Memoirs of the Empress Josephine, Vol. 1 of 2

by Madame de Rémusat

At last we were told, one evening, that on the following day the Senate was to come in great state and lay before Bonaparte the decree which should give him a crown. When I recall that evening, the emotions I experienced on hearing the news return to me. The First Consul, when informing his wife of the coming event, had told her he intended to surround himself with a more numerous Court, but that he would fitly distinguish between the new-comers and those old servants who had first devoted themselves to his service. He particularly desired her to assure M. de Rémusat and me of his good will toward us. I have already told how he bore with the anguish which I was unable to hide on the occasion of the death of the Duc d’Enghien. His indulgence on this point did not diminish; perhaps it amused him to pry into my secret feelings, and gradually to appease them by such marked kindness that it revived my flagging attachment to him.

I could not as yet overcome my feelings toward him. I grieved over his great fault; but when I saw that he was, so to speak, a better man than formerly, though I believed he had made a fatal mistake, I felt grateful to him for keeping his word and being gentle and kind afterward, as he had promised. The fact is that at this period he could not afford to dispense with anybody, and he therefore neglected no means of success. His dexterous behaviour toward M. de Caulaincourt had won him over so that he had gradually recovered his former serenity of mind, and was at this epoch one of the confidants of the First Consul’s schemes. Bonaparte, having questioned his wife as to what each person at Court had said at the time of the prince’s death, learned from her that M. de Rémusat, who was habitually reticent both from inclination and from prudence, but who always spoke the truth when asked, had not hesitated to own his indignation. Being apparently resolved that nothing should irritate him, he broached the subject to M. de Rémusat, and, having revealed to him as much of his policy as he thought proper, succeeded in convincing my husband that he had really believed the Duke’s death indispensable to the safety of France. My husband, when repeating this conversation to me, said, “I am far from agreeing with him that this deed of blood was needed to establish his authority, and I did not hesitate to tell him so; but I own that it is a relief to me to think that he did not commit the crime out of revenge. He is evidently distressed, no matter what he may say, by the effect it has produced; and I believe he will never again seek to strengthen his authority by such terrible means. I did not neglect to point out to him that in an age like ours, and in a nation like ours, it is playing a dangerous game to rule by terror and bloodshed; and I think that the earnest attention with which he listened to me augurs well for the future.”

This sincere avowal of what we both felt shows how much need we had of hope. Severe judges of other people might blame us, no doubt, for the facility with which we again deceived ourselves, and impute our credulity, with apparent justice, to our own position in the Court. Ah! it is so hard to have to blush in secret for the calling one has chosen, it is so pleasant to like one’s self-imposed duties, it is so natural to paint in bright colors one’s own and one’s country’s future, that it is only after a long struggle the conviction of a truth which must shatter one’s whole life is admitted. Such a truth did come home to us, slowly, but with a strength that could not be gainsaid; and we paid dearly for an error to which all well-disposed persons clung as long as possible.

On May 18, 1804, the Second Consul, Cambacérès, President of the Senate, came to Saint Cloud, accompanied by all the senators and escorted by a large body of troops. He made a set speech, and gave to Bonaparte for the first time the title of “Your Majesty.” Bonaparte took it calmly, just as though he had borne it all his life. The Senate then proceeded to the apartment of Mme. Bonaparte, who in her turn was proclaimed Empress. She replied with that natural grace which always raised her to the level of any position, however lofty, in which she might be placed.

At the same time, the Grand Dignitaries, as they were called, were created—Grand Elector, Joseph Bonaparte; High Constable, Louis Bonaparte; Arch-Chancellor of the Empire, Cambacérès; Arch-Treasurer, Le Brun. The Ministers, Maret (the Secretary of State, who ranked with the Ministers), the Colonels-general of the Guards, Duroc (the Governor of the Palace), and the aides-de-camp took the oaths; and the next day the officers of the army, among whom was Colonel Eugène Beauharnais, were presented to the Emperor by the new Constable.

The opposition which Bonaparte had encountered in his own family, to his intended adoption of the little Louis, induced him to postpone that project. The succession was therefore declared to belong to the heirs male of Napoleon Bonaparte, and failing these, to the sons of Joseph and of Louis, who were created Imperial Princes. The organic senatus consultum declared that the Emperor might adopt as his successor any one of his nephews whom he chose, but not until the selected individual had reached the age of eighteen, and that no further act of adoption could take place in the family.

The civil list was to be the same as that granted to the King in 1791, and the princes were to be endowed in accordance with the law of December 20, 1791. The great dignitaries were to have one third of the sum settled on the princes. They were to preside over the electoral colleges of the six largest towns in the Empire, and the princes, from the eighteenth year of their age, were to be permanent members of the Senate and the Council of State.

Fourteen Marshals of France were created at this date, and the title of Marshal was conferred on four of the Senators. The new Marshals were Berthier, Murat, Moncey, Jourdan, Masséna, Augereau, Bernadotte, Soult, Brune, Lannes, Mortier, Ney, Davoust, Bessières; the four Senators were Kellermann, Lefebvre, Pérignon, and Serrurier.

An article in the “Moniteur” apprised the public that the title of Imperial Highness was to be given to the princes, that of Serene Highness and Monseigneur to the great dignitaries; that the Ministers were to be called Monseigneur by public officials and all petitioners, and the Marshals Monsieur le Maréchal.

Thus disappeared the title of “Citizen,” which had long since been disused in society, where “Monsieur” had resumed its former place, but which Bonaparte was always most careful to employ. On the same day, the 18th of May, his brothers, with Cambacérès and Le Brun and the officers of his household, were invited to dine with him, and we heard him use the old word “Monsieur” for the first time, without being betrayed by habit into saying “Citizen” even once.