Chapter TWENTY-TWO

1807

DEATH OF NAPOLEON-CHARLES

Birth of Napoleon’s First Child--Death of the Crown-Prince
of Holland--Grief of Hortense--Joséphine Goes to Laeken--She
Is Joined There by Hortense--Napoleon’s Letters to His Wife
and Daughter--His Apparent Indifference--Joséphine Writes to
Hortense--The Emperor’s Letters after Friedland--The Peace
Conferences at Tilsit--Napoleon Declines the Queen’s Rose--His
Return to Paris

On the fifth of May, a date to be ominous in the annals of Napoleon, the little crown-prince of Holland died at the age of four years and seven months.

Only a few months before, in her hôtel in the Rue de la Victoire, at Paris, a certain Mlle. Éléonore Dénuelle had given birth to a male child who received the name of Léon. He was the fruit of a short liaison between the Emperor and a reader of his sister Caroline. Léon, who bore a striking resemblance to his father, but inherited none of his talents, was destined to live through four Governments of France, and die in poverty at Paris in April 1881 under the Third Republic.

These two events, apparently without any connection, were to change the destiny of Napoleon, and to have a decisive influence upon the fate of Joséphine. The heir-presumptive to the imperial throne was dead, and for the first time the Emperor was convinced that it was possible for him to have a direct heir of his own blood. Although the dénouement was to be postponed for two years and a half, from that time the divorce was absolutely certain.

Napoleon-Charles, the eldest son of Louis and Hortense, was a child of unusual beauty and intelligence. The Emperor, who loved children, was particularly fond of his little nephew, whom he fully intended to adopt as his heir. He had played with the child, as a baby, and had seen him develop with great interest. The little Napoleon was sweet, loving, full of life and spirits, adored by his mother, and also by his gloomy father. In her unhappy married life this boy was the joy and the consolation of Hortense, her hope and her pride.

During the night of the fourth-fifth of May 1807 the little prince was suddenly attacked by the croup, a disease little understood at that time. In the morning he was better, and the physicians were hopeful of his recovery. But the trouble returned again during the evening, and at ten o’clock the child passed away.

No words can describe the despair of the unfortunate mother. Hortense seemed petrified with grief, and they were afraid that she would lose her reason.

Joséphine also was overwhelmed with sorrow. She did not dare to leave the Empire, to go to The Hague, but proceeded at once to the château of Laeken, near Brussels, whence she wrote Hortense:

_To Hortense, at The Hague_

LAEKEN, 10 P.M., 14 May 1807

My dear child, I have just arrived at the château of Laeken,
where I await you. Come and give me life: your presence is
necessary, and you also must need to see me, and to weep with
your mother. I would have liked to go further, but my strength
failed me, and besides I have not had time to notify the
Emperor. I have found the courage to come thus far, and I hope
that you too will be brave enough to come to your mother. Adieu,
my dear daughter. I am overcome with fatigue, but above all with
grief.

JOSÉPHINE

The following night, Hortense and Louis arrived, with their only remaining child, Napoleon-Louis, who was then two years and a half old. Hortense was like a statue of despair. She did not shed any tears, and her cold calm, her absolute silence, were more alarming than the most violent manifestations of grief. When she spoke, which was rarely, it was only to talk of _him_. When ten o’clock struck, she turned to one of her ladies, and remarked: “It was at this hour that he died.”

A special courier had been sent to announce the fatal news to the Emperor. He immediately wrote Joséphine:

_To the Empress, at Saint-Cloud_

(FINCKENSTEIN), 14 May 1807

I can conceive all the grief that the death of poor Napoleon has
caused you; you can understand the pain that I feel. I should
like to be near you, in order that you might be moderate and
reasonable in your grief. You have been fortunate enough never
to lose a child, but it is one of the conditions and penalties
attached to our human misery. Let me hear that you have been
reasonable and that you are well! Do you wish to increase my
pain?

Adieu, mon amie.

NAPOLEON

(FINCKENSTEIN), 16 May 1807

I have your letter of the 6 May. I see by it already the pain
that you feel; I fear that you are not responsible and that you
are too much afflicted by the misfortune which has come to us.

Adieu, mon amie.

Tout à toi

NAPOLEON

_To the Empress, at Laeken_

(FINCKENSTEIN), 20 May 1807

I am in receipt your letter of the 10 May. I see that you have
gone to Laeken. I think that you can remain there a fortnight:
that will please the Belgians, and will serve as a distraction
for you.

I have noticed with regret that you are not sensible. Grief has
its limits which should not be passed. Take care of yourself for
your friend, and believe me most sincerely yours.

NAPOLEON

It will be interesting to read here the letter written the same day by the Emperor to his step-daughter:

_To the Queen of Holland_

FINCKENSTEIN, 20 May 1807

My daughter, all the news that I receive from The Hague tells me
that you are not reasonable: no matter how legitimate your grief
may be, it should have its limits. Do not let it affect your
health; look for distractions; know that life is full of such
trials, and may be the source of so many misfortunes that death
is not the greatest of all.

Your affectionate father

NAPOLEON

In two other letters to Joséphine at Laeken, the Emperor writes in much the same vein:

_To the Empress, at Laeken_

(FINCKENSTEIN), 24 May 1807

I have your letter from Laeken. I see with regret that you are
still full of grief, and that Hortense has not yet arrived. She
is not reasonable, and does not deserve to be loved, because she
loved only her children.

Endeavor to calm yourself, and do not cause me grief. For every
evil without remedy, we must find some consolation.

Adieu, mon amie.

Tout à toi

NAPOLEON

(FINCKENSTEIN), 26 May 1807

I am in receipt your letter of the sixteenth. I see with
pleasure that Hortense has arrived at Laeken. I am annoyed at
your report of the kind of stupor which she still shows. She
should have more courage, and control herself. I cannot conceive
why they want her to go to the baths: she would be much more
diverted at Paris, and find more consolation. Control yourself;
be gay, and take care of yourself. My health is very good.

Adieu, mon amie. I suffer much on account of your grief, and
regret that I am not with you.

NAPOLEON

During a brief visit which he made to Dantzig the first of June, the Emperor wrote Joséphine, and also Hortense at the same time:

_To the Empress, at Malmaison_

(DANTZIG), 2 June 1807

Mon amie, I have just learned of your arrival at Malmaison. I
have no letters from you. I am angry with Hortense: she has not
written me a word. I am grieved with all that you tell me of
her. How does it happen that you have not been able to divert
her a little? You cry! I hope that you will get yourself under
control, in order that I may not find you entirely sad.

I have been at Dantzig for two days. The weather is very fine,
and I am very well. I think more of you than you think of the
absent one.

Adieu, mon amie; a thousand loving thoughts. Send this letter to
Hortense.

NAPOLEON

_To the Queen of Holland_

2 June 1807

My daughter, you have not written me a word, in your just and
great grief. You have forgotten everything, as if you were never
in the future to endure other losses. They tell me that you no
longer care for anything; that you are wholly indifferent; I
perceive it from your silence. It is not well, Hortense! It is
not what you promised us. Your son was all in all to you. Your
mother and I are then of no account! If I had been at Malmaison,
I should have shared your grief; but I should also have wished
to have you turn to your best friends. Adieu, my child, be gay,
be resigned. Take care of yourself in order to fulfill all your
duties. My wife is very sad over your condition: do not cause
her more grief.

Your affectionate father

NAPOLEON

Two days after the battle of Friedland Napoleon again wrote Hortense:

_To the Queen of Holland_

(FRIEDLAND), 16 June 1807

My daughter, I have received your letter dated at Orléans; your
griefs touch me, but I would like to know that you had more
courage: to live is to suffer, and the worthy man strives always
to remain master of himself. I do not like to see you unjust
to the little Napoleon-Louis, and to all of your friends. Your
mother and I had hoped that we were of more account than we seem
to be in your heart. I gained a great victory the 14 June. I am
well, and love you dearly. Adieu, my daughter. I embrace you
with all my heart.

NAPOLEON

It must be admitted that Napoleon does not appear to advantage in these letters. To a mother stupefied with grief, and to a grandmother almost equally overwhelmed, he has nothing more consoling to say than the injunction to be “gay,” and to seek “diversions.” Yet Napoleon dearly loved the little prince, and had fully expected to make him his heir. The loss of the child must have been a severe blow both to his affections and his family pride. The Emperor had in his composition much of the stoicism of the American Indian, and under this appearance of _nonchalance_ he may have concealed his own deep sorrow. He really had a very profound sensibility, and was not so callous as his remarks on many occasions would lead one to think. To quote his own words: “Man often appears more cold and selfish than he really is.” At one moment he exclaims: “Friendship is but a name!” At another he says: “We only feel how much we love when we meet again, or during absence.” And again: “Love for one’s children and one’s wife are those sweet affections which subdue the soul by the heart, and the feelings by tenderness.”

In his letters to Fouché and Monge, the Emperor displayed more feeling. To Fouché on the 18 May he wrote: “I have been much afflicted by the misfortune which has befallen me. I had hoped for a more brilliant destiny for this poor child.” To Monge: “I thank you for all that you say regarding the death of the poor little Napoleon: it was his destiny!” Again to Fouché: “The loss of the little Napoleon has caused me much grief. I wish that his father and mother had received from nature as much courage as myself to know how to endure the evils of life; but they are younger and have reflected less upon the fragility of earthly ties!” Such is his philosophy. He is too much of a fatalist to feel any revolt against death. He is always ready; for every day, at every moment, he faces it, and the unexpected does not disconcert him. Manifestations of grief are forbidden by his calling, by his duty as a commander: he had faced death on too many bloody fields to be appalled by the everlasting night “when deep sleep falleth on men.”

After a short stay at Laeken, Hortense went with Joséphine to Malmaison, and a few days later proceeded to Cauterêts in the Pyrenees to take the baths. Her mother wrote her from Saint-Cloud on the 27 May:

I have often cried since your departure, my dear Hortense; this
separation has been very painful to me.... I have received news
of your son: he is at the château of Laeken, in good health,
and awaiting the arrival of the King. The Emperor has written
me again: he participates deeply in our grief. I needed this
consolation, for I have none since your departure.... Adieu, my
dear daughter; take care of yourself for a mother who tenderly
loves you.

On the 4 June Joséphine again wrote from Saint-Cloud:

Your letter has comforted me very much, my dear Hortense.... The
Emperor has been strongly affected: in all his letters he tries
to give me courage, but I know that he has been much moved by
this unfortunate occurrence. The King reached Saint-Leu last
night; he has let me know that he is coming to see me to-day;
he must leave the little one with me during his absence. You
know how much I love this child, and the care that I will take
of him. It is my wish that the King follow you: it will be a
consolation for you both to see each other. All the letters
that I have received from him since you left are full of his
attachment for you. Your heart is too sensitive not to be
touched by it. Adieu, my dear girl, take care of your health. I
embrace you tenderly.

This letter displays all the goodness and kindness of Joséphine’s nature: she endeavors to soften the reproaches of Napoleon, and to bring Hortense and her husband together. A week later she wrote: “Your son is in splendid health: he greatly amuses me. He is so sweet: I think that he has all the ways of the dear child whom we mourn.” Joséphine knew how to console better than the Emperor!

* * * * *

While Hortense was in the depths of despair, and her mother was trying to assuage her grief, the Emperor brought to an end this terrible campaign of Poland by the brilliant victory of Friedland. He tells the story to Joséphine in his usual concise, graphic style:

_To the Empress, at Saint-Cloud_

FRIEDLAND, 15 June 1807

Mon amie, I write you only a word, for I am very tired. My
children have worthily celebrated the anniversary of Marengo.

The battle of Friedland will also be celebrated, and equally
glorious for my people. The whole Russian army put to rout: 80
cannon, 30,000 men killed or prisoners; 25 generals, killed,
wounded or taken; the Russian Guard crushed--it is a worthy
sister of Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena! The bulletin will tell you
the rest. My loss is not considerable; I manœuvred the enemy
with success.

Be reassured and content.

Adieu, mon amie.

NAPOLEON

FRIEDLAND, 4 p.m., 16 June 1807

Mon amie, I sent you a courier yesterday with the news of the
battle of Friedland. Since then I have continued the pursuit of
the enemy. Kœnigsberg, a city of 80,000 souls, is in my power.
I have found there many cannon, large magazines, and more than
60,000 guns, brought from England.

Adieu, mon amie; my health is perfect, although I have a slight
cold from the rain and the coolness of the bivouac. Be content
and gay.

Tout à toi

NAPOLEON

From Tilsit, on the 19 June, the Emperor sent Joséphine the welcome news that the victory had been decisive, and that the campaign was over. A few days later he wrote that he had met the Czar Alexander, and was very much pleased with him: “He is a very handsome, good and young Emperor, and has more intelligence than most people think. He is coming to-morrow to take up his residence in Tilsit.”

At Tilsit, the Czar and the King of Prussia dined every day with the Emperor, as he tells Joséphine in his correspondence. An hour after her arrival Napoleon paid a visit to the Queen of Prussia, who was one of the most beautiful and most attractive women of her day. When she came to dine with him that evening the Emperor received her with great respect at the door of his mansion. But he was firm in his refusal to mitigate at her request any of the hard conditions of the peace which he imposed on Prussia. At dinner, that night, the Queen offered a beautiful rose to Napoleon, saying with a gracious smile: “Take it, Sire, but in exchange for Magdebourg.” This episode is alluded to by the Emperor in the following letter:

_To the Empress, at Saint-Cloud_

(TILSIT), 7 July 1807

Mon amie, the Queen of Prussia dined with me yesterday. I had
to refuse to make some concessions to her husband which she
endeavored to obtain from me. But I have been gallant, while
adhering to my policy. She is very amiable. Later I will give
you the details which it would take too long to tell now. When
you read this letter peace with Prussia and Russia will be
concluded, and Jérôme recognized as King of Westphalia with
three millions of population. This news for you only.

Adieu, mon amie; I love thee, and wish to know that thou art gay
and contented.

NAPOLEON

After a last interview with the Czar, at the end of which the two sovereigns embraced each other affectionately, the Emperor went for a short visit to Kœnigsberg. Leaving there at six o’clock on the night of the 13 July he travelled directly to Dresden, where he arrived at five o’clock on the seventeenth. He spent ninety-two hours in his carriage, stopping to rest only twice en route, and then only for very brief intervals. From Dresden he wrote Joséphine the last of his letters during this campaign:

_To the Empress, at Saint-Cloud_

(DRESDEN), Noon, 18 July 1807

Mon amie, I arrived at Dresden at five o’clock last evening,
feeling very well, although I remained a hundred hours in my
carriage without getting out. I am staying here with the King of
Saxony, with whom I am well pleased. I have therefore covered
half the distance to thee.

It may happen that one of these fine nights I shall fall upon
thee at Saint-Cloud like a jealous husband: I give thee fair
warning!

Adieu, mon amie; it will give me great pleasure to see thee.

Tout à toi

NAPOLEON

At six o’clock on the morning of the 27 July the Emperor was back at Saint-Cloud, after an absence of over ten months.