As a matter of fact, Napoleon regarded the divorce as a great state affair. To perpetuate France’s peace, stability, glory, an heir was necessary; therefore he and Josephine who loved each other parted. They suffered that France might live. The divorce then, was to be regarded as a sacrificial rite, and Josephine was to be placed before the country as a noble victim to whom the greatest honor then and ever should be shown. Such was Napoleon’s idea, and quietly, in this month after his return from Schönbrunn, he was preparing a ceremony which would put the affair in this light to the country. It was for this reason he summoned all the members of the Bonaparte and Beauharnais families from far and near; that he gathered in France all that was great in the Empire and among his allies; that he made Fontainebleau a veritable court of kings. To poor Josephine all of this looked like a cruel device to parade her grief and dishonor.
THE DIVORCE OF NAPOLEON AND JOSEPHINE.
About the middle of November, the court came to Paris; but still the Emperor delayed, he could not say the word. The constraint between the two became constantly greater; the suffering of both, it was evident to all their intimate friends, was increasing. At last, on November 30th, after a silent and wretched dinner, Napoleon led Josephine into a salon, dismissed their followers, and told her of his decision. Josephine grasping nothing in his broken words but that they were to be separated, burst into tears, and fell upon a couch, where she lay sobbing aloud. She was carried to her apartment, where her attendants vainly sought to check her wild grief. Nor was her calm restored until late in the evening, when Hortense came to her with an explanation of the situation, which seems to have been entirely new to her mind. The Emperor, overwhelmed by Josephine’s outburst, had strengthened his own mind by summoning immediately to his side certain advisors who favored the divorce. After talking with them, he had sent for Hortense, and begun rather brutally by telling her that tears would do no good, that he had made up his mind that the divorce was necessary to the safety of the Empire, and that she and her mother must accept it as inevitable. Hortense replied with dignity that the Empress, whatever her grief, would obey his will, and that she and Eugène would follow her into exile; that none of them would complain at their disgrace, that all would remember his past kindness. This seems to have been Napoleon’s first glimmer of the idea of the divorce which the Beauharnais entertained. He began to weep. “What!” he cried, “do you and Eugène mean to desert me? You must not do it, you must stay with me. Your position, the future of your children, require it. However cruel the divorce for both your mother and me, it must be consummated with the dignity which the circumstances require.” Everything which could be done to soften the situation for Josephine should be done, he said. She should remain the first in rank after the Empress on the throne. She should receive the honors due her sacrifice; she should remain in France. Her income should be fit for her rank, she should be given palaces, a retinue—all that a grateful France could do, in short, should be done. As for Hortense and Eugène, he looked upon them as his children, and should do for them as he would for his own.
This new idea of her fate had great effect on Josephine; and when her friends came to her to console her, weep as she might, she defended Napoleon, and presented the divorce as a sacrifice which they were together making for France. “The Emperor is as nearly heart-broken as I am,” she sobbed. “It cannot be helped. There must be an heir to consolidate the Empire.”
Now that Josephine knew his decision, Napoleon’s reserve and coldness passed. He gave her every attention, tried to anticipate every wish, enveloped her in tenderness. This change of demeanor surprised and confused the court, where as yet the divorce was a matter of conjecture to all save Napoleon’s confidential advisors. Had he changed his mind? As they saw the Empress smilingly going through the great fêtes, they began to say that after all he had not had the courage to make the separation. Napoleon’s kindly attitude seems to have given Josephine a hope that he had changed his mind. But a week after her interview with him, Eugène arrived in Paris, and she knew soon that divorce was inevitable and that the first steps were already taken to consummate it. Another distressing interview between herself and the Emperor followed, at which Eugène was present, and here again Napoleon promised her his care, his affection, a continued interest in her children. When she left this interview, she knew that in a few days more the court, Paris, France, would know of her fate. Overwhelmed as she was, weak with constant weeping in private, a prey to a hundred unreasonable fears as to her future, Josephine nevertheless went through her duties in these last days with a brave face and a sweet smile. Never did she win more favor from the better part of the court; never did she deserve it more than for her courage at this moment.
December 15th was set for the first act in the official part of the drama. At nine o’clock in the morning, Josephine went to the salon of the Emperor, accompanied by Eugène and Hortense. Here she found assembled all of the members of the Bonaparte family, who were in Paris, Napoleon, King Louis, King Jerome, King Murat and the Queens of Spain, Naples, and Westphalia, together with the French Arch-Chancellor and the Minister of State. The ceremony was opened at once by Napoleon. If any of the Bonapartes hoped to see Josephine humiliated at last, they must have been grievously disappointed. Every word of the Emperor was intended to place her in the eyes of France as its chief benefactor and friend—the woman who sacrificed herself for the country’s good. Napoleon’s remarks to the little company show exactly the interpretation he wished placed on the act, and there is no reason to believe that he was not sincere in what he said at this time. In a voice broken by agitation, he announced that he and the Empress had resolved to have their marriage annulled. Addressing the Arch-Chancellor, he said:
“I sent you a sealed letter dated to-day, directing you to come to my study, in order to make known to you the resolution that the Empress, my most dear wife, and I have taken. I am glad that the kings, queens, and princes, my brothers and sisters, my brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law, my step-daughter and my step-son, my son by adoption, as well as my mother, are present at the interview. My politics, the interest and need of my people, which have always guided my actions, make it necessary that I should leave children behind me, heirs of my love for this people and of this throne where providence has placed me. However, I have abandoned all hope now for several years of having children by my beloved wife, the Empress Josephine. It is this which has led me to sacrifice the sweetest affections of my heart and to listen only to the idea of the good of the State, and consequently to dissolve our marriage. Arrived at the age of forty years, I dare hope that I shall live long enough to rear, according to my own ideas, the children that it shall please Providence to give me. God knows how much this resolution has cost me; but there is no sacrifice that is beyond my courage when I am convinced that it will be useful to France. I must add, that far from ever having had any reason to complain of my wife, I can only praise her love and tenderness. For fifteen years she has been the ornament of my life. The recollection will always remain engraved on my heart; she has been crowned by my hand, and I mean that she shall preserve the rank and title of Empress, and I hope that above all she will never doubt my feelings toward her and that she will always consider me her best and truest friend.”
When the Emperor ceased to speak, Josephine attempted to read the little address which had been prepared for her, but her voice failed her, and she passed her paper to one of the party:—
“With the permission of my august and dear husband,” so her speech read, “I declare that having given up all hope of bearing the children which would satisfy the political needs and the welfare of France, I am glad to give to him the greatest proof of attachment and devotion which has ever been given in this world. All that I have I hold because of his goodness; it was his hand which crowned me, and from my throne I have received only affection and love from the French people. I believe I am showing my gratitude for these benefits by consenting to the dissolution of a marriage which henceforth is an obstacle to the welfare of France, which deprives her of the happiness of being one day governed by the descendants so evidently raised up by Providence to wipe out the evils of a terrible revolution and reëstablish the altar, throne, and social order; but the dissolution of my marriage can never change the feelings of my heart. In me the Emperor will always have his best friend. I know how much this act, demanded by politics and by high interests, has wounded his heart, but we both glory in the sacrifice that we make for the good of the country.”