Full disclosure: I’ve been quasi-obsessed with Josephine ever since 1987, when I saw Napoleon and Josephine: A Love Story (a miniseries that ran on ABC when I was in sixth grade). In my mind, Napoleon will always be Armand Assante and Jacqueline Bisset will always be Josephine. Part of the pleasure of reading books about Napoleon and Josephine is imagining the characters as they appeared to me on the screen in sixth grace. So yeah, there’s some nostalgia happening here. But nostalgia or not, this book is extremely entertaining and stands on its own, without my rose-colored glasses.

I’m not going summarize Josephine’s life here, other than to say she survived a shitty first marriage, the French revolution, and Napoleon’s rise to power. This book makes it clear just how much she had to sacrifice to stay on top of the world at Napoleon’s side – it sounds exhausting, honestly. This dude had needs. And one of those needs was for her to play a role – the majestic empress, the beautiful empress, the gracious empress, the witty empress, the sociable empress, the always available empress, the perfect empress. Even if you love someone, that is a lot to ask. But Josephine had no choice. Her ability to be the perfect empress was all she had to give him, considering she could not give him an heir. She made being the perfect wife and empress – minus said heir – her life’s work. And when Napoleon fell, in 1814, she died a few weeks later. Her heart and will to live had both been broken, it seems.

I liked this book because it had good pacing and good writing. Williams wants to entertain you and educate you, and her formula works. There’s also a lot of detail here about the Bonapartes and artwork – confiscated versus purchased – which I enjoyed.

Interestingly, I’d always read that Josephine died of diphtheria, but this book says it was probably pneumonia and doesn’t mention diphtheria at all. Is that a more modern take on it? Has the diphtheria diagnosis been relegated to the dustbin of history? It doesn’t matter at all. It’s just one of those things I happen to remember from all the books I read when I was a kid.

Caveats

No serious caveats – just a missed opportunity and a few questionable word choices.

• Early in the book, Williams makes it a point to note – a handful of times – that Josephine’s Black maid, Euphémie Lefèvre, was also likely her half sister. But after Josephine became Paul Barras’s mistress, we don’t hear anything about Euphémie. Once Josephine is already empress, we get this single line: “Josephine had long since sent away Euphémie Lefèvre, her maid and probable half sister, but supported her with a pension, and Euphémie eventually was able to buy a rather large property near Malmaison.” (Ch 16, loc 4187) So…do we know exactly when they parted? Did Euphémie want to retire, or did Josephine no longer want to employ her? After taking such care to emphasize the likely blood connection, Williams dropped the ball on telling us more. Even a line stating that we don’t know when or why they parted company would have been nice.
• On Plombieres and its attractions: “…hundreds of well-heeled invalids had flocked to Plombieres: rheumatic old women and gout-ridden men, along with dozens of frantic infertile women.” The “frantic” description bothered me – why not just infertile? Why make them sound so desperate? Even if they were, this word has a bad connotation that, in this context, feels judgey to me.
• At one point, when talking about Josephine and her affair with Hippolyte Charles, Williams describes her as “the only woman who dared betray Napoleon.” (Ch 11, 2813) Well, not really. If you mean “betray” in terms of marriage, Marie Louise hooked up with Adam Neipperg while she was still married to Napoleon. And if you mean “betray” in general terms, his sister Caroline betrayed him to try and stay on the throne of Naples. And those are just two examples off the top of my head. A little sensationalistic, then, to describe Josephine that way.
• At points, Williams seems on the verge of judging her subject. Take this sentence, for example: “Seductive, a survivor of prison, stylish, and somewhat lacking in morals, Marie-Joseph fit in to this circle perfectly.” (Ch 5, loc 1174) Okay, but were Josephine's "morals" any better or worse than the crowd she ran with? The people who ran the country at the time? The whole point of the Directory seemed to be that it had no morals - everyone was just glad to be alive after the Terror. So what sort of judgment is this? And is it really appropriate? Then, later, we get this sentence, which seems to excuse the lack of whatever 'morals' were implied in the previous statement: “To her, romance and sex were a path to status and security, the bargains that a woman had to make to survive.” (Ch 5, loc 1483) Is Williams excusing Josephine? Or chastising her? She walks a fine line here, but it seems unnecessary to judge your subject at all. We weren't there. We can't judge.

Tidbits

Since I read this in eBook and this particular edition doesn’t have equivalent page numbers for the paperback, the citations you see are the chapter number and the Kindle location.

• During the Terror (and prior to her arrest), Josephine moved out of Paris to Croissy, a suburb, and rented a house that used to belong to Madame Campan, Marie Antoinette’s lady-in-waiting. From her window, she noticed a beautiful chateau – Malmaison, which she would later own and make world-famous. (Ch 4, loc 945)
• Jacques-Louis David, the painter who later immortalized the moment when Napoleon crowned her empress, signed her first husband’s arrest warrant and death warrant during the revolution. (Ch 4, loc 962; Ch 16, loc 4135)
• Here’s how Josephine described herself: “Taking a side has always seemed tiring to my Creole nonchalance, I find it easier to follow the will of others.” (Ch 6, loc 1517)
• Napoleon sent some really weird requests to the Directory as he attempted to set up a French base of actions in Cairo. This is the order of things he wanted sent to him: “1st , a company of actors ; 2d , a company of dancers ; 3d , some dealers in marionettes , at least three or four ; 4^th , a hundred French women ; 5th , the wives of all the men employed in the corps ; 6th , twenty surgeons , thirty apothecaries , and ten Physicians ; 7th , some founders ; 8th , some distillers and dealers in liquor ; 9th , fifty gardeners with their families , and the seeds of every kind of vegetable ; 10th , each party to bring with them : 200,000 pints of brandy ; 11th , 30,000 ells of blue and scarlet cloth ; 12th , a supply of soap and oil…” (Ch 7, loc 2199) I mean, marionette dealers before surgeons and doctors? Seriously, dude?
• When Napoleon’s flagship, L’Orient, sank at the hands of Nelson’s guns, it went to the bottom of the sea with 600,000 livres worth of gold and diamonds Napoleon had stolen from Malta. (Ch 9, loc 2227)
• Napoleon had FEELINGS about what women should look like and what they should wear. We’re told he had “an invincible hatred of a fat woman.” And that he hated dark dresses. He wanted his wife and stepdaughter to wear only French products, which did not include Josephine’s beloved cashmere shawls and Indian muslin. Josephine and Hortense tried to lie and say their muslin was “St. Quentin linen,” but if Napoleon didn’t believe them, he would rip the offending dresses to shreds with his hands. (Ch 11, loc 2761-4)
• I did not realize her Malmaison zoo was so extensive. She had kangaroos, emus, llamas, a zebra, a gnu, flying squirrels, gazelles, Chinese pheasants, and Australian black swans. She also collected taxidermy animals and birds – and since I love taxidermy, too, we would have had something in common. (Ch 12, loc 2941-57)
• Hortense perhaps foresaw the future of being a 21^st century creative. “On one occasion at Malmaison, Hortense failed to make an appearance at dinner. When Josephine went to her daughter’s room and found her drawing, she asked whether she was hoping to earn a living from her hobby. Astute for her age, Hortense replied: ‘Mama, in the century in which we are living, who is to say that that might not happen?’” (Ch 12, loc 3054)
• Their happy moments made me smile. In the Tuileries, as emperor and empress, their lives weren’t totally devoid of affectionate moments: “His valet, Constant, would go to her apartments between seven and eight A.M. and sometimes find the pair still asleep. ‘When the Emperor asked me for tea or for an infusion of orange flowers and started to get up, the Empress would say to him smilingly, ‘Must you get up already? Stay a little longer.’ His Majesty would answer, ‘You mean you are not asleep?’ and he would roll her up in her blanket, giving her little taps on her cheek and on her shoulders, laughing and kissing her.’” (Ch 16, loc 4149)
• At the time, French fine dining did not consist of courses. “The custom of serving all the dishes together still prevailed , rather than the à la russe fashion of eating courses in sequence.” (Ch 16, loc 4226)
• When Napoleon proposed marrying his stepson, Eugène, to Princess Augusta of Bavaria, her father – the Elector of Bavaria – suggested Napoleon divorce Josephine and marry Augusta himself. (Ch 17, loc 4486)
• Crown Prince Frederick Louis of Mecklenburg-Strelitz had the hots for Josephine (while she was still married to Napoleon). When she went to the theater with him, Napoleon “was infuriated, declaring his wife a second Marie Antoinette and demanding that his rival leave Paris within two days.” (Ch 19, loc 4902) After the divorce, he asked Josephine about marriage, but she wouldn’t consider it.
• Not long before their divorce, when they both knew their time was almost up, they still behaved like honeymooners. “He then spent the last days in Bayonne relaxing with Josephine, pleased with a job well done. They ran hand in hand along the beach and swam in the sea. He played his usual tricks, throwing her shoes into the water and pushing her over in the sand. They were like young lovers on honeymoon.” (Ch 19, loc 4945)
• Napoleon’s second wife, Marie Louise, did not care for some of his outrageous rules: “Nearly two o’clock and the Emperor would not allow me to eat in the carriage! He said a woman should never have to eat. I was so angry and hungry that it gave me a fearful headache and so much bad humor that the Emperor was furious. I didn’t care. If I return in another world, I would certainly not remarry.” (Ch 20, loc 5329)
• When Josephine died in 1814, Napoleon wrote: “No woman was ever loved with more devotion, ardour and tenderness, only death could break a union formed by sympathy, love and true feeling.” (Ch 21, loc 5697)

Should You Read It?

Absolutely. Whether you’re already a Josephine fan or not, this book will give you a great feel for who she was and why she mattered, both to Bonaparte and to the world at large.

Williams does a good job of treating her as a human being – she’s not a paragon here, but neither is she slut-shamed, as she was by many of her contemporaries (including Napoleon’s own family). In my caveat section above, I only mentioned the author's seeming judgment of Josephine because it felt so out of place in the context of the rest of the book (where Williams is neutral about Josephine's cheating and war profiteering, but very sympathetic to the demands she faced as a beleaguered empress).

A constant theme remains Josephine's love for her children (and theirs for her). Even though this book doesn’t shed much light on Josephine as a mother, we’re constantly told that she wanted her children with her, no matter what was going on in her life. And the bond both her grown children shared with her must have meant she did something right. She was a woman of charm, of grace, of taste - and this book shows how far she came from being a girl judged to have none of these things. Highly recommended.

Franz Josef became Emperor of Austria thanks to the revolution of 1848. Although second in line for the throne, his father was urged to abdicate in his favor – turbulent times called for someone younger and more energetic, and his son fit the bill. From 1848 to 1916, Franz Josef was the living embodiment of a soon-to-be-vanished empire and way of life.

Devoted to duty, he was determined to carry it out faithfully at all times. And that’s exactly what he did, sometimes to the detriment of his personal relationships. After his son Rudolf died by suicide, many said he was heartless – he hadn’t shown the boy enough love, didn’t show enough grief or remorse afterward. But if your duty was to NOT do those things, to remain aloof and dignified at all times, why would you have?

He grieved in private and did his best not to let the world see how the many tragedies in his life affected him. And good lord, were there a lot of tragedies: first child died young, younger brother executed, son died by suicide, wife assassinated, nephew assassinated…the hits just kept on coming. I waver between thinking Franz Josef was too hands-off in his personal life and thinking that he held himself to a different standard because of his rank. This book can’t really help you make that judgment call – but it can give you some evidence to help you make up your own mind.

Caveats

None, really – just a couple minor quibbles and an observation, but overall, the book is well done.

• I didn’t like the way he described Emperor Franz’s second wife, Maria Theresa of Bourbon-Naples. He described her as “mentally deranged and extremely ugly.” I know nothing about Maria Theresa and don’t have a mental picture of what she looked like (without going to look one up). But even so, this description seems both nonspecific and unkind. What makes someone “extremely” ugly? And “deranged” – what does that even mean? If it indicates a mental illness, why not just say that? I’d expect that kind of language in, say, a 19^th or early 20^th century biography…but the first edition of this was published in 2005, and the new digital edition in 2013. This was probably before things like sensitivity readers were available, but reading those phrases in 2022 made me cringe. (12)
• There’s one mix-up between Archduchess Maria Josepha and Maria Theresa. He mentions “Francis Ferdinand’s stepmother Maria Josepha,” when he means Maria Theresa. Maria Josepha was his sister-in-law. (272)
• If you’re already pretty familiar with Franz Josef’s story, this probably won’t shed any more light on him for you. There is original research here from British archives, relating to what Queen Victoria and British ambassadors said about or thought about the Austrian empire and its rulers, but for the most part, this book uses previously published sources. That’s not a drawback – unless, as I said, you’ve already read sources by authors including Corti, Brook-Shepherd, Gribble, Hamann, Haslip, Ketterl, Margutti, Palmer, and Redlich. If you already know which books I’m referring to just by the authors’ names, you're who I’m talking about in this caveat.

Tidbits

• Franz Josef’s mother, Sophie, was a twin – one of two pairs of twin girls born to King Maximilian I of Bavaria and Princess Caroline of Baden (his second wife). With a total of five sisters who “had a reputation for being strong-willed and authoritarian by nature…the Prussian historian Heinrich von Treitschke would later refer to them collectively as ‘the Bavarian sisters of woe.’” (13) I kind of want that on a T-shirt now. Or for that to be a band name.
• Franz Josef’s father, Franz Karl, fell for his mom before she fell for him. He seems like a non-entity, without any particular talent or interest, but who was kind and loving. Except for when his mother-in-law described him as “really terrible…he would bore me to death. Every now and then I would want to hit him.” (14) Violence is not the answer, Caroline. You know that.
• When Italy was united and the monarchs of the Two Sicilies were driven out of the country, Franz Josef offered them a place in Vienna. This led to the following funny moment: “With the possibility that Vienna might become a home for exiled royalties from Italy and other neighbouring states, the nineteen-year-old Archduke Ludwig Victor remarked one night at a dinner that all the royal highnesses who were expelled from their dominions came to them. ‘I wonder where we will go when we are driven away?’ he asked disingenuously.” (82) LOL.
• This probably isn’t interesting to anyone but me, but this is my website, so you’re stuck with me. I already knew that when Princess Stephanie of Belgium got engaged to Archduke Rudolf, Franz Josef’s heir, the wedding had to be postponed because she hadn’t gotten her period yet. But Van der Kiste quoted Empress Elisabeth as calling Stephanie “an unformed child.” (161) This rang a bell for me because I’d seen a reference to another royal woman referred to as “unformed” and I didn’t know what it meant. When applied to a teenage or pre-teen girl, does “unformed” always mean that she hasn’t hit puberty yet? Or was Elisabeth’s usage a one-off? Enquiring minds want to know.
• When the Prince of Wales (the future Edward VII) visited Vienna, he had too much energy for Franz Josef. During a shoot in Hungary and military maneuvers in Croatia, Franz Josef tried to ditch the prince by riding faster (trotting and galloping). It didn’t work. “The fat man was always with me and held out quite unbelievably, only he got very stiff and tore his red Hussar trousers and, as he was wearing nothing underneath, that must have been very uncomfortable for him.” (177) Yes. Yes, indeed. It’s a little weird sitting here in 2022 wondering whether royals wore underwear, but there you have it. Be careful what you write, people. It could end up in the hands of nosy readers a hundred years later.
• To express disapproval of Franz Josef’s platonic but extremely close relationship with actress Katharina Schratt, “one of the junior archdukes” called him “Herr Schratt” to his face. (222) We’re not told which one, and there’s no footnote to go see where this tidbit came from, unfortunately. L
• One time, at band camp…er, at Franz Ferdinand’s house (unclear whether it’s the Belvedere or Konopischt)…he led his party guests through the place in a conga line “only to come face to face with Sophie’s recently washed underwear hung by the maid to dry on a chandelier.” (230)
• Thrifty Archduchess Gisela (Franz Josef’s daughter) used to take spare candles home from the Hofburg, where fresh ones were provided for the chandeliers every day even if the previous day’s candles were untouched. (232) Now that’s just being practical. Way to go, Gisela.
• I was impressed to read that, when traveling in the Austro-Hungarian empire, the devout Catholic Franz Josef always visited churches belonging to other faiths: Protestant, Orthodox, Islamic, and Jewish. Didn’t know that about him – but it made me like him more. (255)

Should You Read It?

Yep.

Franz Josef’s reign spanned an incredible length of time. If you have any interest in 19^th century history, World War I, or Austrian history, this is a no-brainer. It’s an easy read, well written, and a good starting point for the Habsburg story.

The whole world waited with bated breath to find out who King Alfonso XIII of Spain would marry. When, in 1905, he chose Princess Victoria Eugenia (Ena) of Battenberg, it was a surprise. Ena was a granddaughter of Queen Victoria, but her father was the product of a morganatic marriage – which many believed made her unsuitable for the throne of Spain. But it was a love match, and Alfonso didn’t care – or so he thought at the time.

Later, one of Alfonso XIII’s cousins, Infante Alfonso of Orleans, fell in love with Princess Beatrice of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, Ena’s cousin. But because Beatrice was firmly Protestant, Spanish authorities refused to allow the marriage. Although he personally approved, Alfonso’s hands were tied. So Alfonso (Ali) and Beatrice (Bee) took matters into their own hands and married outside of Spain.

Initially, they were exiled for marrying without the proper approval (and, unofficially, out of spite for Bee’s refusal to convert to Catholicism). Eventually, they were forgiven and welcomed back to Madrid, where Bee and Ena resumed their childhood friendship. They resumed it so well that it offended the strict etiquette of the Spanish court.

To us, it seems normal that you’d want to hang out with your best friend all the time. But Spanish court etiquette had strict rules about who got to spend time with the queen.

And when Ena flouted some of those rules to spend more time with Bee, it pissed some of those court officials off. So much so that they attacked Bee and tried to drive a wedge between the two women. They failed to do that, but a cabal did manage to drive a wedge between Bee’s husband and King Alfonso. (There’s a lot more to it than that, but I’m trying not to spoil the story for you.) So Ali and Bee were exiled a second time. Once again, they were eventually allowed to return and remained there until a revolution turned Spain into a republic and drove the royal family out of the country.

During the Spanish Civil War, Bee did what she could from the borderlands. After the war, she and Ali were finally able to settle permanently in Sanlúcar, where she founded a maternity hospital and devoted her time to her family and to charity.

The author, Ana de Sagrera, met Bee after becoming well-known in Spain for her biography of Queen Maria de las Mercedes, the short-lived true love of Alfonso XIII’s father. It’s fascinating to read this knowing the author actually met her subject, as well as spoke to many of Bee and Ali’s friends and descendants.

Overall, I highly recommend this book. It’s entertaining, and covers a lot of ground I’d never read about in other books. If, like me, you’d seen references to Bee as a troublemaker at the Spanish court, this book tells the real story – and explains why that lingering image isn’t true at all.

Caveats

Just one, really. Perhaps it’s due to the effects of translation, but there were times when sentences referred to two women (usually both Ena and Bee), and it was hard to untangle who the “she” referred to was.

Tidbits

• Bee’s first love was her Russian cousin, Grand Duke Mikhail Alexandrovich (younger brother of Nicholas II). But the Russian imperial family didn’t approve, and although Mikhail kept writing to her for months, the romance fizzled. “They do not want me to care for you,” he wrote her. (116) Bee’s family felt Michael led her on, and Bee herself seems to have felt that Mikhail was too weak to stand up to his parents.
• Grand Duke Boris of Russia, a cousin of Mikhail’s proposed to Ena but she turned him down. (125)
• Bee first met her future husband, Ali, during the celebrations for Ena’s wedding in Madrid in 1906. Grand Duke Vladimir, her uncle, introduced them at a ball. That very night, the first time they danced together, he asked if she would marry him. Her response? She slapped him. Violence is never the answer, but I found that amusing. Years later, he said he did it because it was the best way he could think of to make her remember him in a ballroom full of other potential suitors. (138)
• Already in love for two years but forbidden to marry by Spanish court law and etiquette (because Bee was a Protestant), Bee and Ali had to resort to some “strategery” to force the issue. Ali planned to visit Bee in Coburg on the way to fight in Morocco in July of 1909. Because the Catholic church has a dispensation called “Partida de la Mort,” the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha thought they could marry without permission. It was a rushed wedding, with a civil marriage first followed by a Catholic ceremony. King Alfonso wasn’t happy about it, because even though he’d given personal verbal permission for it, he wasn’t officially able to sanction it without the government’s consent (per the Spanish Constitution). Ali’s father was so shocked he sent Ali a telegram to say “all is finished between us.” (169) Ouch.
• Bee designed the emblem for the then-new Spanish Air Force. It consisted of “large feathers, with a golden sun in the centre to be embroidered on the aviators’ green uniforms…Curiously the Spanish Emblem would be copied by the British Royal Air Force and other countries.” (211)

Should You Read It?

Yes. Whether you’re interested in Queen Victoria’s descendants, a few tidbits of Russian history, Spanish history, or general European royal history, there’s something for everyone here.

I bought this book because it shows up in lots of bibliographies. It specifically looks at the reasons for the fall of four dynasties during and after World War I: the Hohenzollerns in Germany, the Habsburgs in Austria-Hungary, the Romanovs and Russia, and the Ottomans in Turkey. It’s a decent summary of the political scene before the war, during the war, and shortly after the war. The book didn’t break any new ground for me, but that’s probably because of the huge amount of material on World War I published since 1963 (the first edition of this book). Any modern reader already interested in WWI has probably already read several books like this one.

What makes this book different is the inclusion of the Ottomans – usually far more on the periphery than in this book.

Also, the author isn’t shy about including some personal opinions, as you can see by his description of Kaiser Wilhelm II: “A born ham with a compulsive urge for the mock-heroic gesture, Wilhelm ranted and postured like some men drink. His whole life was a series of charades that he acted out with self-applauding zest before a captive audience of European diplomats and crowned heads unable to take their eyes off the grotesque performance for a moment lest fate punish the mountebank by accepting one of his impersonations at its face value, thus turning farce into real tragedy.”(30)

This style of opinionated storytelling isn’t as popular today as it was in the 1960s – I’d like to think we’re a lot more respectful today, and more interested in advancing understanding than proving oneself right. So if you’re not used to the style, it might be offputting at first. However, if you're like me, it's interesting seeing who and what people blame for WWI, so an opinionated style can actually be useful.

Tidbits

• In pre-war Vienna, public dance halls were popular night spots. “One, claiming to be the largest in Europe, maintained a fully equipped emergency maternity room for the convenience of its female patrons.” (25) WTF.
• When, in 1866, Austria lost its Italian provinces, ex-Emperor Ferdinand (who had been forced to abdicate in 1848), supposedly said, “Is this what they made me abdicate for? I could have lost those provinces myself.” (59) This quote made me laugh, and if it’s true (Taylor presents it as if it is), refutes the description I’ve seen elsewhere of Ferdinand as severely mentally disabled.
• “Once when Kaiser Wilhelm II, who had been invited to attend an important Austro-Hungarian field exercise, asked the Imperial Chief of Staff if he might have some champagne with his meals, Francis Joseph indignantly forbade it. ‘Not a drop,’ he growled, ‘let him drink beer.’” (62)
• Kaiser Wilhelm II apparently wished American millionaires would leave him money: “Sometimes,” he wrote his friend, Poultney Bigelow, the son of an American diplomat with whom he had played Indians in childhood, “I wish one of your millionaires would have the splendid idea on his deathbed of willing his fortune to me.” (101) Was this tongue-in-cheek? Maybe. Taylor doesn’t present it as that way. He is not fond of the Kaiser.
• Austria’s Foreign Minister, Count Leopold Berchtold (“Poldi”) had “a mania of drinking iced coffee (brought up specially from Demel’s Café) at all hours of the day.” (133) So what’s your point? 😉 Iced coffee is good, dude.
• Apparently, some in high society were taken completely unaware by WWI. “When the detonator finally went off, on July 23, the statesmen and the diplomats were only slightly less surprised than the novelist Elinor Glyn, then at the height of her slightly scandalous success, who commented with asperity on the bad manners of the Austrian Ambassador in rushing away from a weekend house party in a chateau near Paris at which they were fellow guests. Anthony Glyn relates in his entertaining biography of his famous grandmother that when Fielder, Elinor’s chauffeur, suggested the disappearance of the Ambassador was possibly a sign of impending war, ‘everyone searched hurriedly in the newspapers to see what he could mean and with whom the war could be.’ (136)

Should You Read It?

If you’re obsessed with World War I, yes. If you’re not, you can probably skip this one – unless, like me, you obsessively stalk bibliographies of other books.

Like I mentioned, this is a short book – Kindle places it at about 108 pages, but 23 of those are endnotes, picture credits, and bibliography. Plus, there are 33 images, some of which are full-page illustrations. All told, you’re looking at 55 – 60 pages of actual text. It’s a really fast read; I read it in one sitting on a Sunday morning. It’s the story of a wedding, which naturally begins with the engagement and ends with the couple leaving Russia to start their new lives together in London.

I won’t do a traditional review for this since it’s not a traditional book. It’s not a biography of either Alfred or Marie – it’s a snapshot of a particular piece of history at a very particular moment. If you’re interested in how British newspapers described the wedding ceremony (held in St. Petersburg’s Winter Palace), you’ll get a lot of that detail here. Gelardi must love the British Newspaper Archive as much as I do!

If you don’t have much time to read or just want a snippet of royal history, this book will entertain you. If you’d rather have the complete story of a life, this will leave you wanting more. It all depends on what kind of reader you are and the kind of book you want (or have time for).

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This is a very readable cradle-to-grave biography of Princess Alice, Queen Victoria’s second daughter. The author made fantastic use of letters in the Hessian archives, which provided as close a glimpse as possible of Alice’s mind and soul. She was the daughter most affected by her father, Prince Albert’s death, since she was the one who nursed him and recognized – before her mother – that he wasn’t going to make it. As a teenager, that’s got to do some mental and emotional damage.

Alice recovered as best she could, and for a time it seemed she was happy with her husband, Hereditary Prince (later Grand Duke) Ludwig of Hesse and by Rhine. But over the years, court life in Darmstadt weighed on her. She wanted to do epic shit, as they say – really help the poor and underserved people her new country. But getting down into the trenches to understand and help sex workers, the poor, and the sick wasn’t what well-bred women in Darmstadt were supposed to do. So courtiers gossiped about her for the rest of her life. It hurt her and weighed on her terribly.

What surprised me most was how brutally honest Alice was with her husband, Ludwig. Late in her life, she wrote some extremely hurtful things in her letters. Essentially, she’d say things like, “Man, I really thought we were going be soul mates, but you’re not capable of meeting me on my mental or spiritual level, so that really sucks for me.” And then she’d follow it up with something like, “But I’m totally looking forward to seeing you when you get back from your trip. Love you!” That’s my rendition, obviously, not her exact words, but you get the drift. It was actually hard to read – my heart hurt for Ludwig, but also for her, because I could feel her pain, too.

Princess Alice died of diphtheria in 1878 at the young age of 35. I won’t spoil the story any further, but the way it happened…oh, man, if that doesn’t get you right in the feels, you have a heart of stone.

One of the most interesting parts was Appendix II, a letter from Princess Alice’s British doctor meant to advise her on how to stay healthy after her marriage, while far away in Darmstadt. It provides advice on diet, exercise, constipation, what to do if you think you’re pregnant, what to do if you think you’re having a miscarriage, and other useful things. Because Alice was so forthright and interested in the workings of the human body, I didn’t imagine her blushing while reading this.

Caveats

There were a few points where I wish the author had gone into more detail – and at least one that I think he overlooked or missed entirely.

For example, Alice developed a close friendship with German writer David Strauss. He was a theologian who wrote about the historical Jesus as being separate from the mythological Jesus. But when Strauss died in 1874, the author says he and Alice had drifted apart: “…she was one of the many former devotees of Strauss who found that they could not follow him in the extremes to which he went towards the end of his life, particularly in his work The Old and New Faith.” (220) Um…what were those extremes? Even a sentence or two would really help illuminate Alice’s character. Wouldn’t you like to know what was too extreme for Alice? I know I would. It’s unlikely I’m going to go read Strauss’s book, and it would have been so easy for the author to just give us one sentence more about this. But no, he moved on.

And as a point I feel that he overlooked, I was hoping he’d say more about Alice’s openness about the human body. One of the Queen Victoria quotes included in the Gelardi book I mentioned above was her telling someone (probably Vicky) to be on her guard against Alice’s nosy questions about ladyparts and their functions. Nowhere in this book is it explicitly mentioned that Alice actually asked family members for details about their bodies. I find this fascinating and wish the author had covered it. In a family with such a voluminous correspondence, surely there’s a lot more evidence of this to find and share.

The book also ends abruptly with her death. I prefer it when authors give you some closure after the fact. How did people grieve? What did they say about her after she died? Did her husband remarry? (He did, which I already knew, but no thanks to this book.) I don’t need another 20 pages of grief, but a few choice quotes from people who missed her (or who only later realized what she meant to them) would have been nice.

Tidbits

• Alice insisted on breast-feeding every baby that came after her first – definitely something unusual for royal mothers at the time. She had her first child, Victoria, in England and Queen Victoria just wouldn’t allow it. But Alice was determined to do so later, when out of her mother’s grasp, which she was for the rest of her pregnancies (all 5 of them).
• Personal hygiene was one of Alice’s social crusades. She promoted “the installation of baths in private homes. This would involve a whole new drainage system, for which Alice fought tooth and nail, her only ally being the family doctor, Dr. Eigenbrodt.” But not everyone thought this was a great idea. A Darmstadt citizen attending one of her public meetings on the subject said, “We do not want such ideas Your Highness. It is a luxury if everybody can have a bath. I have never bathed in my life and yet I am clean. These are new fangled English ideas.” (143)
• Frances, Countess of Warwick described Alice as “that woman of more than ordinary gifts” who “was slightly clairvoyant and psychic.” (176)
• When Alice’s second son, Frittie (a hemophiliac), died after falling out a window, her older son Ernie said, “When I die, you must die too, and all the others; why can’t we all die together? I don’t like to die alone like Frittie.” Such a macabre quote, but makes total sense from a little kid’s point of view. (213)
• Over the holiday season of 1877/1878 (her last), Alice was in despair over an ongoing quarrel with her mom. We don’t know exactly what it was about – the author says she gives no further information to Ludwig when she wrote, “I have had a letter from Mama – so unfair that it makes me cry with anger. I am so cross that I shall not write about it until I am back in D. I wish I were dead – and it probably will not be too long before I give Mama that pleasure.” (231) Ouch.

Should You Read It?

If you’re interested in Alice or Queen Victoria’s children at large, yes! But if you’re not already interested in Victorian-era women, this probably won’t hold your attention.

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Olga was born a Princess of Greece and Denmark in 1903 (two years after the Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother and Grand Duchess Anastasia, for context). Her parents were Prince Nicholas of Greece and Grand Duchess Elena Vladimirovna of Russia. She and her two sisters – Marina (future Duchess of Kent) and Elisabeth (future Countess of Toerring) – experienced the turmoil of multiple world wars and revolutions. Their grandfather, King George of the Hellenes, was murdered. Political turmoil forced their uncles, Constantine and George II, out of Greece. A plebiscite forced their cousin, another Constantine, off the throne in 1974. Through it all, Olga and her sisters never lost touch with their Greek roots and family.

Olga, however, went from the political frying pan into the fire when she married Prince Paul of Yugoslavia. If you thought Greek politics were fraught with peril, meet Yugoslavia – a country created by decree after World War I, encompassing diverse ethnic groups that didn’t all get along or want to be lumped together under a single ruler. Paul became the country’s regent while his relative, King Peter, was a minor. What did that mean for Olga? She and Paul were king and queen in all but name, handling the political and social duties required of a ruler.

Of course, everything went wrong when World War II broke out. You had the Axis powers pressuring Paul to join them…and the Allied powers pressuring Paul to join them. Meanwhile, poor Paul was trying to do the job he’d been tasked to do: act as a steward of the kingdom until Peter came of age. For him, that meant keeping Yugoslavia neutral – after all, it wasn’t his country to pledge to either side. No one else seemed to understand or accept that.

It was a classic no-win situation.

And it didn’t go Paul’s way. His regency was forced out of power by the Allies, who installed Peter as their king. Then the Nazis marched in, scattering them all. Long story short, Prince Paul and Olga spent the war in a sort of genteel house arrest in Kenya and then South Africa, with the British as their hosts-slash-jailers.

After the war, they floated from place to place, with the world pretty much hating Paul (unfairly, in my opinion) for not taking their side in the war. And as the years passed, Olga remained incredibly close to her mother and sisters – they were the true loves of her life. I won’t tell you much more so the events and people of Olga’s later life aren’t spoiled if you read this.

One big plus of this book? The author had access to Olga’s private papers and interviewed some of her family members. Now, usually what that means is the author must whitewash any unpleasantness – the family doesn’t want a hatchet job done to their loved one. Understandable. But in this case, I felt the author was pretty generous with moments in Olga’s life where there was obvious stress, or where the modern reader probably wouldn’t side with her on a particular issue.

Caveats

I have two caveats, one little and one relatively big. Neither of them should stop you from reading this book. I just needed to put them out there.

My little caveat

There are SO MANY instances where the pluralization of a noun is incorrectly turned into a possessive. Part of me feels like a dick for even pointing this out, but I'm no one special, and if I learned this, so can you.

These are mistakes that show the author does not know the difference between a plural and a possessive. That’s actually fine, because there should be an editor in the background who can fix these mistakes. But the frequent mistakes made me wonder…was there an editor?

This is not the idea you want running through your reader’s head.

Like I said, it’s a small caveat because I still understood what the author meant. But to have such an obvious mistake repeated dozens if not hundreds of times was a red flag. For those of you who aren’t sure what I’m talking about:

• Example 1: “…one of her former employee’s at Beli Dvor…” (294)
  • Correct: one of her former employees (This is a plural, not a possessive – there is not supposed to be an apostrophe.)
• Example 2: referring to two couples, “Kent’s and Ogilvy’s” (284)
  • Correct: the Kents and Ogilvys (This is a plural, not a possessive – there is not supposed to be an apostrophe.)
• Example 3: “…the Princess’ joined other ‘near relations’…”(108)
  • Correct: the Princesses joined… (This is a plural not a possessive – there is not supposed to be an apostrophe.)

My big caveat

This book is incredibly comprehensive in terms of Olga’s life – a huge achievement since, as far as I know, this is the first full-length biography of her. But I felt it was missing something in terms of the bigger picture. I wanted more scope, flow, pacing, and a bit of pruning. It’s like we’re viewing Olga though a zoom lens, and I wanted the author to zoom out a bit and give us some additional perspective.

For example, this book drops a lot of names. It can be difficult to sort through Olga’s cousins and uncles and aunts and second cousins. Sometimes they’re referred to by nicknames, which helps. Other times, they’re not. Footnotes would have been helpful, or in-text clues to help the reader get a better feel for who’s being mentioned. For example, sometimes Olga’s mom is referred to as “Princess Nicholas,” other times as “Ellen.” Sometimes from one sentence to the next, the nomenclature is different. It made me wonder why – and having your reader wonder about your naming conventions probably isn’t what the writer wanted.

I also felt there was room for other voices. The author’s main sources were Olga’s letters and diary, which is fantastic, but sometimes…I wanted someone else’s perspective on an event or person. This book doesn’t give you a lot of quotes or viewpoints from other people. You have the ubiquitous Chips Channon, of course. And a few notes from Yugoslav politicians. But overall, the focus was very narrow and I think that was a missed opportunity.

Access to sources in different languages can be problematic, so this longing I have for more context and more depth is probably a pipe dream.

But if you read this book, I suspect you’ll start to feel – as I did – that you’re reading a laundry list of day-by-day activities. I also suspect not all of those activities needed to be included. This book is long and dense. To achieve the scope I’m missing, some of that quotidian content probably has to go. I don’t think that would be a bad thing.

For example, one time, when Olga stayed with Alice Athlone at Kensington Palace in the early 1970s, Alice roped Olga into weeding her garden. As the author tells us, “…on one occasion, Olga became so exhausted from her endeavours that she was forced to take a nap.” Is this really a newsworthy, biography-worthy moment? Include the tidbit that Olga weeded Alice’s garden, but is more really necessary? Are we gaining insight into Olga as a human by learning…shocker…that she got tired and needed a nap?

As I said, neither of these caveats are a deal-breaker. And I’m giving them more space than they deserve. This book is a big achievement – let that be clear. But I think it could have been a great achievement with a little more context, and a little wider scope.

Tidbits

There are so many…

• In December of 1915, at Tatoi, Princess Helen of Greece (Olga’s cousin) made a snowman and put a lit cigarette in its mouth. I don’t know why this detail is so charming. (33)
• In 1935, Paul suffered from myolysis in one arm. “Milan Stojadinović would later claim that the Princess had informed him that the arm problem had been caused by Mignon [Queen Marie of Yugoslavia] striking the Prince in the course of a heated argument.” (97) All in all, this book does not do Mignon any favors. I try to keep an open mind – everyone’s suffering and having problems you don’t know about – but this book makes it hard at points.
• Zoia de Stoeckl and her husband, Alfons Poklewski, make appearances in this book. They were close to Marina, Olga’s sister, and Olga interacts with them on her numerous trips to England. I reviewed Agnes de Stoeckl’s memoir here.
• There was a recurring tension between Olga and Queen Frederika of Greece (who married Olga’s cousin, Prince Paul of Greece). The author isn’t really clear on how or why this developed – and we don’t hear Frederika’s voice to explain her side. All we get is a brief note that “Olga seemed somewhat taken aback when ‘Freddie’ simply ‘walked in suddenly’ to her mother’s house to partake of an impromptu supper and enjoy a long chat.” Is this really how it started? Am I the only one who thinks that’s unlikely? (236)
• Olga and Paul inherited the lovely Villa Demidov in Florence, Italy – Paul’s mother was the wealthy and beautiful Aurora Demidov. Her grandmother, also named Aurora, at one time owned the Sancy diamond!
• Olga was not pleased when her son’s girlfriend (soon to be second wife, Princess Barbara of Liechtenstein) wore pants to meet her for the first time. The year? 1972. (302)
• Olga lived to age 94. She died on October 16, 1997. It trips me out to think that Olga – who remembered the Romanov court and her grandmother, Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna – was alive while I was in college.

Should You Read It?

If you’re a fan of the Greek royal family, yes. If you’re a fan of the Karadjordjević dynasty, yes. If you’re nuts about World War II, probably. But if you don’t already have an abiding love for these characters or for literature on the second world war, you might not be able to make it all the way through.

The author is clearly vested (and well versed) in Luxembourg and its history. Born in Italy in 1950, Gardini’s father moved the family to Luxembourg a few months later. Decades later, living in America, he began contributing to the Luxembourg News of America. His research specialty is Luxembourg immigrants to the U.S. and their descendants, and he clearly knows his stuff.

In the foreword, he notes that most Luxembourg scholars skip over the WWI period and don’t talk or write much about Grand Duchess Marie-Adélaïde, let alone her vilification and abdication in favor of her sister Charlotte. Why? This book doesn’t really answer that question, unfortunately. It presents a range of essays and facts gathered, but without much analysis or conclusion. It feels more like a brain dump or an outline than a fully fleshed-out book.

That being said, I appreciated the brief discussion of whether Marie-Adélaïde was friendly with German forces after they invaded Luxembourg in 1914. For the record, Gardini says there is no evidence to support the legend that Marie Adélaïde's car blocked a bridge the German needed to cross to enter the country. And I agree with his statement: “Could she have refused to receive him? Undeniably not, besides a face-to-face meeting with the Kaiser would provide her with the fitting opportunity to voice her protest to the highest authority. Would she be vilified for it later on? Indeed, she would.” (Chapter: The German Emperor in Luxembourg)

Caveats

• As mentioned, this isn’t a traditional narrative book. There is very little thread between chapters other than a chronological progression through the war years. And many of the chapters are purely informational, with no analysis. For example, there’s a chapter called “Grand Duchy of Baden – German Emperor – Nassau Dynasty Connection.” It explains that Grand Duchess Marie-Adélaïde’s aunt, Hilda, married the Hereditary Prince of Baden in 1885. And his mother was the only daughter of the first German Kaiser, Wilhelm I. That’s it. The chapter is about a page and a half. No explanation of how or if this relationship changed any of the political dynamics in the country. Just a very brief recitation of fact. Why include it if there’s no analysis? That’s what I meant earlier when I said it feels more like a brain dump than a traditional book.
• The author cites Catherine Radziwill as evidence for Marie-Adélaïde’s implied attitude toward Germany. In my experience, you quote Radziwill for gossip, not for heft to support your ideas. Then again, what do I know? Nothing. Literally nothing. The older I get, the more I realize how little I know about even the things I think I know. So maybe my judgment here is out of line. Still, I wouldn’t feel comfortable basing any conclusion solely on Radziwill’s writing.
• The eBook formatting is a little wonky. The text of the endnotes is at least double the size of the actual text. So if you get to the end of the text, and you’re only 78% of the way through the eBook, that’s why.

Should You Read This Book?

If you have a deep interest in Luxembourg in the World War I period, yes. If not, there’s probably not enough here to keep you interested.

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This was W. Bruce Lincoln’s last book – his wife wrote the acknowledgements, since he died before this was published. I think of the authors I read as perennially tucked away in a library or office, always working on something new. And as unrealistic as it is, I think of them as always alive…so it makes me sad when reminders of their death creep into a book.

This was a very enjoyable book to read. It takes you through the history of St. Petersburg in chronological order, highlighting the physical, emotional, and spiritual changes the city went through in various phases of its 300-year existence. You get glimpses of how tsars, tsarinas, architects, poets, painters and writers interacted with the city. A book like this would make no sense without copious illustrations, and this book has ’em, thankfully.

Lincoln constantly refers back to the idea of Petersburg as Russia’s “window to the West.” It evaluates how Russia drifted between Western influence under Peter the Great, Anna, Elizabeth and Catherine and then became more distant to the West under Tsar Nicholas I, and even more so a hundred years later after the Russian Revolution.

If I were going to critique anything, it would be the lack of focus on ordinary people. Empresses Anna, Elizabeth, and Catherine get a lot of coverage, and rightly so. But once we pass the era of Nicholas I, Lincoln sticks mostly to writers (Gogol, Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Akhmatova, Brodsky) to help him tell the story. That’s totally reasonable, of course. But I found myself wondering how much more encompassing the book would have been with more descriptions and quotes from native citizens who weren’t famous writers or painters. In Suzanne Massie’s book on Pavlovsk, for example, there are stories of the heroic ordinary people who saved the palace’s treasures prior to the Nazi invasion and worked painstakingly to restore the palace after the war. These people’s connection to their country and their history moved me so much – and it’s that emotional connection this book lacks.

Interesting Tidbits

• Peter the Great (the city’s founder) wanted Russia to borrow everything it needed from the West, and then once they’d modernized, chance course and “show their ass to the West.” (3)
• The enormous piece of granite that supports Falconet’s statue of Peter the Great in Senate Square had to be dragged five miles to the Finnish coast, and then floated another 8 miles to Russia. At 30 feet high and 3 million pounds, this was no joke. In a year, they’d moved it 160 feet. It took a total of 2 years and thousands of workers’ effort to put the stone in place for Falconet to work on. (95-6)
• In early 19^th century St. Petersburg, it was illegal to smoke on the street because fire was such a danger. Watchmen kept a lookout for any sign of fire. (141)
• Dostoyevski was imprisoned in the Peter & Paul fortress in 1849, for his connections to a group of subversives. After almost being hung (but reprieved at the last minute), he was finally sentenced to 4 years of penal servitude in Siberia. After everything, he wrote to his brother, “Life is a gift. Each moment of life can be a century of happiness.” (175)
• Everyone the Bolsheviks sent to guard the wine cellars of the Winter Palace got drunk. The Preobrazhensky Regiment? Drunk. The Pavlovsky Regiment? Drunk. Other random units? Drunk. Handpicked Regional Committees? Drunk. Armored car drivers patrolling to keep people out of the wine cellar? Drunk. The firemen sent to flood the cellar to keep looters out? Drunk. (240)
• On January 15, 1944, the Red Army unleashed what is possibly the largest barrage ever on the German army to break the siege of Leningrad (St. Petersburg’s name under the Soviets): 500,000 shells and rockets in 2.5 hours. That was after the previous morning’s assault of 100,000 shells in 65 minutes. It worked. (297)
• Saxophones had never been made in the USSR, so you had to get them from somewhere else. The government had provided some to jazz bands, but rescinded that approval in 1949. Everyone with a saxophone had to turn it in and get new work paper showing they played a different instrument. (322)

Should You Read It?

If you’re interested in Russia, yes. And if you find biographies of places interesting – like Alistair Horne’s Seven Ages of Paris, you’ll also like this book.

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First things first: Talleyrand is one of the most debated and inscrutable characters in early modern history. No single biographer is likely to be able to capture all of his facets and contradictions. As the subtitle of this book says, he was both a betrayer and a savior of his country – and opinions about him remain divided. For example, when he turned on Napoleon and began actively working against him, was that a betrayal of his boss or the salvation of his country? Luckily, the author does a good job of telling you when opinions diverge and gives you his take, based on the evidence. I appreciated that, as it gives you a wider picture of how he’s perceived without you having to do a damn lit review like you’re writing a paper in grad school.

The book focuses on Talleyrand’s political career. As I mention in my first caveat below, this will float your boat if you’re like most people. I’m not most people. I wanted more details on his personal life. For example, Harris describes the Duchess of Courland as “one of the greatest love affairs and most important friendships of his life.” (Ch 10) The author then covers their entire relationship in a single paragraph. Any other time her name pops up, it’s in reference something Talleyrand wrote her that has nothing to do with their relationship. You can see how this is irritating. What drew him to her? When did he see her? How long did their affair last? All we’re told is that he “valued his friend’s shrewdness as much as her beauty and affection.” (Ch 10) It’s not enough – nor is there enough information on his other loves and affairs. That’s my main quibble with the entire book.

I enjoyed the author’s style – it’s not academic, but it’s loftier than many popular histories. It’s also honest about his faults and failings. Apparently, Napoleon’s disastrous expedition to Egypt was in large part his fault. He wrote a memorandum suggesting the expedition – a fact Talleyrand omitted in his memoir, blaming it all on Napoleon.

If you’re interested in the Napoleonic period, the Congress of Vienna, the Hundred Days, or the Bourbon restoration in particular, you’ll enjoy the perspective this book has to offer.

Tidbits

• A great Talleyrand quote: “Translations augment the faults of a work and spoil its beauty.” (Preface)
• Another good quote: “In matters of importance one must get the women going.” (Ch 6)
• Yet another good quote, after Napoleon gave him the title “Prince and Duke of Benevento”: “Go and see Mme de Talleyrand. Women are always charmed to be princesses.” (Ch 8)
• A few names popped up that rang a bell for me, although I didn’t have time to track down the full connection. Case in point: Talleyrand’s friend and lover, the comtesse de Brionne, had two daughters: the princesse de Carignan and the princesse de Lorraine. Marie Antoinette’s best friend, the Princesse de Lamballe, was born a princess of Savoy-Carignan. What’s the connection between the princesse de Carignan and the Princesse de Lamballe, if any?
• During the French Revolution, Talleyrand lived with Adélaïde de Flahaut (his lover) and the American Gouverneur Morris in an apartment in the Louvre. Both men loved Adélaïde, and Morris was anxious for Talleyrand to move on with Germaine de Staël so he could have Adélaïde to himself. (Ch 3)
• During the Terror, he fled to England – but was expelled under the terms of the Alien Act. So he decided to head for America, As he was getting underway, his ship ran into a storm and had to turn back to Falmouth. There, he met an American that he hoped would be able to help him. Nope. It was Benedict Arnold, persona non grata for obvious reasons. What are the odds? (Ch 5)
• In America, he settled in Philadelphia. There, he was seen with “a Negro girl on his arm” that the author later refers to as his “black mistress.” (Ch 5; notes)
• Also in America, he met up with the La Tour du Pins and commented to Madame de Staël that he thought it was weird they shared the same bedroom. Perish the thought. (Ch 5)
• A local hosiery maker in the village of Valençay, where he had a gorgeous chateau, “even kept moulds of the legs of the Prince’s female guests, in case they laddered [i.e., got a run in] their stockings.” (Ch 8)
• Napoleon probably did not actually call Talleyrand “shit in a silk stocking.” Damn it. (Ch 11)

Caveats

• Talleyrand’s personal life gets short shrift. This author focuses on his political contributions almost exclusively. I get it – there’s so much to cover that you can’t include everything. And on the whole, the political stuff is what most of the world is interested in. But if you’re as interested in the personal stuff, this book isn’t going to scratch that itch, so to speak. His loves and lovers barely rate mentions here. Ditto for his illegitimate son, Charles de Flahaut. Whether that’s because Talleyrand had little to nothing to do with him is unclear – this book stays that far away from Talleyrand’s personal life. The author mentions only that Charles was the first but not likely the last of Talleyrand’s illegitimate children. No others are mentioned, not even claimants.
• You already need a background in the major events and players of the Napoleonic and Restoration eras. That’s not necessarily a bad thing – the book might be twice as long otherwise. Still, if you don’t already know who Napoleon fought against, why, and what the outcome of the major battles was, you’re not going to get any of that info here. You need to know, and then the new info about what Talleyrand was doing behind the scenes can be added to what you already know. For example, there isn’t a word about the devastation of the Grande Armée in Moscow. The author notes that the future Duchesse de Dino simply told Talleyrand when Napoleon had returned from Russia, and that he left his “shattered army” behind. (Ch 12) If you don’t already know the details, you won’t understand how shameful that episode was.

Should You Read It?

If, like me, you know the bare minimum about this guy, this book is a good choice to get started – just keep in mind the personal takes a backseat to the political.

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