The Court of the Empress Josephine

by Imbert de Saint-Amand

In these campaigns Napoleon was not yet surrounded by the comforts which later made war less fatiguing for him, perhaps too easy. He endured all the toil and privation of a private soldier. In five minutes his table, his coffee, his bed were prepared. Often in less time than that the bodies of men and horses had to be removed to make room for his tent. His longest meal lasted no more than eight or ten minutes. The Emperor would then call for horses and leave in company with Berthier, one or two riders, and Roustan, his faithful Mameluke. At night, when lying on his little iron bed, he took but little rest. Hardly had he fallen asleep when he would call his valet de chambre who slept in the same tent: "Constant!" "Sire." "See what aide-de-camp is on duty." "Sire, it is so-and-so." "Tell him to come and speak to me." The aide-de-camp would arrive: "You must go to such a corps, commanded by Marshal so-and-so; you will tell him to place such a regiment in such a position; you will ascertain the position of the enemy, then you will report to me." The Emperor seemed to fall asleep again, but in a few moments he was calling again: "Constant!" "Sire." "Summon the Prince of Neufchâtel." The Major-General would appear in a great hurry, and Napoleon would dictate some orders to him. That is the way his nights were passed.

The night before the battle of Jena was an exception, and the Emperor slept soundly, "Yet," says General de Ségur, "our position was so perilous that some of us said the enemy could have thrown a bullet across all our lines with the hand. This was so true that the first cannon-ball fired the next day passed over our heads and killed a cook at his canteen far behind us." At about five o'clock Napoleon asked of Marshal Soult: "Shall we beat them?" "Yes, if they are there." answered the Marshal; "I am only afraid they have left." At that moment, the first musketry fire was heard, "There they are!" said the Emperor, joyfully; "there they are! the business is beginning." Then he went to address the infantry, encouraging them to crush the famous Prussian cavalry. "This cavalry," he said, "must be destroyed here, before our squares, as we crushed the Russian infantry at Austerlitz." The victory was overwhelming. Napoleon thus recounted it in a letter to the Empress, dated Jena, October 15, at three in the morning: "My dear, I have done some good manoeuvring against the Prussians. Yesterday I gained a great victory. They were one hundred and fifty thousand men; I have made twenty thousand prisoners, captured one hundred cannon and flags. I was facing the King of Prussia and very near him; I just missed capturing him and the Queen. I have been bivouacking for two days. I am wonderfully well. Good by, my dear, keep well and love me. If Hortense is at Mayence, give her a kiss as well as Napoleon and the little one." And again from Weimar, October 16: "M. Talleyrand will have shown you the bulletin and you will have seen our success. Everything has turned out as I planned, and never was an army more thoroughly beaten and destroyed. I will only add that I am well; that fatigue, watching, and the bivouac have made me stouter. Good by, my dear, much love to Hortense and the great Napoleon."

Hortense had joined her mother at Mayence with her two sons, meeting there her relative, Princess Stéphanie of Baden, the Princess of Nassau and her daughters, many generals' wives, who had desired to be near the scene of war to get early news. With what impatience tidings were awaited! With what curiosity and respect were read and discussed the two or three words scrawled by the hand of the Emperor or of his lieutenants! A lookout had been placed a league away on the high-road, who announced the coming of a messenger by blowing on a horn. At the same time the files of prisoners were seen passing on their way to France. Josephine, ever kind and pitiful, tried to soften their lot and gave aid and comfort to officers and soldiers.

Meanwhile Napoleon continued his triumphal march. From Wittenberg he wrote to his wife, October 23: "I have received a number of letters from you. I write but a word: everything goes on well. To-morrow I shall be at Potsdam, the 25th at Berlin. I am perfectly well; fatigue agrees with me. I am glad to hear of you in company together with Hortense and Stéphanie. The weather has so far been very pleasant. Much love to Stéphanie and to every one, including M. Napoleon. Good by, my dear. Ever yours."

At Potsdam the Emperor visited the celebrated palace of Sans Souci and found the room of Frederick the Great as it had been in his lifetime, and guarded by one of his old servants. He then went to the Protestant church which contained the hero's tomb. "The door of the monument was open," says General de Ségur. "Napoleon paused at the entrance, in a grave and respectful attitude. He gazed into the shadow enclosing the hero's ashes, and stood thus for nearly ten minutes, motionless, silent, as if buried in deep thought. There were five or six of us with him: Duroc, Caulaincourt, an aide-de-camp, and I. We gazed at this solemn and extraordinary scene, imagining the two great men face to face, identifying ourselves with the thoughts we ascribed to our Emperor before that other genius whose glory survived the overthrow of his work, who was as great in extreme adversity as in success." The eighteenth bulletin said of this tomb: "The great man's remains are enclosed in a wooden coffin covered with copper, and are placed in a vault, with no ornaments, trophies, or other distinction recalling his great actions." The Emperor presented to the Invalides in Paris Frederick's sword, his ribbon of the Black Eagle, his general's sash, as well as the flags carried by his guard in the Seven Years' War. The old veterans of the army of Hanover received with religious respect everything which had belonged to one of the first captains whose memory is recorded in history. When he saw that the Prussian court had not thought of making those relics safe from invasion, the hero of Jena, who on this occasion abused his victory, exclaimed as he pointed to the famous sword: "I prefer that to twenty millions." In his letters to Josephine, Napoleon made no mention of his impressions in the house of Frederick. He simply wrote, October 24: "I have been at Potsdam since yesterday, and shall spend to-day here. I continue to be satisfied with everything. My health is good; the weather is fine. I find Sans Souci very agreeable. Good by, my dear. Much love to Hortense and M. Napoleon."

October 27, 1806, the Emperor made his formal entrance into Berlin, surrounded by his guard and followed by the cuirassiers of the divisions of Hautpoul and Nansouty. He proceeded in triumph from the Charlottenburger gate to the King's Palace, of which he was to take possession. The populace crowded the streets, but uttered no cries of hate or flattery for the conqueror. "Prussia was happy," says Thiers, "at not being divided, and at retaining its dignity in its disasters. The enemy's entrance was not first the overthrow of one party and the triumph of another; it contained no unworthy faction, indulging in odious joy and applauding the presence of foreign soldiers! We Frenchmen, unhappier in our defeats, have known this abominable joy; for we have seen everything in this century: the extremes of victory and of defeat, of grandeur and of abasement, of the purest devotion and of the blackest treachery!" Alas! What Frenchman could have foretold in 1806 the disasters of 1814 and 1815? The army deemed itself invincible and was wild with joyful pride. Davout, whose men the Emperor had just congratulated, wrote to him in great enthusiasm: "Sire, we are your tenth legion. Everywhere and at all times the third corps will be for you what that legion was for Caesar." Never did soldiers have greater enthusiasm or more confidence in their leader.

One might have said that Josephine, amid all these triumphs, had a presentiment of the future. Victories could not dispel her sadness. Her husband wrote to her November 1: "Talleyrand has come, and tells me that you do nothing but cry. But what do you want? You have your daughters, your grandchildren, and good news; certainly you have the materials for happiness and content. The weather here is superb; not a drop of rain has fallen in the whole campaign, I am in good health, and everything is progressing favorably. Good by. I have received a letter from M. Napoleon; I don't think it is from him but from Hortense. Love to all."

Napoleon was not modest in his triumph. He pursued with sarcasms the nobility of Prussia and Queen Louise who had warmly counselled war. This fair sovereign, the mother of the late Emperor William, was then thirty years old; she was the daughter of a Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz and of a Princess of Hesse-Darmstadt. She was a most thorough German, hated France, and especially the French Revolution. She was a fearless horsewoman, and had been seen facing great dangers at the battle of Jena. When she rode before her troops in her helmet of polished steel, shaded by a plume, in her glittering golden cuirass, her tunic of silver stuff, her red boots with gold spurs, she resembled Tasso's heroines. The soldiers burst into cries of enthusiasm, as they saw their warlike Queen; before her were bowed the flags she had embroidered with her own hands, and the old, torn, and battle-stained standards of Frederick the Great. After the battle she was obliged to take flight, at full gallop, to avoid being captured by the French hussars.

In his bulletins the Emperor had made the serious blunder of speaking of Queen Louise in a manner wanting in proper respect for a woman, and especially for a woman in misfortune. Josephine, who was full of tact, was much pained by this lack of generosity, and reproached her husband for it. Napoleon sought to excuse himself, writing, November 6: "I have received your letter in which you seem pained by the evil I say of women. It is true that I hate, more than anything, intriguing women. I am used to kindly, gentle, conciliating women; those are the ones I love. If they have spoiled me, it is not my fault, but yours. Now I will show you that I have been very good for one who has shown herself sensible and kind, Madame Hatzfeld. When I showed her her husband's letter, bursting into tears, she said to me with, great emotion, and simplicity: 'It is certainly his hand-writing!' As she read it, her accent touched my heart and gave me real distress, I said to her: 'Well, Madame, throw that letter into the fire, I shall not be strong enough to punish your husband,' She burned the letter and seemed to be very happy, Her husband has ever since been very calm; two hours more, and he would have been a ruined man. You see then that I love kind, simple, gentle women; but it's because they are like you. Good by, my dear, I am well."

The kingdom of Prussia was conquered, but the war was not over, After fighting the Prussians he had to fight the Russians; the war in Poland was beginning. Napoleon wrote to the King of Prussia: "Your Majesty has announced to me that you have thrown yourself into the arms of the Russians. The future will decide whether this is the best and wisest choice. You have taken the dice-box and thrown the dice; the dice will decide it." At Paris, in spite of the splendors of the Imperial glory, there existed a vague uneasiness. Peace had been expected after Jena, and some apprehension was felt about the renewal of the struggle in the northern steppes. Madame de Rémusat wrote, November 9, to her husband, who was at Mayence with the Empress, "There is something in the Emperor's career which confounds ordinary calculations, and, so to speak, goes beyond them. It is most impressive, and, I might say, alarming, and yet he seems so far above customary conditions that there is no need of fear about the points to which he exposes himself, and still less, draw the line at which he shall stop. But I shudder to think how far he is from us at this moment. May God be with him, I am ever praying, and preserve him! While this great part of the French nation which is under his orders, is marching to great victories, we are vegetating here in complete dulness. There is very little society, and no houses are open."