Napoleone ❤️

Elie Baudus in the first volume of his "Études sur Napoléon" has a description of Napoleon, after he had divorced Josephine, visiting Bessières' home. That's interesting insofar as Elie argues that Bessières' close friendship with the Beauharnais family had before gotten him in trouble with his master:

For a long time Napoleon had been haunted by the distressing thought that he would leave no direct heir to succeed him in this colossal empire, the creation of his genius. The empress's age meant that it was no longer conceivable that she would bear him children, so ideas of divorce had been on his mind since 1807. Some rumours about this project were spread during the trip he made to Italy shortly after returning from Tilsitt.

This journey to Italy happened not quite that shortly after Tilsit, actually, but only in late 1807 (November/December). At the same time as the preparations for the coup in Spain, by the way.

Marshal Bessières, who would always accompany him on such occasions, had been left in Paris to await the return of the guard, to lead it when it made its triumphal entry, to receive the celebrations that the capital intended to offer to these elite legions, and to preside over those that the guard was to give. The Marshal was very attached to the Beauharnais family. General Bonaparte, doing justice to Bessières' perfect manners and the noble qualities that distinguished him, had given him as a mentor to Eugène during the Egyptian campaign. After 18 Brumaire, this young man, in his capacity as colonel of the Guides, who had become the chasseurs à cheval of the consuls' guard, again found himself under the command of Bessières. The Marshal therefore learned with chagrin of the rumours that were spreading. Having acquired the certainty that the police were not uninvolved, he committed the noble imprudence of listening only to his initial impulse, went straight to Fouché, and confronted him with a very heated argument on the subject. His intimate conviction was, first of all, that the divorce would be an impolitic act; after that, he believed that the Emperor's attachment to Josephine was such that no consideration could decide him to pronounce it, and that consequently this prince had nothing to do with these manoeuvres.

When Napoleon returned, the Marshal was quickly proven wrong; the Emperor welcomed him coldly and immediately removed him from court by sending him to take up a command in Spain. The almost constant disfavour with which he was treated for several years proved to him that if Fouché had taken it upon himself to spread such rumours, at least he had not been disagreed with. Marshal Bessières was in South Beveland when the dissolution of Josephine's marriage to the Emperor was announced. On arriving in Paris in January 1810, he hastened to Malmaison to court the repudiated empress, and continued to be a regular visitor. Far from resenting him, the emperor seemed, on the contrary, to return some of the favour he had once shown him; he even chose this moment to spend two days at the Château de Grignon, owned by the marshal.

We have only had this one opportunity to see the emperor in his private life; we are going to recount how these two days passed. The character he displayed during these two days is quite unusual; besides, isn't everything of interest in the life of such a man?

Napoleon arrived at Grignon in the morning; his entourage was numerous; the King of Bavaria accompanied him, as well as the Queens of Naples and Holland and the Grand Duchess of Baden; then came the Prince de Neufchâtel, Grand Marshal Duroc, Marshals Moncey and Davoust, General Lauriston, Prince and Princess Aldobrandini Borghese, an equerry, a chamberlain, some officers of the hunt, the Duchesses of Bassano and Cassano, Madame de Broc and Mademoiselle de Mackau. When he got out of the carriage he went hunting; the park was very large and contained a lot of game; there was even a very fine pheasantry.

The emperor killed a large number of pheasants and partridges, but missed almost as many. Every time he fired his rifle, a hunting officer, standing next to him, whether the game fell or not, would still say "Broken wing, dangling thigh". Napoleon, who had misfired several times in succession, became impatient with this eternal refrain, and said at the last mention of a broken wing: "Well, go and fetch it". This order would have been difficult to carry out, because the bird was flying away. The clumsy courtier complied willingly and replied: "That's right, Sire, I was mistaken". After hunting for a few hours, the emperor retired to the appartment that had been prepared for him, and did not reappear until a few moments before dinner.

We do not know what whim had passed through the imperial mind, but Napoleon was already at table when he realised that he had forgotten to invite to dinner with him la Maréchale Duchesse d'Istrie, who had the honour of receiving him at her home, and, far from compensating her later for this singular distraction, he showed himself to be in a detestable mood towards her. Wanting to play the little game known as "le furet du bois joli", a piece of ribbon was needed; this was requested from Madame la Maréchale, who unfortunately did not have one in her possession; she enquired of all the other ladies to obtain it: Princess Aldobrandini was the only one who could provide her with this service. All these enquiries had taken a long time; so the emperor said to the maréchale, who presented it to him: "Since the time you have kept me waiting, you should have cut up all your dresses." - "Sire," replied this excellent woman, "if I had done so, it still would not have given you a single piece of ribbon." - We have never been able to find out the reasons for this rude behaviour on his part towards a woman of admirable and well-deserved reputation, who, sharing the Marshal's noble feelings, had not waited for his return to Paris before going to bring consolation to the august banished woman of Malmaison.

In the evening, the Marshal presented his aides-de-camp to the Emperor, who said to him on seeing the youngest: "Isn't it that little chap, Bessières, who, on the road to Wels, came to give me an inaccurate report about the direction you had made the cavalry take?" Despite the Marshal's protests, assuring him that the officer he was referring to was not at Grignon, he persisted for a long time in blaming this young man for the unfortunate blunder which was so close to his heart. In any case, he was only mistaken about the face of the culprit, for the fact was correct.

Afterwards there was dancing; everyone took part, whether they liked it or not, in this kind of entertainment, even the King of Bavaria, to whom the emperor said rather brusquely: "King of Bavaria, dance". And this monarch, then aged fifty-five, with a roundness that must have made this exercise very painful for him, hastened to take a dancer and place himself at one of the quadrilles. However, Napoleon had no grudge to satisfy against this sovereign at the time, so it did not occur to him to imitate our good Henry IV, who quickly made the king of the League, the Duke of Mayenne, walk through his park of Monceaux in revenge for the embarrassments the latter had caused him. But that was how Napoleon treated his vassal kings. No one, moreover, escaped his singular fantasies in this regard; the hero of Auerstædt and Ekmülh, whose appearance and manners were not particularly suited to this kind of pleasure, was also obliged to take part.

Though Davout apparently loved to waltz. It may just have been the wrong dance for him.

Not even the old duchess of Cassano, lady-in-waiting to the queen of Naples, who vainly objected to the dancer Napoleon sent her that she had given up dancing thirty years ago; she had to appear in a quadrille: the emperor wanted it that way. The public was not misled when it was said that the tune of Monaco was the one he preferred to any other, for it was repeated every time the emperor danced. The evening ended with the figure known as le grand-père.

Apparently Napoleon spent a good night because his attitude seems to have changed completely the next morning:

La plupart des écrivains qui ont parlé du prince de Neuchâtel ont méconnu son caractère. 

La vie du maréchal Berthier, prince de Neuchâtel et de Wagram, a été, pendant vingt années consécutives, une vie d'abnégation et de dévouement. Jamais il ne parlait qu'au nom de l'Empereur, et surtout ne permettait pas qu'on le remerciât personnellement des récompenses ou des faveurs qu'il faisait obtenir. Sa réponse habituelle était :

“Monsieur, ce n'est pas moi, c'est l'Empereur….. c'est l'Empereur qu'il faut remercier.”

Le nom du prince de Neuchâtel était profondément respecté dans l'armée. - Il était doué d'un esprit droit et juste, d'une valeur calme et brillante, d'une activité infatigable et d'une rare facilité à tracer la configuration d'un terrain. Sa plus éminente qualité comme major-général était une exactitude ponctuelle et une obéissance passive, exempte de tout commentaire, aux ordres écrits de l'Empereur, et enfin une prévoyance si inquiète et si minutieuse, lorsqu'il s'agissait d'un ordre important, qu'on aurait pu regarder ses précautions comme excessives, si, dans plus d'une circonstance, elles n'avaient assuré les succès des opérations. Ainsi, au moment où l'Empereur manoeuvrait sur Eylau (Pologne 1807), le prince, vu l'importance des ordres, dépêcha successivement et par des directions différentes huit officiers d'état-major au maréchal Bernadotte. Un seul parvint à sa destination ; c'était le dernier officier parti du grand quartier général ; les sept autres avaient été pris.

Il donnait, le premier, l'exemple d'un profond respect envers l'Empereur ; respect imposé d'ailleurs par Napoléon, qui avait su mettre une telle distance entre sa personne et ses généraux, que le prince de Neuchâtel, vice-connétable, major-général de l'armée, confident de ses plus secrets desseins, ne s'est jamais présenté devant lui que dans une tenue complète : habit agrafé, botté et éperonné, épée au côté ; et cela la nuit comme le jour, au bivouac comme dans les palais. Une fois entre autres, c'était à Varsovie (le 8 janvier 1807), l'Empereur fit appeler le prince dix-sept fois dans la même nuit.

Le prince de Neuchâtel cachait un coeur affectueux sous une enveloppe qu'il s'efforçait de faire paraître rude ; et, de même que l'Empereur, il s'accoutumait difficilement aux visages nouveaux ; mais en revanche sa bienveillante sollicitude n'a jamais cessé de protéger, dans le cours de leur carrière, les officiers qui avaient servi près de lui. Appelé en 1796 aux fonctions de chef d'état-major de l'armée d'Italie, le général Berthier fut associé aux succès de cete mémorable campagne, et dès cette époque il se dévoua au général Bonaparte, dont il avait, en quelque sorte, deviné l'avenir glorieux.

Un jour, à cette même époque, au moment où l'armée faisait sa première entrée dans Milan, le général Berthier et l'ordonnateur en chef de l'armée, son ami, étaient réunis chez le général en chef Bonaparte ; celui-ci eut dans la discussion avec son chef d'état-major un violent accès de colère. A l'issue de la conférence, l'ami du général Berthier lui dit avec émotion :

“Savez-vous bien que cet homme a des emportements intolérables?”

“Vous avez raison, mon cher Denniée ; mais souvenez-vous qu'un jour il sera beau d'être le second de cet homme-là.”

Most writers who have discussed the Prince of Neuchâtel have misunderstood his character. The life of Marshal Berthier, Prince of Neuchâtel and Wagram, was, for twenty consecutive years, one of selflessness and dedication. Never did he speak but in the name of the Emperor, and above all he did not allow personal thanks to be addressed to him for the rewards or favours he had managed to obtain for others. His usual reply was:

“Sir, it is not I, it is the Emperor….. it is the Emperor who must be thanked.”

The name of the Prince of Neuchâtel was deeply respected in the army. - He was endowed with an upright and just mind, a calm and brilliant valour, untiring activity, and a rare facility in tracing the configuration of land. His most eminent quality as major-general was precise accuracy and passive obedience, free from all comment, to the Emperor’s written orders, and finally a foresight so concerned and so meticulous, in the case of important orders, that his precautions might have been regarded as excessive, if, in more than one circumstance, they had not ensured the success of operations. Thus, when the Emperor was conducting manoeuvres at Eylau (Poland 1807), the Prince, given the importance of his orders, successively sent eight staff officers, through different routes, to Marshal Bernadotte. Only one of the eight reached his destination; it was the last officer to leave headquarters; the other seven had been captured.

He was the first to give the example of profound respect towards the Emperor, although such respect was imposed by Napoleon; the Emperor had managed to create such distance between himself and his generals that the Prince of Neuchâtel, the vice-connétable, the major-general of the army, the confidant of his most secret designs, never presented himself before him except in full dress: in full uniform, with boots and spurs, his sword at his side; and this was so night or day, whether at a bivouac or in a palace. On one occasion, in Warsaw (8 January 1807), the Emperor summoned the Prince seventeen times during a single night [Berthier being fully dressed all seventeen times].

The Prince of Neuchâtel hid an affectionate heart while endeavouring to appear severe; and, like the Emperor, he found it difficult to get used to new faces; but on the other hand his kindly solicitude never ceased to protect, in the course of their career, the officers who had been in his service. 

Called in 1796 to the functions of chief of staff of the army of Italy, General Berthier contributed to the successes of this memorable campaign, and from then on he committed himself to General Bonaparte, whose glorious future he had, in some way, foreseen.

One day, at the time of the army’s first entry into Milan [1796], General Berthier and his friend, the accountant-in-chief of the army [the author’s father], were meeting with General-in-chief Bonaparte; the latter had an outburst of intense rage during the discussion with his chief of staff. At the end of this meeting, General Berthier’s friend told him with great concern: 

“You must be aware that this man’s outbursts are intolerable?”

“You are right, my dear Denniée; but remember that one day it will be a fine thing to be the second in command of that man.” https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k6516642z/f207.item.r=pierre%20paul%20denni%C3%A9e.zoom, pp. 193-197 Here we have the portrait of someone already very accomplished, brilliant in fact, a fully qualified engineer at age 13, and, well before Napoleon, having acquired a reputation as the best chief of staff in all of France. Berthier recognized Napoleon as an exceptionally talented man; Napoleon likewise recognized Berthier as an exceptionally talented man, and one who would quickly become indispensable to reaching his goals.

What I am seeing here is that as early as 1796, the year in which these two men first met, Napoleon already realized he could treat Berthier like dirt without consequence. Berhtier’s friend was indignant about Napoleon’s fit of rage toward him, but Berthier did not fight back. I’ve read two biographies about him, and so many times I would have hoped for Berthier to tell Napoleon to shove it. There would have been no consequences: Napoleon needed him much too much for that, but this wasn’t in keeping with Berthier’s temperament, upbringing, professional training or life experience (remembering what happened to so many of Berthier’s superior officers and colleagues during the Terror, which Berthier was very lucky to survive). 

As I wrote in the notes, Berthier did want desperately to return to France. I think this was because he wanted to defend France. If he thought the best way to defend France meant serving Napoleon again, then that’s what he would have done. However, I’m of the opinion that by 1815 Berthier no longer believed in Napoleon, it’s just that Napoleon was a better bet to defeat France’s enemies than Louis XVIII was.

About Berthier’s death, as you wrote there are three theories. I am persuaded he killed himself. I think his family believed he killed himself. But. The family would have moved heaven and earth to present his death as anything but suicide. Berthier was raised Catholic, his wife and in-laws were Catholic. A person committing suicide, in the Catholic religion, has died in a state of mortal sin and can’t even be buried in consecrated ground. There is no way in the world that Berthier’s wife and her family were going to have his death be labeled a suicide. The assassination scenario was extremely convenient and face-saving.

So where did this assassination scenario come from? It came from the imagination of Berthier’s four-year-old son. I believe the family pounced on this. I don’t believe there actually were any assassins there. I, for one, saw witches and monsters everywhere when I was four. How difficult would it be for the boy to imagine he saw “bad men” kill his father? Except for this: Bavarian police was closely watching Berthier, not only to prevent him from leaving for France, but to protect him from, well, assassins, or anyone who might have wanted to harm him; Berthier even complained angrily about the police surveillance. Bavarian police saw no strange individuals entering or leaving Bamberg Castle. Berthier’s wife was worried about his mental state, and had asked the servants to watch him closely. The servants, to my knowledge, saw no strangers lurking about. The children’s nurse was right there, and to my knowledge she did not report seeing anyone being in the nursery aside from the children and Berthier. To me, the assassination theory does not hold water.

Now let’s turn to Berthier’s behaviour while at Bamberg Castle. For the first time in his life, the king of workaholics had nothing to do. Not one thing. He was reportedly going out of his mind with boredom. Then there was his desperate, thwarted efforts to go back to France, to defend a country he loved, probably by serving a man whose actions he believed spelled catastrophy and defeat, but who for all that was a better prospect for success than Louis XVIII. It seems also that Louis XVIII was persuaded that Berthier had helped Napoleon to come back from Elba, or at least that he knew about Napoleon’s plans but did not reveal them (which is possible, but not certain; in any event Berthier might have thought that Napoleon did not stand a chance). I don’t know, but I speculate that Berthier figured he was finished in Louis XVIII’s eyes. After reaching Bamberg, he tended his resignation multiple times from the captainship of the King’s Guard, and as far as I remember this was his one and only official role under the First Restauration. All his life Berthier had been the one whose services everybody clamoured to have, and now, if Napoleon did not want him back - and I don’t think Berthier would have assumed that Napoleon would - conceivably nobody wanted anything to do with him. 

Berthier’s resignation was finally accepted, severing his link with the King. At about the same time, I believe, his last hope of getting back to France came to nothing. He then did something he had never done in his life: he started to drink, and very heavily. This speaks to me of depression. I think his despair was beyond measure. The day Berthier died, Russians troops were marching under the castle’s windows on their way to France. He went to see his children in the nursery on the top floor of the castle. He saw that a cart was ready to take the children for a ride, and asked the nurse when she was taking them down into the courtyard; in my opinion, he was waiting to be alone on that top floor so nobody would stop him from jumping out the window. The nurse answered she would take the children down when Berthier left the nursery. He went into the next room on the pretence of relieving himself, the nurse heard him cry “My poor homeland!” twice, heard a noise; when she rushed in, she saw an open window and Berthier lying dead in the street. 

Could he have fallen? Maybe. It’s plausible,. He was probably drunk. But I don’t think it’s anywhere near as likely as suicide.

Idk

After 1814, after what went for a »liberation« of the German-speaking countries, all of Napoleon’s marshals were by their very nature detested in this suddenly fervently nationalist, thoroughly “teutonic” area of the former Holy Roman Empire. But there was one they hated most of all: Davout. By stubbornly defending Hamburg and expelling part of the city’s population on 23 December, Davout had given the poets of liberation literature exactly the ammunition they needed in order to portray him, on behalf of all the French, as a cruel tyrant and ice-cold oppressor of humanity. (While there were attempts in Germany to redeem Davout already by the end of the 19th century, remnants of this reputation last until today.)

So for me it’s rather interesting to read the first impressions of people who actually met Davout. One of them was Johann Georg Rist, an envoy of the Danish king in Hamburg. He met Davout in 1811 and had apparently been forewarned even by Davout’s own compatriots (from “Johann Georg Rists Lebenserinnerungen”, Zweiter Teil, Gotha 1880, p.99f):

Marshal Davout, Duke of Auerstädt, Prince of Eckmühl, arrived in early February. Terror preceded him, even the French officials trembled at his approach. I expected to meet the gloomy, hollow-eyed Alba when I went to the so-called hotel du gouvernement on the tenth of February […]. But one could not be more completely deceived. I found a handsome, chubby man, with a broad back and a soft, smooth face connected to the very back of the head by a mirror-like bald pate.

Expect Freddy Krüger. Meet Danny de Vito.

And then there are some excerpts from letters by one Henriette Mendelssohn who, after the fall of the First Empire, lived in France as a governess in the family of general Sebastiani. During the summer, in the country, the Sebastianis often visited the Davouts, which allowed Henriette to get a close look at the “Monster of Hamburg”. (Quoted from: S. Hensel, Die Familie Mendelssohn, Berlin 1879, p.74)

As a curious fact, however, I must tell you that this terrible Davout, the terror of the North, the author of such unspeakable sufferings, is quite without a will in his own house. He has not the courage to order the least servant to do anything without the consent of Madame la Maréchale, who commands the house as inexorably as he used to rule the conquered lands.

In another letter she writes:

[…] When he first heard my name, he asked General S. if I had any relatives in Hamburg; he had known very respectable and honoured persons of that name there. - Almost all his servants are German, his daughters are learning German quite seriously, and he implores me every time to tell him if they already know some German. The political life of this man defies explanation when I look at him in the house and among his children; he is as good a father as Abraham can be, mingles in all their games with true cordiality, and his eldest daughter, who looks just like him, is the gentlest creature I know. There is only one way in which I can explain the atrocities committed in Hamburg under his rule: he seems to me to be very simple-minded, slow-witted and ignorant. In his house he is without influence, and certainly it was this way during his command; some wretch acted in his place!

Mstislav Dobuzhinsky

A dress that belonged to Josephine de Beauharnais. It was given to her seamstress as a gift, after Josephine left the Tuileries following her divorce from Napoleon.