claude de Beauharnais, Comte de Roches- Bari- 
 taud, and of Adrienne de Lezay-Marnesia, his first 
 wife, cousin in the sixth degree to Hortense and 
 Eugene. Born in Paris, August 26, 1789, she was 
 left an orphan at four years old, and was educated 
 for a time in the Convent of Panthemont. A friend 
 of her mother's, Lady de Bathe, took her in hand 
 after the suppression of the religious houses, and 
 entrusted her further training to two of the expelled 
 nuns of Panthemont, Mesdames de Trelissac and de 
 Sabotier. These ladies carried her off to their native 
 district, and she lived with them first at Castelsar- 
 -rasin, then at Perigueux, and perhaps at Montauban. 
 Her paternal grandmother, Fanny de Beauharnais, 
 was entirely occupied with Cubieres, society verses, 
 and affairs of gallantry. Her father had emigrated. 
 Her grandfather, the Marquis de Marnesia, was 
 travelling in Pennsylvania. But for Lady de Bathe, 
 the child would have been dependent on public 
 charity. One day, in the early part of the Consulate, 
 Josephine happened to mention her little cousin. 
 Bonaparte, always keenly alive to family claims, 
 was indignant that a relative of his wife's should 
 have been left to the chance kindness of a stranger, 
 and that stranger an Englishwoman ! He de- 
 spatched a messenger, with orders to bring the child 
 back with him. The nuns refused to give her up, 
 whereupon a second messenger arrived, empowering 
 the PreTet to seize Stephanie in the name of the 
 law ! Resistance was useless, and she obeyed the 
 mandate, not without tears and terror. On her
 
 1 64 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 arrival, the child was placed under the care of 
 Madame de Campan, and henceforth made one of 
 that little band of young girls who were wont to 
 assemble at Malmaison on the Tenth Day (Ddcadi\ 
 and brighten the shade of the great chestnut trees 
 with the flutter of their white dresses. Josephine and 
 Hortense received her with great kindness, but she 
 was treated with no sort of special distinction. She 
 never appeared on gala days ; no rank was assigned 
 her, and it seemed probable that she would make 
 some such marriage as had been arranged for her 
 cousin, Emilie de Beauharnais, Madame Lavallette. 
 The little lady, however, had other views for herself. 
 She affected regal airs, and treated those among 
 her relatives who did not dwell in Imperial palaces 
 with scant courtesy. 
 
 Such was the situation when Eugene's marriage 
 made it necessary to provide for the Prince of Baden. 
 Napoleon's first thought was of Stephanie Tascher, 
 another ward of Josephine's. He finally fixed on 
 Stephanie de Beauharnais. The preliminaries hav- 
 ing been arranged by him when he passed through 
 Carlsruhe on January 20, 1806, the negotiations 
 were formally ratified by a treaty signed in Paris on 
 February 17. 
 
 Stephanie was then seventeen. She had a pleas- 
 ing face, much natural wit and gaiety, a certain 
 childishness of manner that was very attractive, a 
 sweet voice, a lovely complexion, a pair of sparkling 
 blue eyes, and beautiful fair hair. On the Emperor's 
 return to Paris, she was at once removed from 
 tutelage at the Tuileries, and lodged in an apartment 
 adjoining that of the Empress. In a very short 
 time she became the delight and amusement of the
 
 STEPHANIE DE BEAUHARNAIS 165 
 
 whole Court. Her gay sallies, her youthful high 
 spirits, her lively prattle relieved the tedium of Court 
 ceremony. Far from showing any timidity before 
 the Emperor, her animation seemed to derive an 
 added piquancy from his presence. She amused 
 and charmed him, and the consciousness of her 
 power to please gave her increased confidence. The 
 interlude scarcely bordered on love-making, its 
 elements being rather coquetry on Stephanie's part, 
 flirtation on that of Napoleon. The Emperor may 
 have felt inclined to go further ; but his \Meprot4gte 
 only wished to amuse herself, and to profit as far as 
 possible by the situation. She had no idea of com- 
 promising herself. She was perfectly aware that 
 not Mademoiselle de Beauharnais, but a Napoleonide 
 Jiad been chosen to wed the Prince of Baden. On 
 what footing was she to enter the family ? What 
 were to be her titles, her rank, her honours ? All 
 this depended solely on the Emperor ; and Stephanie 
 was not averse to furthering her prospects by means 
 of the fancy she had inspired. 
 
 Josephine, though her jealousy may have begun 
 to take alarm, showed no hostility to Stephanie. 
 She had at least the consolation of knowing that 
 the future princess had been provided by herself. 
 The struggle was between Stephanie and Bonaparte's 
 sisters, who had no idea of making way for the 
 favourite. Both, but more especially Caroline 
 Murat, defended their position with great acrimony, 
 and did not spare the little interloper. Stephanie 
 held her own with gallantry, parrying the thrusts of 
 her opponents with jests and laughter, which displayed 
 her pretty teeth to much advantage, as she was well 
 aware. Exasperated beyond measure, Caroline had
 
 166 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 recourse to open insult. One evening, when the 
 Court was awaiting the Emperor's arrival, Stephanie 
 seated herself on a folding stool. Caroline ordered 
 her to rise, and to remember that she was expected 
 to stand in the presence of his Majesty's sisters. 
 Stephanie obeyed, no longer laughing. She burst 
 into a flood of tears. At this moment the Emperor 
 appeared, and noting her distress, which perhaps 
 became her as well as her smiles, he inquired the 
 cause of her emotion. "Is that all?" he said. 
 " Well, come and sit on my knee. Then you will 
 be in no one's way." We will not vouch for the 
 authenticity of this anecdote, but it seems to be 
 confirmed by the following instructions sent to the 
 Grand Master of the Ceremonies on the arrival of 
 the Prince of Baden " Our intention being that our 
 daughter, the Princess Stephanie Napoleon, should 
 enjoy all the privileges proper to her rank, we wish 
 her to take her place by our side at all receptions, 
 fetes, and banquets ; in the event of our absence, 
 she shall be placed on the Empress's right hand." 
 By this decree Stephanie took precedence of Julie, 
 the future Queen, of Hortense, of all the Emperor's 
 sisters and sisters-in-law, and even of the Princess 
 Augusta, the wife of his adopted son. 
 
 It was followed on the next day by a message to 
 the Senate, announcing the adoption of the Princess 
 Stephanie Napoleon, and her approaching marriage ; 
 and further, by an order to all the great State bodies 
 to send deputations to the ceremony. Among the 
 delegates of the Senate was M. Claude de Beau- 
 harnais, the Princess' father, a returned emigrd, who 
 had been a member since the year XII., with a 
 salary of 25,000 francs. He was further rewarded
 
 STEPHANIE DE BEAUHARNAIS 167 
 
 for being the father of his charming daughter by the 
 Senatorship of Amiens, with an income of 25,000 
 francs, by a pension of 25,882 francs in 1807, to say 
 nothing of the post of Chevalier d'Honneur to Marie 
 Louise, with its accompanying 30,000 francs a year, 
 and an award of 200,000 francs on September 22, 
 1807. 
 
 But these were trifles as compared to all that was 
 lavished on Stephanie herself. The Emperor him- 
 self inspected her trousseau, and passed her dresses 
 in review. Notably such items as a long tulle robe 
 embroidered in gold and precious stones, the price 
 of which was 2,400 francs ; and twelve dresses 
 furnished by Lenormand at prices varying between 
 1900 and 1 200 francs. He further presented her 
 with 45,178 francs' worth of millinery and knick- 
 knacks from Leroy's ; and with 2,574 francs' worth of 
 artificial flowers from Roux-Montagnat. He gave 
 her a dowry of 1,500,000 francs, a magnificent parure 
 of diamonds, a quantity of jewels, and a thousand 
 louis from his privy purse as pocket-money. 
 
 The marriage itself, more especially the religious 
 ceremony, was celebrated with the utmost pomp, all 
 the resources of imperial processions and sovereign 
 splendours adding lustre to its solemnity. Napoleon 
 could have done no more for a daughter of his own. 
 The festivities were not confined to the palace ; 
 they overflowed into the town, which was illumin- 
 ated by the blaze of fireworks in the Place de la 
 Concorde. 
 
 But when the last sparks were extinguished, when 
 the last notes of music had died away, and the 
 Emperor and Empress had conducted the bridal 
 pair to their apartments, according to ancient custom.
 
 1 68 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Stephanie absolutely declined to admit her husband 
 to her room. She wept, and sobbed, and insisted 
 that her school-friend, Mademoiselle Nelly Bour- 
 jolly, should be allowed to spend the night with her. 
 The Court removed to Malmaison on the following- 
 day ; at night the same scene was enacted. Some 
 one suggested to the Prince of Baden that it was 
 the manner in which his hair was dressed which 
 inspired the Princess's repugnance, and that she had 
 a great dislike to a queue. The Prince at once had 
 his hair cut short and curled in classic fashion all 
 over his head. But when he appeared in this guise, 
 Stephanie burst into a peal of laughter, declaring 
 that he was even uglier than before. Every evening 
 the Prince presented himself with fruitless entreaties 
 and supplications, falling asleep at last in an arm- 
 chair, utterly wearied out. In the morning he 
 carried his complaints to the Empress, and Napoleon 
 watched the progress of the comedy with secret 
 amusement. It soon became the talk of the house- 
 hold. The magnificent fete given by the Emperor at 
 the Tuileries in honour of the marriage seems to prove 
 conclusively that he took a certain malicious pleasure 
 in the situation, and showed no signs of anger against 
 Stephanie. Not only the entire Court, but all the 
 town was invited to the first great ball, at which 
 two thousand five hundred guests were present. 
 Such sights had never been seen as the tw r o 
 quadrilles led by the Princess Louise and the 
 Princess Caroline, one in the Galerie de Diane, the 
 other in the Salle des Marechaux, or the sideboards, 
 loaded with a hundred large joints, sixty entries, 
 sixty roasts, two hundred entremets, at which a 
 thousand bottles of Beaune, a hundred of Cham-
 
 STEPHANIE DE BEAUHARNAIS 169 
 
 pagne, a hundred of claret, and a hundred of various 
 dessert wines were consumed. 
 
 At last the question became one of policy, and 
 Napoleon made up his mind to intervene. Made- 
 moiselle de Beauharnais' coquetries had amused 
 him, and he had taken a certain pleasure in teasing 
 his wife. He had gone somewhat further than he 
 intended in the disproportionate rank he had be- 
 stowed on the young girl, and the splendour with 
 which he had celebrated her marriage. But he saw 
 that the Prince of Baden was losing patience ; a 
 war with Prussia was imminent, and it was highly 
 important to conciliate all such of the German 
 princes as might become allies, or at least furnish 
 information. Added to which, he was anxious to 
 4>ut an end to a flirtation ill-suited to his dignity, 
 his age, and his temperament. He had respected 
 Stephanie before her marriage, and had no inten- 
 tion of burdening himself with a mistress in the 
 person of an hereditary princess, whose head was 
 already turned to a considerable extent by her 
 elevation. She was becoming a nuisance in Paris, 
 whereas at Carlsruhe she might be made useful, 
 if only to counterbalance the influence of the Mar- 
 grave Louis, and the hostility of the whole petty 
 court to France. 
 
 Napoleon barely allowed himself time to inquire 
 into some story of intercepted letters which showed 
 what opposition awaited his adopted daughter. Before 
 seeking any satisfaction, he hurried on the departure 
 of the Prince and Princess. Stephanie went off in 
 despair, though accompanied by three of her school- 
 friends Mademoiselle de Mackau, Mademoiselle 
 Bourjolly, and Mademoiselle Gruau. Immediately
 
 170 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 on her arrival in her father-in-law's dominions she 
 addressed the following letter to the Emperor 
 " Sire, whenever I have a moment to myself, I 
 think of you, of the Empress, of all that is most 
 dear to me. I imagine myself in France once more, 
 I dream that I am with you, and I even find a 
 certain mournful pleasure in dwelling on my sorrow." 
 Napoleon's answer is marked by a certain severity. 
 His tone is admonitory, but he refrains from any 
 parental formula, or tender expression " Carlsruhe 
 is a lovely spot. . . . Do your best to please the 
 Elector, he is your father. . . . Love your husband ; 
 his attachment to you deserves such a recompense." 
 When she wrote again to say that she was happy 
 at Carlsruhe, he unbent, and wrote to her as his 
 daugJiter, but continued to lay down rules of con- 
 duct, with a certain commanding austerity. He did 
 not resume his tone of familiar affection until the 
 Grand Duke offered him his support in the forth- 
 coming campaign, and at the same time announced 
 that Stephanie was about to become a mother. " I 
 hear nothing but good news of you," he wrote. 
 " Be good and gentle to every one, as you have 
 shown yourself hitherto." And he gave her leave 
 to join the Empress and Hortense at Mayence, 
 while her husband was with the army. In subse- 
 quent letters to Josephine, Napoleon rarely omitted 
 some mention of Stephanie. But these were mere 
 passing remembrances, and had no deeper meaning 
 here than in any other case. 
 
 In 1807 Stephanie and her husband were invited 
 to the fetes given in honour of Jerome's marriage 
 with Catherine of Wurtemburg, and Stephanie 
 joyfully hailed the opportunity of revisiting Paris.
 
 STEPHANIE I)E BEAUHARNAIS 171 
 
 Great must have been her chagrin, if she had 
 retained any illusions as to her power over 
 Napoleon's heart, the prestige conferred by her 
 adoption into his family, and the position he had 
 assigned her only a year before ! Now her 
 place was last among the princesses ; she seemed 
 to be admitted into the Imperial circle on suffer- 
 ance rather than by right. She was recognized 
 only as one of the princesses of the Germanic 
 Confederation, and had any German queens been 
 present, they would have taken precedence of 
 her. In the Imperial presence she was allowed 
 a folding-stool as a favour, whereas the other 
 princesses of the family had a right to chairs. 
 She seems to have hardly realized the change in 
 her circumstances at first, and was absorbed in 
 a flirtation with Jerome, the new King of West- 
 phalia. But her aunt undertook to put the matter 
 plainly before her. She soon perceived that her 
 position was only to be consolidated by means 
 of her husband's affection, and she made him so 
 desperately in love with her that his jealousy 
 became unbearable. 
 
 His devotion stood her in good stead, however, 
 in 1814, when he defended her against the combined 
 attack of all his kindred. After the fall of the 
 Emperor, an attempt was made to oust her from 
 the house of Zaehringen. Her presence was a 
 perpetual reminder of broken faith and forgotten 
 benefits, and the ducal family eagerly demanded 
 her repudiation by her husband. Was there any 
 direct connection between his resistance and the 
 mysterious illness by which he, a robust man 
 of thirty-two, in vigorous health, was suddenly
 
 172 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 attacked ? He lingered for a year, and died in 
 strange agonies in 1818. 
 
 Among all the children born to her, Stephanie 
 had never succeeded in rearing- a son. When she 
 
 o 
 
 lost her second, or at least supposed him to be 
 dead, her despair found utterance in the following 
 letter to the Emperor " I was so happy to tell 
 your Majesty that I had a son, and to implore 
 your love and protection on his behalf! A son 
 would have made me forget many of my sorrows, 
 and was most essential to me in my position, the 
 duties of which are often very difficult. . . . But 
 I have been forced to relinquish all my hopes ! . . ." 
 She mourned unspeakably over the fatality which 
 seemed to single out her sons, and spare her 
 daughters, branding her race with political sterility, 
 and cutting it off from the succession. 
 
 Ten years after the death of the Grand Duke, 
 between five and six o'clock in the evening of 
 May 26, 1828, a citizen of Nuremburg discovered 
 in the Tallow-market of that city, a youth about 
 seventeen years of age, who had never stood upon 
 his feet, or seen the sunlight, and whose stomach 
 would not digest any animal food, a being whose 
 organs could only have been thus atrophied by 
 imprisonment in darkness from his birth. Stephanie 
 was the first to calculate, reason, and compare dates. 
 She became convinced that the mysterious unknown, 
 who went by the name of Caspar Hauser, was 
 her son her son, for whom a dead child had 
 been substituted ; her son, the victim of the 
 Margrave Louis's hatred and the Countess of 
 Hochberg's ambition, who had expiated the crime 
 of having a Napoleonide for his mother by sixteen
 
 STEPHANIE DE BEAUHARNAIS 173 
 
 years of darkness and suffering. But Stephanie 
 was powerless. 
 
 Her enemies had triumphed. One was on the 
 throne ; the other, raised to unexpected honours, 
 had secured the succession for a family that courtesy 
 might call morganatic, but which truth can only 
 describe as bastard. Stephanie could but tremble 
 for Caspar Hauser, and weep for him when 
 he was at last murdered, after three unsuccess- 
 ful attempts upon his life. Was her convic- 
 tion a pathetic illusion, born of a mother's grief, 
 or one of those mysterious intuitions which have 
 thrown more light on certain great crimes than all 
 the machinery of law and justice ? To her last 
 hour (she died January 29, 1860), she declared to 
 .the small French circle who visited her dilapidated 
 palace at Mannheim, that her son had not died in 
 1812, but had been stolen from her; she named 
 the principals and accessories of the crime, and 
 detailed her suppositions and conjectures. Certain 
 German writers have endeavoured to show that 
 she was the victim of a delusion ! If so, we may 
 congratulate the reigning family of Baden !
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ELEONORE. 
 
 JOSEPHINE had comparatively little cause for 
 anxiety, so long as Napoleon was in doubt as to the 
 possibility of his ever becoming a father. A con- 
 catenation of circumstances which should convince 
 him absolutely of this possibility was in the highest 
 degree improbable. It was nevertheless brought 
 about, and in the most unexpected manner, the reve- 
 lation being the result of an adventure to which the 
 Emperor attached very little importance, and from 
 which a momentous sequel could never have been 
 predicted. 
 
 Mention has already been made of the school 
 established at St. Germain-en- Laye towards the 
 close of the Revolution by Madame Campan, for- 
 merly Lady-in- Waiting to Marie Antoinette. Jose- 
 phine had taken it under her special protection from 
 the first ; her daughter Hortense, her nieces and 
 cousins, Emilie and Stephanie de Beauharnais, Ste- 
 phanie Tascher, Felicit^ de Faudoas, her sister-in- 
 law, Caroline Bonaparte, and even Lucien's daughter 
 Charlotte, had all been confided to Madame Campan 
 at her instance. The daughters of most of those who
 
 ELEONORE 175 
 
 had, or desired to have, some footing at the Consular 
 Court, soon clustered round these more notable pupils. 
 Among the satellites were Mesdemoiselles Barbe, 
 Marmois, Leclerc, Victor, Clarke, and MacDonald. 
 After the successful marriages made by Mesdemoi- 
 selles Augier, Madame Campan's nieces, as a result 
 of their intimacy with Hortense, many were the 
 applicants for admission to Madame Campan's fold, 
 even among families of small means and smaller 
 pretensions. 
 
 Madame Campan was supposed to be a power at 
 Court. She had obtained a reversal of the decrees 
 against many dmigrts, and restitution of their con- 
 fiscated estates. In short, it became the fashion to- 
 be educated by her, and side by side with the glorious 
 'but brand-new names of many of her pupils, her 
 registers make mention of Noailles, Talons, Lally- 
 Tollendals, and Rochemonds, of many representa- 
 tives of the financial world, and finally, of a swarm 
 of nobodies. 
 
 There was one young girl in particular of whose 
 origin the mistress would have been puzzled to give 
 an account, had she kept up the standard of exclu- 
 siveness she had at first adopted. But the prestige 
 of her establishment having suffered some eclipse 
 after the Consulate, she was reduced to filling up 
 vacancies without too close a scrutiny of her candi- 
 dates' claims. The young lady in question was 
 Mademoiselle Louise-Catherine-Ele'onore D^nuelle 
 de la Plaigne. Her father, who gave himself out to 
 be a gentleman of independent means, was given to 
 speculations, not invariably of a successful nature. 
 Her mother, still a very pretty woman, had figured 
 in a variety of scandalous stories. The pair lodged
 
 176 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 in sumptuous apartments in the Boulevard des 
 Italiens, where they entertained a numerous and 
 very mixed company. They lived from hand to 
 mouth on the dubious profits of the one or the other, 
 looking forward to the time when their daughter, 
 who was seventeen in 1 804 (she was born September 
 13, 1787), should have found a rich husband, or at 
 .any rate should be fairly launched on the quest. 
 
 But time passed on. The lady began to grow old, 
 the gentleman was deeply in debt ; admirers fell off. 
 The quarterly payments were not easily scraped 
 together for Madame Campan, and the parents began 
 to realize that chances of marriages like those of 
 Madame Ney and Madame Savary had been reduced 
 to a minimum since the Beauharnais had left the 
 school. 
 
 In default of the drawing-rooms from which she 
 was excluded, Madame Denuelle determined to 
 show off her daughter's charms in the theatres. 
 One evening, a good-looking officer entered the 
 
 O ' O O 
 
 box they occupied, and took the vacant place 
 behind them. The two ladies showed no signs 
 of austerity ; the officer was enterprising ; and the 
 trio soon became acquainted. He whispered of 
 love, and the pair discoursed of marriage. No 
 alternative presenting itself, he agreed to the 
 conditions. 
 
 He was invited to the Boulevard des Italiens, 
 and duly presented himself to pursue his conquest. 
 The father made an attempt to borrow money of 
 him, which roused his suspicions as to the solvency 
 of the household. His doubts, however, were laid 
 at rest by a conversation he had with Madame 
 Campan. He stipulated only that the marriage
 
 ELEONORE 177 
 
 should be at St. Germain, where it took place Nivose 
 25, year XIII. (January 15, 1805). 
 
 The bridegroom, who gave himself out as a 
 captain in the i5th Regiment of Dragoons, in General 
 d'Avrange d'Hauge"rauville's division, was a scamp 
 of the first quality. He had formerly been quarter- 
 master in the regiment, and had just resigned his 
 commission with the intention of becoming an army- 
 contractor. Meanwhile, he was living on credit 
 at an inn, relying apparently a good deal more 
 on his wife's beauty than on his own resources 
 for escape from his embarrassments. Two months 
 after the wedding, he was arrested on the charge of 
 having forged a bill he had paid over to his regiment, 
 and was condemned to a term of imprisonment. 
 
 Eteonore then bethought her that she had been at 
 school with Caroline Murat (her Imperial Highness 
 the Princess Caroline), and, warmly recommended 
 by Madame Campan, she went to implore her pro- 
 tection. Caroline placed her at a boarding-house at 
 Chantilly, where young women in distressed circum- 
 stances were received. But yielding to Ele"onore's 
 entreaties, she eventually took her into her own 
 household, very much against the advice of Madame 
 Campan, who wished her to retire from the world 
 for a time, and then to find a fresh husband in the 
 provinces. 
 
 Ele"onore was a beautiful creature, tall, graceful, 
 and finely formed, a brunette with magnificent dark 
 eyes. She had great vivacity of manner, and was a 
 born coquette. Her youthful training had not taught 
 her to be over-scrupulous, nor had the two months 
 she had spent with Revel tended to increased rigidity 
 of morals. Her duty at first was the announcement 
 
 N
 
 178 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 of visitors to the Princess, from which office she was 
 promoted to the rank of reader. Chance brought 
 her under the Emperor's notice, when he came to 
 see his sister towards the end of January, 1806, after 
 his return from Austerlitz. She took every possible 
 opportunity of attracting his attention, and when his 
 overtures were laid before her, she responded with 
 alacrity. She consented to visit him at the Tuileries, 
 and it soon became her habit to spend two or three 
 hours there from time to time. 
 
 On the 1 3th of February in this year, she lodged 
 an application for a divorce on the grounds of her 
 husband's misconduct, and obtained a decree in her 
 favour almost as a matter of right, Revel having 
 been condemned to two years' imprisonment by the 
 Criminal Court of Seineet-Oise. The decree was 
 made absolute on April 29, 1806. It was time, for 
 in the month of March Eleonore was enceinte. On 
 Saturday, December 13, 1806, she was delivered of 
 a son, at No. 29, Rue de la Victoire. The child 
 was registered as Leon, son of Eleonore Denuelle, 
 spinster, of independent means, and of an unknown 
 father. 
 
 There was no possibility of doubt as to its 
 paternity. Eleonore, who in the deed of divorce 
 was described as " attached to the household of 
 her Imperial Highness the Princess Caroline," 
 had lived since her return from Chantilly at the 
 Hotel du Gouvernement, in the Rue de Province, 
 purchased by Murat on the 22nd Nivose, year X., and 
 formerly known as the Hotel Thelusson. She had 
 never left it save for her visits to the Tuileries, the 
 secret of which was perfectly well known to Caroline. 
 But evidence even more conclusive was to be found
 
 ELEONORE 179 
 
 in the child itself, which bore the most striking 
 likeness to Napoleon. 
 
 The news of the accouchement reached the 
 Emperor at Pulstuck on December 31. The 
 spell was broken, and he knew now that he might 
 reasonably hope for an heir of his own blood. 
 Thus, the clandestine birth of a nameless child 
 determined his future more directly perhaps than 
 any other influence, and undoubtedly was the 
 secret cause of the momentous decision he made 
 shortly after Tilsit, and carried out some two years 
 later. 
 
 Le*on was first placed under the care of Madame 
 Loir, Achille Murat's nurse; but in 1812 a family 
 council was convened, which appointed two guardians, 
 -Monsieur Mathieu de Mauvieres, Mayor of St. 
 Forget, Baron of the Empire, and the Baron de 
 M6neval, the Emperor's private secretary and 
 trusted confidant. Not content with the provision 
 he had already made for the child, Napoleon, before 
 starting to join the army in January, 1814, directed 
 the Due de Bassano to augment it by a sum of 
 12,000 livres ; this he supplemented on June 21, 
 1815, by ten shares in the Canals Company, valued 
 at 100,000 francs. In a codicil to his will, he 
 further assigned him 320,000 francs for the purchase 
 of an estate, and, solicitous for him to the last, he 
 mentions him in the thirty-seventh paragraph of his 
 Instructions to his executors " I should be glad for 
 the little Le"on to enter the magistrature, should his 
 inclinations lie in that direction." 
 
 But what were all these benefits as compared 
 with those he dreamt for a moment of conferring on 
 this child ? There seems to be no doubt that he
 
 i8o NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 entertained the idea of adopting his natural son as 
 his successor, that he broached the subject to 
 Josephine, and sounded several of his intimates. 
 Such an expedient seemed to offer a means of 
 escape from the proposed divorce, from a rupture 
 with Josephine, to whom he was sincerely attached, 
 and whose very faults had a certain attraction for 
 him, while at the same time he saw in it a sufficient 
 concession to the law of heredity. He cited ex- 
 amples, invoked precedents, invented justifications ; 
 if he drew back at last, it was because he recognized 
 the difficulty of imposing his own view of the case 
 on others, and realized that the days were past when 
 a Louis XIV. conferred the rights of succession on 
 a Due du Maine, or a Comte de Toulouse. But 
 while the project was in his mind, he liked to have 
 the child about him, and showed considerable affec- 
 tion for him. He often sent for him at the Elyse*e, 
 when he visited his sister Caroline, or even at the 
 Tuileries, while he was dressing or breakfasting, 
 and would play with him, and give him sweetmeats, 
 amused by his lively prattle. 
 
 The disasters of later years of course affected 
 Leon's position considerably. No longer able to 
 watch over his fortunes himself, the Emperor in 
 1815 commended him to the good offices of Madame 
 Bonaparte and Cardinal Fesch. 
 
 The Emperor's mother had already shown some 
 interest in him, and seemed inclined to do consider- 
 ably more. But Leon's character was not such as 
 to inspire affection. 
 
 In 1832, when he was twenty-five, he seems to 
 have already ruined himself by gambling. We find 
 him applying to Cardinal Fesch, and promising never
 
 ELEONORE 181 
 
 again to lose 45,000 francs in one night, in the true 
 gambler's vein ! A year later he was dipping 
 alternately into speculation, politics, and mesmerism, 
 and challenging his acquaintances very freely to 
 duels (1833 and 1834), for he had plenty of courage, 
 and was somewhat of a swashbuckler. In 1834 he 
 was chosen to command the St. Denis contingent of 
 the National Guard, during his canvass for which 
 post he advertised himself and his claims by incessant 
 references to " that great man to whom I owe my 
 being." He was temporarily suspended for some 
 dereliction of duty, and finally dismissed, after which 
 he published a series of apologetic pamphlets, the 
 contentions of which are very difficult to follow after 
 this lapse of time. In 1840 he took part in the 
 .official reception of his father's remains in Paris. 
 He was then completely ruined, and made attempts 
 to mend his fortunes by various lawsuits with his 
 mother. 
 
 Eleonore had preserved her own fortune intact. 
 The Emperor had never seen her after 1806, and 
 had refused to receive her when she presented herself 
 at Fontainebleau the following year. He acknow- 
 ledged her claims on him, however, by the gift of a 
 house, No. 29, Rue de la Victoire, and by a permanent 
 settlement of an income of 22,000 livres, on February 
 8, 1808. That very day she married Monsieur 
 Pierre-Philippe Augier, a lieutenant of infantry, the 
 son of Monsieur Augier de la Sausaye, who had 
 been successively Deputy of the Third Estate in 
 the Constituent Assembly, Sous-preTet of Rochefort, 
 and, from the year XII. onwards, the representative 
 of La Charente in the Legislative Body. Lieutenant 
 Augier took his wife to Spain, and died in captivity
 
 1 82 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 after the Russian campaign. His widow was soon 
 consoled, and took a third husband at Seckenheim, 
 May 25, 1814, in the person of Charles- Auguste- 
 Emile, Count Luxburg, a major in the service of the 
 King of Bavaria. Returning to Paris with this new 
 partner, she was immediately attacked by her first 
 husband, Revel, who tried to blackmail her, taking 
 advantage of the fall of "the tyrant " to pose as a 
 victim, and trade upon his wrongs. Madame de 
 Luxburg, however, resisted his extortions ; where- 
 upon Revel avenged himself, and made a few francs 
 by the publication of innumerable pamphlets with 
 sensational titles of a scurrilous description. He 
 was unsuccessful, however, in all the various law- 
 suits he brought against his ex-wife. 
 
 L^on was somewhat luckier in his proceedings 
 against his mother. He was defeated in an action in 
 
 o 
 
 which he charged her with fraud, and demanded 
 a general audit of accounts. On the other hand, 
 he gained the cause in which he claimed recog- 
 nition as a natural son, and in default of alimony, 
 obtained a settlement of 4000 francs by a decree 
 of July 2, 1846. He seems to have somewhat 
 improved his financial position by 1848, for he then 
 had some idea of offering himself as a candidate for 
 the Presidency of the Republic in opposition to 
 Prince Louis Napoleon, with whom he had been 
 anxious to fight a duel eight years before, in March, 
 1840. The whole story is so strange, that Leon's 
 conduct is only to be explained as the result of 
 some mental derangement. In 1849 he took an 
 active part in the legislative elections, and pub- 
 lished a manifesto, entitled Citizen Ldon, sometime 
 known as the Comte Le"on, son of the Emperor
 
 ELEONORE 183 
 
 Napoleon, Director of the Peace Society, to the 
 French Nation. 
 
 When the Second Empire was established, Leon 
 obtained from Napoleon III., whom he had wished 
 to kill, a pension of 6,000 francs, and the payment 
 of Napoleon I.'s legacy altogether a capital of 
 225,319 francs. Not content with this, he made 
 a further claim in 1853 for 572,670 francs, which 
 he alleged to have been assigned him by decrees 
 of April, May, and June, 1815. In 1857 he sued 
 the Minister of Public Works for 500,000 francs, 
 which he declared to be due to him for draught- 
 
 o 
 
 plans of the Northern Railway. 
 
 Not a year passed without a mass of claims, 
 proposals, and petitions on his part. His debts 
 were paid out of the Civil List no less than six 
 times. His brain was in a perpetual state of fer- 
 ment with schemes for railways, public roads, 
 proposed law-suits, commercial speculations, etc. 
 His pamphlet, published in 1859, Peace, the Solution 
 of the Italian Question, is a sort of ultimatum, in 
 which Coessin is extolled as the prophet of his 
 times. " To him, and to him alone, we owe the 
 solution of all difficulties, past and to come." 
 Coessin, it may be necessary to explain, was the 
 author of the Nine Books (1809), the founder of 
 the Gray House ( 1 8 1 o), the New Gray House, and 
 Spiritual Families. It is not unlikely that the 
 Peace Society, of which L6on styled himself 
 Director in 1849, was an emanation from the 
 Spiritual Families, which every one but himself 
 had probably forgotten by 1859. 
 
 Leon died at Pontoise, April 15, 1881, certainly 
 deranged.
 
 1 84 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Many romances have been built up on the 
 hypothesis of a natural son of Napoleon's having 
 survived him. But what romance could rival that 
 true history, of which we can only glean fragments 
 from law-reports, civil registers, circulars, and 
 electoral addresses ? Strange and startling would be 
 such a history, given in its entirety !
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 HORTENSE. 
 
 THE beginning of the year 1807 was an epoch 
 of moment in the life of Napoleon. In January 
 he heard of the birth of Le"on ; in May, of the 
 .death of Napoleon-Charles. The birth of Le*on 
 convinced him that he need not despair of posterity ; 
 the death of Napoleon-Charles, the son of Louis 
 and Hortense, dispelled a vision of heredity he had 
 long nourished, a vision which external circumstances 
 rather than his own inclinations had hitherto pre- 
 vented him from realizing by a solemn act of 
 adoption. The boy was the child of his heart, 
 the son of the young girl to whom he had been 
 father and guardian, and for whom his affection had 
 been so strong from the beginning that her tears 
 had moved him to grant the pardon he had refused 
 to his own love for Josephine. He was the son, 
 too, of his favourite brother, the little brother who 
 had been almost a son to him, whom he had brought 
 up and educated out of his own scanty pay as 
 lieutenant of artillery, whom he had made his aide- 
 de-camp, who had witnessed the first of his great 
 achievements, and whom he had raised, in his own
 
 1 86 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 upward course, to a throne. In this child he 
 recognized the very characteristic type of the 
 Bonapartes, neither disfigured by Louis's thick lips 
 and ill-shaped nose, nor emasculated by Hortense's 
 slender Creole grace, yet softened and etherealized 
 by a halo of golden hair. To this child, the first 
 boy of the new generation, Napoleon gave his 
 father's name, Napoleon-Charles. So warm was 
 his affection for the boy, and so openly was it 
 manifested, that malicious tongues soon began to 
 insinuate that he was its father, and that his step- 
 daughter had been his mistress before her marriage. 
 We will now inquire into the truth of this rumour. 
 
 Hortense's marriage contract was dated Nivose 
 13, year X. (January 3, 1802). The wedding took 
 place on the I4th (January 4), and her son was born 
 on the 1 8th of Vendemiaire, year XL (October 10, 
 1802). Clearly, then, she was not enceinte at the 
 time of the marriage, and it was no " case of neces- 
 sity," as Lucien Bonaparte hinted, seeing that a 
 period of wo hundred and eighty days elapsed 
 between the marriage and the birth of the child, 
 the normal interval in such cases being two hundred 
 and seventy days. Now on Nivose the i8th 
 (January 8), at midnight, the First Consul started 
 for Lyons. He did not return to Paris till Pluviose 
 the 1 2th (February i). These material proofs may 
 be corroborated by others. 
 
 Louis, the most jealous and suspicious of husbands, 
 who had tyrannized over his wife from the first to 
 such an extent that he had forbidden her ever to 
 spend a night at St. Cloud, who never left her, 
 and kept her surrounded by spies, had not failed 
 to make his own calculations. Every waiting-
 
 HORTENSE 187 
 
 woman who seemed to attach herself to her mistress 
 was promptly dismissed, and the most scandalous 
 accusations were formulated against Josephine by 
 her son-in-law. Taking these things into account, it 
 becomes a strong presumption in Hortense's favour, 
 that Louis himself had no doubts as to the child's 
 paternity. In his Documents historiqties sur la 
 Hollande, he expressly declares that he knew him- 
 self to be the father of the three children, whom 
 he and his wife loved, he says, "with equal 
 tenderness." This statement he repeated both in 
 prose and verse, for he prided himself on his poetic 
 gifts. When Napoleon proposed to adopt Napoleon- 
 Charles, Louis very possibly alluded to the rumours 
 that were rife ; not that he believed them, but they 
 gave him a pretext for opposing his brother's plans, 
 rhe very fact of his having discussed the subject 
 with Napoleon, even by implication, tends to prove 
 that he himself had no misgivings. During the 
 child's lifetime, Louis was much attached to him, 
 though the manifestations of his affection were often 
 held in check by the caprices of a melancholy and 
 distorted mind. As far, however, as he was capable 
 of loving anything, he loved the child, and he was 
 unaffectedly grieved at its death. It was on this 
 occasion that he became reconciled for a time to 
 Hortense, with whom he had been on such terms 
 that the Emperor was obliged to intervene. He 
 wrote affectionate letters to the mother-in-law he 
 detested, and accompanied his sick wife to Cauterets, 
 where, under circumstances familiar to all students 
 of history, Hortense became enceinte with her third 
 son, Charles- Louis Napoleon, afterwards the Emperor 
 Napoleon III.
 
 1 88 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 It is evident that Louis never for a moment 
 believed his wife to have been Napoleon's mistress. 
 We have not only his written testimony to this 
 effect ; the fact is most fully borne out by the whole 
 tenor of his conduct from 1800 to 1809. As to 
 Hortense, no whisper of the calumny ever reached 
 her till 1 809. 
 
 Her mother's marriage with General Bonaparte 
 had been a severe shock to her. Even before it 
 took place she was living at St. Germain-en- Laye 
 with her grandfather, the Marquis de Beauharnais, 
 and her aunt, Madame Renaudin, whom the Marquis 
 had married a short time before. She was then 
 sent to school with Madame Campan, whence she 
 was not transferred to the Tuileries till about the 
 time of the First Consul's departure for Marengo. 
 It was not, therefore, until after Bonaparte's return 
 from Italy that she was brought into constant and 
 familiar intercourse with him. Napoleon became 
 attached to her, treating her with fatherly indul- 
 gence and tenderness, but she could never conquer 
 her awe of him. He inspired her with a sort of 
 respectful dread that made her tremble when she 
 spoke to him ; she never ventured to make him 
 any request ; if she had a favour to ask, she always 
 sought the help of some intermediary. " Little 
 fool ! " Napoleon would say, " why doesn't she ask 
 me herself? Is the child afraid of me?'" When 
 Josephine was negotiating her daughter's marriage 
 with Louis Bonaparte, Napoleon refrained from any 
 action in the matter, partly because he hoped the 
 union might bring about greater harmony between 
 his own family and his wife's, partly because he fore- 
 saw certain political advantages to be derived there-
 
 HORTENSE 189 
 
 from, and partly from a feeling of delicacy towards 
 Josephine and the children of her first marriage. 
 But whenever, in the unhappy sequel, he was able 
 to calm and soften Louis, or to admonish him as to 
 a proper course of conduct towards Hortense, he 
 never failed to carry out the task with admirable 
 tact, delicacy, and patience. He pitied his step- 
 daughter profoundly, and had the greatest respect 
 for her, restraining his freedom of speech in her 
 presence. " Hortense forces me to believe in 
 virtue," he often said. 
 
 He was well aware of the rumours current. He 
 knew, and was perhaps not altogether indifferent 
 to the malicious gossip which affirmed that he had 
 married Hortense to his brother when she was 
 ^already enceinte by himself, and that her child had 
 been born before nine months had elapsed. The 
 calumny had crossed the Straits, and had come back 
 to Paris amplified and embellished by the English 
 newspapers. Determined to give the lie to his 
 assailants, the Consul had contrived a scene which 
 reflects little credit on his ingenuity, and even less 
 on his sense of delicacy. He gave orders for a 
 ball at Malmaison ; Hortense was present, though 
 then in her seventh month. Bonaparte invited her 
 to dance with him. She pleaded fatigue, and 
 refused. She knew that her step-father usually 
 inveighed in the strongest terms against women in 
 her condition who danced, especially when dressed 
 in the clinging garments of the period, which 
 revealed every contour of the figure. On this 
 occasion, however, he persisted, begging her to 
 take part at least in a country-dance. Again she 
 refused. Whereupon he brought "so many cajo-
 
 i go NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 leries" to bear upon her that she at last consented. 
 The next morning one of the newspapers published 
 a copy of scurrilous verses on the incident. Hor- 
 tense, greatly incensed, lodged a complaint, but 
 without effect. The ball indeed had been given * 
 with no other object than to furnish an occasion 
 for these verses, which might be produced at some 
 future day to prove that Madame Louis Bonaparte 
 was in the orthodox stage of her pregnancy. A like 
 precaution was taken in the case of the Moniteur. 
 This journal, which had never made any allusion 
 to the Consul's family heretofore, published the fol- 
 lowing notice in its issue of Vendemiaire the 2ist 
 " Madame Louis Bonaparte was safely delivered of 
 a son on Vendemiaire the i8th, at nine o'clock in 
 the evening." 
 
 Napoleon clearly did all in his power to circum- 
 vent the calumny, but it survived in spite of his 
 efforts, and gained credence in many quarters. Out- 
 rageous as it was, he felt that it could not seriously 
 affect either Hortense, Louis, or himself; he there- 
 fore accepted it as a move in the political game, and 
 at once saw how it might be turned to account. 
 He loved the child scandal had fathered upon him 
 almost as fondly as if it were indeed his own. He 
 had a genuine parental weakness for the boy, and 
 showed a tender and charming playfulness in his 
 treatment of him. He was enchanted when the 
 child exclaimed to some grenadiers he saw passing 
 in the garden " Long live Nonon the soldier ! " 
 He often sent for him when at dinner, and would 
 perch him on the table beside him, laughing when 
 he touched every dish, and upset all within his 
 reach. He took him to give snuff to the gazelles,
 
 HORTENSE 191 
 
 set him astride one of them, and smiled to hear him- 
 self addressed as " Uncle Bibiche." Or he would 
 have him brought into his dressing-room, and after 
 having kissed him, pulled his ears, or made faces 
 for his amusement, he would finally go down on 
 all fours to play with him. He reflected, that if 
 he adopted the boy, and proclaimed him his heir, 
 the world would be convinced that he was his 
 father. But what of that ? They would recognize 
 his blood, his race, his genius, in his chosen suc- 
 cessor. The heredity thus established would be na 
 spurious heredity, at variance with all popular con- 
 stitutions, but a claim based on direct descent, the 
 only hereditary claim admitted by popular logic. The 
 idea was offensive from the moral standpoint ; but 
 Napoleon had no prejudices. He held his destiny 
 to be so far above that of the crowd, that the nation 
 would not judge his actions by the moral formula 
 applicable to ordinary mortals, and believed that the 
 national desire to ensure a stable form of government 
 might be relied on to excuse the suspected lapse from 
 domestic virtue. At the worst, the accusation rested 
 on mere suspicion and hearsay ; it was impossible 
 to bring it home ; and Napoleon himself knew it 
 to be entirely baseless. 
 
 It may be urged that we are attributing ideas and 
 opinions to the Emperor, wholly in the air. But 
 it is not so. Two years later, in a conversation 
 recorded by Hortense in her unpublished memoirs, 
 he discussed the consequences of her son's death at 
 some length, adding that he himself had been com- 
 monly reputed the child's father. " You know," he 
 said, " the utter absurdity of such a suspicion. But I 
 can assure you that at one time all Europe believed
 
 192 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 him to be my son." He paused a moment at Hor- 
 tense's movement of surprise, and then continued 
 " No one thought the worse of you. The world has 
 always respected you, but the story was believed." 
 He paused once more, and then added " I thought 
 this belief might be turned to good account, and 
 the child's death was a great misfortune." " I was 
 so startled," writes Hortense, " that I stood by the 
 fire-place unable to utter a word. I heard nothing 
 more that he said. That speech ' I thought this 
 belief might be turned to good account,' seemed to 
 lift a veil from my eyes. It threw all my thoughts 
 into confusion, and, above all, it wounded my heart 
 most cruelly. ' What ! ' I exclaimed to myself, 
 ' when he treated me as his daughter, when it 
 seemed to me so sweet and so easy to find in him 
 the father I had lost, were all his solicitude, all his 
 marks of preference, the outcome, not of affection, 
 but of policy ? ' ; 
 
 Hortense was wrong. There was as much affec- 
 tion as policy in the matter. But the indignation 
 she felt, a perfectly legitimate indignation from the 
 feminine point of view, made it impossible for her 
 to appreciate that philosophical view of the situation 
 that presented itself to Napoleon's masculine mind. 
 If he had heaped kindnesses on Hortense, it was 
 not with the intention of confirming the rumour 
 that he was the father of the child, for we know 
 he took effectual steps to discredit it. But finding 
 that the rumour persisted, and was accepted by the 
 majority, he determined to make it subservient to 
 his own interests, and to the consolidation of his 
 dynasty. It was the sudden inspiration of a skilled 
 tactician on the field of battle, for it was one of the
 
 HORTENSE 193 
 
 most extraordinary of his faculties to be able to 
 recognize a situation at a glance, to accept its con- 
 ditions, and to act at once on the impulse it 
 inspired. 
 
 Hence it was, that although, as he himself said, 
 he looked upon the death of Napoleon-Charles as 
 a great misfortune, he bowed to the inevitable. 
 " I have no time to feel or to regret like other 
 men," is a dictum ascribed to him. He may have 
 uttered it. The death of the little Napoleon moved 
 him deeply ; he wrote of it to all his correspondents, 
 twenty times to Josephine, five or six times to 
 Hortense, to Joseph, to Jerome, to Fouche", to 
 Monge. But it was " his destiny," and useless tears 
 over the irrevocable decrees of fate were contrary 
 to Napoleon's nature, and to the philosophy he had 
 learnt from long contemplation of the terrible 
 chances of war, that game in which death is the 
 partner of every player, but in which only the living 
 are of account in the gambler's combinations. 
 
 This particular combination had failed. Napoleon- 
 Charles had been one of the external links that 
 bound the Emperor to Josephine. That link was 
 broken. The only ties now remaining were those 
 personal bonds of affection and tenderness woven 
 during the years of a companionship disturbed by 
 long absences, frequent quarrels, and strange mis- 
 understandings. Could those ties stand the strain 
 of such a test as that to which they were subjected 
 in 1805 by the intrigue with Madame * * * ?
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA. 
 
 ON January i, 1807, the Emperor, on his way 
 from Pulstuck to Warsaw, stopped to change horses 
 at the little town of Bronia. A crowd had gathered 
 to welcome the Liberator of Poland, a shouting, 
 gesticulating, excited multitude, which dashed for- 
 ward at the sight of the Imperial carriage. The 
 carriage drew up ; Duroc, the general officer in 
 attendance, alighted, and made his way to the 
 posting-house. As he entered, he was greeted by 
 despairing cries ; clasped hands were raised to him 
 in supplication, and a voice exclaimed in French 
 "Ah, sir! help us to get away from here, and let 
 me see him, if but for a moment ! " 
 
 He paused at this appeal ; the suppliants were 
 two ladies, lost in the crowd of peasants and work- 
 men. The one who had addressed him seemed 
 hardly more than a child ; she was dazzlingly fair, 
 with large blue eyes, peculiarly sweet and candid 
 in expression, and sparkling with a fire as of some 
 sacred frenzy. Her delicate skin, pink and fresh 
 as a rose, was flushed with nervous excitement. 
 Somewhat small of stature, her figure was so ex-
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 195 
 
 quisitely moulded, so supple and undulating, that 
 she was grace itself. She was very simply dressed, 
 and wore a dark hat with a long black veil. 
 
 Duroc took in all these details at a glance. Ex- 
 tricating the two ladies from the crowd, he gave 
 his hand to the beautiful blonde, and led her to the 
 door of the carriage. " Sire," said he to Napoleon, 
 " here is one who has braved all the dangers of the 
 crowd for your sake." 
 
 The Emperor took off his hat, and bending 
 towards the lady, began to address her. But she, 
 beside herself with excitement, agitated almost to 
 the verge of delirium by her emotions, cut short his 
 speech, and greeted him in a kind of transport, 
 " Welcome, thrice w r elcome to our land ! " she cried. 
 ^" Nothing we say or do can adequately express our 
 attachment to your person, and our delight at seeing 
 you tread the soil of that country which looks to 
 you for deliverance ! " 
 
 Napoleon gazed at her attentively as she uttered 
 these words. He took a bouquet which was in 
 the carriage and presented it to her. " Take it," he 
 said, "as an earnest of my good-will. We shall 
 meet again, I hope, at Warsaw, when I shall look 
 forward to thanks from your beautiful lips." 
 
 Duroc took his place by the Emperor's side. 
 The carriage drove off rapidly, Napoleon waving 
 his hat from the door by way of farewell. 
 
 The young woman was Marie Walewska. Her 
 maiden name was Laczinska. She belonged to 
 an ancient but impoverished family, and was one 
 of six children. M. Laczinska died when Marie 
 was still a child, and his widow, who was fully 
 occupied in managing the small estate which con-
 
 196 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 stituted their sole fortune, sent her daughters to 
 school. They learnt a little French and German, a 
 little music and dancing. When she was fifteen 
 and a half, Marie returned to her mother's house, 
 not very learned, but perfectly chaste, her heart 
 divided between two passions, religion and patriot- 
 ism. Her love for her country was only less strong 
 than her love to God. These were her sole springs 
 of action. Her temper was usually calm and gentle, 
 but she could be roused to sudden fury in a moment 
 by the suggestion that she should marry a Russian 
 or a Prussian, an enemy of her nation, a schismatic 
 or a Protestant. 
 
 She had scarcely returned to her mother's roof, 
 when a strange series of circumstances provided her 
 with two suitors, either of whom would have been a 
 great match for her. Madame Laczinska gave her 
 to understand that she must choose one or the other 
 of these unhoped-for partis. One was a charming 
 young man, possessed of every quality that could 
 call forth a girl's admiration ; he pleased her at 
 the first glance. He was enormously rich, very 
 well born, and remarkably handsome. But he was 
 a Russian, the son of a general who had been one 
 of Poland's most rigorous oppressors. Never would 
 she consent to become his wife. 
 
 She was therefore obliged to take her other suitor, 
 the aged Anastase Colonna de Walewice-Walewska. 
 He was seventy years old, had already been married 
 twice, and his eldest grandchild was nine years 
 older than Marie. This, however, mattered little, 
 for he was very rich. He was the great man of the 
 Laczinski's district, the owner of all the land, the 
 lord of the castle, the law-giver, the princely dis-
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 197 
 
 penser of hospitality to his humbler neighbours. 
 He had been Chamberlain to the late King ; on 
 great occasions he wore the blue cordon of the 
 White Easfle across his coat. He was the head of 
 
 o 
 
 one of the most illustrious families of Poland, a 
 family allied to the Colonnas of Rome, and therefore 
 of greater antiquity than any family of kingdom or 
 republic. It was natural that Madame Laczinska 
 should be well-disposed towards such a suitor. 
 Marie did not attempt to resist openly, for her first 
 objection had been met with a very uncompromising 
 response. But she fell ill of a fever that kept her 
 hovering between life and death for four months. 
 Directly she was convalescent she was married. 
 
 Three years passed away, which the young girl 
 . spent drearily enough, in constant ill-health, at the 
 lonely castle of Walewice, finding her only con- 
 solation in religious exercises and pious rhapsodies. 
 At last she became a mother. With the birth of a 
 son her whole being seemed to revive ; her son 
 should live the life that had been denied her, he 
 should taste the happiness she had never known. 
 But must this child grow up, like herself, on con- 
 quered territory, no longer a fatherland or a nation ? 
 Should he bow his neck to the yoke, like herself, 
 and, like his father, hold his lands and titles by 
 favour of the victor ? She longed to see her child 
 a Pole and a free man, and therefore prayed that 
 Poland might rise and deliver herself. 
 
 The man who had laid Austria low, who had 
 measured himself against Russia at Austerlitz, was 
 now about to engage Prussia and her allies. 
 Napoleon was the adversary raised up by Provi- 
 dence against the powers concerned in the par-
 
 198 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 tition of Poland. He had taken the field, and each 
 stage of his advance had been marked by some 
 fresh victory. The Prussian army melted away like 
 a phantasmal horde before him. He had entered 
 Berlin, he was now approaching the frontiers of the 
 former kingdom. A sort of fever seized on its 
 inhabitants, a frenzy of enthusiasm and expectation. 
 Walewice was far out of the track of tidings ; but 
 at Warsaw she would know all that was passing. 
 
 Her husband, a patriot like herself as who was 
 not in those days of exaltation ? proposed that they 
 should go to the capital. They arrived, and installed 
 themselves on a scale of some importance, for the 
 husband had his rank to maintain, and wished his 
 young wife to make her dtbut in society. She, very 
 much alive to the defects of her education, shy 
 of speaking French lest she should make blun- 
 ders, naturally timid and retiring, and conscious of 
 standing alone, without the support of friends and 
 relatives, dreaded the social ordeal, and especially 
 disliked appearing at Prince Joseph Poniatowski's 
 palace, La Blacha, the rallying-point of the leaders 
 of society. In obedience to her husband's com- 
 mands, she made up her mind to such visits as were 
 obligatory in her position, but eschewed all others. 
 Hence she was practically unknown, and excited 
 little attention, in spite of her remarkable beauty. 
 
 When the Emperor's approaching visit was 
 announced, the excitement became intense. It was 
 resolved to give him a reception at Warsaw that 
 should eclipse even that he had met with at Posen, 
 The ordinary course of affairs was suspended for 
 the time. The great preoccupation of high and 
 low was to gratify Napoleon. The fate of Poland
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 199 
 
 might depend on his first impression. Marie 
 Walewska determined to be the first to bid him 
 welcome. Little dreaming of the consequences of 
 her act, she persuaded a cousin to accompany 
 her, ordered her carriage, and hastened, regardless 
 of difficulties and dangers, to Bronia. 
 
 After the Imperial carriage had disappeared, she 
 remained for some time where she had been left, 
 gazing into space, as if in a dream. Her companion 
 recalled her to herself by shaking her, and calling 
 her, whereupon she carefully wrapped up the 
 bouquet the Emperor had given her in her hand- 
 kerchief, and got into her carriage, arriving late at 
 night at her home. 
 
 It was her own intention to keep her journey a 
 secret, to excuse herself from presentation to the 
 Emperor, and to appear at none of the festivities. 
 But her companion was too proud of the adventure 
 to keep silence, in spite of her injunctions. One 
 morning, Prince Joseph Poniatowski presented 
 himself, inquiring at what hour she would receive 
 him. He came in the afternoon, and with a signifi- 
 cant laugh, evidently meant to establish some secret 
 understanding, invited her to a ball he was about to 
 give. As she blushingly put his innuendo by with- 
 out any sign of comprehension, Poniatowski went 
 straight to the point. He explained that at one of the 
 banquets given in honour of the Emperor, Napo- 
 leon had seemed much struck by a certain Princess 
 Lubomirska, since which the lady had been 
 constantly thrown in his way. Whereupon Duroc 
 had revealed that his master had noticed the 
 princess merely on account of a certain resemblance
 
 200 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 between her and a lovely unknown he had seen at 
 Bronia. Who, Duroc inquired, could she have been ? 
 He gave all the details of the adventure, with 
 minute descriptions of the lady's features and style 
 of dress. Poniatowski, however, had not guessed 
 the truth, until the confidante's indiscretion had 
 put him on the right scent, which he had at once 
 followed up. 
 
 The Emperor evidently admired her greatly ; she 
 must come to the ball. Madame Walewska repeated 
 her refusal. Poniatowski insisted " Who can tell? 
 Heaven has perhaps marked you out as the in- 
 strument by which our country is to be restored." 
 
 Even this appeal failed to move her, and 
 Poniatowski retired in dudgeon. He had scarcely 
 left her when the principal representatives of Poland 
 arrived in rapid succession " statesmen whose 
 authority was based on the consideration, esteem, 
 and deference due to their conduct and wisdom." 
 Every one of them was fully aware of the situation, 
 and, like Poniatowski, was lavish of compliments and 
 insinuations. To crown all, the husband appeared 
 on the scene, and threw his influence into the scale 
 against her. Knowing nothing of the adventure 
 at Bronia, he took the attentions of his compatriots 
 as a recognition of his own rank, and a courteous 
 acceptance of the young girl he had chosen from 
 a lower social sphere for his third wife. He was 
 more insistent than all the rest, treating her scruples 
 as absurd timidity, and even as a breach of due 
 etiquette. Finding persuasions of little avail, he 
 at last commanded her to accept the invitation. 
 Further resistance was impossible. She yielded, but 
 on one condition. All the ladies had already been
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 201 
 
 presented to the Emperor, and she stipulated that 
 she should not be further embarrassed by a solitary 
 presentation. 
 
 The great day came ; her husband hastened her 
 toilette, fearing to arrive after the Emperor's 
 departure. When she was dressed, he was full of 
 objections and criticisms. He thought her dress 
 was not sufficiently rich and elegant. She had 
 chosen a plain white satin, with a gauze tunic ; 
 the only ornament in her hair was a simple wreath 
 of foliage. A murmur of admiration greeted her 
 arrival, and followed her across the reception-rooms 
 as she passed. She was given a seat between two 
 ladies, both unknown to her, and Joseph Poniatowski 
 immediately took up his station behind her. " Some 
 one has been expecting you with the greatest 
 Impatience," he whispered. "He was overjoyed 
 when you appeared. He asked your name again 
 and again until he had it by heart. He looked 
 attentively at your husband, shrugged his shoulders, 
 and muttered, ' Poor victim ! ' He sent me to 
 engage you to dance with him." 
 
 " I do not dance," was the reply. " I do not wish 
 to dance." 
 
 The Prince explained that the request was, in fact, 
 an order, that the Emperor was watching them. If 
 she would not dance, he himself would be deeply 
 mortified. The success of his ball depended on her. 
 Madame Walewska refused even more positively. 
 Poniatowski felt that he had but one resource left. 
 He went to Duroc, and confided in him. Duroc 
 reported his confidence to the Emperor. 
 
 Meanwhile, several of the brilliant officers of the 
 staff had begun to flutter round the fair unknown.
 
 202 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 What was no longer a secret to the Poles was still 
 ignored by the French. Napoleon determined to 
 scatter his unconscious rivals by heroic measures. 
 The most ardent among them seemed to be Louis de 
 PeYigord ; the Emperor made a sign to Berthier, and 
 ordered him to despatch the aide-de-camp at once 
 to the 6th Corps, on the Passarge. Then Bertrand 
 took up the running ; another signal from the 
 Emperor, and Bertram was immediately despatched 
 to Prince Jerome's head-quarters at Breslau. 
 
 Meanwhile dancing was suspended. The 
 Emperor passed through the rooms, making what 
 he meant to be complimentary speeches on every 
 side. Such, however, was his preoccupation, that 
 these were uttered at random, and were singularly 
 inappropriate in many cases. 
 
 One young girl was asked how many children 
 she had ; an old maid beside her was rallied on the 
 jealousy her beauty must cause her husband ; while 
 a prodigiously stout dame was questioned as to her 
 love of dancing. He spoke without thinking, with- 
 out hearing the names of his various interlocutors, 
 which seemed to suggest none of the details in which 
 he had been schooled beforehand. Eyes and mind 
 were riveted on one woman, the only one present to 
 him. 
 
 At last he paused before her ; her neighbours 
 hurriedly signed to her to rise. Pale as death, she 
 stood with downcast eyes before him. " White upon 
 white is a mistake, Madam," he said aloud. Then, 
 almost in a whisper, he added " This is not the sort 
 of reception I expected after She was silent. 
 
 He looked at her for a moment, and passed on. 
 
 A few minutes later he left the house. The circle
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 203 
 
 was at once broken up. The ladies began to com- 
 pare notes as to what Napoleon had said to each. 
 But the absorbing topic of conversation was what 
 he had said to her. What was the meaning of the 
 phrase all had heard? And above all, of the 
 whispered remark, the last word of which alone 
 had been audible ? Madame VValewska took 
 advantage of the excitement to slip quietly away. 
 In the carriage her husband again plied her with 
 questions, and finding her unresponsive, told her 
 he had accepted an invitation to a dinner to meet 
 the Emperor. He desired her to prepare a more 
 elaborate toilette, and briefly bade her good-night 
 at the door of her room. A moment more, and the 
 impulsiveness which had carried her away at Bronia 
 ^would have urged her to a full confession of the 
 pursuit with which she was threatened, and the fears 
 by which she was harassed. 
 
 Scarcely had the door closed upon her, when her 
 maid handed her a note. With some difficulty she 
 deciphered the following 
 
 " I saw but you, I admired but you, I desire but 
 you. Answer at once, and calm the impatient 
 ardour of 
 
 " N." 
 
 She crushed the paper hastily in her hand, 
 disgusted at the tone of its contents. Prince 
 Poniatowski was waiting her reply in the street. 
 " There is no answer," she bade the woman tell him. 
 But, determined not to be beaten, the Prince 
 followed the messenger back to her apartment. She 
 had only just time to double-lock the door, from 
 behind which she declared to him that her deter-
 
 204 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 mination was not to be shaken. She declined to 
 send an answer, just as she had declined to dance. 
 The Prince tried prayers, persuasions, threats. He 
 remained some half-hour outside the door, at the 
 risk of causing a scandal in the house. At last he 
 went away in a fury. 
 
 As soon as she awoke the next morning, her maid 
 was at her bedside with a second note. This she 
 left unopened, and enclosing the first with it, gave 
 orders that both should be returned to the bearer. 
 What was she to do ? She was alone, without guide 
 or counsellor. She defended herself to the best 
 of her ability, but what chance had she in the 
 struggle ? Throughout the day she was besieged by 
 a crowd of visitors, among them all the great person- 
 ages of the nation, the members of the Government, 
 and the Grand Marshal Duroc. She refused to 
 appear, pleaded a headache, and retired to a chaise 
 longue in her own room. Greatly enraged at her 
 mysterious behaviour, her husband, bent on proving 
 that he was not jealous, as had been asserted, forcibly 
 introduced Prince Joseph and the chief of the Polish 
 visitors. He insisted, in their presence, that she 
 should agree to be presented to the Emperor, and 
 appear at the dinner to which she was invited. The 
 Poles supported him warmly. The Nestor of the 
 band, the most respected and influential among 
 them, looked fixedly at her, and said severely "All 
 private inclinations, Madam, must yield to circum- 
 stances of such overwhelming importance to the 
 nation. We must hope, therefore, that your indis- 
 position will have passed away by the date of the 
 dinner, at which you must certainly appear, if you 
 would not be accounted a bad patriot."
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 205 
 
 She was then obliged to rise, and, by command 
 of her husband, to go to Madame de Vauban, Prince 
 Joseph's mistress, for advice as to her toilette, and 
 instruction in the etiquette of the court. This was 
 a master-stroke of diplomacy. To hand her over to 
 Madame de Vauban was, in fact, to give her up to 
 the moving spirit of the whole intrigue. Madame 
 de Vauban, indeed, played her part in perfect good 
 faith, and with no touch of malicious intention. By 
 birth a Pugot-Barbentane, she had lived at the Court 
 of Versailles, and had fled to Warsaw at the time of 
 the emigration. Finding a former lover ready to 
 receive her, she had since lived openly with him, 
 and was of opinion that the provision of a mistress 
 for his sovereign, were that sovereign Louis XV. 
 or Napoleon I., was one of the most important 
 functions of a courtier. Chastity, duty, wifely 
 fidelity, she looked upon as old-fashioned prejudices 
 which no woman of the world could weigh in the 
 balance against obvious advantages. In the case 
 with which she had now to deal, she recognized, 
 however, that material gains would prove an inef- 
 fectual bait. She felt that the tactics to be relied 
 on for the sapping of her prottgtes virtue were of 
 a kind with which she was unfamiliar, and after 
 lavishing compliments and professions of friendship 
 on her guest, she handed her over to a young lady 
 who lived with her more or less in the capacity of a 
 companion. She had been divorced from her hus- 
 band, and had no private fortune ; but she was 
 pretty, quick-witted, high-spirited, and impulsive ; 
 about the same age as Madame Walewska, who was 
 attracted to her at once, more especially as she com- 
 bined with all these sympathetic qualities a patriot-
 
 206 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 ism, real or feigned, as exalted as her own. " All, 
 all for the sacred cause ! " was the constant burden 
 of her argument. 1 
 
 She very soon gained Madame Walewska's con- 
 fidence, learning all the secrets of a heart that had 
 never known friendship hitherto a heart that 
 yearned for sympathy, and revealed itself all un- 
 consciously. She insinuated herself into the good 
 graces of the husband, and hardly ever left the wife. 
 When she judged the latter to be sufficiently shaken 
 by her representations, her reasoning, her patriotic 
 rhapsodies, she laid before her the following letter, 
 signed by the foremost men of the nation, among 
 them many members of the provisional government. 
 
 " Madam, great events have often sprung from 
 trifling causes. Women have in all times had an 
 immense share in shaping the policy of nations. 
 This truth is certified by the history of the most 
 ancient times, as by that of our own day. As long 
 as man is swayed by his passions, women will 
 continue to wield a formidable power. 
 
 "Had you been a man you would gladly have 
 given your life to the sacred cause of your country. 
 But you are a woman ; you cannot serve her by 
 
 1 The documents in my possession are silent as to this young 
 woman's actual name ; but I am strongly inclined to identify her 
 with that Madame Abramowicz who was commissioned by 
 Napoleon to present the ladies of society to him when he visited 
 Wilna in 1812. Madame Abramowicz, who became very intimate 
 with Madame Walevvska, is supposed to have drafted the letters 
 written by the latter to the Emperor at Warsaw in 1807, a practice 
 Napoleon is said to have reprobated in these words " Write to 
 me just as you please ; but I will have no third person intervening 
 between you and me."
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 207 
 
 force of arms. Your natural instincts disqualify 
 you for the task. There are, however, other sacri- 
 fices open to you, and those you should be ready to 
 make, painful as you may feel them to be. 
 
 " Did Esther, think you, give herself to Ahasuerus 
 out of the fulness of her love for him ? So great 
 was the terror with which he inspired her that she 
 fainted at the sight of him. We may therefore con- 
 clude that affection had but little to do with her 
 resolve. She sacrificed her own inclinations to the 
 salvation of her country, and that salvation it was 
 her glory to achieve ! 
 
 " May we be enabled to say the same of you, to 
 your glory, and our own happiness ! 
 
 " Are you not the daughter, the mother, the 
 sister, the wife, of devoted Poles, all of whom make 
 'part with ourselves of the national fasces, the strength 
 of which can only be augmented by the number 
 and union of its members ? Learn, Madam, how a 
 famous man, the sainted Fenelon, briefly summed 
 up the present situation. ' Men, in whom all osten- 
 sible authority is vested, are powerless to work any 
 lasting good by their deliberations, without the 
 practical aid of women.' Listen to this voice, ming- 
 ling with those of your countrymen, and your reward 
 will be the happiness of twenty million souls." 
 
 Every force seemed now arrayed against her. 
 Her country, her friends, her religion, the Old and 
 the New Testament, all conjured her to yield, all 
 combined for the overthrow of a simple and inex- 
 perienced girl of eighteen, who felt herself unable to 
 confide in her husband, and had neither parents to 
 counsel nor friends to save her. The impression
 
 208 
 
 made by the above letter was at once followed up. 
 Her friend proceeded to read Napoleon's second 
 missive, the note she had returned unread. 
 
 " Have I displeased you, Madam ? I had hoped 
 otherwise. Was it a delusion on my part? Your 
 ardour has cooled, while mine burns more and more 
 fiercely. You have destroyed my peace ! Oh, give 
 some little joy and happiness to the poor heart that 
 longs to worship you. Is it so difficult to get an 
 answer from you ? You owe me two. 
 
 Just as the officious confidante concluded, the 
 husband entered. Proud of his wife's success, which 
 he thought due in great measure to himself, for he 
 was a man of honour, and had no suspicion of the 
 real state of the case, he began once more on the 
 subject of the proposed dinner-party. The unhappy 
 girl felt that the step was a decisive one, and would 
 be taken as a pledge of further concessions. But 
 since they all insisted, she would go. The stream 
 of visitors, all the bearers of unuttered congratula- 
 tions, continued to flow till the evening. And lest 
 she should waver and change her mind before 
 the morning, Madame de Vauban's ambassadress 
 remained on guard throughout the night. 
 
 As she stepped into the carriage that bore her, an 
 unwilling captive, to meet the Emperor, Madame 
 Walewska comforted herself with the thought that 
 there could be no real danger for her, since she did 
 not love Napoleon. On her arrival, her disgust with 
 her so-called triumph was increased a hundredfold 
 by the flatteries of certain among the guests, eager
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 209 
 
 already to secure her protection ; she had taken 
 refuge in a cold impassibility of manner, when the 
 Emperor made his entry. He was more master of 
 himself than on the night of the ball, and more 
 happily inspired in the courtesies he distributed as 
 he passed rapidly along the circle. When he paused 
 in front of her, and she was presented in her turn, he 
 said simply " I heard Madame Walewska was not 
 well. I hope she has quite recovered ? " The 
 commonplace nature of the phrase, the triviality of 
 which was so evidently calculated to baffle suspicion, 
 approved itself to her as singularly delicate. 
 
 At the table she found herself next to the Grand 
 Marshal, and almost opposite the Emperor, who at 
 once began to question one of the guests in his usual 
 concise manner on the history of Poland. He seemed 
 to listen attentively to the answers, following them 
 up in each instance by further discussion ; but speak- 
 ing or listening,his eyes never left Madame Walewska, 
 save when he turned them on Duroc, with whom he 
 seemed to keep up a system of silent communica- 
 tion. Indeed, every phrase addressed by Duroc 
 to his neighbour was inspired by a look from the 
 Emperor, or by some perfectly natural gesture of 
 which he made use almost mechanically from time to 
 time, while apparently absorbed in a grave discussion 
 of European politics. Once he laid his hand for an 
 instant on his left side. Duroc hesitated, looked 
 attentively at his master, and catching his meaning 
 at last, uttered an " Ah ! " of satisfaction. It was the 
 bouquet he had in his mind, the bouquet he had 
 given her at Bronia. " What had become of it ? " 
 asked Duroc. 
 
 She assured him that she had carefully set aside
 
 2 io NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 the Emperor's gift as an heirloom for her son. " Ah, 
 Madam," rejoined the Grand Marshal, "deign to 
 accept others more worthy of you ! " Annoyed at the 
 insinuation she detected in this speech, she coloured, 
 and retorted with some warmth that she preferred 
 flowers. Nonplussed for. the moment, Duroc soon 
 recovered himself, and gallantly replied : " Then 
 we must gather laurels on your native soil, and 
 lay them at your feet." This was a more skilful 
 shot, and went home, as he saw from her evident 
 
 agitation. 
 
 How describe the tumult of her feelings when, on 
 leaving the table, the Emperor took advantage of the 
 momentary confusion to approach her in the crowd, 
 and take her hand, which he pressed passionately in 
 his own ? Fixing on her that keen and brilliant gaze, 
 the mysterious power of which no human eye could 
 withstand, he whispered " No, no! with those soft, 
 sweet eyes, that gentle expression, you cannot be 
 inflexible, you cannot delight in torturing me, unless 
 you are the most heartless of coquettes, the cruellest 
 of women ! " 
 
 He retired ; all the men followed him, and she 
 allowed herself to be carried off by Madame de 
 Vauban. Here she found awaiting her several of her 
 late fellow-guests, and others, a privileged company 
 of the initiated, who surrounded her, with flatteries 
 and congratulations " He saw no one but you ; his 
 eyes flashed fire as he looked at you." She alone 
 might hope to plead the cause of the nation to him ; 
 she alone could touch his heart, and induce him to 
 restore Poland to her place among the nations. 
 Gradually the guests dispersed, as if in obedience to 
 some preconcerted signal. When Duroc entered the
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 211 
 
 room, she found herself alone with the confidante 
 who had become her shadow. Closing the doors, 
 Duroc took a seat beside her, laid a letter on her 
 lap, and taking her hand, began to plead his master's 
 cause in soft, persuasive tones. " Can you," he asked, 
 " repulse him who has never brooked a refusal ? 
 Ah ! the lustre of his glory is dimmed by sorrows, 
 which you might brighten if you would by a few 
 hours of happiness." He continued in this strain 
 for some time, but she remained silent. Snatching 
 away her hand at last, she hid her face, and burst 
 into tears, sobbing aloud, like a child in distress. 
 Her friend took upon herself to answer for her, and 
 promised she would come at the hour appointed. In 
 reply to Madame Walewska's indignant protest, she 
 reproached her with her want of patriotism, declaring 
 that no Polish woman could do enough for Napoleon. 
 Dismissing the Grand Marshal with further pro- 
 mises, she opened the letter he had brought, and 
 read it aloud 
 
 " TJiere are times when all splendours become 
 oppressive, as I feel but too deeply at tke present 
 moment. How can I satisfy tke desires of a heart 
 that yearns to cast itself at your feet, when its im- 
 pulses are checked at every point by considerations 
 of the highest moment ? Oh ! if you would . . . yon- 
 alone might overcome the obstacles that keep us 
 apart. My friend Duroc will make all easy for 
 you. 
 
 " Oh ! come, come ! your every wish shall be grati- 
 fied ! Your country will be dearer to me when you 
 take pity on my poor heart.
 
 2i2 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 It rests with her, then, to decide the fate of 
 Poland ! He himself confirms what others have 
 maintained. The belief that all around her have dili- 
 gently instilled into her for the last five days seems to 
 crystallize in her brain. If she so wills, her country 
 may be regenerated, the shame of its partition 
 wiped out ; the scattered limbs may be knit together 
 again, and the White Eagle rise once more in 
 glorious flight ! What a vision ! What dazzling 
 hopes ! But what is she, and how is she fitted for 
 the task ? Her counsellors have their answer 
 ready ; she has only to carry out the instructions 
 that will be given her. She still resists. What, 
 shall she consent to dishonour? Her modesty 
 rebels at the thought ! They laugh at her pro- 
 vincial virtue, her absurd scruples. Does she not 
 know how many there are who would gladly accept 
 the place offered her? Why should she leave it 
 for them ? How can she question the good that 
 may result from her influence ? Emperor though 
 he be, Napoleon is, after all, a man, and in love. 
 Sooner or later, the woman he loves will hear the 
 words, " Do as you will with me," from his lips. 
 
 She gave way at last, stipulating only that she 
 should not be made to write an answer to the note. 
 She was by this time, in fact, physically incapable 
 of the effort. They left her alone for a time to 
 consider the matter, but took care to lock the door 
 of the room, fearful lest she should change her 
 mind, and attempt to escape. She had no such 
 intention. Left to herself, she reflected ; or rather, 
 exhausted by emotion, she lost herself in dreams. 
 
 Might she not consent to an interview, without 
 danger ? Would it not be possible for her to win
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 213 
 
 the Emperor's respect and friendship, obtain his 
 confidence, incline him to listen to the voice of her 
 people? He would not use violence against her. 
 She would tell him she had no love to give him. 
 She would offer him admiration, enthusiasm, grate- 
 ful devotion. 
 
 Her youthful imagination, uncontaminated as yet, 
 ignorant of anything more impassioned than the 
 almost Platonic affection of a septuagenarian hus- 
 band, carried her away into a land of dreams, a 
 land where the modesty of woman had nothing to 
 fear from the chastity of man, where the senses 
 were vanquished and fettered, and soul communed 
 with soul, and mingled in a harmony complete and 
 almost divine. 
 
 Her advisers returned. The final arrangements 
 were made. She refused to write or to speak ; but 
 she agreed to remain all day in the palace, and to 
 follow the messenger who would be sent to fetch her 
 in the evening. The hours passed wearily away, 
 and sitting in expectant terror, the poor girl kept 
 her eyes fixed alternately on the swift hand of the 
 clock and at the door, now closed and silent, 
 through which the harbinger of her doom would 
 enter. 
 
 At half-past ten there was a knock. She was 
 hastily muffled in a cloak. A hat with a thick 
 veil was placed on her head, and she was led, be- 
 wildered and half unconscious, into the street, where 
 a carriage awaited her. Into this she was hurriedly 
 thrust. A man in a long coat and round hat, who 
 held the door open for her, pulled up the step, 
 and seated himself by her side. Not a word was 
 exchanged on the way. The carriage stopped at a
 
 214 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 secret entrance to the Great Palace. They got out, 
 and her companion half led, half carried her to a 
 door, which was eagerly opened by some one from 
 within. She was placed in an arm-chair. 
 
 She found herself in Napoleon's presence. But 
 she could not see him for her tears. Kneeling at her 
 
 o 
 
 feet, he began to speak reassuringly to her. But 
 presently the words, "Your old husband," escaped 
 him. She uttered a cry, sprang from the chair, and 
 tried to escape, her sobs choking her utterance. At 
 the words, the fault she was about to commit rose 
 before her in all its horror, all its degradation, all 
 its ignominy, and as by a sudden inspiration, she 
 realized its infamy. He, for his part, gazed at her 
 in astonishment, understanding nothing of what was 
 passing in her mind. Never had he found himself 
 in such a position. What sort of a woman was 
 this, whose virtue had yielded, after some persua- 
 sion certainly, but no very great pressure (for he 
 knew nothing of the means employed), who had 
 come to a midnight assignation, and who was now 
 sobbing wildly, and flying to the door ? Was she a 
 coquette of marvellous histrionic powers, or a simple- 
 ton of phenomenal ignorance ? Was it all a piece 
 of acting, meant to increase his ardour ? No ; 
 these are cries that cannot be simulated, impulsive 
 movements that cannot be feigned, especially by a 
 girl of eighteen. 
 
 With gentle violence, he brought her back from 
 the door to which she was clinging, and placed her 
 again in her chair. Then, in a voice full of 
 caressing kindness, in spite of the habitual note of 
 command that rang in it occasionally, almost against 
 his will, he questioned her, carefully avoiding words
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 215 
 
 or suggestions that might wound her, and choosing 
 such paraphrases as he judged least offensive, yet, 
 by the irresistible logic of his method, drawing from 
 her faltering replies, each of which he presently 
 turned to account against her. Was her union with 
 the man whose name she bore a voluntary act on 
 her part? Was it his wealth and title that had 
 tempted her ? What could have induced her to mate 
 her youth, her fresh beauty, with the decrepitude of 
 advanced old age ? Her mother had arranged the 
 marriage ! " Surely, then, you can have no scruples 
 in the matter ! " he cried. Whereupon she took 
 refuge in her religion : " What God hath joined 
 together, man may not put asunder." Napoleon 
 laughed. Her indignant tears burst forth afresh. 
 
 Truly, this was no ordinary woman ! He thought 
 of her as of some strange fruit, the flavour of 
 which was unknown to him. A woman who clung 
 desperately to her marriage vows, her religious 
 principles, and yet had come in response to his 
 summons, to this midnight assignation ! He de- 
 termined to clear up the mystery, and plied her 
 again with questions questions about her education, 
 the sort of life she led in the country, the society to 
 which she was accustomed, her mother, her family ; 
 he wished to know all about her, more particularly 
 her baptismal name, Marie, the name by which he 
 always addressed her henceforth. 
 
 At two o'clock some one knocked at the door. 
 " What, already ! " he exclaimed. " Well, my 
 pretty, plaintive dove, go and rest. You must not 
 fear the eagle ; the only power he claims over you 
 is that of a passionate love, a love that will be 
 satisfied with nothing short of your whole heart.
 
 216 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 You will love him in time, for in all things you shall 
 command him, in all things, do you hear ? " He 
 wrapped her cloak about her, and led her to the 
 door. Then, placing his hand on the latch, he 
 vowed he would not lift it unless she would promise 
 to return the next day. 
 
 She entered her own house calmer and more 
 assured. Her dream seemed to her not impossible 
 of realization. He was kind and gentle to her, he 
 had shown no violence. He had spared her once ; 
 would he not spare her again ? 
 
 By nine o'clock the next morning the confidante 
 was at her bedside, a large parcel in her hand, which 
 she unpacked after carefully closing the door. She 
 discovered several red Morocco cases, a bouquet of 
 hot-house flowers mingled with laurels, and a sealed 
 letter. But when she unclasped the cases, and tak- 
 ing out a magnificent parure of diamonds, held it so 
 as to catch the light, Madame Walewska snatched 
 the gems from her, and hurled them across the room. 
 She insisted that they should be sent back at once. 
 Did he think she was to be bought with jewels ? 
 The messenger seemed little concerned at this out- 
 burst. She broke the seal, and read the following 
 letter 
 
 "Marie, my sweet Marie, my first thought is of 
 you, my first desire to see you again. You will come, 
 will you not? You promised. If you fail, the eagle 
 will fiy to you himself. I shall see you at dinner, 
 my friend tells me. Deign to accept this bouquet. 
 Let it be a secret link, binding us to each other in 
 the midst of the crowd. It will enable us to com- 
 municate, under the very eyes of the multitude*
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 217 
 
 When I press my hand ^lpon my heart, yon will 
 know that it is dreaming of you. Touch your 
 bouquet in reply. Love me, my Marie, and keep 
 your hand constantly on your bouquet. 
 
 In spite of the letter, she declined to accept either 
 diamonds, flowers, or laurels, her excuse in the case 
 of the bouquet being that it was not usual to wear 
 flowers, except at balls. She felt that it would be 
 useless to try and escape the dinner. All around 
 her were in a fever of expectation, self-interest, and 
 ambition ; her relatives intoxicated by her successes, 
 her husband absolutely unsuspicious. Unconscious 
 of the drama in which he was an involuntary actor, 
 he was delighted at the numerous invitations they 
 received. 
 
 On her arrival, the whole company clustered 
 round her. Those who were unknown to her 
 begged to be presented. She felt as if her adven- 
 ture of the night before must be known to all the 
 guests. The Emperor was already present. He 
 frowned, and looked displeased, flashing the keen 
 light of an offended eye upon the new-comer. 
 
 Suddenly she saw him advancing abruptly to- 
 wards her, and trembling at the thought of some 
 public scene, some irreparable scandal, she remem- 
 bered, and laid her hand on the spot where her 
 bouquet should have been. In a moment his 
 features relaxed, the flame died down in his eye ; 
 he made an answering sign with his own hand, and 
 before passing into the dining-room, he called 
 Duroc, and whispered a few rapid words in his 
 ear.
 
 218 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Scarcely had she taken her usual seat by the 
 Grand Marshal, before he attacked her on the 
 subject of the bouquet. She retorted by a counter- 
 attack upon the present of the diamonds. Let it 
 be understood once for all that she would accept 
 no such gifts. How indeed could they suppose 
 that she would dare to appear in such ornaments ? 
 The only offering her admiration and devotion 
 led her to look for from the Emperor was a ray 
 of hope for the future of her country. "Has not 
 that offering already been made ? " inquired Duroc. 
 And he recalled a long series of actions which 
 he declared to be infinitely more significant than 
 promises. And as to his love, for her, was it 
 possible that she could question it ? She might 
 see that he had no eyes for any one but herself. 
 Apparently absorbed in general conversation, asking 
 questions and listening attentively to the answers, 
 he laid his hand perpetually on his heart. When 
 the Emperor had spoken to Duroc before dinner, he 
 had desired him to remind her of her promise, and 
 implore her to come without fail as before. Then 
 the Grand Marshal launched out into a dissertation 
 on the miseries of greatness, the longing of such a 
 sovereign as his master for a heart that should beat 
 in sympathy with his own, the glory of a mission 
 which any woman might envy. . . . 
 
 Having gone once, she could not refuse to go 
 again. The same precautions were observed ; she 
 was conducted to the same place. As she entered, 
 she saw that Napoleon looked gloomy and ill at 
 ease. " At last ! " he exclaimed. " I hardly hoped to 
 see you again ! " He took off her hat and cloak, 
 placed her in a chair, and standing over her, asked
 
 MADAME' WALEWSKA 219 
 
 her harshly how she could justify her conduct ? 
 Why had she come to Bronia ? Why had she 
 tried to inspire in him a feeling she could not 
 return ? Why had she refused his flowers, even 
 his laurels? What had she done with them? He 
 had hoped for so many interesting moments in 
 connection with them, and she had robbed him 
 of these. His hand had scarcely left his heart 
 all the evening, but she had made no sign ; only 
 once had she responded. And, striking his forehead 
 with a passionate gesture, he exclaimed " You 
 are a true Pole. You have fully confirmed my 
 former opinion of your nation ! " 
 
 Greatly troubled by this reception, and utterly 
 overcome by these last words, she could only 
 murmur "Ah! Sire, tell me what that opinion is." 
 
 He declared that all Poles were capricious and 
 impulsive. All their actions were the result, not 
 of principle, but of whim. Their enthusiasm was 
 impetuous, noisy, and easily awakened ; but they 
 could never control nor sustain it. Was not this 
 a portrait of the Poles in general, a true likeness 
 of herself in particular? Had she not rushed to 
 meet him on his entry like one possessed ? His 
 heart had been ensnared by her sweet glances, her 
 passionate expressions, and then she had vanished. 
 He had sought her everywhere, in vain ; and when 
 she had appeared, one of the last to welcome him, 
 she had become an icicle. But she must understand 
 him. The thought of impossibilities only nerved him 
 to renewed effort. Nothing could turn him aside 
 from a quest in which he had once engaged. Diffi- 
 culties only spurred him on. Long accustomed to 
 ready submission from all with whom he came in
 
 220 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 contact, her resistance challenged him to put forth 
 all his strength. 
 
 His excitement grew as he talked. Anger, 
 perhaps real, perhaps only feigned, glowed in his 
 words. " You shall, yes, I repeat it, you shall 
 love me ! I have restored the name of your country. 
 It owes its very existence to me ! I will do more 
 than this for it. But look at this watch in my 
 hand. Just as I dash it to fragments before you, 
 so will I shatter Poland and all your hopes if you 
 drive me to desperation by rejecting my heart, and 
 refusing me yours." 
 
 Terrified by these threats, and the violent gesture 
 with which he threw the watch from him, the un- 
 happy woman sank helpless on the floor. . . . When 
 she recovered from her swoon, the long conflict 
 was over, and the victor was beside her, wiping 
 away the tears that rolled slowly from her eyes. . . . 
 
 The liaison, if we may give the name to the 
 habit she now contracted of a daily visit to the 
 Palace, was an accomplished fact. With passive 
 resignation she endured caresses, the price of which 
 she still looked for in vain. The little she had 
 obtained so far a form of provisional government, 
 the creation of the nucleus of an army, the enrolment 
 of a few companies of light cavalry under the French 
 Emperor's standard was not the indemnity she had 
 promised herself for her surrender, or rather her 
 capture. The restoration of Poland as a state and 
 nation was the only boon which could either satisfy 
 her aspirations or justify her in her own eyes. 
 Incapable of feigning what she could not feel, or 
 of simulating a passion from which her modesty
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 221 
 
 recoiled, she had none of the qualities by which a 
 more wily mistress might have played upon her 
 lover. She was not even astute enough to conceal 
 the true motive of her compliance from him. Every 
 evening she brought the conversation round to the 
 one subject that filled her mind, and always to be 
 met with vague hopes and promises of action in the 
 future, that future in which she now began to foresee 
 a long-drawn agony of indefinite duration. 
 
 Not that she suffered from any social degradation 
 among her compatriots. With the one exception of 
 her husband, from whom she had separated, all the 
 members of her former circle were assiduous in a 
 homage offered, not to the favourite, but to the 
 victim, for her sufferings were known to all, and 
 inspired universal pity and respect. Her husband's 
 two sisters, Princess Jablonowska and Princess Bir- 
 ginska, had constituted themselves her chaperons. 
 Had she been so minded, she might have occupied 
 the first place in society at Warsaw, and any- other 
 woman would have exercised all but sovereign 
 powers. Such an one would have made enemies ; 
 whereas she, modest, retiring, and unpretentious, was 
 neither feared nor hated, and in default of flattery, 
 tasted sympathy. 
 
 Her position, indeed, created no scandal in a 
 society where the simplicity of Oriental polygamy 
 was complicated only by the elegant scepticism 
 borrowed from Versailles, where the moral lessons 
 of Catherine the Great had been learnt and as- 
 similated, and where divorce readily gave legal and 
 even religious sanction to extra-conjugal fancies. 
 
 There was not one among the great Polish nobles 
 of the day without either an acknowledged mistress,
 
 222 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 who took her place in the same society with his 
 wife, or some two or three Georgians in his country- 
 house. 
 
 In the eyes of these nobles, Napoleon was a 
 peculiarly chaste sovereign, for he made war, and 
 brought no harem in his train ; he had disregarded 
 all the women who would gladly have accepted 
 his advances ; he had desired but one among 
 them, and even for this one he had been content to 
 wait until she came to him of her own free will. 
 
 Their own conduct in the matter seemed to them 
 not only natural, but becoming. A companion was 
 necessary for the Emperor's happiness when he 
 took up his residence in Warsaw, and it was their 
 business to provide him with the woman who pleased 
 him best. 
 
 Fortunately for them, this woman happened to 
 be one in a thousand. Simple, sincere, modest, 
 disinterested, animated in all she did by a passion- 
 ate love for her country, capable of inspiring 
 both ardent passion and lasting affection, a type 
 of all that was most lovable and generous in her 
 nation. 
 
 She would be no temporary mistress to Napoleon, 
 but a kind of supplementary wife, who, though she 
 would not share the splendours of his throne nor 
 the dignities of his crown, would hold an unique 
 position as the ambassadress of her people to 
 the Emperor, his Polish wife ! She would knit 
 Napoleon's heart to the destinies of Poland with a 
 bond which, though as yet intangible, her hand 
 would strengthen by degrees. 
 
 This reasoning was by no means extravagant. 
 Almost every evening the national problem was
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 223 
 
 pressed upon him by the woman whose one absorb- 
 ing thought it had Become. 
 
 He felt, and often said to her, that she loved, 
 not him, but her country. Far from evading 
 the charge, she frankly admitted its truth, and 
 he, who would have distrusted any woman he 
 suspected of a desire to lead or make use of 
 him, gave his full confidence to the simple girl. 
 He recognized her absolute detachment from the 
 ambitions of ordinary women. He longed to 
 satisfy her ! And yet, bankrupt debtor that he 
 was, he could not pay the price she had a right 
 to expect ! 
 
 " You may rest assured," he would say to her, 
 " that my promise shall be kept. I have already 
 forced Russia to disgorge her portion, the rest 
 must be the work of time. We must be patient ; 
 the supreme moment is not yet. Policy is a 
 cord that snaps if strained too tightly. Meanwhile, 
 you will be forming your politicians. How many 
 can you count at the present moment ? You are 
 rich in patriots, I allow ; every arm is ready to 
 strike a blow for the cause ; courage and honour 
 are the very breath of your heroes ; but this is not 
 enough. You lack unity of purpose." 
 
 No man had ever shown himself more hostile 
 to feminine influence in politics. Yet strange to 
 say, he returned to these subjects incessantly, and 
 almost involuntarily, in his evening interviews with 
 Madame Walewska, discussing schemes for the 
 amelioration of social conditions, the revival of 
 prosperity, and the promotion of some great un- 
 animous movement among the people. Such a 
 movement he deemed indispensable to the future
 
 224 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 of the nation, even should it prove inimical to the 
 dominant aristocracy. 
 
 " You know," he said, " that I love your nation, 
 that my inclinations and political convictions alike 
 point to its redintegration. I am willing to second 
 its efforts and maintain its rights ; all I can 
 do for it without prejudice to my own duties and 
 the interests of France I am ready to undertake. 
 But you must remember the great distance that 
 divides us ; what I build up to-day may be de- 
 stroyed to-morrow. My first duty is to France ; 
 I cannot shed French blood in a foreign cause, 
 nor send an army to your aid every time you are 
 threatened." 
 
 Often, to the amazement of his companion, he 
 would pass from some weighty speech of this 
 sort to the discussion of society gossip, scandalous 
 anecdotes, family secrets. He liked her to tell him 
 the private history of every one he met. His 
 curiosity was insatiable, and insisted on the utmost 
 minuteness of detail. It was his method, here 
 as elsewhere when great interests were at stake, 
 of forming an opinion upon the governing class. 
 
 From all these trivialities, none of w r hich ever 
 escaped his memory, and in which he showed an 
 interest that astonished his informant, he drew 
 his own conclusions, and she found that she had 
 provided him with a weapon it amused him to 
 use against herself. She protested, indignant at 
 the inferences he drew from her facts ; and the 
 quarrel ended in his tapping her on the cheek, 
 and exclaiming "My dear Marie, you should 
 have been a Spartan woman ; you deserve a country 
 of your own."
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 225 
 
 Loving her as he did, he was naturally much 
 interested in her dress. It was a subject in which 
 he considered himself an authority. " You know 
 I am a connoisseur of costume," he wrote to 
 Savary. Even under the Consulate it was he 
 who always chose the presents sent to sovereigns 
 such as the Queens of Spain or Prussia. No badly- 
 dressed woman ever escaped his criticisms at his 
 own Court. Even Josephine, who had accustomed 
 him to the greatest luxury, the most perfect 
 elegance, the utmost 'refinement of taste, was not 
 always exempted. He had a special dislike to 
 dark dresses, and Madame Walewska observed the 
 utmost simplicity in her attire, always wearing 
 either white, black, or grey, a fancy which caused 
 him much annoyance. " A Polish woman," she 
 said in answer to his remonstrances, " must wear 
 mourning for her country. When that is restored 
 to life by you, I will wear nothing but rose-colour." 
 
 Thus every discussion seemed to lead him back 
 to the one topic. But it neither angered him 
 nor wore out his passion. In a letter of this date 
 to his brother Joseph he writes " My health has 
 never been so good, nor my material enjoyment 
 so complete." Such confidences are the more 
 significant that they were unusual with him. 
 
 Not content with seeing his mistress every 
 evening in private, he insisted on her appearance 
 at every dinner, and every fete he himself attended 
 during his sojourn at Warsaw before the campaign 
 of Eylau. During their presence at such festivities, 
 he conversed with her incessantly through the 
 medium of that secret and silent language he had 
 taught her, in the use of which she had become 
 
 Q
 
 226 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 more expert than Duroc himself. She was able 
 to follow and interpret signs addressed to her alone, 
 and to divine a love-message from the gesture 
 accompanying some animated remark, or grave 
 discussion, some precise enunciation of fact, or 
 solemn pronouncement. 
 
 " This surprises you," he said. " But I must 
 fill the great position that has been assigned me 
 worthily. It is my high privilege to lead nations. 
 I was an acorn, but I have become an oak. I 
 stand on an eminence, and far and near I am noted 
 and observed. This position obliges me to play 
 a part not always natural to me, but which I must 
 needs sustain if I would satisfy myself, to say nothing 
 of others. Yet even when I am the oak for all 
 around me, I love to become the acorn for you ! 
 And when we are surrounded by a watchful crowd, 
 how can I say ' Marie, I love you ! ' Whenever 
 I look at you, I long to say it, but I could not 
 whisper it in your ear without a loss of dignity." 
 
 When he made Finckenstein his head-quarters, 
 he insisted on her accompanying him. Her life 
 there was a melancholy one, very much on the 
 lines of that she had led at Walewice with her 
 old husband. Her solitude was only broken by 
 tete-a-tete meals with the Emperor, served by a 
 single footman. The slow hours were spent in 
 reading and needlework, her only other distraction 
 being to watch the parade from behind the window- 
 blinds. It was the life of a recluse, subject only 
 to the commands and discretion of the master, 
 without society, pleasure, or vanities. But it was 
 more congenial to her than the brilliant, feverish 
 gaiety of her life at Warsaw.
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 227 
 
 In her Napoleon realized the dream of woman as 
 he had hoped to find her in Josephine a woman 
 soft, tender, and submissive, without ambition, ap- 
 parently without will, a creature all his own, who 
 lived but for him, and who, if she indeed looked 
 for some return from him, desired it in a form so 
 vast and impersonal, that none but the loftiest mind 
 could have conceived it, while her very confidence 
 in his power to grant the boon raised him to the 
 level of the gods. 
 
 Such thoughts as these stirred the inmost fibres 
 of his being, and made him in his turn the humblest 
 of suppliants. When he was about to withdraw 
 from Poland, without having realized the dream for 
 which this woman had bartered herself ; when she, 
 desperate and disillusioned, after a final appeal to him 
 to restore her country, refused to follow him to Paris, 
 and declared her intention of retiring into some 
 solitude, there to await in prayer and tears the fulfil- 
 ment of his broken vows, he answered her in these 
 words " I know that you can live without me. I 
 know that you have never given me your heart. 
 But you are gentle and compassionate, your heart is 
 so pure, so noble ! Can you indeed deprive me of 
 a few minutes of happiness each day by your side ? 
 You alone can give me such moments ; and yet men 
 call me the most favoured of human beings ! " He 
 smiled so sadly and bitterly that her heart swelled 
 with a strange pity for this master of the world, and 
 she promised to come to Paris. 
 
 She arrived at the beginning of 1808. Hence- 
 forward this mysterious liaison, interrupted, no 
 doubt, by occasional infidelities on Napoleon's part, 
 that left his genuine passion unshaken, was established
 
 228 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 on so strange a footing that were not the proofs we 
 hold irrefutable, and the chain of evidence forged 
 by the collation of dates and details unconsciously 
 furnished by a variety of witnesses complete, we 
 should not dare to vouch for a series of facts 
 apparently unknown to the highest contemporary 
 authorities. 
 
 From these authorities we learn, however, that 
 Madame Walewska went to Vienna during the 
 campaign of 1809, that a luxurious house was pre- 
 pared for her close to the Palace of Schonbrunn, 
 where she became enceinte, and that after the Peace 
 of Vienna she returned to Walewice, and was there 
 duly delivered of a son, Alexander-Florian-Joseph- 
 Colonna Walewska, on May 4, 1810. In the light 
 of more recent knowledge, it is not unreasonable to 
 suppose that Napoleon's vacillation on some points 
 in his negotiations with Austria, and his irresolution 
 touching the fate of Poland, may have been due to 
 the presence of her to whom he had promised the 
 restoration of her country. 
 
 In no contemporary record do we find any mention 
 of Madame Walewska' s return to Paris in 1810, with 
 her sister-in-law, the Princess Jablonowska, and her 
 infant son. She lived in a pretty house in the 
 Chaussee d'Antin, first at No. 2, Rue du Houssaye, 
 then at 48, Rue de la Victoire. Every morning a 
 messenger from the Emperor attended to receive her 
 orders for the day. Boxes at all the theatres were 
 placed at her disposal, and all the museums were 
 open to her. Corvisart looked after her health ; and 
 Duroc was specially charged to gratify all her wishes, 
 and make her outward life as varied and agreeable 
 as possible.
 
 MADAME WALEVVSKA 229 
 
 We may give one slight but significant instance 
 of her power. At Spa, a young Englishman, Mr. 
 S , had made some joke of very questionable 
 taste at the expense of the Princess Jablonowska. 
 On their return, the Princess invited him to accom- 
 pany Madame Walewska and herself to the Artillery 
 Museum. The party paused in the hall devoted to 
 ancient armour, before Joan of Arc's suit of mail, and 
 
 as Mr. S was gazing at it, the heroine suddenly 
 
 extended her arms, seized the young Englishman, 
 and pressed him to her breast. Half suffocated, he 
 struggled, gasped, and begged for mercy. But 
 Joan declined to release him until Madame Walew- 
 ska gave the order. Bearing in mind Napoleon's 
 extreme jealousy of any interference with his 
 museums, the incident is a conclusive proof of 
 exceptional privileges. 
 
 Whenever he could escape, the Emperor came to 
 snatch a few minutes of her society, or sent for her 
 and her son, on whom he conferred the title of 
 Count of the Empire immediately after their arrival 
 in Paris. None but a few Poles among the society 
 of the day seem to have had the slightest suspicion as 
 to their relations. Madame Walewska indeed lived 
 in the utmost retirement, receiving only her com- 
 patriots. Her manners were perfect, her mode of 
 life modest and unpretentious, her conduct very 
 reserved. When she went to take the waters at Spa, 
 she was accompanied by her sisters-in-law. She 
 spent the summer in the Chateau de Bretigny, a house 
 rented by her sister-in-law at Mons-sur-Orge, the 
 property of the Duchesse de Richelieu, nor could she 
 ever be induced to leave it. It was her constant 
 endeavour to hide what others were proud to proclaim.
 
 230 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 The modest country-house was her world, and she 
 rarely quitted it. Repeated invitations from Jose- 
 phine obliged her occasionally to appear at Malmaison 
 with her son, whom the Empress loaded with toys 
 and trinkets ; but she seems to have held aloof from 
 habitual intercourse with the Imperial Court until 
 1813. Two full dress toilettes figure in her accounts 
 for the first time that year, one a black velvet gown 
 with a cherusque of tulle embroidered in gold ; the 
 other a costume of white tulle with a cherusque and 
 a feathered turban. 
 
 Hitherto, though her dress-bills show her to have 
 been fairly lavish in her expenditure, her evening 
 dresses from Leroy alone amounting to some three 
 thousand francs a quarter, she had had no Court 
 dress. She had retained her preference for white, 
 and for pale tints somewhat suggestive of mourning. 
 Thus, she ordered dresses of lilac silk, of white tulle 
 with three rows of acacia, of white tulle powdered 
 with rose-petals ; or gowns of blue and white, her 
 national colours ; a dress of shot taffetas, in blue 
 and white ; a dress of blue tulle, trimmed with 
 white heather and daisies. 
 
 Napoleon did not require her presence at Court 
 to keep her in his mind. We need but quote a letter 
 written at Nogent on February 8, 1814, in all the 
 throes of the French campaign, on the morrow 
 of Brienne, the eve of Champaubert. He had 
 desired his treasurer, Monsieur de la Bouillerie, to 
 arrange for a reversion of the property settled on 
 young Walewski to his mother, in the event of the 
 young Count's death. Agitated by the thought that 
 the formalities had not yet been concluded, he wrote 
 the following note to La Bouillerie with his own hand :
 
 MADAME WALEWSKA 231 
 
 " I have received your letter relative to young 
 Walewski. I give you a free hand in the matter. 
 Do what is best, but do it at once. I am deeply 
 interested in the boy, and after him, in his mother. 
 
 "N. 
 
 "Nogent, February 8." 
 
 Of all this she knew nothing, for no one was ever 
 more purely disinterested than she. In those last 
 days at Fontainebleau, when, abandoned by all, the 
 Emperor attempted to find in death the refuge fate 
 denied to him, she waited all night in an ante-room, 
 expecting to be summoned. Absorbed in bitter 
 thoughts, and exhausted by the physical crisis through 
 which he had just passed, the Emperor never thought 
 of asking for her till an hour after she had left. 
 " Poor woman," he exclaimed ; " she will think 
 herself forgotten ! " 
 
 He misjudged her. A few months later, towards 
 the end of August, 1814, accompanied by her son, 
 her sister, and her brother, Colonel Laczinski, she 
 landed at Elba, and spent a day with the Emperor 
 in the Hermitage of La Marciana. In 1815, when 
 she heard of Napoleon's return to Paris, she hastened 
 to welcome him, and we find her conspicuous among 
 those women whose devotion survived his happier 
 fortunes, and who gathered round him at the Elysee 
 and at Malmaison. 
 
 After the banishment to St. Helena, however, she 
 considered herself free. M. Walewski had died in 
 1814, and in 1816 she married General Count 
 d'Ornano at Liege, where he had sought an asylum 
 after the second restoration of the Bourbons. 
 D'Ornano was a cousin of the Emperor's, formerly
 
 232 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 a colonel in the Dragoons of the Guard, and one of 
 the most distinguished officers of the Grand Army. 
 This marriage moved the captive of St. Helena 
 deeply. " The Emperor," said one of his companions, 
 "was greatly attached to Madame Walewska, and it 
 was not in his nature to suffer any one he loved to 
 love any but himself." The poor woman's happi- 
 ness was very brief. She was confined at Liege, 
 on June 9, 1817. Permission to come back to Paris 
 having been obtained for her husband, she returned 
 thither, and died in her house in the Rue de la 
 Victoire on December 15, 1817. 
 
 The brilliant career of her son, of whom Napoleon 
 wrote in his will : "I wish Alexander Walewski to 
 devote himself to the service of France in the army," 
 is a matter of history. His course as soldier, writer, 
 diplomatist, and statesman is too intimately con- 
 nected with contemporary history to call for com- 
 ment, and too recent to be made the subject of 
 judicial appreciation.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE DIVORCE. 
 
 THE death of Napoleon-Charles had destroyed 
 Napoleon's plans for the succession ; the birth of 
 L6on had made it evident that he might hope for a 
 direct heir ; and his passion for Madame Walewska 
 had shaken his affection for Josephine. It is uncertain 
 whether any overt discussion of a possible alliance 
 with a Russian Grand- Duchess took place at Tilsit ; 
 but immediately after the Emperor's return, the first 
 steps were taken in the matter of the divorce. It 
 was felt that a great advance had been made when 
 the Emperor agreed to consider the idea ; but a long 
 interval seemed likely to elapse between its inception 
 and execution ! In matters where his mind alone was 
 engaged, he suffered no delay when once his resolu- 
 tion had been formed, but proceeded to act directly 
 upon it. In this case, his judgment indeed per- 
 ceived all the evil consequences of Josephine's 
 sterility, and the advantages to be looked for from 
 a divorce and a second marriage, but his heart 
 cried out against his policy. Hence the delays 
 and hesitations of two full years, from July, 
 1807 to October, 1809, and those strange alterna-
 
 234 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 tions of attitude, obviously due, not to diplomacy, 
 but to love. 
 
 Before Napoleon could steel himself to repudiate 
 the woman to whom he was bound by a companion- 
 ship of ten years, by a passionate attachment, by his 
 ardour of character, his vanity even, a woman he 
 had loved sufficiently to let her share his throne, a 
 woman whose relatives, to say nothing of herself, he 
 had often preferred over his own flesh and blood 
 the tie between them was strained to breaking point, 
 and divorce was not only prudent, but necessary. 
 He could not at first agree to sacrifice the com- 
 panion whose merits grew in his sight in proportion 
 to his own feeling of guilt towards her. " She will 
 not resist ; she will die." He began to think that 
 his own fortunes depended on her and on her star. 
 
 But it was not an idle superstition that restrained 
 him, nor even a dread of the judgment of his former 
 companions in arms, of the army and of the nation, 
 should he repudiate the woman he had crowned 
 with his own hand only two short years before. He 
 gave little thought to public opinion, but he listened 
 to his own heart, and hesitated. Weary of his vacil- 
 lations, some of his most trusted agents, such as 
 Fouche, sought to precipitate matters by adroit in- 
 sinuations, which they hoped might induce Josephine 
 herself to take the initiative in the impending sacrifice. 
 Napoleon could not deny that this excess of zeal 
 was born of projects he had formed, and perhaps 
 even discussed. But feeling himself vulnerable, he 
 became violent. He repudiated Fouche^s action with 
 every mark of anger and contempt, treating him as 
 he had never treated any one, no matter of what 
 condition, in all his life. What ! was he the man to
 
 THE DIVORCE 235 
 
 yield to pressure from one of his ministers ? And 
 did this minister, this ex-policeman, dare to inter- 
 fere in his domestic life, and thrust his hideous face 
 into the nuptial chamber ? Josephine took advantage 
 of his momentary rage, and acting on the sage advice 
 of Talleyrand, who for some unknown reason was 
 anxious to thwart Fouche\ she went boldly to 
 Napoleon. Lacking courage to declare himself, 
 Napoleon hesitated, temporized, and finally allowed 
 himself to be recaptured. 
 
 For a time no more was heard of the lists of 
 marriageable princesses, compiled from almanacs, 
 of the confidential reports of foreign agents, or of 
 the various portraits brought together for comparison. 
 Napoleon seemed "more devoted to his wife than 
 ever, and was constantly in her apartments. Hold- 
 ing her in his arms, he wept over her, and made 
 vows of the most ardent affection." It was in vain 
 that fresh arguments were brought to bear upon 
 him, which seemed for the moment to convince 
 him. The sight of his wife roused all his former 
 feelings, and it was she who, pressing home her 
 advantage, questioned him on the subject, facing 
 the idea of the divorce to all appearances more 
 resolutely than himself. She told him openly that 
 nothing would induce her to take the initiative ; if 
 he commanded, she would obey ; but the order 
 must come from him. And he had not courage to 
 give it. The consolidation of his power, the estab- 
 lishment of his dynasty, the continuity of his mighty 
 work, depended, as far as human wit could foresee, 
 on the dismissal of a woman ; and the " Man of 
 Iron " could not nerve himself to the task! 
 
 It may perhaps be asked whether the revival of
 
 236 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Napoleon's love for Josephine induced a stricter 
 fidelity than before ? By no means. Fidelity was 
 not an essential element in the feeling with which 
 his wife now inspired him. His love was made up 
 of memory, pity, gratitude, and tenderness ; desire 
 was but a reminiscence ; he had no illusions as to 
 the youth and beauty of its object. When, therefore, 
 Napoleon found younger and lovelier women within 
 reach, and took advantage of his opportunities, his 
 affection for Josephine suffered no decrease. The 
 sojourn at Paris and Fontainebleau, from August 
 to October 1807, witnessed the reign of Madame 
 Gazzani ; nor was Madame Gazzani his sole 
 distraction. The purely physical attraction she 
 exercised over Napoleon, by virtue merely of 
 her extraordinary beauty, was not sufficiently 
 absorbing to occupy him for two months. At 
 Fontainebleau it was whispered that he was falling 
 in love with Madame de B , lady-in-waiting to 
 the Princess Pauline. Madame de B , whose 
 husband was distantly connected with the Beau- 
 harnais, and who owed her appointment to this 
 remote kinship, was one of the most lovely women 
 of the Court. Her rich and luxuriantly developed 
 beauty she was at this time just twenty-eight was 
 displayed to great advantage by her unusual height 
 of five feet six inches. There were some who 
 thought her head too small and her features too 
 childish for her large frame ; but these cannot have 
 seen her as the queen in a game of chess at the 
 Marescalchi ball. She had a lively wit, no money, 
 and no prejudices. The Emperor remarked her at 
 one of the hunt breakfasts she habitually attended, 
 admired her, and let her know it. He is said to
 
 THE DIVORCE 237 
 
 have written to her. Her room was on the ground- 
 floor of the castle, overlooking the garden of Diana 
 and easily accessible by the window to a nocturnal 
 visitor. A raised step in the embrasure exposed 
 the unwary to the risk of a noisy fall, but the lady 
 was gracious, and did her best to facilitate access. 
 She reaped her reward, and her husband, a very 
 old man, simple and credulous in the extreme, 
 chuckled delightedly at the results. " My wife," he 
 remarked one day at a reception, " is a woman of the 
 most extraordinary resource ! We are not rich, yet 
 we seem to be, thanks to her good management ! 
 She is a perfect treasure! " Her exertions procured 
 him the post of Chamberlain to the last-made king 
 among the Emperor's brothers, and the title of 
 ..Baron of the Empire, an honour he owed to her 
 own desire for that of baroness. The intrigue, the 
 existence of which has been questioned by some, so 
 well was the secret kept, was dropped after the 
 return from Fontainebleau, and the husband's satis- 
 faction in his domestic economy was somewhat 
 over-cast. He had other grievances. Madame de 
 B - quarrelled with her princess about a certain 
 brilliant officer ; she was struck off the Imperial 
 register, and had to retire to the country, while the 
 officer was ordered to Spain, where he was severely 
 wounded. He returned, however ; his cure and 
 the lady's divorce were alike effected, and the story 
 ended in a marriage, the date of which it would be 
 indiscreet to reveal. 
 
 In spite of the passing amusements at which we 
 have hinted, of the temporary revival of his passion 
 for Josephine, of the memories that had melted and 
 unnerved him for the moment, Napoleon was not
 
 238 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 convinced. He had not renounced the idea that 
 haunted and possessed him ; his advisers never 
 ceased to urge it upon him ; his reason and ambition 
 seconded every such appeal. The future divorce 
 was doubtless at the bottom of his journey to Italy 
 at the close of 1807. One of the points that caused 
 Josephine grave anxiety was the probable fate of 
 her son in the event of a separation. Napoleon had, 
 it was true, made Eugene Viceroy of Italy in 1805 ; 
 he had married him to the Princess Augusta of 
 Bavaria in 1806, and had conferred on him the title 
 of Son of France. But these honours had never 
 been ratified by a legislative measure ; and Eugene's 
 right to transmit the kingdom to his descendants 
 rested only on Napoleon's verbal promise. 
 
 The Emperor was anxious to reassure both his 
 wife and the reigning house of Bavaria. He also 
 wished to make some inquiries as to a lady who 
 might prove a suitable match for himself. He is 
 supposed to have sometimes regretted not having 
 married the vice-queen, Princess Augusta, " the 
 most beautiful woman of the ' Circles,' as others had 
 said before him." Would not her sister, Princess 
 Charlotte, be the right wife to choose ? Some such 
 project was no doubt in his mind when he summoned 
 the king and queen and the princess to Milan. But 
 he seems to have presently reflected on the unseem- 
 liness of becoming the brother-in-law of his stepson. 
 The young lady pleased him less than he had ex- 
 pected. He left her to her strange future, and threw 
 himself into a fresh project, of marriage with a 
 member of his own family. 
 
 Surely Lolotte, the little girl he used to lead by 
 the hand through the Consular reception-rooms, and
 
 THE DIVORCE 239 
 
 had not now seen for five years, must be grown up, 
 and marriageable by this time. She was Lucien's 
 daughter by his first wife, the Catharine Boyer whom 
 Napoleon loved as a sister, though she was only the 
 daughter of a humble innkeeper of St. Maximin 
 du Var, and could not even sign her name when she 
 first entered the family. No doubt Lolotte, who, 
 escaping from the guardianship of her aunt Elisa, 
 had left France with her father and step-mother, had 
 espoused their cause, and taken up their quarrels. 
 But she was barely fifteen ; childish memories might 
 be re-awakened. The Emperor, whose family feel- 
 ing was so strong that he scrupled to bestow a share 
 in his sovereign dignities on any but a Bonaparte, 
 that all his relations with his brothers seemed to 
 resolve themselves into a series of pardons, and that 
 a reconciliation with Lucien was in his eyes a matter 
 of the highest moment, may have had dreams of 
 grafting his posterity on a stem of his own stock, 
 and founding a purely Bonapartist dynasty. Failing 
 this (for the young girl might prove hostile, he him- 
 self might feel scruples, the disparity of age was 
 perhaps too great), how would it be to introduce the 
 Bonapartist element by means of Lolotte into some 
 other reigning house, that of Spain, for instance? 
 The only marriageable girl of his own blood at the 
 moment, she might prove an important card in his 
 future game. He sent for her, and placed her with 
 his mother on probation. But Lolotte's sojourn in 
 Paris was a brief one. She amused her father by 
 her lively accounts of the Court, and seems to have 
 had no suspicion that her correspondence was 
 examined. Napoleon soon decided that Lucien's 
 daughter was impracticable, and sent her back to
 
 2 4 o NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Italy. There she secured a coronet in default of a 
 sovereign crown. She married Prince Gabrielli in 
 1815, and lived until 1865. 
 
 The journey to Italy had borne little fruit, as far 
 as matrimonial schemes were concerned, but Fouche 
 had again been busy spreading and encouraging 
 rumours of an immediate divorce, nor were his 
 machinations at all affected by the furious letters he 
 received from his absent master. Keen and cunning 
 
 o 
 
 as he was, he did not understand that the hour was 
 past ; the perils of Eylau, and the plot that had been 
 hatched during his absence, may have affected the 
 Emperor's policy for the moment ; but the impres- 
 sion had not been deep enough to last, or to suggest 
 the necessity of leaving a living representative of 
 himself in Paris the next time he quitted it for a 
 campaign. He might have made up his mind, could 
 a suitable wife have been found at once. But the 
 Russian Grand Duchess was a possibility of the 
 future ; the Bavarian scheme had proved abortive ; 
 and Austria, who had made overtures in 1805, had 
 now no marriageable daughter to offer. The family 
 marriage remained in reserve ; but it might involve 
 endless dangers and difficulties with the Luciens ! It 
 would be best to wait ! 
 
 To this course Napoleon not unwillingly resigned 
 himself during the three months after his return to 
 Paris. His heart was fully occupied with Madame 
 Walewska, who had recently arrived from Poland. 
 His mind was busy with innumerable affairs of State, 
 notably those of Spain, which he was anxious to 
 settle before resuming the negotiations of Tilsit with 
 Alexander. The question of the divorce only 
 recurred to him at intervals, when it caused him the
 
 THE DIVORCE 241 
 
 most violent agitation. He felt less capable than 
 ever of coming to a decision, though Talleyrand had 
 now thrown his weight into the scale, and was urging 
 him to proceed. His nervous excitement brought 
 on terrible internal spasms. There were times when 
 he would draw down his wife upon his bed, as she 
 stood beside him .dressed for some Court function, 
 and weeping over her, declare with sobs and cries 
 that he could not give her up ! 
 
 It seemed indeed as if she had bewitched him, and 
 held him in bondage by means of some talisman. 
 Though he sometimes complained that she had 
 grown old and lost her beauty, throughout their stay 
 at Marras he treated her with all the tender playful- 
 ness of a youthful lover. Who could have suspected 
 any anxiety for the future, or any projects of final 
 rupture, in the midst of such school-boy pranks as 
 those that enlivened their walks on the beach, when, 
 in the presence of the mounted escort, he chased 
 Josephine along the shore, and pushed her into the 
 water, with peals of laughter, or when, snatching up 
 the shoes she dropped in her haste, he threw them 
 away, and made her get into the carriage without 
 them, that he might the better see and feel the feet 
 he so greatly admired ? 
 
 At other times he was touched rather by her 
 moral than her physical graces. Josephine had 
 never shown a finer tact, a more delicate insight, 
 than in this journey to Bayonne. Never had she 
 been of greater service to him, and never had she 
 displayed her social talents to better advantage. 
 
 She seemed in her element in the strange meeting 
 with the Spanish sovereigns, showing an instinctive 
 skill, intelligence, and good breeding under difficult
 
 242 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 conditions then, as throughout their triumphal 
 progress through the southern and western provinces. 
 The heat was so intense that they were obliged to 
 travel by night, to enjoy a little fresh air. Each 
 halt was the signal for a fresh fete, exactly like the 
 last, and no less tedious, and for receptions and pre- 
 sentations without end, which oppressed him more 
 and more with the satiety of ovation. She, however, 
 was always in her place, a gracious smile on her 
 lips, in spite of headaches and discomforts, always 
 punctual and exact, always ready with the right word, 
 the appropriate gesture ; unsurpassed in the art of 
 unfastening jewels she had been careful to deck her- 
 self with for the occasion, and presenting them to the 
 matrons or young girls she had been told to dis- 
 tinguish, with a grace that transformed a prosaic 
 official recognition into a friendly personal gift. She 
 charmed all who approached her by the interest she 
 seemed to take in them and their affairs, and 
 delighted all the mothers by her sympathetic 
 questions about their children and households. He 
 could not but recognize in her the complement of 
 himself, a creature born to temper his dominant 
 might by her caressing softness, to win the heart, 
 while he inflamed the imagination. 
 
 And yet, fully alive as he had been to Josephine's 
 charm throughout these four months (April to 
 August), when he was entirely faithful to her, with 
 the exception of a trivial lapse in the case of Made- 
 moiselle Guillebeau, the idea of the divorce came 
 back to him on his return, and no doubt had a 
 good deal to do with his journey to Erfurt. He 
 took Talleyrand with him, with instructions to give 
 Alexander a hint that he was disposed to share
 
 THE DIVORCE 243 
 
 his throne with one of the grand duchesses. But 
 Talleyrand, instead of forwarding his master's 
 interests, unblushingly betrayed him, suggesting to 
 the Czar the means by which to evade Napoleon's 
 request, pointing out the way to a fresh coalition 
 against France, and laying the train for the war of 
 1809. 
 
 After the meeting at Erfurt, Napoleon set out 
 in all haste for Paris and the Spanish frontier. 
 Trusting to Alexander's ambiguities and half pro- 
 mises, he thought the Russian marriage might be 
 accomplished as soon as he had put down the 
 Spanish revolt. It proved a formidable insurrec- 
 tion. The two months he had counted upon to 
 restore order prolonged themselves into three, 
 which brought him only barren victories, dis- 
 "counted by plots against him among his own 
 kinsfolk in Paris, the attitude of Austria, who was 
 once more arming herself for the fray, the crusade 
 of revolt preached by the archdukes to the German 
 populace, and the successful attempts of the secret 
 societies to fan the flame of the Holy War. At 
 last he started at full speed for Benavente, spurring 
 his tired horses from stage to stage, and riding as 
 indefatigably as one of his own pages. After a 
 sojourn of barely three months in Paris, during 
 which he unmasked a traitor or two, put his own 
 affairs in order, organized an army and despatched 
 it to the Danube, he set out to meet the Austrian 
 attack, the Archduke Charles having invaded the 
 territory of the Confederation. 
 
 When at last he drew rein at Schonbrunn, after 
 a breathless course of nearly seventeen months, 
 and allowed himself to reflect calmly, the imperative
 
 244 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 necessity of the divorce became clear to him. It 
 was not only that the question of the succession had 
 become a pressing one, though the birth of a son 
 would at least have put an end to the dark intrigues 
 of the Murats ; he further felt the importance of 
 leaving some representative of himself in Paris, 
 round whom his friends might rally in such an 
 event as an English invasion, or a Legitimist 
 rising. Josephine was not with him, to work upon 
 his senses by the remembrance of youthful passion, 
 to touch his heart with the thought of a sweet 
 companionship, or to alarm his imagination with 
 superstitious fears of a future from which the in- 
 fluences of her star should be withdrawn. Another 
 woman, more timid and yielding, and no less 
 amiable, younger and lovelier than Josephine, even 
 as he had first known her, had not only realized 
 his dreams of gentle and discreet affection, but of 
 paternity. The child she was about to bear was 
 unquestionably his own. No such doubts as had 
 crossed his mind in the case of Eleonore were 
 possible here. He knew how complete had been 
 her self-surrender at Warsaw ; he knew every detail 
 of the secluded life she had led for two years past. 
 He himself had prepared her prison at Schonbrunn, 
 and was well assured of its security. 
 
 He would hesitate no longer! The struggle 
 that had disturbed his peace and wrung his heart 
 for two long years was at an end ! Those days 
 and nights of doubt and anguish, in which he had 
 revolved every possible alternative his fertile brain 
 could suggest, had taught him the necessity of the 
 sacrifice. Such expedients as the adoption of a 
 natural son of his own, a simulation of pregnancy
 
 THE DIVORCE 245 
 
 on the part of Josephine, the settlement of the 
 succession on another of Hortense's children, had 
 all been duly weighed and dismissed. There was, 
 in truth, but one course by which the consolidation 
 and stability of the Empire could be assured, and 
 this he had come to recognize as the one clearly 
 marked out for him. Anxious to save himself and 
 Josephine useless emotion, and to secure himself 
 against further weakness and hesitation, he sent 
 orders from Schonbrunn to the architect at Fontaine- 
 bleau, that the communication between the Empress's 
 apartments and his own should be closed. And 
 when Josephine arrived to join him there late for 
 the first time in her life she found him closeted 
 with his ministers, the door locked against her. 
 -He allowed no opportunity for private conference 
 and explanations ; she never saw him but in the 
 presence of others. Hints and suggestions were 
 conveyed by means of , intermediaries ; and the 
 situation was discussed with the few who were fully 
 in the Emperor's confidence. He felt the need 
 of some intervention from a third person in the 
 final struggle, and after invoking the help of 
 Hortense, who declined to act, he summoned 
 Eugene from Italy. As soon as it was known 
 that the Viceroy had started for Paris, Napoleon 
 felt that the supreme moment could no longer be 
 delayed, and he arranged for a private interview, 
 in which he announced his resolution to the Empress. 
 She had expected his decision not only since 1807, 
 but for many years. And now the blow had fallen 
 which all her skill had been powerless to avert, 
 the dread of which had poisoned all her married 
 life. She was now face to face with the terror
 
 246 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 that had threatened her after Bonaparte's return 
 from Egypt, which had tormented her afresh when 
 he became Consul, when he was proclaimed 
 Emperor, at every epoch of her life when Fortune 
 seemed to be heaping new gifts upon her. And 
 this time she felt herself powerless. There was 
 no remedy, no way of escape. She fell back upon 
 swoons and tears, but rather as expedients by which 
 something might be done to improve her position 
 than with any hope of melting the Emperor. She 
 demanded a settlement for her son, definite promises 
 and documents. For herself she first stipulated 
 that she should not be compelled to quit Paris ; 
 then that her debts should be paid ; then that 
 she should be allowed to retain the rank and 
 privileges of Empress, and finally, that she should 
 have plenty of money. Everything she asked was 
 promptly granted. The Elysee was assigned her 
 for her town residence, Malmaison for her country 
 house, Navarre for a hunting-box. An income of 
 three million francs was settled upon her. Her 
 household was arranged on the same scale as before. 
 She retained the title, armorial bearings, guards, 
 escort, and all the external tokens of sovereignty, 
 occupying a place in the State so strange and 
 unique in modern history that we must turn to 
 Rome or Byzantium for its parallel. 
 
 But money, palaces, titles, were as nothing to 
 Napoleon ; he gave her the higher tribute of his 
 tears. The first days of the separation he spent at 
 Trianon, vainly attempting to forget his sorrow in 
 the excitement of play. He was haunted by a 
 feverish anxiety concerning his wife, and the road 
 to Malmaison was enlivened by constant relays of
 
 THE DIVORCE 247 
 
 pages, equerries, chamberlains, and State officials, 
 galloping backwards and forwards in hot haste to 
 bring him the latest bulletins. He despatched letter 
 after letter, with all the assiduity of an uneasy lover, 
 sent daily visitors to observe and report upon 
 her state, and eagerly devoured every detail of 
 her life and surroundings. No deference, no 
 attention, no graceful act of recognition, seemed 
 adequate to express his contrition. He implored 
 her to summon all her resolution to her aid, to 
 accept the inevitable, to make the best of her new 
 position, and as far as possible to spare him the 
 misery of knowing her unhappy by his act. 
 
 When, however, he visited her himself at Mal- 
 maison, he never embraced her, nor did he ever 
 enter her private apartments, for he wished it to be 
 evident both to Josephine and the world that all 
 was over between them. Such conduct was yet 
 another token of his delicate consideration for her. 
 None, he resolved, should have any grounds for the 
 suspicion that his wife of yesterday might become 
 his mistress of to-morrow. Or it may be that he 
 was not sure, even now, of his own self-control. 
 And if we admit this view of the case, it bears 
 witness to something more vital than his respect 
 for Josephine to that fervid and lasting love of 
 thirteen years, which, surviving the loss of youth 
 and beauty, had proved itself, in spite of momentary 
 infidelities, one of the most blind and imperious 
 passions ever inspired by woman.
 
 MARIE-LOUISE. 
 I. 
 
 . HITHERTO Napoleon had looked upon every 
 woman he had encountered as his inferior. The 
 social prestige with which his fancy had invested 
 Josephine at their first meeting ceased to dazzle 
 him after 1806. When the great ladies of the old 
 rdgime, Montmorencys, Mortemarts, and Lavals, 
 began to frequent his Court, he recognized the true 
 position of the Beauharnais; and acquired a more 
 exact knowledge of social distinctions. None of 
 his mistresses had been women of exalted rank or 
 fashion. He had never been seriously attracted by 
 any such ; or if he had, he had soon wearied of 
 them, and abandoned his pursuit. 
 
 At the height from which he now surveyed the 
 world, his vanity would have found little satisfaction 
 in any such conquests in France. The woman who 
 should satisfy his ambition must be of a sphere as 
 lofty as his own, the daughter of an Imperial race. 
 This dream too was to be realized. The Emperor 
 of Austria formally craved an alliance, and offered 
 him his eldest daughter, Marie- Louise, in marriage.
 
 MARIE-LOUISE 249 
 
 This was no spurious entry into the Faubourg 
 St. Germain, as in Josephine's case. It meant 
 enrolment among a race of kings, kinship with a 
 stock unsurpassed in antiquity and historic splendour, 
 the dynasty of Bourbon and Hapsburg- Lorraine. 
 This was the final step in his ascent, raising him 
 (in his own judgment at least) to the level of his 
 predecessors on the throne he had conquered, and 
 even giving him the right to speak of them by 
 titles that would establish a sort of relationship 
 between them and him. He would be justified in 
 speaking of Louis XVI. as "my uncle," of Marie 
 Antoinette as " my aunt." For his future wife was 
 niece to the late King and Queen of France both 
 by her father and her mother. 
 
 Henceforth, in addressing kings and emperors, 
 he would no longer be reduced to the fraternal 
 formula conventionally used by one sovereign to 
 another. He would be really son-in-law or grand- 
 son, cousin or brother-in-law to his peers. The 
 Napoleonic system he had established in the West, 
 and interwoven with the ancient dynasties by the 
 marriages of Eugene, Stephanie, and Jerome, would 
 now, by his own marriage, be as closely allied to 
 the Austrian rulers as the Bourbon family had 
 been. His dynasty would lose the improvised 
 appearance that was now its chief source of danger, 
 and acquire the royal quarterings which would 
 qualify its revolutionary origin, together with the 
 family attachments which Napoleon considered the 
 only solid and lasting links in the chain of policy. 
 
 The marriage satisfied his ambition at every 
 point. But would his spirit of domination brook 
 the pretensions of a woman of such haughty
 
 250 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 lineage and supreme rank ? Would not birth and 
 instinct alike have taught her her own importance, 
 given her an overweening love of power and 
 prominence, and imbued her with that sense of 
 infallibility, the attribute of princes born in the 
 purple, which raises them in their own estimation 
 above their fellow-mortals ? 
 
 By a strangely fortunate combination of circum- 
 stances, the ground seemed to have been specially 
 prepared for him. The young girl destined to be 
 his wife had been trained in the belief that her 
 father's will must be her own in all things. She 
 knew that her future would be subordinated to the 
 interests of her house, that her person would form 
 an item in some treaty, and she had been so 
 educated as to insure her acceptance of any 
 husband imposed on her by political exigencies 
 without repugnance. 
 
 Such was the part for which she had been trained 
 from her earliest years. 
 
 She had been taught many languages Ger- 
 man, English, Turkish, Bohemian, Spanish, Italian, 
 French, and even Latin, for it was impossible to 
 say where her lot might be cast. But the richer 
 her vocabulary, the more extensive her machinery 
 for expressing ideas, the fewer ideas she had to 
 express ! A wise provision, both of nature and of 
 her teachers ! 
 
 Much care had been bestowed on accomplish- 
 ments such as music and drawing, which afford 
 dignified and suitable occupation for idle princesses 
 wherever fate may place them. 
 
 She had been instructed in the elements of 
 religious knowledge, and trained to a minute ob-
 
 MARIE-LOUISE 251 
 
 servance of outward forms, but all discussion of 
 disputed points of dogma had been avoided, for the 
 husband of the future might not improbably be a 
 schismatic. 
 
 Her moral training had been based mainly on a 
 system of elaborate mystification. The Archduchess 
 was kept in ignorance of such facts as duality of 
 sex in nature. With an ingenuity only possible to 
 casuists of the great Spanish school, her teachers had 
 safeguarded her innocence by refinements of prudery 
 that verged on the obscene. The poultry-yards 
 of the palace were stocked with hens, among which 
 no cocks were allowed to intrude. Hen-canaries 
 only were to be found in the cages, and only she- 
 dogs were admitted to the Archduchess's apartments. 
 All the books and such books ! were expurgated 
 by the aid of a pair of scissors. Pages, lines, and 
 even words were cut out bodily, the operators 
 never apparently considering that the curiosity of 
 Archduchesses might be aroused by these mystical 
 lacitnte. A governess, an ayah, and lastly, a head- 
 mistress, successively held all speculation in check. 
 The latter superintended the Princess's surround- 
 ings, was present at her lessons, directed her 
 amusements, and overlooked servants and teachers. 
 She never left her charge day or night. The 
 post being an important one, and of some weight 
 from the political point of view, its occupant changed 
 with the ministry. Marie- Louise had five head- 
 governesses in eighteen years ; but her education 
 was regulated by rules so strict and severe, that its 
 course was little affected by such mutations. 
 
 Her amusements were those of a nun flowers 
 to cultivate, birds to tend, sometimes an al fresco
 
 252 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 meal with her governess's daughter. Her other 
 distractions were visits to her old uncles, who 
 occupied their leisure with music and painting, and 
 with whom she was on terms of pleasant, and very 
 homely intimacy and affection. No smart dresses, 
 no jewels, no participation in Court ceremonial, save 
 an occasional journey when a Diet was to be held. 
 The events of greatest interest in Marie- Louise's 
 career hitherto had been her flights before the 
 French invaders. Discipline was relaxed on these 
 occasions, and punishments fell into abeyance. 
 
 Napoleon's bride was not a woman, but a child, 
 brought up under a system so severe, narrow, and 
 uniform, that any discipline would appear mild to 
 her in comparison, and the simplest pleasure a 
 novelty. 
 
 But in this very severity there was danger. 
 Might it not be expected that nature, so long 
 repressed, would take its revenge ? The education 
 of Marie- Louise had been the education of Marie- 
 Therese's daughters ; its results might be studied 
 in the conduct of Marie-Antoinette at Versailles, 
 of Marie -Caroline at Naples, of Marie-Ame'lie at 
 Parma ! Napoleon admitted the facts ; but he con- 
 cluded that the husbands of these princesses had 
 proved unequal to circumstances. He himself laid 
 his account far otherwise. The school-girl about to 
 be entrusted to him would simply pass from the 
 convent of Schonbrunn or Laxenburg to the convent 
 of the Tuileries or St. Cloud. The only new 
 element would be a husband. Her life would be 
 governed by the same inflexible rules, the same rigid 
 surveillance. She would be allowed no liberty in 
 the choice of friends, nor in the selection of books ;
 
 MARIE-LOUISE 253 
 
 no male acquaintances or visitors whatever ; the 
 ayah was to be replaced by a lady-in-waiting, and 
 four "red women," two in the Empress's apartments, 
 and two outside the door, were to keep unceasing 
 \\\itch, like sentinels in the presence of the enemy. 
 
 In his character of husband he would be obliged 
 to enlighten his wife on subjects her whole educa- 
 tion had tended to keep from her 1 knowledge, but 
 he determined to replace the ignorance he must 
 needs destroy, by material precautions. No man, 
 no matter what his rank or station, should be allowed 
 to spend an instant alone with the Empress. 
 
 The elaborate etiquette of the Court of Louis 
 XIV., which Louis XV. 's indifference and Louis 
 XVI.'s weakness had suffered to fall into abeyance, 
 was revived in all its rigour around Marie- Louise. 
 But where royalty masked its distrust in the guise 
 of traditional honours, employing the greatest 
 ladies of the land to watch their Queen under 
 colour of keeping her company, Napoleon stamped 
 his precautions with a quasi-military character by 
 entrusting their execution to the widows and 
 sisters of soldiers. 
 
 He was not jealous, for the woman whose virtue 
 he thus safeguarded was unknown to him. But he 
 determined to prevent the possibility of catastrophe. 
 " Adultery is a matter of opportunity," he declared 
 to the State Council, and he was convinced, perhaps 
 from his personal experience, that private interviews 
 between a man and a woman were rarely innocent in 
 character. Such was his distrust of women, that the 
 Oriental system must have thoroughly approved 
 itself to him. But as public opinion in the West 
 forbade him to lock his wife up in a harem, he
 
 254 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 substituted the " red women " for eunuchs, and 
 etiquette for bars and gratings. Her palace was 
 a prison in all but the name. It is true that he tried 
 to soften its rigours by all the material pleasures a 
 woman could desire, delights very much akin, indeed, 
 to those a sultan bestows on a favourite odalisque. 
 
 At Vienna Marie- Louise had known nothing of 
 fine dresses, exquisite lace, rare shawls, and dainty 
 linen ; in Paris all the costliest and most novel 
 productions of French taste were lavished upon 
 her, on the sole condition that no salesman 
 approached her in person, and that all negotiations 
 with such persons were carried out by her Mistress 
 of the Wardrobe. Napoleon gave her a foretaste 
 of luxury in the trousseau he despatched to her 
 before her marriage, each article of which was 
 examined by him, and packed under his supervision. 
 
 It included such items as twelve dozen chemises 
 of fine cambric trimmed with embroidery and lace, at 
 19,386 francs ; twenty-four dozen handkerchiefs at 
 10,704 francs ; twenty-four bed-jackets at 9,060 
 francs; thirty-six petticoats at 6,354 francs; eighty 
 night-caps at 5,652 francs ; besides fichus, dressing- 
 gowns, pin-cushions, towels, and chamber-linen of 
 every description, and dresses, one of embroidery at 
 5000 francs. The linen furnished by Mesdemoiselles 
 Lolive and De Beuvry cost 94,666 francs. 
 
 Eighty-one thousand one hundred and ninety 
 francs were spent on lace, the principal pieces of 
 which were an Alen9on shawl at 3,200 francs, a dress 
 of English point at 4,500 francs, another at 4,800, and 
 a third at 8000 francs. Sixty-four dresses from Leroy 
 amounted to 126,976 francs, and seventeen Cashmere 
 shawls to 39,860 francs. The twelve dozen pairs of
 
 MARIE-LOUISE 255 
 
 stockings ranged in price from 18 to 72 francs. 
 Shoes and slippers of every colour and material were 
 made to measurements sent from Vienna, all so small 
 and dainty that Napoleon, poising them admiringly 
 on his finger-tips, declared them to be " of good 
 omen." 
 
 All the treasures and rarities of the city that rules 
 fashion and reigns supreme in taste throughout the 
 world were scattered at her feet. The trinkets and 
 ornamental trifles that accompanied the more useful 
 items came to 411,736 francs. Ample means were 
 further provided for the replenishment of this stock. 
 Her dress allowance was 30,000 francs a month 
 360,000 francs a year ! 
 
 The few ornaments she possessed at Vienna were 
 such as a Parisian tradesman's wife would have 
 despised ; hair-bracelets, a set of seed-pearls, and 
 one of green pebbles the few poor relics of a ruined 
 princess. The diamonds she displayed in Paris were 
 such as no sovereign had ever owned. The thirteen 
 diamonds that encircled a miniature of the Emperor 
 cost 600,000 francs ; a necklace, 900,000 francs ; 
 two pendants, 400,000 francs. A magnificent 
 parure, more costly than any of the above, consisted 
 of a tiara, a comb, a pair of ear-rings, two rows of 
 large single stones, and a girdle. Another parure 
 contained 2,257 brilliants, and 306 rose diamonds. 
 A set of emeralds and brilliants cost 289,865 francs, 
 one of opals and brilliants, 275,953 francs. She had, 
 further, two other parures, of rubies and brilliants, 
 and turquoises and brilliants respectively, and yet 
 another diamond parure from the Crown jewels, 
 the reputed value of which was 3,325,724 francs. 
 Her private apartments at home were severely
 
 256 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 plain and simple. The rooms prepared for her in 
 France had been newly arranged and decorated 
 under the Emperor's personal supervision, so that 
 nothing might recall their former occupant. In each 
 of the several Imperial residences, the small pieces 
 of furniture in daily use were identical, and occupied 
 as far as possible the same position. Thus, in passing 
 from one to the other, the Empress's habits were not 
 disturbed, and familiar objects stood ready to her 
 hand. Every detail had been planned by the 
 Emperor himself, and so proud was he of the result, 
 that every guest was carried round on a voyage of 
 inspection. At the Tuileries he took the King and 
 Queen of Bavaria down the little dark staircase 
 leading from his study to the Empress's apartments, 
 a staircase so narrow that the King had great difficulty 
 in squeezing his portly person through sideways ; 
 on arriving at the bottom, the door of communication 
 was found to be locked, and the three potentates 
 were reduced to facing right-about, and returning in 
 inverse order, a feat by no means easy of accomplish- 
 ment. At Compiegne he did the honours to the 
 Queen of Westphalia, calling her attention in 
 particular to a bath-room furnished and hung with 
 Indian cashmeres, at a cost of 400,000 francs. 
 
 The governesses who had brought her up had 
 been careful to forbid all delicacies, as injurious to 
 the health. The Emperor, however, who knew 
 her to be fond of dainties, like all the Viennese 
 ladies, who love coffee and cakes, made considerable 
 changes in his table to please her, adding made 
 dishes, sweetmeats, fancy cakes, and pastry to the 
 daily bill of fare. 
 
 Naturally generous, she had hitherto been unable
 
 MARIE-LOUISE 257 
 
 to make any presents beyond little pieces of work 
 done by herself. She was now able to shower 
 gifts upon her father, her brothers, her sisters, her 
 stepmother, and all her friends, sending them over 
 two hundred thousand francs' worth of Parisian goods 
 every year, dresses, china, books, and small pieces 
 of furniture. The Emperor's indulgence in this 
 respect was signified to her even before her arrival. 
 
 She could not say whether she was fond of the 
 theatre, for she had never seen a play. But one of 
 her age and nationality would naturally incline to 
 such amusements. She should enjoy them as often 
 as she pleased, and feast on music and the drama, 
 either by his side at the public theatres, or in private 
 performances at the palaces. What was there, 
 indeed, that he denied her ? She had dogs, birds, 
 music-masters, dancing-masters, teachers of em- 
 broidery, prints and curiosities from the bric-a-brac 
 shops, everything, in fact, that she desired, if she 
 would but submit to the discipline of the harem, and 
 accept a supervision that was the less irksome to 
 her as she had never been without it from her birth. 
 She was only allowed to emerge for great civil or 
 religious ceremonies, for State balls, visits to the 
 theatre, receptions, hunts, short visits to the country, 
 and royal progresses. On such occasions she had a 
 haughty, almost hieratic air, in her Court dresses and 
 diamonds, guarded by a train of ladies and officers, 
 glittering before the multitude from afar, like an idol. 
 
 It was thus he gilded her cage, and decked the 
 walls of her prison, hoping to keep her a child, and 
 amuse her with toys, regulating every detail of her 
 life to enable her to pass without any sense of shock 
 from the state of captive archduchess at Schonbrunn
 
 258 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 to that of captive Empress at Paris. It was by such 
 means as these that he assured her fidelity, and placed 
 the wife of Caesar above and beyond suspicion. This 
 rigour was the outcome, less of marital jealousy, 
 than of anxiety that there should be no question as 
 to the title of his offspring. He was preparing for 
 the part of founder of a great dynasty. The woman 
 he placed under the ward of the four red sentinels 
 had been set apart for a special, an unique function. 
 She was to bear him a son. All his precautions 
 were intended to demonstrate the legitimacy of the 
 dynastic germ which it was to be her mission to 
 develop. Napoleon's line of argument was per- 
 fectly logical ; it recognized the true basis of the 
 monarchical dogma. 
 
 He had no doubt that Marie- Louise would become 
 a mother. He had made the most careful inquiries 
 as to her health. She was vigorous and well- 
 developed, and the family tradition was highly en- 
 couraging. Her mother had borne thirteen children, 
 her great-grandmother twenty-six. On his own 
 part, he felt equal confidence. He could hardly 
 be deceived in the two experiences that had re- 
 assured him, and dissipated his fears. No words 
 can describe the eagerness with which he longed 
 for the advent of her who should secure the con- 
 tinuity of his sway, and give a future to his race ! 
 
 Would she please him ? Would she attract and 
 win him by her personal charms ? Her portrait had 
 been sent him from Vienna. It showed him a girl 
 with long fair hair, parted, and looped in two droop- 
 ing masses over a rather high forehead. The eyes were 
 bright blue, the complexion somewhat injured by 
 small-pox ; the nose curved inward at the root, the
 
 MARIE-LOUISE 259 
 
 lips were rather thick, the chin heavy and promi- 
 nent ; her white, and slightly prominent, teeth were 
 set somewhat far apart ; she had a fine and very full 
 bust ; broad, white shoulders, thin arms, small hands, 
 and exquisite feet. She was tall for a woman, only a 
 trifle shorter than himself. A handsome creature 
 certainly, but without grace, flexibility, or charm. 
 These, however, might be acquired, together with 
 ease and elegance. Her air of hauteur was not dis- 
 pleasing to him ; he thought that there was a some- 
 thing imperial in her mien. The point he thought of 
 the highest importance was that the characteristics 
 of her race should be strongly developed in her. 
 When Berthier's aide-de-camp, Lejeune, arrived at 
 Compiegne, preceding the Empress by a day or two, 
 Napoleon sent for the portrait he had received from 
 Vienna, and closely questioned Lejeune, who, 
 fortunately, was an artist as well as a soldier, as to 
 the likeness. Lejeune then produced a sketch of 
 the Empress he had himself made, in profile. 
 Napoleon at once exclaimed "Ah! there's the 
 true Austrian lip ! " He then took some medallions 
 of the Hapsburgs from the table where they were 
 lying, compared their profiles with that of the 
 portrait, and showed every sign of delight at the 
 resemblance ! Here, indeed, was the wife, the 
 Empress, of whom he had dreamed ! 
 
 Ever since the negotiations had been concluded, 
 and the dream realized, the Emperor had been 
 consumed with impatience. It was in vain he 
 sought distraction in violent exercise, covering from 
 ten to fifteen leagues daily with his harriers. The 
 one idea took entire possession of him ; he talked 
 of nothing else. He expected the preparations for
 
 2 6o NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 the reception to be finished before they were well 
 begun. A chapel for the religious ceremony was 
 to be prepared in the Grand Salon of the Louvre, 
 but it was found difficult to dispose of the huge 
 pictures on the walls. " They can be burnt," 
 remarked the Emperor. He, whose carelessness 
 about his own dress was proverbial, was filled 
 with anxiety as to the effect of his proposed 
 costume. He ordered a Court suit from Mural's 
 tailor, Leger, so stiff with embroideries that he 
 found it impossible to wear it. He sent for a new 
 bootmaker ; he tried to learn to waltz, and made him- 
 self sick in the attempt. As Catherine of Westphalia 
 wrote to her father " He behaves in a fashion 
 neither you nor I could have imagined possible." 
 
 His impatience increased as the bridal train 
 traversed Germany and entered France. He 
 longed to possess the woman, or, rather, all she 
 represented. To each of the towns in which 
 Marie- Louise halted, according to an itinerary he 
 had himself drawn up, he sent pages, equerries, 
 and chamberlains, with letters, flowers, and game 
 killed by his own hand. From each he expected 
 bulletins and despatches, letters from the Empress 
 herself, from Berthier, from his sister Caroline, 
 whom he had despatched to meet his bride, from 
 ladies-in-waiting, equerries, and prefects ! He would 
 have been pleased with the reports of the pages 
 grooms, and postillions ! 
 
 At last he could no longer forbear ! Marie- 
 Louise slept at Vitry on the 26th March. She 
 was to arrive at Soissons on the 2/th ; the first 
 meeting with the Emperor was fixed for the 
 following day, and a pavilion had been constructed
 
 MARIE-LOUISE ?6i 
 
 and decorated for the ceremony. Banquets were 
 prepared. All the towns through which the pro- 
 cession was to pass were astir and expectant. But 
 all such considerations were brushed aside. On 
 the 27th, Napoleon left Soissons with Murat in 
 a downpour of rain, without attendants or escort. 
 He halted in the porch of the church at Courcelles. 
 
 At last the great berlin, drawn by eight horses, 
 came in sight. The Emperor hastened to meet it. 
 The equerry on duty announced his approach. 
 Caroline presented him to his bride. Napoleon 
 opened the door, and sprang, wet through as he 
 was, into the carriage beside her. The horses were 
 hastily changed, and the cavalcade set out at full 
 speed, dashing through villages in which the 
 mayors stood ready to receive them, addresses in 
 hand ; through gaily decorated towns, in which the 
 splendid banquets ordered by Bausset were left to 
 grow cold. The party arrived dinnerless at Com- 
 piegne at nine o'clock in the evening. Cutting 
 short speeches, presentations, and compliments, the 
 Emperor carried off Marie- Louise to his private 
 apartments. 
 
 At noon the next day the Emperor breakfasted 
 by the Empress's bedside, waited on by her women. 
 During the day he said to one of his generals 
 " My friend, marry a German. They are the most 
 charming of all women, sweet, gentle, fresh, and 
 innocent as roses ! " He was prepared with his justi- 
 fication, in the event of any demurs as to his having 
 taken the marriage by proxy so seriously, and not 
 having waited for the final ceremonies " I followed 
 the example of Henri IV." Against such a pre- 
 cedent there was no appeal !
 
 262 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 II. 
 
 " I am not afraid of Napoleon," wrote Marie 
 Louise to Metternich, three months after her 
 marriage, "but I begin to think he is afraid of me." 
 
 Three months had amply sufficed to dispel the 
 grief and terror which had paralyzed her during 
 the journey from Vienna to Compiegne. Was it 
 possible, on the other hand, that Napoleon should 
 feel any awe of a girl of eighteen, of whom he had 
 so unceremoniously possessed himself at the first 
 moment of her arrival, dispensing with all the pre- 
 scribed ceremonies of Church and State ? Yes ; for 
 his action had been the result of a sudden impulse ; 
 and it was characteristic of him to mask his real 
 embarrassment and timidity under a show of brutality. 
 It was not so much the woman he desired, as the 
 princess. His desire was born rather of his ambi- 
 tion than of his senses. The impossible, the un- 
 attainable, had been brought within his grasp in 
 the person of this woman. And he grasped at it 
 with passionate eagerness, dreading lest, even at 
 the last moment, it might escape him. The impulse 
 was one he had yielded to before, at Warsaw and 
 at Cairo, under very different circumstances, when 
 physical passion had been his sole stimulus. 
 
 But a reaction soon declared itself. The woman 
 of whom he had taken possession took possession 
 of him in her turn. The passion which had played 
 so small a part in his earlier feeling for her now
 
 MARIE-LOUISE 263 
 
 ruled him absolutely. He wished to be loved, and 
 dreaded her dislike or her indifference. 
 
 No longer satisfied with possession, he longed 
 for affection. He wished his wife to declare to all 
 the world that she was happy, and by his means. 
 One morning at the Tuileries he sent for Metter- 
 nich, and left him with the Empress. In about an 
 hour he returned. " Well," he asked, smilingly, 
 "have you had a good talk? Has the Empress 
 abused me much ? Did she laugh or cry ? But I 
 must not ask. These are your secrets." He 
 returned to the subject, however, the next morning, 
 when Metternich declined to be questioned, quoting 
 the Emperor's own words. " I know," said Napo- 
 leon, " that the Empress has nothing to complain 
 of. I hope you will tell your master so, and that 
 he will believe your report." 
 
 It was not so much the Emperor Francis he 
 wished to re-assure by the evidence of witnesses, as 
 himself. He wished to feel convinced that his wife 
 had learnt to love him, that no regrets or misgivings 
 oppressed her, that she was content with what he 
 called her ''uneventful life " by his side, and that the 
 domestic happiness he sighed for was secure. 
 
 Yet this woman had grown up from her earliest 
 childhood in an atmosphere of hatred to him. When 
 she was six years old, her " Mamma" had told her 
 stories of Monsignore Bonaparte, the Corsican how 
 he had deserted his army, fled from Egypt, and 
 become a Turk. She firmly believed that he beat 
 his ministers, and had killed two of his generals with 
 his own hand. The year immediately preceding her 
 marriage the year which witnessed the battles of 
 EckmUhl, Esslingen, and Wagram, and the bom-
 
 264 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 bardment of Vienna she had looked upon as the 
 " last days " foretold in Scripture. Napoleon was 
 the Antichrist of the prophecy. " I should choke 
 with rage," she wrote after Znaim, " if I were forced 
 to live with one of his Marshals." When the 
 divorce was announced she would not for a moment 
 admit the possibility of her own marriage with the 
 Emperor. " Papa is too kind," she said, "to coerce 
 me in a matter of such importance to my happiness." 
 She expressed pity for the unfortunate princess he 
 might choose, " convinced that she herself would 
 not be made the victim of policy." When the news 
 of her betrothal became generally known, she wrote 
 a letter to a friend, in which she begs her to " pray for 
 me," and adds " I am ready to sacrifice my own hap- 
 piness for the good of the State." Her consent was 
 asked, but merely as a matter of form. Archduch- 
 esses have no opinions but those of their fathers. 
 She was resigned ; but none the less, Napoleon 
 seemed to her like some ogre in a fairy tale. Nor 
 was this surprising, when we reflect that she saw 
 in him the embodiment of the revolutionary spirit, 
 the man by whom her country had been four times 
 overthrown and dismembered, who had twice made 
 his triumphal entry into Vienna, who had compelled 
 His Sacred and Imperial Majesty, her father, to 
 come to his camp, a suppliant for peace. Every 
 feeling of the aristocrat and the patriot, the princess 
 and the daughter, all that is most sacred in human 
 affection and most susceptible in patrician pride, rose 
 in revolt at his name. 
 
 But once married to him, all these impressions 
 seem to have faded. Her education had made her 
 little more than an automaton ; her narrow brain
 
 MARIE-LOUISE 265 
 
 could cope with very few ideas at a time, and from 
 the very first, the material side of her nature seems 
 to have asserted itself, dominating the emotional 
 and the reflective. It is not impossible that 
 Napoleon was right in his belief that Marie- Louise's 
 chief objection to her marriage with him had been 
 her distaste for his supposed appearance. " She 
 had been told," he said, "that Berthier exactly 
 resembled me. But she soon confided to me that 
 she noticed a very pleasing difference." Are we 
 then to suppose that all past impressions had been 
 effaced by the fact that she had become his wife, 
 and that personally he was not repugnant to her ? 
 Incredible as it may seem, it was probably true of 
 Marie- Louise. 
 
 Napoleon's first care, therefore, was to prove 
 himself a devoted husband. He had ceased to share 
 his apartments with Josephine soon after the estab- 
 lishment of the Consulate, excusing himself on the 
 plea of increased work and absorbing occupations, 
 his true motive being to secure his freedom of action. 
 He would have submitted to the restraint, however, 
 for Marie- Louise, had she wished it ; but she, 
 brought up in the vast and icy palaces of Vienna, 
 could not endure heat, while he was always chilly, 
 and had fires in his apartments nearly all the sum- 
 mer. Often, when he begged her to visit him in 
 his rooms, she would plead, in her harsh German 
 accent, that they were too hot for her. When, on 
 the other hand, he went down into the Empress's 
 apartments, and ordered a fire, she had it promptly 
 extinguished. As her Majesty was on her own 
 territory here, the " red women " obeyed her, and 
 the shivering Emperor retired.
 
 266 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Opportunities were not wanting for infidelities if 
 any such had been in his mind. But if any such 
 took place they were either quite unimportant, or 
 concealed with such care as to leave no trace. 
 
 In 1811 he paid some attention to the Princess 
 Aldobrandini Borghese, Mademoiselle de la Roche- 
 foucauld, whom he had married to Pauline's brother- 
 in-law, with a dowry of 800,000 francs, and appointed 
 Lady-in- Waiting to the Empress. But he seems to 
 have felt only a passing admiration for the youth, 
 elegance, and vivacity of the young lady. At least 
 we have no evidences of anything further. He was 
 also thought to have a weakness for the Duchesse 
 de Montebello, another of the Empress's ladies, and 
 a good deal of scandal was circulated in private 
 correspondence about their relations ; but here 
 again we have only rumour to go upon, and the 
 Duchess herself seems to have been recalcitrant. 
 The lapses of which he was really guilty at this 
 period were obscure adventures, carefully hidden 
 from the world, which, knowing nothing of them, 
 was unable to gossip about them. During the visit 
 to Normandy, he encountered perhaps not for the 
 first time Madame Pellapra, wife of the Receiver- 
 General of Calvados, the Pellapra of the Teste- 
 Cubieres lawsuit. They met again at Lyons in 
 1815, after his escape from Elba, and hostile 
 pamphleteers published the most virulent attacks on 
 " Madame Ventreplat." A passing caprice for a 
 
 certain Lise B at St. Cloud recalls his earlier 
 
 intrigues with Josephine's readers, though this was 
 of a still less serious character, and went no further 
 than two or three secret interviews. His fidelity 
 was so far authentic that he now made no mystery
 
 MARIE-LOUISE 267 
 
 of the little room at Cornpiegne, which opened by a 
 secret door on to the corridor where the lady-visitors 
 were bestowed, and communicated by a secret 
 staircase with his apartments. 
 
 He went even further than this. Knowing, or 
 
 o' 
 
 supposing, that Marie- Louise might take umbrage 
 at his visits to Malmaison and the Rue de la 
 Victoire, he took care to make the latter so secretly 
 that no gossip on the subject was possible ; while 
 the former, which became less and less frequent year 
 by year, as Josephine gave him increasing causes of 
 displeasure, were also planned with the utmost dis- 
 cretion. He desired his household officers never to 
 mention them. " My wife," he said, " might feel 
 hurt." 
 
 It may be that his temperament had cooled with 
 advancing years, for he was now over forty. Be- 
 sides which, his young wife's fresh beauty was very 
 attractive to him. His fidelity is not inexplicable. 
 But his whole course of life was changed. A youth 
 of solitude, poverty, and sadness had left, as it were, 
 an untouched reserve of animal spirits in him, 
 which inclined him to all sorts of noisy pastimes and 
 practical jokes in later life. This tendency effectu- 
 ally did away with the superficial disparity between 
 himself at forty-one and Marie- Louise at eighteen. 
 He was more of a child than she, and had a passion 
 for school-boy pranks. Thus he would ride races 
 with her among the flower-beds of St. Cloud. 
 Sometimes the horse would stumble, throwing his 
 rider, who was up again in a moment, laughing and 
 shouting. She had stipulated for only one indulg- 
 ence when agreeing to the almost conventual rule 
 of life he had laid down for her, and this was per-
 
 268 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 mission to ride, a pastime very much affected by the 
 princesses of Lorraine so soon as they were emanci- 
 pated from the maternal control. Marie-Antoinette 
 had indulged in the same fancy, to the great scandal 
 of Marie-TheYese. Napoleon had consented, but 
 he would allow no one but himself to be riding- 
 master. He himself always placed the Empress in 
 the saddle ; he gave her her first lessons, leading her 
 horse by the bridle, and running beside her. When 
 his pupil began to gain confidence, and to get her 
 seat, he had a horse brought round every morning 
 after breakfast, and not waiting to pull on his boots, 
 would mount in his silk stockings and trot by his 
 wife's side up and down the avenue, where grooms 
 were stationed at intervals of a few yards to guard 
 against accidents. Shouting at the horses to excite 
 them, he would laugh heartily at the screams she 
 uttered when they broke into a gallop, often falling 
 himself from the saddle. In the evenings they 
 spent in private he would start drawing-room games, 
 which were then very fashionable, and they played 
 Blind-man's Buff with its innumerable variations, and 
 games of forfeits of every description. He joined 
 in them all, but with a certain impatience, declining 
 to undertake the more onerous parts in some of 
 them that the ladies would fain have assigned him. 
 
 Up to the time of her marriage Marie- Louise 
 possessed but one social talent, on which she prided 
 herself not a little the power of moving her ears 
 without stirring a muscle of her face. It proved a 
 somewhat insufficient means of amusement, and was 
 neglected in favour of billiards, of which she be- 
 came inordinately fond. She often challenged the 
 Emperor to a match with her, but he was a very
 
 MARIE-LOUISE 269 
 
 indifferent player, and was obliged to take lessons 
 from one of the chamberlains before he could com- 
 pete with her. 
 
 His patience and gentleness with her were un- 
 varying, whatever the fancy of the moment might 
 be. Sometimes she insisted on sketching him in 
 profile, and he was always ready to pose for her, 
 though it was with the greatest difficulty he could 
 be induced to sit to any artist. Sometimes she 
 would go to her harpsichord, and play him German 
 sonatas very little to his taste ; or display him her 
 needlework, the belt or baldric she or rather 
 Madame Rousseau, her teacher had embroidered 
 for him. In all such trifles he showed himself full 
 of interest and attention, seeking in every possible 
 way to amuse and cheer his "good Louise Marie," 
 as he called her. His homely " thees " and " thous " 
 astonished the Court, where the most rigid etiquette 
 now obtained, the husbands of the Faubourg St 
 Germain carefully refraining from any such un- 
 fashionable freedom towards their wives. 
 
 Marie- Louise, however, took such familiarities in 
 excellent part. She soon caught the trick herself, 
 returning her husband's " thees " and " thous," 
 bestowing pet names on her sisters-in-law, and call- 
 ing her mother-in-law "mamma." She nevertheless 
 contrived to make it tacitly understood that she 
 exacted one condition. Her husband must be con- 
 stantly with her, and always at her disposal ; and to 
 this he agreed, not unwillingly. 
 
 He whose habits had hitherto been strictly subor- 
 dinated to his occupations, now found himself forced 
 to reconcile, and often to sacrifice, his occupations to 
 the tastes, wishes, occasionally to the caprices, of his
 
 2 7 o NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 wife. He had been for years in the habit of break- 
 fasting hastily and alone, on a corner of his work- 
 table, at such time as he could best snatch a few 
 minutes from business. Now (for the first two 
 years at least ; he emancipated himself after 1 8 1 1 ) 
 he sat down with his wife at a fixed hour to a heavy 
 meal, at which the menu comprised soup, three 
 entries, a roast, two entremets, four hors-d'oeuvre, 
 and dessert in place of the four little dishes formerly 
 served to him. 
 
 When they travelled (they took five State journeys 
 between 1810 and 1812, to Normandy, Belgium, 
 Holland, the Rhine, and Dresden), instead of wait- 
 ing for the Emperor, as had been Josephine's 
 practice, she invariably kept him waiting for her. 
 She was never ready, either for a hunting-party, a 
 reception, or the theatre, and he kept guard patiently, 
 as he had learnt to do at Fontainebleau, humming a 
 tune, and slashing the gravel with his whip. 
 
 She insisted on his remaining by her side, and he 
 remained, though his presence with the army in 
 Spain became a more imperative necessity each day. 
 He made repeated efforts to start. His carriages 
 were ready at the frontier, and there they remained. 
 
 His chief delight in hunting had been breathless 
 runs across country at a hand-gallop, which refreshed 
 both brain and body after long-continued mental 
 toil. But now, as she liked to be present at every 
 hunt, and yet would not allow the pastime to inter- 
 fere with her regular hours, and above all, with her 
 meals, he gave up this form of exercise, and rode 
 at a pace which enabled the carriages to keep up 
 with him, and ensured their return in good time for 
 dinner.
 
 MARIE-LOUISE 271 
 
 He was not only a faithful but a loving and atten- 
 tive husband, who missed no opportunity of giving 
 pleasure to his wife. The Oriental magnificence of 
 his offerings is a matter of history. But we lay little 
 stress on such gifts as the set of Brazilian rubies, 
 valued at 400,0x30 francs, given in place of one she 
 had coveted at 46,000 francs, or the pearl necklace 
 of eight rows, containing altogether 816 pearls, and 
 valued at 500,000 francs, presented to her after the 
 birth of the King of Rome, and afterwards stolen 
 at Blois. Such gifts were to some extent official 
 and Imperial the homage of the Emperor to the 
 Empress. But we recognize the lover and husband 
 in such souvenirs as the bracelets with dates and 
 names formed of precious stones, the lockets and 
 caskets innumerable on which Napoleon's portrait 
 figured. Marie- Louise herself bore eloquent witness 
 to his tenderness in one of the offerings she made 
 him in return a miniature of herself, in a setting 
 by Nitol, with the legend, " LOUISE, JE T'AIME," in 
 pearls and gems. 
 
 If he had not loved her as he did, would he have 
 been so keenly sensitive to every newspaper phrase 
 or couplet which seemed to represent him in the 
 light of an enamoured Cory don ? Every allusion 
 in the public prints which in any way violated his 
 domestic privacy was fiercely resented, and evoked 
 a furious letter to the Minister of Police, designed, 
 not to deny the imputation, but to forbid its 
 discussion. 
 
 He was careful to ingratiate himself with his wife 
 by profuse attentions to her family. He was con- 
 tinually making presents of books and engravings 
 to the Emperor Francis ; of toilettes to the Empress
 
 272 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Maria-Ludovica of Este ; of books, furniture, dresses, 
 arms, and playthings to the young archdukes and 
 archduchesses ; all this quite independently of Marie- 
 Louise's gifts, waggon-loads of which were perpet- 
 ually on the road from Paris to Vienna. On one 
 occasion alone, after the meeting at Dresden, when 
 the Empress of Austria literally stripped her step- 
 daughter's wardrobes, the Emperor sent the various 
 members of his wife's family a consignment which 
 included eight dressing-cases, one valued at 28,000 
 francs, two gold watches, nine shawls, thirty-one 
 dresses in the piece, twenty-six ready-made dresses, 
 thirty hats, turbans, and caps goods the value of 
 which amounted altogether to 122,642 francs. 
 
 At Court, the most flattering marks of distinction 
 were lavished on the Grand Duke of Wurtemburg, 
 his wife's uncle, and on Metternich, Schwartzenburg, 
 and every one of Austrian birth. He ''gorged them 
 with diamonds," as he himself said. 
 
 But perhaps the strongest proof of his love lay 
 in the fact that, jealous as he was, he never ventured 
 to find fault. His distrust had by no means abated, 
 in spite of the lapse of time, his wife's evident affec- 
 tion for him, and the precautions, no less stringent 
 than at first, by which he sought to assure himself 
 of her fidelity. When the outbreak of the war with 
 Russia forced him from her side, every post brought 
 him a circumstantial report of her drives and walks, 
 the visitors she had received during the day, and 
 the manner in which she had spent the evening. 
 These reports were drawn up by a subordinate 
 official of the household, who used kitchen-paper 
 to write upon, and spelt Ville d'Avray, Vildavre. 
 Always punctilious in such matters, he himself care-
 
 MARIE-LOUISE 273 
 
 fully annotated these rambling communications by 
 notes of interrogation and reminder on the flimsy 
 margins. It was characteristic of the man, and we 
 could have no better evidence, not so much of his 
 jealousy, as of his continued interest. But if any 
 action of his wife's displeased him, he had not 
 courage to rebuke her ; on such occasions he cast 
 about for an intermediary. One day at St. Cloud 
 she allowed the Duchesse de Montebello, who was 
 walking with her in the park, to present one of her 
 relatives. The next morning the Emperor told the 
 Austrian ambassador of the incident. Metternich, 
 apologizing for his own obtuseness, explained that 
 he failed to see the point of this confidence. " I 
 .want you," said Napoleon, "to remonstrate with the 
 Empress." Metternich demurred, but the Emperor 
 insisted. " The Empress is young," he said ; " she 
 might think me inclined to play the tyrant. A hint 
 will come better from you than from me." 
 
 Nor was this all. If Napoleon had been a faithful 
 and fervent worshipper of any one divinity, that 
 divinity was Power the only mistress to whom he 
 had given absolute allegiance. He had shown him- 
 self prompt to resent the slightest encroachment on 
 his prerogative. Josephine had been punished for 
 some imprudent speech on political matters by the 
 most scathing disclaimer in the Moniteur ; neither 
 to his brothers, his oldest counsellors, nor his most 
 intimate friends had he ever been induced to grant 
 a semblance of delegated authority. But in 1813, 
 the hour of his Empire's greatest peril, he consented 
 to share his power with his wife, whom he formally 
 appointed Regent in his absence Empress, Queen, 
 and Regentl
 
 274 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Her responsibility, it may be urged, was apparent 
 rather than actual ; no decision of moment was 
 made without his sanction. It may be that he 
 had had a presentiment of disaster in Russia, had 
 faced the possibility of his own defeat, and on his 
 return, when preparing for dangers even greater 
 than those already encountered, had recognized the 
 necessity of securing the future of his crown. But 
 even so, Marie- Louise was the one human being 
 he admitted to a share in his power. Henceforth, 
 all State decrees were issued by the Empress, in the 
 Emperor's name. Pardons were granted, appoint- 
 ments ratified, and proclamations signed by the 
 Empress. The bulletins, in which the master's 
 voice had echoed throughout his dominions from 
 1800 onwards, announcing his victories, distributing 
 praises, and giving an account of his conquests, ceased 
 to appear. By the new formula, " Her Majesty, the 
 Empress, Queen, and Regent, received such and 
 such news from the army ; " the conscripts of the 
 year of doom were enrolled in her name, and went 
 by the nickname of " the Marie- Louises." 
 
 Meanwhile the structure of government was 
 shaken to its very foundations by multiplied weak- 
 nesses, defections, and treacheries. He was no 
 longer there to steady it. His very name had 
 disappeared. That of Marie-Louise inspired no 
 awe, and conveyed nothing to the ear of the nation. 
 But Napoleon's confidence remained unshaken. His 
 wife had more knowledge of his policy than Cam- 
 baceres and all the Bonapartes combined. The 
 more imminent the catastrophe, -the more deadly the 
 peril, the more persuaded was he that she, and she 
 alone, would save the situation.
 
 MARIE-LOUISE 275 
 
 And by a last irony of fate, chance made her the 
 instrument of the supreme disaster ! She cannot 
 be held responsible for her departure from Paris, 
 the capitulation, and all that followed. But a letter 
 from Napoleon to her, not in cypher, described 
 the supreme movement he proposed to attempt 
 against the allies. The letter fell into the hands 
 of Bliicher's scouts, and Bliicher hastened to lay it, 
 unsealed, " at the feet of the august daughter of his 
 Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Austria."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ELBA. 
 
 WAS it love alone which moved Napoleon to such 
 a display of confidence and affection towards his wife, 
 or had policy any part in his conduct ? Did he 
 imagine that the Austrian Emperor would be turned 
 aside from his purpose when he encountered his 
 daughter and his grandson, and would hold his hand, 
 powerless to strike the threatened blow ? By ap- 
 pointing the Empress to the Regency, did he hope 
 to prepare the ground for an act of personal abdica- 
 tion, whereby his dynasty at least might be saved 
 in the event of irreparable disaster? And did he 
 dream that the sovereigns of Europe, finding his 
 throne in the possession of a distinguished member 
 of their own caste, would hesitate to overthrow it, 
 would accept and confirm the substitution he had 
 himself effected, and instead of driving out his son, 
 would make it their common interest to protect 
 his rights ? 
 
 If we accept such hypotheses, we shall be forced 
 to conclude that Napoleon despaired of his own 
 fortunes so early as April, 1813, before the battle of 
 Liitzen, before that first campaign, in which he gave
 
 ELBA 277 
 
 evidences so numerous and striking of his continued 
 faith in his star. It may, however, be readily ad- 
 mitted that he had occasional misgivings in connection 
 with the Austrian alliance, that he looked upon 
 Marie- Louise as a pledge of national friendship, and 
 that he relied on the good faith of Francis II. his 
 good faith less as Emperor than as his father- 
 in-law. 
 
 It would have required a kindred baseness, of 
 which no Frenchman of the revolutionary era 
 Talleyrand and Fouche hardly excepted was 
 capable, to divine the plot hatched against Napoleon 
 by the aristocrats of Europe, and to recognize in the 
 young girl they had thrown into his arms the decoy 
 of an oligarchic coalition. The conception and 
 execution of such a scheme, which brought the con- 
 centrated venom of all the ancient courts of Europe 
 into play about his nuptial bed, could have emanated 
 only from those depths of corruption peculiar to the 
 patrician society of the time a caste unscrupulous by 
 tradition and education, obedient to no law, human or 
 divine, beyond that of self-interest, and careless by 
 what means a coveted end was attained ; above all, 
 conscious of no dishonour when they perverted love, 
 the most sacred of human emotions, into an ambush 
 for their enemy, for this was one of the stratagems 
 most approved among them. In this case a wife, 
 and not a mistress, had been required. They had 
 given her. What matter if, when the avenging car 
 crushed the blasphemer who had laid a sacrilegious 
 hand on the ark, the wheels should rend the quiver- 
 ing flesh and blonde tresses of an Austrian arch- 
 duchess ? Should she survive the ordeal, her future 
 should be cared for ; she would be consoled ! Should
 
 278 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 she die, so much the worse for her ! Such a game 
 was not to be played without a stake and here 
 the stake was only a woman ! 
 
 Napoleon seems to have had no suspicion of 
 treachery. He would never suffer the hypothesis 
 that his wife had been in league with his enemies, 
 and he was right, for she had been kept entirely in 
 the dark ; and so well fitted was she by nature for her 
 part, that no prompting could have improved her 
 rendering of it. Whether he shrank instinctively 
 from discussion of the subject, or was reluctant to 
 recognize the chief cause of his overthrow, it was not 
 till a much later period that Napoleon showed any 
 disposition to connect his second marriage with the 
 events that followed. " It was the abyss," he said at 
 St. Helena, "but they covered it with flowers." He 
 seems, however, to have avoided dwelling on the 
 matter, as if recoiling from the depths of baseness 
 further investigation would reveal. He wished no 
 stigma to attach to his wife or her memory, and 
 sought to exculpate her in the eyes of history, re- 
 lieving her of all responsibility in the great catas- 
 trophe to which his own blind confidence had so 
 largely contributed a catastrophe which, to the 
 uninitiated, ignorant of its baser causes, has all 
 the vast and fateful simplicity of an yEschylean 
 tragedy. 
 
 Far from visiting his downfall on the woman by 
 whose means he had been overthrown, his love and 
 confidence seemed to increase with his misfortunes, 
 as if to console her for the aggressions of her nation, 
 and the raising of her father's standard against her 
 husband events she could not but regard as an 
 outrage to herself. Even in this extremity he still
 
 ELBA 
 
 279 
 
 preserved some confidence in himself and his fortunes. 
 It was his nature to hope even against hope, and this 
 virtue of great souls has made many days in the fatal 
 campaign of France worthy of record on the same 
 page as the immortal day of Castiglione. Not till 
 the very last would he admit the possibility of the 
 entry of the Allies into Paris, and the capture of the 
 Empress and the King of Rome. When forced to 
 face such a possibility, he dismissed the occupation of 
 the capital as a temporary triumph by which his plan 
 of operations would be very slightly affected. But 
 he could not suffer his wife and son to fall into the 
 hands of the victors. Rather than subject them to 
 such an indignity, he ordered Joseph to abandon 
 Paris, taking away with him all elements of resist- 
 ance, and all Government officials. By this measure 
 he dealt the death-blow to his own authority, for 
 Talleyrand readily found a pretext for remaining 
 behind. His web had long been ready woven ; its 
 meshes enclosed accomplices in every department of 
 the State, among the immediate followers of Joseph 
 and the Empress, in the Prefecture of the Seine, 
 among the police, over all of whom he exercised an 
 influence so mysterious as to suggest some mediaeval 
 compact with the powers of darkness. By their help 
 he accomplished in 1814 the work of treason he had 
 begun at Tilsit. 
 
 But the overthrow of Napoleon's Empire by the 
 help of five hundred thousand foreign bayonets was 
 only an item in Talleyrand's programme. He had 
 further determined to destroy the ties he himself 
 had chiefly contributed to form between Napoleon 
 and Marie-Louise. The Emperor imagined that the 
 supreme consolation of his wife and son's com-
 
 2 8o NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 panionship would still be his in exile. He gave the 
 Empress no positive injunctions to join him at 
 Fontainebleau, believing, no doubt, that her tears 
 would touch the Emperor Francis, and that her 
 personal intercession would best guarantee her own 
 future. But he made up his mind that she would 
 come to him as soon as his establishment was 
 organized ; that some independent sovereignty 
 would be assigned her, adjoining the petty 
 principality he had resigned himself or thought 
 he had resigned himself to rule. Knowing, as 
 he said, that she had loved "the man rather 
 than the Emperor " in him, he hoped that life 
 might still hold some happiness for them, and 
 for the child they would see growing to manhood 
 beside them. 
 
 Marie- Louise was perfectly ready to play the part 
 assigned her in these dreams. She loved her 
 husband, and would gladly have followed him. But 
 for every faithful heart around her, there were a 
 hundred utterly venal and corrupt ! She, who from 
 her earliest childhood had never been allowed to 
 think for herself, who had all her life been subjected 
 to the severest discipline, and in whom obedience 
 to some superior will had become second nature, 
 found herself suddenly thrown on her own resources. 
 Her father's hand closed slowly upon her. She 
 struggled at first, her love for her husband getting 
 the better of her filial respect. But Talleyrand 
 determined to crush that love. Among Marie- 
 Louise's ladies was one whom he had secured for 
 his own purposes, and who was notoriously one of 
 the most astute and scheming spirits of her time. 
 She knew neither scruples nor gratitude. In her
 
 ELBA 281 
 
 youth she had been given to amorous adventures 
 of the Italian type, and had retained her passion for 
 intrigue in all its vigour. She was in her element 
 in any diplomatic imbroglio. Unlike the greater 
 number of the Empress's ladies-in-waiting, who had 
 retired to their homes, she had remained at the 
 palace, and finding herself practically alone with her 
 mistress, she promptly opened her batteries. Acting 
 throughout on Talleyrand's instructions, she first 
 hinted, then boldly affirmed, that the Emperor had 
 never loved his wife, and had persistently deceived 
 her. Finding the Empress hard to convince, 
 Madame de Brignole produced the two valets who 
 had just abandoned their master and benefactor at 
 Fontainebleau. These men had been previously 
 schooled by Talleyrand and herself, and were 
 prepared to swear to anything she wished. 
 
 At this crisis, Marie- Louise's soft and yielding 
 temperament looked in vain for support and sympathy. 
 There was no one to defend the absent, to breathe 
 courage and resolution into that girlish heart. Marie- 
 Louise's nature was an eminently material one ; and 
 her mortification at these disclosures was far greater 
 than her despair at the downfall of her throne. Just 
 as she had allowed herself to be given up, a passive 
 victim, a moden Iphigenia, so now she suffered 
 herself to be recaptured. Policy, as Schwarzenburg 
 declared, should untie the knot which policy had 
 tied. It was not the work of an hour. For nearly 
 a whole year she struggled against the combined 
 forces of Europe, and all the wiles of diplomacy 
 were called into action to get the better of her 
 school-girl heart. Pride, vanity, jealousy, and envy 
 were played upon in turn. But the victory was
 
 282 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 only accomplished when she had been induced to 
 replace love by love, and the respectable Emperor 
 of Austria had driven his daughter into open con- 
 cubinage. Then all monarchical Europe applauded, 
 and adultery was rewarded by a kingdom. 
 
 Of this final degradation Napoleon knew nothing. 
 At every stage of his melancholy journey he 
 despatched a letter to his wife, just as in those 
 happier days when she was advancing in triumph to 
 the Imperial territory, with peal of bells and salvos 
 of cannon, the army and the people drawn up in 
 array to greet her, the Marshals of the Empire 
 saluting her, sword in hand. He, escorted by the 
 commissaries of the Allies, pursued by the shouts of 
 death and vengeance of a mob subsidized by the 
 Verdets, was now making his way to that island 
 which Europe, still retaining some remnant of her 
 awe, had given up to him, intending some day to 
 snatch it from him. His friend and comrade, the 
 former Elector of Salzburg and Duke of Wurzburg, 
 his guest at Compiegne and the Tuileries, now once 
 more Grand Duke of Tuscany as in 1797, when 
 General Bonaparte sat at his table, was already 
 preparing to dispute the possession of Elba with 
 him. 
 
 It would be deeply interesting to compare those 
 stiff and courtly letters, dictated by etiquette to an 
 unknown bride, with this second series. Only two 
 have been published. They are addressed to his 
 "good Louise," his "good Louise Marie." Forget- 
 ting his own sufferings, he dwells only on her griefs. 
 He expresses anxiety about her health, a pretext for 
 delaying their reunion having been found in the 
 supposed necessity for a sojourn at Aix, prescribed
 
 ELBA 283 
 
 by Corvisart, who, consciously or not, played into 
 the hands of the Emperor's enemies in this connec- 
 tion. Napoleon shows himself as unsuspicious of 
 this manoeuvre as of all else. He applauds the 
 devotion of Corvisart, to whom he wrote a letter 
 from Frejus, which, if merited, is the physician's best 
 title to glory. Far from opposing the visit to Aix, 
 he urges it himself, and desires its speedy accom- 
 plishment, as bringing the term of separation to an 
 end. If she should be unable to come at once to 
 Elba, he counts on her establishing herself in Parma, 
 and will forthwith despatch a detachment of his 
 Polish cavalry hither to form an escort, together 
 with a hundred carriage-horses. 
 
 No sooner was he installed at Porto Ferrajo, than 
 he set about the preparation of apartments for the 
 Empress in each of the dreary palaces assigned to 
 him as residences. At Porto Longone and at Porto 
 Ferrajo six rooms were chosen for her use, and 
 orders were given that they should be got ready 
 with the utmost speed, as the Empress might arrive 
 at any moment. Balls, excursions, displays of fire- 
 works were organized for her reception. Every 
 detail of his life was governed by some thought of 
 her. Unusual as it was with him to publish his 
 more intimate emotions, we find him instructing the 
 painter who decorated the ceiling of the drawing- 
 room to make a design of " two doves, fastened 
 together by a cord, the knot of which tightens as 
 they fly asunder." 
 
 Marie- Louise was undoubtedly in his mind when 
 he took such elaborate precautions to conceal 
 Madame Walewska's visit of September i. She 
 was on her way to Naples, to claim payment from
 
 284 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Murat of the pension settled upon her by Napoleon, 
 and derived from certain estates he had reserved to 
 himself, which Murat had nevertheless confiscated. 
 Her vessel touched at Porto Ferrajo, and she 
 begged to be allowed an interview with the Emperor. 
 Napoleon had been driven by the intense heat to 
 take refuge at the Hermitage of Our Lady of Mar- 
 ciana, where he had arrived on August 20. It was 
 a small, one-storeyed chalet of four rooms, attached 
 to a fine chapel, situated in the heart of a forest of 
 chestnuts. The hermits occupied the cellars, resign- 
 ing the upper storey to their guest. The suite, which 
 consisted only of Paoli, the captain of the guard, 
 Bernotti, the orderly officer, two or three Mamelukes, 
 and the two valets, Marchand and St. Denis, were 
 lodged in a large tent under the chestnuts, by the 
 side of a spring, the mossy banks of which were 
 fragrant with heliotrope, lilies of the valley, violets, 
 and other wild-flowers. There was no kitchen. The 
 Emperor dined at Marciana, where Madame Bona- 
 parte was installed, and returned in the evening to 
 his hermitage. 
 
 On the receipt of Madame Walewska's letter, 1 
 
 1 It is possible, and indeed probable, that Madame Walew- 
 ska's brother, Colonel Laczinski, had come to Elba before her 
 visit. A certain Colonel Laczinski was entrusted with some com- 
 mission for the Emperor on August 4. It may be that he brought 
 letters from Madame Walewska, and that the Emperor desired 
 him to fetch her. It is, however, not absolutely certain that he 
 was the same Laczinski who accompanied her to Marciana, for 
 Madame Walewska had two brothers, one who seems to have 
 been a general in Poland, and a colonel, at least, in France, 
 another who was unquestionably a colonel in the grand ducal 
 army. The glorious history of Napoleonic Poland has yet to be 
 written, as far as France is concerned.
 
 ELBA 285 
 
 orders were immediately given to ensure the 
 utmost secrecy in connection with her visit. She 
 landed after nightfall on September i; a carriage 
 with four horses, and three saddle-horses were in 
 waiting at the port. She at once entered the car- 
 riage with her son. Her sister, who had accom- 
 panied her, and her brother, dressed in the uniform 
 of a Polish colonel, mounted the horses, and the 
 cavalcade set out by moonlight. At Procchio they 
 encountered the Emperor, who had come to meet 
 them, attended by Paoli and two Mamelukes. 
 Madame Walewska then mounted the third horse, 
 for the carriage could go no further. Bernotti took 
 charge of the child, and after a toilsome ascent, 
 they reached the top of the mountain. On entering 
 the house, the Emperor bowed to his visitor, and 
 said " Madam, this is my palace." Beds had been 
 put up for the strangers, and the four little rooms 
 were placed at their disposal. He himself took 
 refuge with the valets in the tent A storm of wind 
 and rain came on towards the end of the night. 
 At dawn the Emperor, who had not slept at all, 
 called Marchand. The valet told him a rumour 
 had got abroad in Porto Ferrajo that the visitor 
 was Marie- Louise, and the child the King of Rome, 
 on hearing which Doctor Foureau had hastened 
 to the Hermitage to offer his services, and was 
 awaiting the Emperor's orders. 
 
 Napoleon dressed hastily and emerged from the 
 tent. The sunshine, streaming gaily through the 
 chestnut-branches, had already dried the ground. 
 The mysterious child was playing beside the stream, 
 gathering the mountain flowers. The Emperor 
 called him, and seating himself on a chair Marchand
 
 286 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 brought from the tent, took the boy on his knee. 
 Then he sent for Foureau, who was walking in 
 the forest. "Well, Foureau," he demanded, "what 
 do you think of him ? " " Sire," replied the doctor, 
 " I think the King has grown very much." Napoleon 
 laughed, for the little Walewski was a year older 
 than the King of Rome, though his beautiful 
 features and abundant golden curls made him strik- 
 ingly like Marie- Louise's son, or, rather, like the 
 popular portrait by Isabey, in which the painter, 
 perhaps intentionally, aged his youthful sitter by a 
 year or two. 
 
 Napoleon jested for a few minutes with the 
 doctor, and then dismissed him, thanking him for 
 his zealous offer of service. Presently Madame 
 Walewska came out of the house. She had grown 
 somewhat stouter than when she first met the 
 Emperor, but her figure had not suffered, and her 
 sweet, serene face was as attractive as ever. Her 
 young sister of eighteen is described as having the 
 " head of an angel." Her blonde, childish loveliness 
 was that of some exquisite flower. The table 
 was spread under the chestnuts. Breakfast had 
 been sent up ready prepared from Marciana, and 
 the little feast was gay and cheerful. The day 
 was spent in conversation, and walks in the neigh- 
 bouring woods. The child had not breakfasted 
 with them, but the Emperor insisted on having him 
 by his side at dinner. Madame Walewska de- 
 murred, saying that he would find her son too 
 turbulent a neighbour. The Emperor assured her 
 that he should not mind the child's pranks ; he 
 had been very wilful and mischievous himself as 
 a boy. " I used to hit Joseph, and make him
 
 ELBA 287 
 
 do my lessons for me. When I was given dry 
 bread as a punishment, I used to go and change 
 it with the shepherds for some of their chestnut- 
 cakes, or I would go to my nurse for dainties." 
 The child, who behaved with great decorum at 
 first, became somewhat boisterous as his shyness 
 wore off. "Ah!" said the Emperor; "you are 
 not afraid of the whip. Well, I advise you not 
 to deserve it. I only had it once, and I never 
 forgot it." He went on to tell how he and Pauline 
 had once made fun of their grandmother, and how 
 Madame Bonaparte, who was not to be trifled 
 with in such matters, had whipped them both. 
 " But I don't make fun of mamma," cried the child, 
 with a little contrite air that delighted the Emperor. 
 " That is a pretty answer," he said, kissing him 
 tenderly. 
 
 Night was approaching, and at nine o'clock the 
 visitors set out for the port. Napoleon accompa- 
 nied them to the shore, and was heard to murmur, 
 as he embraced his son " Farewell, dear child of 
 my heart ! " Madame Walewska carried away with 
 her a draft on the Emperor's treasurer of 61,000 
 francs, payable to bearer, by way of compensation 
 for the property seized by Murat. She is said 
 to have remained in Naples for some time, and 
 was still there in March, 1815. 
 
 In spite of all the precautions taken, and the 
 arrival and departure of the visitors at night, there 
 were too many persons interested in the Emperor's 
 movements to allow the episode to pass unnoticed. 
 The Elbans were all persuaded that the visitor was 
 Marie- Louise ; the English residents, and the spies 
 of the Bourbons, were better informed ; they con-
 
 288 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 eluded that the unknown was a mistress of the 
 Emperor's. But they suspected a love-story, where 
 there had been no question of any feeling beyond 
 gratitude and affection. The presence of Made- 
 moiselle Laczinska sufficiently proves this. 
 
 If the Emperor indeed consoled himself for his 
 wife's absence at Elba, it was certainly not with the 
 so-called Comtesse de Rohan, a mere vulgar intrig- 
 ante, who is said to have come to him with all 
 sorts of protestations and offers of service. A more 
 probable heroine for such an adventure is to 
 be found in the more mysterious beauty who 
 had visited him occasionally at the Orangery at 
 St. Cloud and who came on her own initiative 
 to Porto Ferrajo. Was she already the wife of 
 
 Colonel B on her arrival, or did she marry 
 
 him at Elba? In 1815 she arrived at Rambouil- 
 let, and implored Napoleon's permission to follow 
 him into exile. Her distress at his refusal was 
 overwhelming. She is said to have taken her 
 passage to the United States with three thou- 
 sand francs that were given her, hoping to rejoin 
 him. 
 
 No one seems even to have suspected that 
 Napoleon held any communication with this woman 
 at Elba. On the other hand, there have been 
 several reprints of a series of letters, forged by a 
 miserable priest in the pay of the Due de Blacas, 
 in support of certain calumnies against the Emperor. 
 They call for no further comment. 
 
 During the sojourn at Elba, Napoleon was in 
 the midst of a moral and political crisis that de- 
 manded the utmost circumspection of conduct. He 
 knew Marie- Louise well enough to be aware that
 
 ELBA 289 
 
 the slightest infidelity, reaching her through the 
 distorted medium of those who now surrounded her, 
 would cut her to the heart. He had despatched 
 Captain Hurault de Sorbe*e, the husband of one 
 of the "red women," to Aix-les- Bains, with instruc- 
 tions to approach the Empress, and get speech 
 of her, if possible. He had lately been given 
 grounds to hope that a regular correspondence would 
 be allowed. The moment would have been ill- 
 chosen for a scandal. 
 
 Time went on. The month of September passed, 
 bringing no letter nor communication of any kind 
 from his wife. On October 10 he determined to 
 write to the Grand Duke of Tuscany, on whose 
 friendship he still placed some reliance, and whom 
 he had already pointed out to Marie- Louise, on the 
 preceding iQth of April, as the natural intermediary 
 between them. His letter is hardly that of a 
 suppliant ; the tone in which he approaches his 
 " Brother and very dear uncle," shows that he 
 remembered, and expected his sometime parasite 
 of Compiegne to remember : " Having received 
 no news of my wife since the loth of August, nor 
 of my son for the last six months, I beg your 
 Royal Highness's permission to send you a letter 
 for the Empress once a week ; and I would further 
 ask you to send me in return letters from her, and 
 from Madame la Comtesse de Montesquiou, my 
 son's governess. I venture to hope that your 
 Royal Highness has retained some friendship for 
 me, in spite of the events which have changed 
 so many others. It would be a great consolation 
 to me to receive your personal assurance of this, 
 in which case, I would crave your Royal Highness's
 
 290 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 consideration for this little province, which shares 
 the attachment of all Tuscany to your person. I 
 beg to assure your Royal Highness of my constant 
 affection for you, as of my perfect esteem and high 
 consideration. I desire to be remembered to your 
 children." 
 
 It was a request rather than a petition. The 
 consciousness of equality, of former superiority 
 informs every line. But with what infinite skill and 
 ingenuity does he appeal to the heart of this man, 
 if indeed he had a heart ! It was only a small 
 family service to one who avows his misfortunes, 
 recognizes his own fall, and with a proud and 
 touching humility all but declares himself the sub- 
 ject of the prince who had been one of his most 
 assiduous courtiers ! 
 
 No answer was ever received. The drama was 
 played out, and the Imperial family of Austria had 
 brought about the dishonour of one of Austria's 
 daughters, the Empress of the French. Napoleon 
 may or may not have learnt the facts long after ; 
 he certainly knew nothing of them at this time. 
 But he could write no more, after such a letter to 
 such a man. They had taken his wife, they had 
 taken his son. The Bourbons had failed to pay the 
 annual sum agreed upon at Fontainebleau. He 
 would soon be under the necessity of disbanding his 
 guard. Then he would be unable to make even a 
 semblance of resistance, or to die fighting among his 
 veterans, when his enemies should order his deport- 
 ation to some ocean island, the Azores, for instance, 
 as suggested by Talleyrand on October 13 ; "be- 
 cause," as he said, "it is five hundred leagues from 
 the mainland."
 
 ELBA 291 
 
 Which was preferable, assassination at the hands 
 of Beulart's cut-throats, or the more lingering death 
 decreed by the kings under Talleyrand's guidance ? 
 Was there not yet another alternative ? He elected 
 to strike one desperate blow for and with France, 
 and made up his mind to flight.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE HUNDRED DAYS. 
 
 ON New Year's Day, 1815, Napoleon received a 
 letter from Marie- Louise with an account of his son, 
 who, she declared, would soon be able to write to his 
 father himself. What prompted this letter is not 
 very clear. Some lingering remorse, perhaps. 
 However this may have been, Napoleon accepted it 
 as an overture, an evidence that Marie- Louise had 
 not renounced all idea of returning to him, and was 
 silent only under coercion. He persuaded himself 
 that if he were at liberty, she would hasten to join 
 him ; and further, that if he had once more a throne 
 to offer her, her jailers would set her free. No 
 sooner, therefore, was he fairly embarked on his 
 enterprise than he hastened to communicate with the 
 Empress from Lyons. She, however, laid the letter 
 before her father, to whom she had handed all letters 
 received from Elba. He in his turn submitted it to 
 the plenipotentiaries of the Allies. No reply was 
 made. 
 
 Immediately after his entry into Paris, the Emperor 
 re-organized the Empress's household almost on the 
 original scale, and gave orders that her apartments
 
 THE HUNDRED DAYS 293 
 
 should be prepared for her reception. Ten days later, 
 on April 1 7, he wrote an official letter to his " brother 
 and very dear father-in-law," claiming " the objects 
 of his dearest affections, his wife and son." " The 
 long separation necessitated by recent events," he 
 adds, " has caused me deeper suffering than I have 
 ever experienced, and I cannot doubt that the reunion 
 I so ardently desire is as eagerly longed for by the 
 virtuous princess confided to me by your Majesty." 
 He concludes with these words " I am so well 
 acquainted with your Majesty's principles, and the 
 great importance you attach to family ties, that I rely 
 fully on your co-operation in this matter, whatever 
 the disposition of your Cabinet and counsellors, and 
 I rest assured that you will do all in your power to 
 hasten the reunion of a wife with her husband, and a 
 son with his father." 
 
 No answer was vouchsafed to this appeal. Find- 
 ing that his official letters and those he had de- 
 spatched by the Austrian diplomatists at the Bourbon 
 Court on their withdrawal from Paris were alike 
 ineffectual, Napoleon was confirmed in his belief that 
 his wife's natural inclinations were paralyzed by her 
 father's policy, and he attempted to gain her ear by 
 secret means. He despatched Flahaut and Mon- 
 trond to Vienna, judging them to be more likely 
 than any agents at his disposal to reach Talleyrand 
 and the Empress. Only Montrond succeeded in 
 passing through the lines ; but when he attempted 
 to deliver the letter he had brought with him to 
 Marie- Louise, Mdneval, formerly private secretary 
 to the Emperor, transferred to the Empress's 
 household in 1813, interposed. He knew how 
 matters stood with Neipperg, and it was in kindness
 
 294 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 to his former master that he burnt his letter. He 
 did not venture to write explicitly in reply, dreading 
 the effect of such a blow on the Emperor. He 
 therefore had recourse to an anonymous letter, 
 addressed to Lavallette, whose fidelity he knew to be 
 unalterable, in which he hinted at the actual state of 
 affairs. Lavallette, however, doubted its authenti- 
 city, persuading himself, and no doubt Napoleon as 
 well, that the missive was a stroke of Austrian 
 diplomacy. 
 
 This delusion, however, was presently to be 
 dispelled. Ballouhey, keeper of the privy purse to 
 both Empresses, an honest man, whose fidelity was 
 above suspicion, had started from Vienna for Paris, 
 taking Munich in his way, to receive certain instruc- 
 tions from Prince Eugene. The Emperor was so 
 impatient to see him that he ordered his arrival to 
 be announced by telegram from Belfort, and kept a 
 sentry waiting at Ballouhey's lodgings, with orders to 
 bring him at once to the Elysee. Ballouhey arrived 
 on April 28, and was closeted with the Emperor for 
 two hours. He brought a variety of useful sugges- 
 tions from Prince Eugene, but failed to fully 
 enlighten the Emperor on matters of more immedi- 
 ate moment. A man of scrupulous probity, but of a 
 timorous disposition, deeply attached to Josephine, 
 and almost equally so to Marie-Louise, he could not 
 nerve himself to proclaim what at Vienna was an 
 open secret to the Congress, the Court, and the 
 whole town. 
 
 Me"neval's arrival twelve days later, on his dis- 
 missal from Vienna, enlightened the Emperor to a 
 certain extent. A letter written by Marie- Louise on 
 March 12, in which she placed herself formally under
 
 THE HUNDRED DAYS 295 
 
 the protection of the Powers, evoked the furious 
 proclamation signed by the plenipotentiaries of the 
 Allies on the following day. Her decision was 
 recompensed by the appointment of Neipperg to be 
 her chamberlain. On March 18 she agreed to give 
 up the guardianship of her son, who was at once 
 separated from Madame de Montesquieu, and all his 
 French servants. When M6neval took leave of her, 
 she herself charged him with this message to the 
 Emperor " I shall never consent to a divorce, but 
 I flatter myself that he will agree to an amicable 
 separation. This has become inevitable, but it will 
 in no wise affect my feelings of gratitude and esteem 
 towards him." She had made up her mind, and her 
 decision was irrevocable. Even her father could not 
 have forced her to return to France. 
 
 Mdneval perhaps added some more intimate 
 details, for it is barely possible that the whole truth 
 can have been kept from the Emperor. The first- 
 fruits of that adulterous connection which eventually 
 peopled the avenue of the Burg with bastards, on 
 whom the House of Austria, to its lasting shame, 
 conferred the rank of princes, was already antici- 
 pated by Marie- Louise. When the accoucheur, 
 Dubois, informed Napoleon, after the birth of the 
 King of Rome, that another child would imperil the 
 Empress's life, he accepted the verdict as final, 
 greatly as he desired a numerous posterity, a second 
 son to occupy the throne of Italy. No such scruples 
 checked the multiplication of M. de Neipperg's pro- 
 geny, who effectually proved the fallibility of Baron 
 Dubois' opinion. 
 
 Though Napoleon could no longer have felt any 
 doubt in his inmost heart, he still held it to be
 
 296 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 essential that the truth should be kept from the 
 nation, and that the illusions he supposed the 
 people to cherish with regard to the Empress should 
 be maintained. Just as, a year ago, he had been 
 persuaded that nothing could more effectually touch 
 the hearts of Frenchmen than the thought of the 
 woman and child he had confided to France ; so 
 now he judged that every generous emotion of men 
 and patriots would be stirred by their captivity, by 
 the separation which violated all laws human and 
 divine, by the attack on conjugal faith and paternal 
 love made by men who professed to have taken 
 arms to restore the reign of order and morality in 
 France. He desired Mdneval to draw up a report, 
 to be held in readiness, in the event of "a resolu- 
 tion by the Chamber in the matter of the King of 
 Rome." In this document M^neval was instructed 
 to dwell on such details as the Empress's despair 
 when she was torn away from her duties ; the thirty 
 sleepless nights she spent in 1814; her virtual 
 captivity ; the violation of the Treaty of Fontaine- 
 bleau by the kings who had deprived the Emperor 
 of his wife and son ; the indignation of the old 
 Queen, Marie-Caroline, and her suggestion to her 
 grand-daughter, that if she were prevented from 
 passing out through the door, she should let herself 
 down from her window, and hasten to her husband ; 
 the removal of the King of Rome or, as Napoleon 
 now styles his son, the Prince Imperial from his 
 mother's guardianship ; Madame de Montesquieu's 
 dismissal, and her fears for her pupil. 
 
 During the Hundred Days, and throughout his 
 six years of suffering and exile, no word reflecting 
 in any way on his wife ever passed his lips. He
 
 THE HUNDRED DAYS 297 
 
 never spoke of her but in terms of tenderness, pity, 
 and affection. In all his recollections of her he 
 dwelt on her youth, her freshness, her frank and 
 loyal nature. " She was Innocence in all its love- 
 liness." Every one of his comrades in captivity has 
 recorded the same conversations, almost in the same 
 words. When some trifling accident which had 
 happened to her was mentioned in the newspapers, 
 he had the notice read over to him three times. 
 When a vessel from Europe weighed anchor at 
 Jamestown, he persuaded himself that it brought 
 him a letter from the Empress, and spent the 
 day in a state of nervous expectation, unable to 
 compose himself to work. When one of his followers 
 was removed, Las Cases or O'Meara, for instance, 
 he recommended them to the care of Marie- Louise, 
 as in the following note " If he (his surgeon) 
 should see my dear Louise, I beg her to allow him to 
 kiss her hands." In his will, dated April 5, 1821, he 
 wrote as follows " I have always had reason to be 
 satisfied with my dearest wife, the Empress Marie- 
 Louise. I retain the most tender affection for her 
 to my last moment. I beseech her to watch over my 
 son, and to guard him from the dangers that threaten 
 his childhood" This was not all. Among the modest 
 treasures of his wardrobe, now his sole fortune, he 
 chose his lace as a legacy for her, and on April 28, 
 seven days before his death, he supplemented this by 
 a further bequest his heart, which he desired Anton- 
 marchi to remove after his death : " Put it in spirits 
 of wine, and take it to my beloved Marie- Louise at 
 Parma. Tell her that I loved her dearly, that I never 
 ceased to love her. Tell her all you saw, everything 
 connected with my last days and my death."
 
 298 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 Hudson Lowe was well advised when he forced 
 Antonmarchi to place the silver vase containing 
 Napoleon's heart in his coffin. It would have been 
 an embarrassing gift for M. de Neipperg's mistress. 
 
 In default of the wife, the Austrian, whose place 
 was empty, other women, French, Irish, Polish, 
 added the lustre of their faithful beauty to those last 
 days of splendour, rejoicing the Emperor's heart 
 throughout that brief reign of three months by 
 their enthusiasm. Taught rather by instinct than 
 by reason, even those among them who were least 
 fitted by nature for political intrigue, divined the 
 dangers that threatened him, kept a vigilant watch 
 upon his enemies, and more than once gave him 
 counsels he would have been wise to follow. We 
 may quote Georges, in the case of Fouche ; 
 Madame Pellapra, who had hastened from Lyons, 
 and surprised certain manoeuvres of the Due 
 d'Otrante ; Madame Walewska, who had hurried 
 from Naples to the Elys6e with her son, bringing 
 intelligence of Murat. Madame * * * was the 
 first to welcome the Emperor. Resuming her rank 
 and title as Lady-in- Waiting, she was one of the 
 faithful who stood in the illuminated halls of the 
 Tuileries on March 20, anxiously awaiting the 
 arrival of the exile. Many others, among them 
 Madame Dulauloy, Madame Lavallette, Madame 
 Ney, Madame Regnault de St. Jean d'Angely, 
 Madame de Beauvau, and Madame de Turenne, 
 vied with each other in their homage. In those 
 hours of exaltation, there breathed upon the grace- 
 ful heads of these fair women, formed for love and 
 laughter, something of that divine essence which 
 creates martyrs and heroines, which fires the weak
 
 THE HUNDRED DAYS 299 
 
 with courage and devotion, and nerves the shrinking 
 soul to face danger unflinchingly. 
 
 Such a spirit shone conspicuous throughout that 
 sinister period, still fitly described as the White 
 Terror in spite of recent attempts to palliate its 
 atrocities. The stars of the Imperial Court, those 
 graceful and artificial beauties, the most luxurious 
 and extravagant women of any age or country, dis- 
 played, in striking contrast to the universal cowardice 
 of the men, a courage, an energy, a presence of mind 
 that has immortalized their memories. At the 
 Tuileries during the Hundred Days, as at Malmaison 
 after Waterloo, they had already proved their devo- 
 tion in adversity, and their courage in disaster. 
 
 The enthusiasm was not confined to the famous 
 and distinguished. It animated the unknown and 
 obscure. A woman approached the Emperor during 
 the review of the federated troops, and under colour 
 of presenting a petition, thrust a rouleau containing 
 twenty-five notes for a thousand francs each into 
 his hand. Another, on June 23, the day before 
 Napoleon left the Elys^e for Malmaison, wrote to 
 his valet, begging him to meet her at the Church of 
 St. Philippe du Roule to receive an important com- 
 munication. Marchand went, and found at the 
 appointed place a kneeling woman, whose veil could 
 not altogether conceal the exquisite beauty of her 
 features. Approaching her, he asked what he could 
 do for her. She was silent for a moment. Then, 
 with evident embarrassment, she explained that she 
 had been deeply touched by the Emperor's misfor- 
 tunes, and that she longed to see him, express her 
 admiration for him, and console him. On hearing 
 of this request Napoleon smiled, and remarked
 
 300 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 that " admiration of this sort might end in an 
 intrigue. It must go no further." But the naive 
 offer of that heart, at such a crisis, touched him, and 
 he afterwards referred on several occasions to the 
 unknown of St. Philippe du Roule. 
 
 In his subsequent captivity, did he find that con- 
 solation which only woman can give to man ? We 
 know something of his playful intercourse with Miss 
 Elizabeth Balcomba during his sojourn at Briars ; 
 and there were whispers of a connection with a 
 woman whose conduct under the Empire might 
 have been supposed to have made it impossible 
 for her to approach him, who had been divorced, 
 and whose third marriage had caused her husband's 
 immediate disgrace. The bequest made to her in 
 the Emperor's will seems to give some colour to the 
 statements of the foreign commissaries ; and it is not 
 improbable that her presence was the cause of the 
 disagreements that arose among the Emperor's 
 followers, and that her departure marked one of 
 the final stages of suffering in his career. But 
 this part of the drama of St. Helena is too little 
 known to admit of positive assertion or denial. The 
 woman certainly played some part in it ; but this 
 is all we can say. 
 
 In striking contrast to this worthless intrigante, 
 whose calculating spirit brought her to Rochefort, 
 and retained her at St. Helena, we note the 
 dignified figure of the Comtesse de Bertrand. A 
 devoted mother, a happy wife, she found her highest 
 satisfaction in the discharge of a holy duty. Her 
 birth, and connection with the Fitz-Jameses, would 
 have entitled her to a place among the noblest at 
 the Court of Paris. She chose instead a house, or
 
 THE HUNDRED DAYS 301 
 
 rather a hovel, infested by rats, within easy reach 
 of the Emperor, though she had not even the conso- 
 lation of nursing him, or making herself in any way 
 useful to him. She remained by his side to the end, 
 lovely, grave, and tender, preserving her honour 
 with all the loftiness of a Roman matron. She 
 followed the sad procession to the Valley of Gera- 
 niums, and stood beside the grave of the dead captive 
 like some statue of grief. And she, an Englishwoman 
 by birth, was the only woman who wept over the 
 hero England slew.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 AND now, what must be our opinion of Napoleon 
 in his relations with women ? 
 
 We must consider these in a double aspect. First, 
 as purely material ; secondly, as combined of the 
 moral and the material, or rather, as the material 
 expression of moral influences. 
 
 We have made no attempt to glose over those 
 commonplace adventures in which the senses alone 
 were concerned ; not that they throw any particular 
 light upon Napoleon's character ; but had we con- 
 cealed them, it might have been supposed that they 
 were specially damaging to his reputation. Secrecy 
 was out of the question for one in Napoleon's position. 
 Careful as he was to veil all such passing intrigues 
 in mystery, ladies of the Palace, waiting-women, 
 aides-de-camp, and valets were always on the watch, 
 taking note of the most insignificant events. In the 
 same manner, all who lived within the zone of 
 government around the Tuileries, all who were 
 scheming for favours, or collecting gossip, duly 
 registered any rumours that came to their ears. 
 And as Napoleon's slightest actions have become
 
 CONCLUSION 303 
 
 history, as no details of his daily life, even to the 
 casual variations of his health, have been found too 
 insignificant for the public, whose interest and 
 curiosity seem to have been stimulated rather than 
 sated by a century of comment, all contemporary 
 witnesses, no matter how dubious, have found 
 credence. Pamphleteers have drawn largely upon 
 them for the support of their various theses, and the 
 most erroneous theories have been accepted. These 
 it is only possible to refute by setting forth the 
 actual facts, in a plain, unvarnished record of all such 
 adventures as rest on the synthetic narratives of 
 several contemporary witnesses. If we have neg- 
 lected others, or noted them but in passing, in spite 
 of their probable authenticity, it has been either 
 because they are recorded only by one irresponsible 
 chronicler, whose testimony lacks documentary 
 corroboration ; or because they were in themselves 
 so trivial and commonplace that comment on them 
 would have been but a repetition of facts already 
 noted. 
 
 What conclusions are we to draw from adventures 
 of this nature ? Simply that Napoleon was a man ; 
 that- he was thirty years old in 1799 ; that he was 
 forty in 1809, and that he had made no vows of 
 chastity. Women were ready to offer themselves at 
 the slightest sign made by him, or by others for him. 
 He took them, with more or less of satisfaction in 
 the intrigue, but with little self-abandonment. His 
 brain remained clear and active, his faculty for 
 strenuous mental labour unimpaired. No woman 
 was ever corrupted by him. Some among them 
 may have been chaste hitherto ; but these were
 
 304 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 for the most part astute virgins, whose virtue was a 
 commodity they were willing to sell at a price. 
 
 Broadly speaking, these women, whether of the 
 theatre or the Court, whether married or unmarried, 
 were courtesans. Their love was a marketable 
 commodity. He bought them on their own terms, 
 and duly paid for his bargain. Sensuality can 
 hardly be laid to his charge, for sensuality implies 
 the refinement of pleasure. He, on the other hand, 
 wasted little time in dalliance. His wooing was 
 abrupt and peremptory. He has been called brutal, 
 where perhaps he might be more justly described as 
 hurried and pre-occupied. He took such distractions 
 hastily, as he took his meals. In his case they were 
 rather a concession to the weaknesses of the flesh, 
 than an indulgence in voluptuous habits, or a realiza- 
 tion of sensuous dreams. 
 
 Was such conduct an outrage upon the laws of 
 morality ? We may ask what laws of morality ? If 
 these vary with latitudes, how much more with 
 epochs ! 
 
 It is obviously absurd to test the men of the 
 Empire, and notably the Emperor himself, by the 
 smug standards of contemporary middle - class 
 morality. In their wild career throughout Europe, 
 under a perpetual hail of shot and shell, where every 
 man rode with death on the crupper, a few may have 
 carried mistresses in their train, whose presence was 
 carefully concealed from the Emperor. But the 
 large majority of them lived hardily and chastely 
 throughout a campaign. If it be true that at the 
 close of a long war, or when they entered a conquered 
 town, they sometimes broke out into fierce and riot- 
 ous debauch, can it be denied that the most virtuous
 
 CONCLUSION 305 
 
 citizen of modern times is less continent than the 
 most reckless of these men ? Did not the very 
 calling inclination had led them to adopt, and ambi- 
 tion had forced them to retain, mark them out as 
 types of brutal and primitive humanity ? Had not 
 their career naturally tended to foster and exasperate 
 the savage instinct of combativeness, and conse- 
 quently of animalism ? Because they were soldiers, 
 were they therefore exempt from the tastes, the 
 needs, the appetites of other men ? And could it 
 be expected that monogamous scruples would so far 
 compel a man of this breed, as to keep him in- 
 variably faithful to an absent wife ? 
 
 Some indeed attained even to this chaste ideal. 
 Strange evidences are extant of such constancy ; 
 'among these men of iron there were lovers whose 
 hearts were capable of all the delicate fidelity 
 attributed by romancers to the great Cyrus himself. 
 Others, however, allowed themselves greater licence. 
 They took no account of such camp courtships, and 
 could not look upon them as infidelities ; neither 
 could they think with much compunction of the 
 passing intrigues they occasionally indulged in in 
 Paris adventures of an hour, concealed with so 
 much care that in many cases they were never heard 
 of until after the death of the principal actors. Even 
 these lax spirits combined with their grosser 
 animality a vein of sentimental fancy and conjugal 
 tenderness. Nothing was too rich, too beautiful, 
 too rare for the woman nearly every one among 
 them had married for love, without a thought 
 of self-interest. They pillaged Europe to gratify 
 the caprices of these women, and cast the spoils 
 at their feet. They sought to win their smiles by a
 
 306 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 tact, a patience, an assiduity of devotion which might 
 move to laughter, did it not rather incline to tears. 
 
 That Napoleon yielded to none among them in 
 devotion to his wife, his letters, his presents, the 
 enormous fortune he settled upon her sufficiently 
 prove. But the strain of sentimentality in his 
 character was wholly different. 
 
 They whom neither nature nor education had 
 endowed with scruples, evolved a code of conduct 
 for themselves, the basis of which was what they 
 called honour the honour of soldiers, differing in 
 many respects from that which Montesquieu describes 
 as the appanage of gentlemen, though they indeed 
 held that their swords had made them the equals 
 of the best in the land. They could not, how- 
 ever, find precedents on which to base their rules 
 in their own times, and they had little reverence 
 for the Lauzuns and Tillys of a past generation. 
 They still hated those whose places they had taken, 
 and disdained to ape their manners, claiming equality, 
 not so much with them, as with the ancestors of the 
 noblest among them. These ancestors were the 
 Crusaders ; and here we find the key to the extra- 
 ordinary success of what was known as the troubadour 
 movement, under the First Empire. ^ Where must 
 we look for the first impulse which set this stream of 
 tendency in motion ? Was it literature which created 
 the romantic idea in the minds of men, or the 
 romantic idea reflecting itself from those minds in 
 the literature of their day ? It matters little which. 
 What it behoves us to see is, that never did art or 
 literature respond more readily to national sentiment, 
 nor exercise a deeper influence on national manners
 
 CONCLUSION 307 
 
 an influence most potent and vivid, perhaps, in its 
 action on minds that could boast little previous 
 culture. 
 
 In 1806 the troubadour movement was at its 
 height in France. Novels, history, the theatre, 
 pictures, and costume alike proclaimed its sway. 
 The troubadour himself, however, counted for far 
 less in the matter than the knight whose exploits 
 the troubadour had sung the knight who professed 
 the worship of his lady, and claimed as the sole 
 reward of his exploits in the Holy Land, of infidels 
 slaughtered, dragons overcome, cities won from the 
 foe a scarf of her colours to wear in battle, and a 
 glance from her bright eyes. The warriors of the 
 Empire all endeavoured to model themselves upon 
 this ideal and imaginary knight. If they did not 
 bind a scarf of their lady's colours across their 
 breasts, hundreds of them carried on their swords a 
 tassel embroidered by beloved hands, wore a portrait 
 of her next their hearts, and decked themselves 
 before a battle with some love-token. 
 
 Napoleon felt the influence of the movement less 
 than many of his comrades. He was not carried 
 away by it, like his stepson, Eugene, and some of 
 his Marshals. But neither was he altogether un- 
 moved by this manifestation of the age, as we may 
 judge by many details of his relations with Marie- 
 Louise. This, however, was not until the close of 
 the Empire, when a feeling hitherto unknown to 
 him had begun to dominate and efface all others. 
 Up to this time his sentimentality owed nothing 
 to the new literature, but much, indeed all, to that 
 of the last generation. It was Rousseau, and 
 Rousseau alone, who gave Napoleon his sentimental
 
 3 o8 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 education. According to Josephine, he loved three 
 women only herself, Madame * * *, and Madame 
 Walewska. His letters both to Josephine and 
 Madame Walewska are pure Rousseau. In his 
 recorded conversations with them we also recognize 
 the tone of young Lieutenant Bonaparte's writings, 
 the phrases, the very words in which he lamented his 
 solitude and poverty at Valence. Those reflections 
 on the illusions and emptiness of life flow from the 
 same source. The same sufferings inspired in him 
 the same dreams, on three different occasions. As 
 Rousseau's pupil, he seems to have so saturated him- 
 self with the spirit of the master that he made it his 
 own ; and he, who had attempted everything, and 
 achieved the impossible in the world of realities, 
 was oppressed by impotence, negation, and disgust 
 in the realm of sentiment. It may be indeed, that 
 though Rousseau's influence is apparent in the 
 inception and expression of his youthful sentiment, 
 his moral temperature developed independently on 
 these lines, and received but a slight bias from litera- 
 ture. In his aspirations after the woman who would 
 love him for himself alone, be absolutely his, think- 
 ing of none but him, and vying with him in the in- 
 terchange of mutual tenderness, he was undoubtedly 
 sincere ; but we may ask how far he unconsciously 
 adopted the tone of his literary memories, and how 
 far he constrained himself to feel sensations which 
 he supposed to be rare and novel. 
 
 That such a strain of exaltation was in some 
 degree forced is shown, I think, by the fact that he 
 soon wearied of it. It did not bring him the joys 
 he had hoped for ; the woman he loved, or imagined 
 he loved, fell short of the ideal he had created.
 
 CONCLUSION 309 
 
 Some incident roused his suspicions, and caused a 
 revulsion of feeling. All was over. His acquired 
 sentimentality vanished in the light of his keen and 
 practical natural sense. But he turned at once to a 
 fresh experience, in which he found a deep and 
 enduring satisfaction. 
 
 In a man such as this we may well wonder at the 
 fidelity, not indeed of his senses, but of his heart. 
 He was unfaithful to Josephine ; he had mistresses, 
 some of whom he loved fondly and sincerely, with 
 whom he sounded all the depths as well as all the 
 puerilities of sentiment ; yet throughout he retained 
 such lasting tenderness, such real affection, such 
 indestructible passion for the woman who had held 
 the first place in his heart that he could forget all 
 she had thought, done, and said against him. He 
 did not forgive he obliterated it. 
 
 He could dismiss, as though they had never been 
 all those details of treachery of which we can hardly 
 suppose him to have been ignorant her lovers, her 
 venality, her debts. He remembered only that the 
 woman he had raised to the proudest place in 
 Europe, whom he had called to the throne, and 
 consecrated by the hands of the Pope, whom he had 
 associated with the most stupendous of destinies, 
 was grace and charm personified. He invested her 
 with good qualities, and even with virtues. He 
 decked her with all the graces the most passionate 
 lover could attribute to his mistress ; if he found 
 fault with her extravagance, his very reproaches 
 spoke of love, for he had given her the means to 
 gratify her prodigal tastes. 
 
 The true character of this woman, over whom he 
 threw a mantle of immortality due to the glamour
 
 3io NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 she exercised on him, and his unreal conception of 
 all pertaining to her, was so entirely unknown to 
 him, that if he deceived posterity about hen it was 
 because he was himself deceived. The illusion 
 persisted till his death. At St. Helena she still 
 appeared to his eyes, his heart, and his senses the 
 Josephine whom " General Vendemiaire " saw for 
 the first time in the little house of the Rue Chante- 
 reine, the Josephine of Milan and of Mombello, the 
 first, the only woman, it might almost be said, who 
 let loose the storms of passion in his breast, and 
 taught him to know and rejoice in love. 
 
 Josephine was throughout rather a mistress than 
 a wife; he loved, but he did not respect her. His 
 passion, exacting, masterful, and intemperate, had in 
 it a touch of half-contemptuous cynicism, which made 
 it easy for him to pour out perilous confidences, to 
 confess his own infidelities, to ask her help in 
 breaking off a connection that had become irksome. 
 Their intercourse towards the end partook of the 
 free-and-easy familiarity of a quondam lover and 
 his former mistress. At every turning-point in his 
 career he recognized the expediency of putting an 
 end to a connection which was not a marriage in his 
 eyes. He felt that it could not go on for ever, that 
 it was time for him to have done with it, and form 
 more serious ties. His superstitious conscience was 
 easily persuaded that a marriage without the bless- 
 ing of the Church was no marriage ; and that the 
 tardy ceremony of eight years later was invalidated 
 by the compulsion under which he consented to it. 
 Yet had a child been born of their union, he would 
 have held the contract, such as it was, to be 
 binding ; he would have recognized his obligations.
 
 CONCLUSION 311 
 
 But no child, no contract. In his parting with 
 Josephine he maintained the same attitude. He 
 offered her the consolations proper to a discarded 
 mistress plenty of money, a life of ease and 
 opulence. 
 
 In spite of his unconquerable weakness for this 
 woman, in spite of his lavish generosity to her, his 
 adoption of her children, the exalted positions to 
 which he raised her nieces and cousins, we may 
 doubt whether Napoleon ever looked upon her as 
 belonging to \i\sfamily, when we see how different 
 was his feeling for her to that he developed after 
 his marriage with Marie-Louise, especially when 
 Marie- Louise had given him a son. After his 
 second marriage, the conjugal spirit took possession 
 of him, and modified his whole character. His love 
 for Marie- Louise had little of the passion with which 
 Josephine had inspired him. Her attraction for him 
 was that of the wife, and not that of the mistress. 
 He felt that an infidelity to her would be an un- 
 pardonable offence, and his infrequent lapses were 
 concealed with a care that bore witness to his respect 
 for his marriage vows. He indulged in no inti- 
 macies, and took part in no amusements his wife did 
 not share. It was commonly reported that his delay 
 in undertaking the settlement of affairs in Spain was 
 caused by his reluctance to leave her. He had 
 rigidly excluded Josephine from any participation 
 in the government of the Empire ; but he called 
 upon Marie- Louise to share his power, and made 
 her Regent. He gave her credit for more intelli- 
 gence, judgment, and reason than he discerned in 
 his oldest counsellors, or any of his brothers. He 
 treated her thus, not only because she was the
 
 3 i2 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 mother of his son, though this, no doubt, had 
 due weight with him, but because he felt for 
 her that conjugal respect he had never felt for 
 Josephine. 
 
 Whereas to Josephine he was always the lover 
 even after her death to Marie- Louise he was always 
 the husband. The sentimental education he had 
 received from Rousseau influenced all his relations 
 with the former. With the latter his Corsican 
 atavism, the old tradition of his mountains, re- 
 asserted itself, heightened, no doubt, to some 
 extent by assimilation of the monarchic idea. He 
 worshipped the wife, sanctified and sublimated by 
 the mother. 
 
 He would not admit that his wife had abandoned 
 him ; he refused to know that she was false to him ; 
 being his wife, he supposed her beyond the reach of 
 ordinary temptations. So strong was this conjugal 
 loyalty in him, that he maintained it to the end, as 
 we know from his will. He, whose jealousy was so 
 inordinate that he complained bitterly of Madame 
 d'Ornano's marriage, had only words of praise and 
 tenderness for Marie- Louise. Was this merely an 
 extreme application of the monarchic principle of 
 respect to crowned heads ? Or was he anxious to 
 keep up his own illusion to the last ? Did he make 
 special allowance for the weaknesses of the Arch- 
 duchess, or did he suppose that the secret he 
 guarded to the end would be respected by history ? 
 There may have been a mingling of all these 
 influences in his mind. But above all, he was silent 
 because she was his wife, and his wife was above 
 suspicion. 
 
 Setting aside those purely physical distractions of
 
 CONCLUSION 313 
 
 which we have spoken, we recognize in Napoleon 
 a faculty for love as great as was his faculty for 
 thought or action ; we see him to have been no less 
 extraordinary as lover and husband than as warrior 
 and statesman. As a husband, he suffered in 
 silence to save his wife from the obloquy of pos- 
 terity ; and from 1815 to 1821, consistently played 
 a part to preserve her honour. He showed that he 
 could be faithful, tender, and respectful. He could 
 lay aside his imperious mood, and woo her with 
 all the timid flatteries of a youthful husband. 
 Jealous as he was by temperament, he was able 
 so far to control himself as to conceal his feelings 
 entirely in his wife's presence, and to affect the most 
 perfect confidence in her devotion when an ocean 
 lay between them, and she had forsaken and 
 betrayed him. 
 
 As a lover he was even more abnormal, if we 
 consider the strength of his passions, and the 
 amativity, if we may be allowed the word, which he 
 developed. There was not a note in the gamut of 
 human passion he did not sound, passing from the 
 fury of sensual and physical desire, to the most 
 suave and delicate phases of sentimental emotion. 
 Nothing escaped him, nothing was unknown to 
 him in the whole range of amorous sensation, 
 and as far as he himself was concerned, from 
 the personal and egotistic point of view, he was 
 an ideal lover. Women, perhaps, judged him dif- 
 ferently, and with the generality of them he seems 
 to have been capable of arousing an antagonism so 
 pronounced, that it may be questioned whether he 
 was ever really loved. For women can rarely love 
 the man in whom they recognize their master, the
 
 3i'4 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 superior, who bends them to his will, and refuses to 
 bow to theirs, who lays, the impress of his mind 
 upon them, and declines to conform to their 
 opinions. Who can know that he is truly loved ? 
 Is it not enough to have loved, to have tasted all 
 the delights of love to a degree undreamt-of by 
 lesser men ? 
 
 We have one last question to consider. Did any 
 of the women loved by Napoleon, whether as 
 husband or lover, exercise an appreciable influence 
 on his policy? Did they so far sway his mind as 
 to determine his public action ? We can find no 
 trace of direct intervention, either on the part of 
 wife or mistress. But it is indisputable that the 
 impressions he received of and from several among 
 them, his conversations with them, the circumstances 
 connected with certain liaisons, led to the conception 
 of new ideas, the modification of old ones, and even 
 to the determination of his course in certain crises 
 of his career. 
 
 Passionately as he loved fier, Josephine is not 
 foremost among the women to whom we may trace 
 the genesis of certain political resolutions. It 
 would be an error to conceive of her as stimulating 
 his social ambition by attracting the old nobility to 
 his cause, and inducing him occasionally to sacrifice 
 the spirit of the revolution to the traditions of the 
 ancient order. It was he himself who was bent on 
 gaining the aristocrats, at the price, as it proved, of 
 being sold and betrayed by them. Josephine re- 
 cruited among them by his orders. Josephine 
 distributed his bounty, but this was because he 
 thought it would come better from her hands,
 
 CONCLUSION 315 
 
 and produce a more favourable impression. As a 
 matter of policy, he allowed reversals of decrees 
 against emigrants, restitution of estates, and all 
 such favours as he thought likely to dispose nobles 
 and great ladies to gratitude, or at least to neutrality, 
 to pass through Josephine's hands. But to such 
 measures he was himself inclined ; and, except on 
 those rare occasions when he was taken by surprise, 
 he only allowed such favours to be solicited as he 
 had already made up his mind to grant. His kingly 
 instinct was not sufficiently pronounced to make 
 him take pleasure in repulsing a weeping woman, 
 begging for the life of her husband or brother. A 
 few useful hints, together with many false im- 
 pressions, and indications more or less exact, seem 
 to be all he owed to Josephine socially. 
 
 But to others we may trace, directly or indirectly, 
 some of the most decisive acts of his career. 
 When Mademoiselle Denuelle de la Plaigne became 
 enceinte by him, he made up his mind to the 
 divorce, and the approaching birth of Madame 
 Walewska's child finally confirmed him in this 
 determination. A new light is thrown upon his 
 whole policy in connection with Poland, when we 
 remember who was his mistress in 1807, 1808, and 
 1809. Again, his extraordinary forbearance to 
 Bernadotte is clearly referable to his early affection 
 for De"siree. As soon as he had become the 
 husband of Marie- Louise, and through her a 
 member of the Austrian royal family, he con- 
 sidered the ties thus formed as close and durable 
 as those which bound him to his own family. 
 Hence that confident reliance on the continued 
 friendship and support of Austria which was his
 
 316 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 own undoing. If his sense of family obligations 
 was so strong that he relied on them alone to 
 cement political alliances as he undoubtedly did in 
 his negotiations with Bavaria, Baden, and Wiirtem- 
 burg, to say nothing of Austria it is hardly 
 surprising that the conjugal spirit should have 
 dominated him so absolutely ; nor can we wonder 
 that Marie- Louise, not by direct intervention, but 
 by virtue of the place he accorded her in his 
 combinations, and the prestige with which he 
 surrounded her, should have exercised an unpre- 
 cedented influence on his policy, both at home and 
 abroad. 
 
 Would he have been a man had it been other- 
 wise ? Was it not because he was keenly susceptible 
 to the highest feelings of humanity ; because he 
 retained a faithful and tender recollection of his 
 first love ; because he had the family instincts of 
 his race, and the conjugal devotion enjoined by 
 monogamic morality, that his downfall was so stu- 
 pendous and so irreparable ? 
 
 If woman had played no part in his life, Napoleon 
 would not have been what he is, the most com- 
 plete and extraordinary type of masculine genius 
 on record. He would have been a something- 
 
 o 
 
 sexless and supernatural, a being in whom humanity 
 could feel no interest, because he had neither 
 shared its passions nor followed its traditions. 
 Whereas he, whose intellectual powers were greater 
 than those of any man before or after him, who, 
 rising to the level of his extraordinary fortunes, 
 found in his mighty mind resources equal to his 
 splendid opportunities, and who accomplished the 
 grandest task ever undertaken by mortal, was essen-
 
 CONCLUSION 317 
 
 tially a man to whom no human emotion was 
 unknown. 
 
 It is human to feel the influence of woman, to 
 love her, to believe in her, to experience every 
 sentiment and sensation she can inspire. And here, 
 as in all other phases of character, Napoleon was 
 the superior of other men.
 
 NOTE A. 
 
 I HAVE to thank Monsieur Paul Le Blanc of Brioude, for calling 
 my attention to two articles by Monsieur H. Mosnier, published 
 in the Haute-Loire of August 23 and 24, 1892. In these articles 
 Monsieur Mosnier gives an exhaustive account of The Adventures 
 of Monsieur de Ranc/ioup, correcting my narrative in several 
 points of some interest. The Ranchoups, he says, occupied a 
 very humble position in the seventeenth century. They were, 
 in fact, agricultural labourers in the villages of Bougernes, Solages, 
 and Ranchoup, near Craponne. In 1651, one of the family 
 attained the dignity of Consul of Craponne, and after this date 
 they seem to have risen considerably in the social scale, inter- 
 marrying with various highly respectable families of the town. 
 At the beginning of the eighteenth century, one Pierre Ranchoup 
 settled at Puy, practising as a surgeon ; he had five sons, one of 
 whom became tutor to the Comte de Mailly ; another, a canon 
 of Chartres ; a third emigrated to the West Indies, settled at 
 San Domingo, where he held the post of lieutenant to the Provost, 
 and married Mademoiselle Denain, daughter of a Bordeaux ship- 
 owner, by whom he became the father of Madame Foures' 
 second husband, Pierre-Henri Ranchoup. 
 
 The said Pierre-Henri, born at Cap Frangais, was sent to 
 France at an early age, his uncles undertaking the care of his 
 education, an office they found to be no sinecure by the time he 
 had reached his sixteenth year. A commission was obtained 
 for him in the Anjou Regiment, in which he rose to the rank of 
 sub-lieutenant a year later. In 1781 he went to India, where 
 he fought with some distinction, and was badly wounded. His 
 mother died shortly aftenvards, leaving him a legacy of thirty 
 thousand francs, which he returned to France to squander.
 
 NOTE A. 319 
 
 When he had spent every penny of his fortune, he took shelter 
 for a time with his uncle at Chartres, and in 1787 started for 
 Constantinople, where he became a major in the Turkish army, 
 fighting in the Moldavian and Wallachian campaigns. In 1795 
 he was still in Turkey, directing a military school, and forming 
 a Turkish army corps on Western principles. 
 
 When the Egyptian campaign began he was in Paris. He 
 offered his services to the Directory, and seems to have been 
 employed on a mission to Hungary. On his return from Hungary 
 in 1800, he met Madame Foures, who, dazzled by the "de," and 
 the title of Chevalier assumed by Ranchoup, married him, and 
 on Brumaire u, year X. (October 19, 1801), obtained the 
 appointment of Sub-Commissary of Trade at Santander for him. 
 Three years later he was made Consul, and in 1807 was trans- 
 ferred to Cartagena. Madame de Ranchoup complains of the 
 transfer in a very curious letter to Talleyrand, enclosing a direct 
 request to the Emperor for a Consul-Generalship, either at 
 Dantzic or Hamburg. This, she tells Napoleon, is the last 
 request she will ever make to him, a statement somewhat difficult 
 to reconcile with her description of it to Talleyrand, as " the first 
 favour she had ever asked of the Emperor in her life." 
 
 It was not, however, till June 27, 1810, that Ranchoup was 
 appointed Consul at Gothenburg. His wife does not appear to 
 have accompanied him to Sweden. In 1812 and 1813 she 
 spent a considerable part of the year at Craponne. Was this an 
 exile, as Monsieur Boutin supposed ? Monsieur Mosnier thinks 
 not, and indeed there seems to be little ground for a contrary 
 opinion. About 1814 or 1815 the couple, who lived on some- 
 what indifferent terms with each other, formally separated. In 
 1816 Ranchoup obtained the management of the Theatre of 
 Nantes, and soon became bankrupt. He then embarked on a 
 long persecution of the Minister for Foreign Affairs, whom he 
 bombarded with requests and solicitations. The following note 
 is written on the margin of his last petition " These incessant 
 appeals seem to be the result of mania. In future, they need not 
 be answered." He seems nevertheless to have been in receipt of 
 a salary of some sort in 1826. Towards the close of the year, 
 however, we find him in the Hospital of St. Louis, from whence 
 he sent out what was probably his final cry of distress. The 
 story of the adventurer whom Madame Foures married completes 
 her history so far. That of Monsieur Auguste Bellard remains
 
 320 NAPOLEON AND THE FAIR SEX 
 
 to be discovered. There is also a second point which calls for 
 investigation, namely, the history of a young girl of twenty, who 
 was with Madame de Ranchoup during her sojourn in Paris in 
 1825, on her return from Brazil. The young lady was known as 
 Mademoiselle Longchamp, but was commonly supposed to be 
 Madame de Ranchoup's daughter. We find from the police 
 reports, that Madame de Ranchoup herself passed occasionally 
 as Madame Longchamp. The clearing up of this little mystery 
 might prove interesting. I venture to recommend a study of 
 the facts to my learned and amiable correspondents of the 
 Haute-Loire. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London & Buttgay.
 
 000 101 734 2