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Updated: June 3, 2025
But that is poetry, you see, a dream requiring fifty thousand francs a year, and you have only two thousand four hundred so long as I live. After my death three thousand." A few tears rose to Hortense's eyes, and Lisbeth drank them with her eyes as a cat laps milk. This is the story of their honeymoon the tale will perhaps not be lost on some artists.
Hortense's contempt for the semi- rustic and impecunious Cope became boundless. About the middle of July a letter lay on the front-hall table for Carolyn. It was from Cope. "Only think!" said Carolyn to herself, in a small private ecstasy within her locked bedchamber; "he wrote on his own account and of his own accord. Not a line from me; not a suggestion!"
Come, stand up, to oblige me." Hortense at last consented. The motive for this extraordinary request I will now explain. On the day after the ball one of the newspapers contained some verses on Hortense's dancing. She was exceedingly annoyed at this, and when the paper arrived at Malmaison she expressed, displeasure at it.
Hortense's adorer conceived of groups and statues by the hundred; he felt strong enough to hew the marble himself, like Canova, who was also a feeble man, and nearly died of it. He was transfigured by Hortense, who was to him inspiration made visible. "Now then," said the Baroness to her daughter, "what does all this mean?"
She would have preferred to withdraw with her grief to the retirement of her chambers, but she thought it her duty to make this sacrifice for the welfare of her daughter and grandchildren; and she, the loving mother, could do what Hortense's pride would not permit she could entreat the Emperor Alexander to take pity on her daughter's fate.
Hortense's acting was perfection, Caroline was middling, Eugene played very well, Lauriston was rather heavy, Didelot passable, and I may venture to assert, without vanity, that I was not quite the worst of the company. If we were not good actors it was not for want of good instruction and good advice.
The little nephew, Hortense's son and Napoleon's darling, his intended heir, was dead; Joseph had only daughters, and there being no male successor to the throne, reasons of state made a divorce inevitable. The deference of others to the Empress and her condescension to them were but a mockery, the reality of her power having vanished.
Louis had always been a "mother's boy," frail in health, thoughtful, grave, loving, and full of sentiment. Hortense's life at Arenenberg was varied in the winter by visits to Rome. Her husband lived in Florence, and they corresponded about their boys. But though they met once again in after years, they were husband and wife no more.
It will afford me great pleasure to be of assistance to all of you, and I shall interest myself particularly for the Princess de Montfort ." Hortense had listened to the king, her whole face radiant with delight. The king's beneficent countenance, his friendly smile, his hearty and cordial manner, dispelled all doubt of his sincerity in Hortense's mind.
About three years after Hortense's marriage, in 1841, Baron Hulot d'Ervy was supposed to have sown his wild oats, to have "put up his horses," to quote the expression used by Louis XV.'s head surgeon, and yet Madame Marneffe was costing him twice as much as Josepha had ever cost him.
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