Let’s have another look at Hortense’s Memoirs. If you want to read the book it is available for free at the side bar in English and French. Use the widget on the sidebar to translate the text below into pretty much any language.
Hortense describes the important of unity when a nation faces foreign invasion on multiples fronts.
Hortense’s memoirs continues:
They [her sons] were all I still cared for in life or, at least, the only beings who still needed me. King Joseph, having been obliged to abandon his Spanish kingdom, had retired to his country estate at Mortefontaine.
I made him a visit there. The Queen shared his retirement. She was admirable in her gentleness, kindness of heart and self-abnegation. She shared my indifference to rank and position and like me had found they failed to bring her happiness.
Her husband, whose character was totally unlike that of Louis, made her unhappy but from quite different reasons. Without any respect for her and solely interested in other women he neglected her and even was frequently rude to her. Her domestic sorrows reminded me of what I had endured so long. The sight of this unhappy woman living as though she were in a prison recalled me to myself.
I remembered the advice of my friend when she reproached me for not appreciating more fully the pleasures that I still possessed. I felt that I had been punished for this attitude and I turned toward my children, those dearly loved beings who needed my care and my energy.
“At least," I said, "I shall bring them up as I think best. I am free to spend my time as I see fit; I am able to weep undisturbed. Although life may not be pure joy at least it is no longer altogether painful. May Providence spare me and not punish me because I demanded too much and because I remembered only the suffering it has inflicted on me."
These thoughts and the public events which made it necessary for me to be brave helped me attain that state of resignation in which, while we do not forget our misfortunes, we yet find the strength to bear them.
While at Mortefontaine I saw the Queen of Westphalia, whose husband made her happy and who enjoyed to the full all the agreeable things life has to offer and those which rank confers on you. The loss of her kingdom was the one blow which had ever fallen on her, and as she had everything else she could desire the only thing that interested her was what went on in the fields of politics.
Consequently, this was all we talked about, and we all agreed as to the need for a speedy peace. The Emperor was at Dresden. We believed he could conclude negotiations there. Perhaps it was not in his power to do so.
Perhaps he depended too much on the strength of his armies, on the resources of France, on the alliance with Austria, on his own good fortune. Did he fear that if he made any concessions, he should be considered weak, and that if people formed this opinion the hatred of his power, which till now had been suppressed, would burst out? Or did he feel himself defeated unless he imposed his own terms?
Perhaps future generations will be able to decide where his fault lay, and whether he should have made peace when the opportunity arose, since national pride had been satisfied at Lutzen and Bautzen. But England led and Austria followed.
The Emperor's subjects grew restless under a too continuous military domination. Kings on their thrones forgot who had placed them there, soldiers in the field went over to the enemy, and the allies of yesterday became the enemies of today. People listened only to the voice of treason and sought to satisfy the promptings of revenge. The army, having been obliged to retire in the face of overwhelming numbers at Leipzig, withdrew to Mayence.
On the way it had to overcome all sorts of obstacles which became constantly more numerous. The number of our enemies grew as our difficulties increased.
Wherever the troops actually fought they were victorious, but the only result was that they eventually found themselves on their native soil, obliged to defend it against the invaders. Hardly had they arrived when an epidemic broke out which carried off a large number of those whom war had spared.
The Emperor returned to Saint Cloud. He seemed entirely absorbed by negotiations for peace. France desired it. Worn out by her latest efforts she seemed unwilling to undertake new ones.
Her soldiers, exhausted by the setbacks they had suffered during the last two campaigns, began to wonder if this was all the reward they could hope to obtain.
The buoyancy of the days when they were constantly victorious vanished, and discouragement took its place. Adherents to the republican form of government, who had been obliged to remain silent so long as the country was prosperous, now began to make themselves heard and believed that the opposition party could obtain political concessions.
It was not the moment they should have sought to secure them. That might have been done when France, having attained the highest point of her military glory, could have dreamed of still further perfecting her political system.
At present it was either too soon or too late. The approach of the invader should have united all parties for the defense of the country, and all powers should have been entrusted to the one man capable of doing this. But people were only conscious of how heavily this man's will had weighed in the balance of their destiny for many years.
They had forgotten his gifts as a leader. This is a common enough mistake, but one which always proves fatal. What could be more harmful than this political division which placed us at the mercy of jealous and hostile forces? Our leader, notwithstanding what might be considered his faults, was more likely to rescue us than the foreigner, in spite of all the latter's fine promises.
Thus, the Emperor found himself alone in his struggle against both his personal enemies and those of France. Had he received the same support as in the past he might still have proved victorious. His brothers gathered round him. My husband, who had constantly refused to leave foreign territory, now that he saw these countries declaring war on France arrived to add his efforts to those of the rest of the family.
He again stayed with his mother. I did not see him once. When my husband had heard the decree of the foreign monarchs that France must surrender all territories beyond her natural frontiers, he believed that Holland could not fail to become again independent, and he had proposed to the Emperor to withdraw his abdication and reassume the Dutch crown.
The Emperor had refused. Since the death of Grand Marshal Duroc that post had remained unoccupied. The Emperor liked Monsieur de Flahaut and had been much pleased with his behavior on the different missions intrusted to him during the last campaign. He thought of appointing him to this post. The Duc de Rovigo, who considered that he was more or less entitled to it himself, spoke to the Emperor about Monsieur de Flahaut's affection for me, which was generally known in Paris.
The Emperor wished his Grand Marshal to be someone entirely devoted to his own interests. He feared any influence that was not his own. He had intrusted Monsieur de Flahaut with a certain mission which required secrecy.
The Duc de Rovigo called on me and in the course of our conversation looked at me fixedly while speaking of this mission as though I must know what he was referring to. Although little accustomed to concealing my thoughts I was obliged to make an effort and appear entirely ignorant of what he meant in order not to injure the prospects of the man who kept nothing from me. I suspected that this little stratagem had been employed to discover how deeply Monsieur de Flahaut took me into his confidence.
Finally, Savary remained head of the police department and the Emperor appointed General Bertrand, who was already his aide-de-camp, grand marshal of the palace. Everyone approved of his choice, for Bertrand was a gifted man, unpretentious in his manner, kind-hearted, loyal and upright.
He had married a Mademoiselle Dillon, who was related to my family. I had made the match at Saint-Leu, and my almoner the Bishop of Osmond had blessed their union. Mademoiselle Dillon was high-spirited, with lofty moral standards and nobility of heart. Very demonstrative in all her feelings, she was particularly so as regarded her violent affection for her husband.
The happiness of their marriage was a proof of the fact that contrasting characters are not an obstacle to domestic joy. In the meanwhile, nothing more was heard about an approaching peace, which was what everyone was hoping for.
The original French is available below:
