If an unfortunate girl woke up one day, opened her eyes, and found herself in Versailles at the end of the eighteenth century—and did not want to be sent to the guillotine like Marie Antoinette—then there were two things she had to establish first:
First, she had to know how to spend money.
Second, she had to be capable of bearing sons.
The scheming of the workplace did not apply to court struggles. It was even more brainless to fight Madame de Pompadour for a man's favor like the circle of mistresses around Louis XV. Two people who appeared to be at odds might genuinely trust one another, while those who seemed to cooperate seamlessly might each be harboring their own calculations.
Perhaps Napoleon had seen Pomona's desire for power, or perhaps she simply seemed rather foolish. Either way, she had been pulled onto his war chariot.
Whether she would become a discarded pawn or someone who walked onward with him depended entirely on herself.
Besides introducing new divorce laws, the Civil Code promulgated in January 1801 also addressed inheritance law.
The Salic Law of the old era stipulated that only male descendants were eligible to ascend the French throne. Now that the king had been overthrown, the Salic Law could gather dust in a library. So how was the new inheritance law to be determined?
While Pomona was establishing a hospital on the estate of Madame de Maintenon, Louis XIV's second wife, Napoleon was hardly playing the role of a love-struck prince who thought of her day and night. On May 9, 1801, Roederer drafted a proposal mentioning Bonaparte's authority to designate his own heir. Astonishingly, the Council of State passed it.
That meant Napoleon Bonaparte could designate an heir just as Caesar had designated Octavian. Once he named