Nevertheless she had to obey. June 15, 1806, Louis started from Saint Leu to go to his kingdom. He was accompanied by his wife and his two sons, the elder, Charles Napoleon, who died in Holland the 5th of the next May, and the other, Louis Napoleon, who died at Forte, in 1831, in the insurrection of the States of the Church against the Pope. His third son, later Napoleon III., was born in 1808. The new King entered The Hague June 23, 1806. He countermanded a body of French troops which the Emperor had designed for his escort at his entrance into the capital, being unwilling to appear before his subjects as a sovereign imposed upon them by actual force. "You may be sure," he said to them, "that from the moment I set foot on the soil of this kingdom, I became a Dutchman." The same day General Dupont Chaumont, French Minister at The Hague, wrote to Prince Talleyrand: "To-day, June 23, His Majesty made his formal entrance into his capital. He went to the Assembly where he received the oath of the representatives of the people and made a speech which was much applauded. The French camp obtained permission from the Governor of the Palace to surprise Their Majesties by fireworks and military music. These festivities naturally put a stop to all business, except for His Majesty, who finds time to examine and decide the most urgent matters, the ease with which he works greatly surprising a nation unaccustomed to such activity. Already the King and Queen are spoken of most enthusiastically by those who have had the honor to be presented to Their Majesties. The satisfaction will be general, when many shall have had the opportunity to approach the throne."
In spite of the optimisms of this despatch, the new King was to have an unhappy reign. His loyal and upright intentions were to be shattered against the inflexible will of his formidable brother. Louis was a just man and sincerely devoted to his people. He was called, and is still called, "the good King Louis": but the Emperor, who ironically reproached him with trying to win the affection of shopkeepers, was to write to him in 1807: "A monarch who is called a good king, is a king that's ruined." As for Queen Hortense, more and more tormented by her husband's suspicions, with her health impaired by the moist climate, and her ever- growing melancholy, she was to feel like a condemned exile in her kingdom. No woman ever gave a complete lie to the expression, "As happy as a queen."
XX.
THE EMPRESS AT MAYENCE.
In spite of all the honors that encompassed her, the Empress was ever more and more unhappy. The departure of her daughter Hortense left a void in her life that nothing could fill. She wrote to the new Queen from Saint Cloud, July 15, 1806: "Since you left I have been ill, sad, and unhappy; I have even been feverish and have had to keep my bed. I am now well again, but my sorrow remains. How could it be otherwise when I am separated from a daughter like you, loving, gentle, and amiable, who was the charm of my life?… How is your husband? Are my grandchildren well? Heavens, how sad it makes me not to see them! and how is your health, dear Hortense? If you are ever ill, let me know, and I will hasten to you at once…. Good by, my dear Hortense, think often of your mother, and be sure that never was a daughter more loved than you are. Many kind messages to your husband; kiss the children for me. It would be very kind of you to send me some of your songs."
Josephine was about to have another cause for grief. A new war was imminent, but the Empress hid her uneasiness in order not to distance Hortense. "All your letters," she wrote to her, "are charming, and you are kind to write so often. I have heard from Eugene and his wife; they are evidently very happy, and so am I, for I am going with the Emperor, and am already packing. I assure you, that even if this war breaks out, I have no fear; the nearer I am to the Emperor, the less I shall care, and I feel that I should die if I stayed here. Another joy to me is our meeting at Mayence. The Emperor has bidden me tell you that he has just given to the King of Holland an army of eighty thousand men, and his command will extend to Mayence. He thinks that you can come then and stay with me. Is not that an agreeable bit of news for a mother who loves you so dearly? Every day we shall have news of the Emperor and your husband; we will be happy together. The Grand Duke of Berg spoke to me about you and the children; kiss them for me till I can kiss them for myself, as well as my daughter; this will be soon, I hope. My best regards to the King."
Napoleon was about to begin a gigantic war against Prussia and Russia. In spite of his confidence in his star, he was not without some apprehensions, and he left reluctantly. A cloud seemed to hang over Saint Cloud. "Why are you so gloomy?" the Emperor asked Madame de Rémusat, whose husband, the First Chamberlain, had just been sent to Mayence to prepare the Emperor's quarters. "I am gloomy," she replied, "because my husband has left me." And as Napoleon sneered at her conjugal devotion, she added: "Sire, I take no part in heroic joys, and for my part, I had placed my glory in happiness." Then the Emperor burst out laughing and said: "Happiness? Oh yes, happiness has a great deal to do with this century!"
The Empress hoped to accompany her husband as far as Mayence, and remain there during the war, with her daughter. At the last moment she came near missing even this. Napoleon wanted to go off alone, but she wept so much, besought him so earnestly, that he took pity on her and gave her leave to enter his carriage; she had but a single chambermaid with her. Her household was to join her some days later.
Napoleon and Josephine left Saint Cloud in the night of September 24, 1806. After stopping for some hours at Metz, they reached Mayence the 28th. The Emperor started again, October 2, at nine in the evening, for the head of the army. At this moment he had an access of affection and a revival of his old tenderness for the woman who long since had inspired him with much love. Seeing that she was weeping bitterly, he, too, shed tears, and was even attacked by convulsions. They made him sit down and gave him a few drops of orange-flower water. In a few moments he controlled his emotion, gave Josephine a farewell kiss, and said: "The carriages are ready, are they not? Tell those gentlemen and let us be off."
The Empress remained at Mayence. Napoleon wrote to her October 5, 1806: "There is no reason why the Princess of Baden should not go to Mayence. I don't know why you are so distressed; it is wrong of you to grieve so much. Hortense is inclined to pedantry; she is liberal with advice. She wrote to me, and I answered her. She should be happy and gay. Courage and gaiety, that is the recipe." It is plain that the Emperor's gloom had been of brief duration. When he was once more at war, in his element, he had quickly resumed his customary eagerness. He wrote to his wife from Bamberg, October 7: "I leave this evening for Kronach. The whole army is in motion. All goes on well; my health is perfect. I have not yet received any letters from you, but I have heard from Eugene and Hortense. Stephanie ought to be with you. Her husband [the Prince of Baden] wishes to take part in the war; he is with me. Good by. A thousand kisses and good health!" Again, October 18: "Today I am at Gera. Everything goes on as well as I could hope. With God's aid, the poor King of Prussia will be in a lamentable state, I think. I am personally sorry for him, because he is a good man. The Queen is at Erfurt with the King. If she wants to see a battle, she will have that cruel pleasure. I am wonderfully well, and have gained flesh since I left; and yet I go twenty or twenty-five leagues every day, on horseback or in a carriage,—in every possible way. I go to bed at eight and get up at midnight, sometimes, I think, before you have gone to bed. Ever yours."