Ambition and Desire: The Dangerous Life of Josephine Bonaparte by Kate Williams

Prologue
    December 1, 1804.
    It was the most important night of Josephine’s life.
    Parisians and men and women from all over France were taking their positions along the route in the darkness, dignitaries from across the world had arrived, the gold coaches were prepared, and the imperial robes were hanging ready for the supreme hero. The next day, Napoleon was to be crowned emperor of France and all its territories. The little Corsican soldier would be “His Imperial Majesty.”
    All of France believed Josephine was marvelously happy, but inside the grand palace of the Tuileries, she was afraid. She was about to pull off the most audacious plan of her life.
    Everything was riding on how she conducted herself in what would be the most important test of her life so far. If she succeeded, she would be crowned empress, first woman of the empire and the consort of the greatest man the century would see. But if she failed, she would be condemned to disgrace, humiliation, and poverty. She was forty, she had been Napoleon’s wife for eight years, and he was talking of annulling their marriage.
    Napoleon had once been obsessed with his “little Creole.” But he mourned the lack of an heir, and now that he was the ruler, every woman in the empire was offering herself to him. When Josephine fell into one of her jealous rages, he simply left the room, bored by her tears. And because he had married her in a civil ceremony, she would not be too difficult to put aside.
    The Imperial Majesty, so decisive on everything, was unsure about his empress. His family whispered to him that marrying a foreign princess would boost his grandeur—and produce an heir. And yet Josephine was very popular with the French people, and Napoleon saw her as his good-luck charm. He was also a deeply loyal man. “How can I put away this excellent woman just because I am becoming great?” he fretted. Perhaps, he thought, he would wait until after he was crowned.
    Then he made one crucial mistake: He confided his concerns to Josephine. She responded calmly. Then she plotted. Pope Pius VII and his entourage were visiting, and Napoleon had asked Josephine to act as hostess. She was a celebrated diplomat, and he was proud of her graceful, charming ways. She seized the opportunity to win Pius over to her side.
    B Y D ECEMBER 1, the night before the coronation, Josephine was ready to strike. She begged the pope for a private audience and assumed her prettiest, gentlest manner. She confided to him that she felt quite distraught, violently worried about her soul, and only he could help her. She simply had to tell him her secret: The marriage had been a civil union, so they were living in sin in the eyes of God. She was afraid, she told him, so desperately afraid, that the emperor was destined for hell.
    Pius was prompted to action by her tears and softly whispered worries. He marched straight to the emperor and blustered that he refused to crown a sinful man. Declaring himself shocked that His Imperial Majesty had not confessed the truth, he announced that Napoleon must be immediately married in a religious ceremony. Napoleon pleaded and bullied, but Pius would not relent. The imperial pair must be united by a priest or he would refuse to conduct the coronation.
    Josephine sat demurely and waited for her plan to succeed. She had lingered until the very last minute to tell Pius, so that Napoleon would not have the time to argue the pope into a compromise. The supreme emperor was forced into a corner. Either he agreed to marry or the coronation would be delayed. Finally, grudgingly, he gave in. A makeshift altar was created in his study, and the couple was secretly married that evening by one of Pius’s cardinals. Napoleon fumed, while Josephine smiled.
    She had won. She was Napoleon’s wife before God. It would be almost impossible for him to set her aside. She, the “little Creole,” would be empress of France.
    That night Josephine savored her triumph. She had