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.
This is the time when everyone “playing their roles” becomes revealed. All the treason that had been obviously set up in secret finally starts to play out as if it all had been bribed, blackmailed and scripted in advance. It seems it was time for Marie Louise to finish playing her part as Empress of France since destruction had finally been so intentionally brought to that nation over the course of decades through careful hidden planning.
Without sufficient unity and support, Napoleon could not protect the people from this nation destroying menace which still plagues us present day. We are now subjugated by this force more than ever unfortunately. A lack of knowledge and courage has got us here. Will we ever learn to finally stand up for ourselves and to unite in the interest of protecting our mutual interests? Do we have the will and fortitude to stop this cycle of abuse so that future generations will not have to endure what we have been forced to endure? I have been calling out for justice because it has been so lacking in our time and it’s up to us to find out how to change that. Each and every one of us needs to play our role in our collective mission to save ourselves and future generations.
Hortense’s memoirs continues:
The hostile armies advanced slowly and cautiously. A conference held at Chatillon gave us some hope of a general peace-treaty being signed. I was under the impression, as a result of the calculations the Emperor had made in our presence, that the entire force with which he was about to confront the united armies of all Europe did not amount to more than fifty or sixty thousand men.
I trembled when I thought of this small number of troops, but his genius sufficed to even the balance. Never did he display greater skill and greater energy. He seemed to be everywhere at once.
No sooner had he defeated the enemy at one point than he would be heard of seventy-five miles away, again repulsing their advance, and his army like its chief seemed to possess the gift of multiplying itself indefinitely. It was as though the defenders of the soil of France drew new strength from the ground over which they fought. Thus, it came about that at the head of a handful of heroes the Emperor was able to hold in check the hosts of the Coalition, and but for treachery he would perhaps have defeated them.
The King of Naples dared to forget all he owed the Emperor and was sufficiently mad to think he could survive the fall of his natural protector.
His wife shared his mistaken opinion. Ambition makes men blind, and a just appreciation of one's own abilities is the best guide at all times, one which prevents a person from making mistakes.
My brother, whom the Emperor had sent from Dresden to reorganize an army in Italy, defended himself vigorously. The allied monarchs offered him the same terms as were offered Murat.
They promised that he should be allowed to keep the Italian crown if he would abandon the cause of France. There could be no doubt what his answer would be. He refused, and informed the Emperor of what had occurred.
The Emperor in return ordered him to send his wife, who was about to have another child, and his children to France. This suspicious attitude, which was, to be sure, readily understandable from a man who had just been betrayed by a member of his own family [Caroline] nevertheless annoyed my brother.
Even the slightest hint of a lack of confidence offends a man who is both loyal and sensitive. Eugene's wife refused flatly to obey the imperial orders and hastened to shut herself up in the fortress of Mantua, where she prepared to have her confinement surrounded by the horrors of war, but at least not far from her husband.
Eugene won several battles, and had it not been for the Neapolitan army he would have succeeded in creating a diversion of the main attacks that were being prepared against us, and thus, perhaps, have greatly aided the Emperor's efforts.
The French nation was in a state of great perplexity. The number of her enemies increased each day. The two sections of the legislative body, which till then had adopted a silent and obedient attitude, began to complain vehemently. They even wished to oppose the decisions of an executive who, in the course of time, had assumed absolute power.
To bring up such discussions at a time like this was to inform the enemy of our internal dissensions and place in his hands the means for accomplishing our defeat.
Before leaving Paris, the Emperor dissolved the Chamber and the Senate as they appeared to be about to interfere with his plans for national defense. People talked of despotism; the magic name of Liberty was invoked by his adversaries.
From then one everyone who opposed the Emperor adopted the title of "Liberal." Even his generals and his marshals, tired out and discouraged, added their complaints to those of the general public.
It was as though they felt their republicanism, which had so long lain dormant beneath the laurels they had won, suddenly revive. They declared themselves hostile to the Emperor's ambitious plans, forgetting that they had previously been his most devoted collaborators and the first to benefit by his ambitions.
The Emperor shared their desire for peace, but he wished it established on honorable terms. In order to obtain them new victories were necessary.
Every man has the weakness which corresponds to his natural gifts. While the Emperor was full of energy, bold in his plans and possessed a tenacity of purpose which frequently enabled him to conquer all obstacles and carry off the palm of victory, he nevertheless did not know sufficiently how to adapt his character to changing conditions.
That very inflexibility of will, which had so long been one of his qualities, now became a source of danger to him. Yet it has been said he managed to conquer his aversion to peace until he saw that it would be based on trickery and deceit.
Had peace been definitely signed at Chatillon we should have seen the Emperor as popular as ever when he returned to Paris, so eagerly did the Parisians desire his presence. But he had always been inclined to rely too much on his own military genius and the valor of the French nation.
The astounding success at Montmirail had caused his hopes to revive, and he doubtless thought he could eventually obtain still better terms for France, since he always placed his country's interests before his personal ones.
A short time before, wishing to unite all his forces, he had instructed the minister of war to write to my brother to abandon Italy in order to concentrate his troops in France.
Impatient of all delays, he sent my mother a letter asking her to mention the urgency of his request to her son. "France first," he wrote my mother. "She needs to gather all her children about her."
As soon as my brother heard what the Emperor wished, he sent his aide-de-camp Tascher to report the situation in which he found himself.
He had just gained a victory over the Austrians and scored several successes against the Neapolitans which enabled him to hold the foe in check there, while conserving the line at Mantua.
If he abandoned his position, he was in danger of seeing his forces diminish as he advanced toward France, and he was convinced that he would only succeed in bringing a handful of troops across the frontier, while at the same time the enemy would penetrate France from the direction of Italy.
Monsieur Tascher met the Emperor on the battle-field of Montmirail and stated his case. "Return immediately," replied the Emperor.
“Tell Eugene what you have seen here and tell him to hold on, to hold tight to Italy." This victory was the last one the Emperor won. He persisted, however, in his efforts to keep France from succumbing to its enemies. Only the army shared this heroic obstinacy. His soldiers did not attempt to understand what was going on; they remained faithful to their cause, to the oaths they had sworn, as though they had only one idea, one hope in life—that of defending and saving their country. But fortune was against us.
Paris had been hastily fortified. All these warlike preparations had terrified the townspeople but could not destroy the natural gaiety of the French. Other nations are serious and solemn. Misfortune does not come to them as a sudden shock.
They foresee that it may occur and their foresight gives them the courage to resist it. The Frenchman finds his strength in his native gaiety. At a time when his capital was threatened, when everyone's fortune was in danger, he still managed to jest.
People packed up and concealed their precious belongings as merrily as though they were going on a picnic. The theaters remained open till the very last minute.
The morale of the National Guard was excellent. All the Parisians had enlisted as danger drew near and were filled with a desire to defend their homes. Only a leader was lacking. The Emperor could not manage to be everywhere at once.
He was outflanking the enemy in such a way as to drive the latter toward Paris. He had inquired whether the city could hold out a couple of days. Although the answer had been in the negative, he nevertheless continued to carry out his strategic plans. But while he did so the State, deprived of the only man who could have guided its course, drifted along, the prey of any sudden accident.
The habit of too strict obedience to a superior deprives the subordinate of self-confidence and initiative. He hesitates to adopt any line of action. And action even though it leads nowhere is better than remaining motionless; it shows at least an instinct for self-preservation.
The Emperor's brothers met privately. The Empress was about to assume the position of Regent, and I, as always, found myself in the position of being an alien to the rest of the family. My drawing-room had become a workroom and we spent our time making lint for the hospitals.
These melancholy occupations had something consoling about them. Those we loved were not struggling among icy wastes.
At present they were near at hand, almost in sight, in fact; and a sister, a wife, a mother could hasten to the bedside of someone who had been wounded. This feeling that we were sharing their danger, that we were no longer entirely alone inspired us with the energy circumstances required and overcame that impression of being a useless burden which generally weakens a woman's courage.
On March 28, 1814, my head chambermaid entered my room early in the morning. Greatly excited, she announced that the enemy was not far from Paris and that wounded French soldiers were arriving at the city gates.
Although not fully informed as to what was taking place, I found it hard to believe that the Allies were so close at hand when none of my relatives had said a word to me about it.
I had spent the preceding evening with the Empress, who had not appeared to know more than I did myself. I had played a game of whist with Monsieur de Talleyrand and Monsieur Mole.
We had joked about the rumors that the enemy was on the point of capturing Paris without having taken these tales at all seriously. For the last month I had been going riding every day for my health. I went out as usual and passing along the outer boulevards I quickly became aware that what my chambermaid had said was true.
Many wounded soldiers, who were being sent to Versailles instead of to their usual quarters, assured me the enemy was not far away. This picture of war close to me, right under my eyes, made a deep impression on me.
I returned home deeply moved and conscious that the moment when everyone would need all his courage was at hand. In the evening I went, quite early, to see the Empress.
She was about to go to the cabinet meeting, where, so I was told, the question of her departure was to be discussed. I tried by a thousand arguments to persuade her not to think of leaving Paris.
I told her that if she left, she would be quite as certain to fall into the enemy's hands as if he captured the city, whereas her presence in the capital would encourage its defenders; that we must all try to be worthy of the rank we held and fulfil all our obligations to the public; that, even if we were to suffer, we must accept that suffering, but that above all she had certain duties to perform ; that only in Paris would she be safe from any danger to her person while her presence would stimulate and arouse everyone's courage and loyalty.
I was still talking to her when King Joseph entered the room. I kept on arguing, but although he listened, he did not say a word, probably because in the days of the Empire people considered all women's ideas regarding political matters as silly and worthless.
I remained alone in the drawing-room, waiting to find out what the cabinet meeting had decided. It was necessary for me to know at once in order to be able to send word to my mother, who, alone in her retreat at Malmaison, had no idea of what was taking place and whom everyone seemed to have forgotten.
The Duchesse de Montebello came to keep me company. I knew the influence she possessed with the Empress and I explained more in detail than I had been able to do before how essential it was that the Empress remain in Paris. I added that the Emperor was doubtless aware of our position and that he was too skillful a strategist not to know how to come to our rescue.
I also pointed out that the idea of the capitulation of Paris was due to a panic-stricken state of mind since on the contrary everything should be done to save the city if we were not to run the risk of utter disaster.
The Empress, who on her return from the cabinet meeting was accompanied by King Joseph and the High Chancellor, said to me half jestingly, half timidly: "I am leaving and I advise you to do the same. The Minister of War assures me that it is impossible to defend Paris." I was dumfounded. All I was able to answer was "At least, my sister, remember you are losing your crown. I am glad to see that you are prepared to sacrifice it with a smile."
She came close to me and said in a low voice: "Perhaps you are right, but that is the decision that has just been made, and if the Emperor finds fault with anybody it is not I who deserve the blame."
It was agreed that she was to leave that very night. The High Chancellor protested against such haste. He declared no arrangements had been made, no orders had been given, and that the Empress scarcely had time to pack up a few pieces of wearing apparel. As far as he was concerned it was quite impossible to be ready in time.
The original French is available below:
