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 THE LIFE 
 
 or THB 
 
 EMPRESS JOSEPHINE, 
 
 ^irsl WMt of Ua^okoir. 
 
 BY 
 
 P. C. HEADLEY, 
 
 AITTHOB OP " WOMBN OP TITB BIBLE," " LIFB OP LAPATTtTTB," " LlVtt OF MART 
 gUKEN OP 800TB," '• LIFE OP KOSSUTH," BrTO. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM.
 
 Snterad M(<ordlng ta Act of CJongress, In the year one thoosand eight hundred 
 
 and fifty-six, 
 
 BY MILLEE, OETON & MULLIGAN, 
 
 In Q» CI«at ^ Office of the District Court of the Northern District of New Yoik.
 
 TO 
 
 REV. GEORGE GANNETT, 
 
 PSrtTCIPAL 07 GAIOrETT FKMAT.B ZE^STITTTTE, BOSTOIT, 
 
 VLijis IToIutne is lEnscrfbelJ 
 
 AS AN EXPRESSION OP APPRECIATION OF HIS 
 
 MERITED SUCCESS IN THE EDUCATIONAI, 
 
 ENTERPRISE OP HIS LIFE, 
 
 AND AI.SO OF THE BIKCERB BESPECT ASD 
 BEGABD 07 
 
 THE AUTHOa.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 »•« 
 
 Lf offering another biography of Josephine to the 
 admirers of that brilliant woman, it was the design of 
 both the Author and Publishers, to furnish in a more 
 popular form than any similar work in print, an im- 
 partial delineation of her character, and a general 
 view of the events upon the field of history across 
 which she made a sad and brilliant transit. A strictly 
 original work is not claimed, as no access could be 
 had to manuscripts of the departed, or to the archives 
 of France. For the correspondence, we are mainly 
 indebted to Memes ; and have referred for various 
 interesting facts, to Bourrienne, Hazlitt, Yon Rotteck, 
 Scott, Alison, &c. 
 
 Josephine, for the times in which she lived, was a 
 model of female character ; and if this volume shall 
 make the study of it more general, it will so far ex- 
 tend the admiration of the pure and beautiful, in
 
 VI PKEFACB. 
 
 contrast witli all the forms of corruption humanity 
 could present in a period of bloody Revolution. The 
 Empress was a greater personage than Napoleon in 
 the elements of moral grandeur, and retained her 
 Bovereignty in the hea/rts of the people, while he ruled 
 by the unriyalled splendor of his j^enins
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 Interest of Josephine's History — Birth and Family — Early 
 Years — First Love — Singular Prediction — Circumstances 
 •which cherished Superstition — Attachment hroken off — Be- 
 comes acquainted with Beauharnais — Is Married — Visits 
 the Court of France — Makes Provincial Tours — The Birth of 
 Eugene and Hortense — Domestic Difficulties — Separation 
 from her Husband — Retirement — Returns to Martinique- 
 Residence there — Her Return to France — Incidents of the 
 Voyage — Is united to her Family — Origin of the F( ench Rev- 
 olution — Estates General convoked — Beauharnais a Member 
 — Upon its Dissolution again enters the Army — His Prin- 
 ciples and Humanity — Elected to the National Convention — 
 Appointed Commander on the German Frontier — ^Despatch 
 to the Convention, . . . . . . , .11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Fall of the Gironde — ^Beauharnais arrested and imprisoned — 
 Letter of Josephine to her Aunt — Friends forsake her — C;)r- 
 respondence with Beauharnais — Levity in view of Death, 
 and Infidelity during the Reign of Terror — Josephine's Kind- 
 ness to the Suffering — Examination of Beauharnais — Louis 
 obtains an Interview for Beauharnais with his Family — Jose- 
 phine's Description of the Scene — Parental Influence — Beau- 
 harnais betrayed — His danger increased by new events — 
 Charge of Conspiracy — Eugene and Hortense examined — 
 Josephine's Account of the Transaction — Again visits the 
 Luxembourg — Scenes in Prison — Letters — Robespierre, . SO
 
 Vm CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PAsm 
 
 Josephine undeceived — Her Arrest — Description of the Scene 
 
 — The Prison — Hortense and Eugene — Josephine's Compo- 
 sure — Her Kindness to the Prisoners — Correspondence with 
 Beauharnais renewed — Romantic Story — Prison Horrors— 
 Beauharnais' Interest in the Young Maniac — Returning 
 Hope — Levity of Prisoners — Josephine's Maternal Character 
 — Robespierre's Policy — Tlie Interposition of Friends — Jose- 
 phine's Appeal to Sigas — Result — Meeting of Beauharnais 
 and Josephine — Crisis in Destiny — Last Hours of Beauhar- 
 nais — His Execution — Relics unexpectedly received by Jose- 
 phine — Her Distress and Danger — Cheered by the Prophecy 
 of Euphemia — Circumstances of Robespierre's Death — Lib- 
 eration of Josephine — Interest in her Children — Famine — 
 Domestic Suffering — Survey of the Revolution — Beauharnais 
 Family toward the close of the year 1795, . , . wJ 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Bonaparte in Paris — A Glance at his History — Personal Ap- 
 pearance — His Exploit the 13th Vendemaire — Acquaintance 
 with Josephine — Her views of a Second Marriage — Hesitates 
 — Napoleon frequents the mansion of Madam De Beauhar- 
 nais — His Conversational Powers — Marriage — Leaves his 
 Bride to join the Army — Brilliant Success — Correspondence 
 — Eugene's Heroism — Letters to Josephine — Her Residence 
 at Milan — Bonaparte's Peculiarities, and Kindness to Jose- 
 phine's Family — He marches to Rastadt — Returns to Paris — 
 Josephine joins him, ..... lOS 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Departure of Napoleon for Egypt — ^The Parting with Josephine 
 at Toulon — She retires to Plombieres — Accident — Sends for 
 Hortense — Excursion Home — Rare qualities of Josephine's 
 Character — Consequences of her confinement at Plombieres — 
 Rumors of Napoleon's Disasters in Egypt — Malmaison — Jose- 
 phine watched by secret Enemies — Charges of Infidelity 
 transmitted to Napoleon — Her Innocence Vindicated — Ma- 
 ternal Solicitude and Faithfulness — Napoleon's Return to 
 France — Unfortunate Mistake — His Anger — ^The Reconcilia- 
 tion — ^France, . . • .12:
 
 CONTENTS. rX 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 lAQtL 
 
 Napoleons D^.sign — Josephine's Political Views — Eugene — 
 Convivial fUienes — The ISthBrumaire — Napoleon First Con- 
 sul — The Pesult — Murat's Marriage — His Treachery — Jose- 
 phine's Meditation — Life in theTuilleries — Josephine — Bona- 
 parte — He orders the Improvement of Malmaison — Escapes 
 Assassination — Again Crosses the Alps — Battle of Marengo 
 — Relaxation at Malmaison — Josephine's Benevolence — Con- 
 spiracy and the Infernal Machine — Marriage of Hortense — 
 Character of Louis Bonaparte — Person and Character of Hor- 
 tense — Incidents by the way — Important Events — Peace of 
 Amiens — Gayety of the People — Home of the Consul — Re- 
 newal of Hostilities with England — Accident— Napoleon's 
 View of Death, .... . 146 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 Josephine and the Bourbon Conspirators — Duke D'Enghien^ 
 His Death — Josephine's Grief, and her Sympathy for the 
 Conspirators — Bonaparte's Movements — His Ambition — 
 Views of the Senate — Bonaparte becomes Emperor of France 
 — Oath administered to the Legion of Honor — Emotions of 
 Josephine — Royal Court — Excursions to Boulogne — The Prin- 
 cess of Baden — Incidents — Josephine's Forebodings — Reli- 
 gious Marriage of Josephine — The Coronation, . . " 203 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 France and Josephine at this period of History — Rejoicings of 
 the People — Important Events — Tour to Milan — Napoleon 
 visits Brienne — With Josephine Crosses the Alps — Plain of 
 Marengo — The Coronation at Milan — Sojourn there — News 
 of probable Hostilities — Josephme at Genoa — The rapid 
 travel to Paris — Preparations for War — Josephine Regent of 
 France — Letter to Cambaceres — Napoleon's Victories — Arri- 
 val of a Courier — Marriage of Eugene — Josephine's Letter 
 upon the expected Marriage of her Niece, Stephanie De Beau- 
 harnais — The Royal Family — Domestic Arrangements — Bo- 
 naparte's Habits and Illness — Hunting Excursions — Hatred 
 of Bonaparte's Relatives toward Josephine — Her Kindness 
 in return — Napoleon's Movements, . , . . 2Sl 
 
 A*
 
 f^ CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A new phase in Josephine's Destiny — Napoleon's Love — His 
 Desire for a Successor — Rumor that the Prince Royal of Hol- 
 land is to be the Heir-apparent — Character of the Young 
 Prince — His Affection for Bonaparte — Alternate Hope and 
 Fear — The Prince dies — Josephine's Grief — Napoleon's Re- 
 turn from Tilsit — Treatment of the Empress — Journey to It- 
 aly — Scenes at the Capital — Napoleon — Josephine's Diary- 
 Spanish Affairs — Incidents of ihe Journey — The Emperor 
 meets Alexander — Results — Josephine — Return to Paris — 
 Bonaparte's Designs — Preparations for a Divorce — ^Decree of 
 the Council — Consummation, .... 274 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Josephine's Retirement and Sorrow — Her Residence at Mal- 
 maison and Navarre — Maria Louisa — National Joy at the 
 Birth of Young Napoleon — Congratulations of Josephine — 
 Incidents of life at Navarre — Bonaparte's Campaign to Rus- 
 sia — His Disasters — ^The Fidelity of Josephine — Letters — Na- 
 poleon abdicates the Throne — Josephine receives the Hom- 
 age and Sympathy of the Great — Her last Illness and Deaf 
 ■^Funeral — Summary of her Character, . 888
 
 LIFE OF THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 DTTEKEST OF JOSKPHINe's HISTORY. BIETH AND FAMILY. EABLY TBAB8, 
 
 FIBST LOVE. SINGULAR PREDICTION. CIRCJITMSTANCES WHICH CUKK- 
 
 ISHEO SUPERSTITION. ATTACHMENT BROKEN OFF. BECOMES ACQUAINTED 
 
 ■WITH BEAUHARNAIS. IS MARRIED. VISITS THE COURT OF FRANCE.— 
 
 MAKES PROVINCIAL TOURS. THE BIRTH OF EUGENE AND HORTENSE. 
 
 DOMESTIC DIFFICULTIES. SEPARATION FROM HER HUSBAND. RETIRE- 
 MENT. RETURNS TO MARTINIQUE. RESIDENCE THERE. HER RETURN TO 
 
 FRANCE. INCIDENTS OF THE VOYAGE. IS UNITED TO HER FAMILY. 
 
 ORIGIN OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. ESTATES GENERAL CONVOKED. 
 
 BEAUHARNAIS A MEMBER. UPON ITS DISSOLUTION AGAIN ENTERS THK 
 
 ARMY. HIS PRINCIPLES AND HUMANITY. ELECTED TO THE NATIONAL 
 
 CONVENTION. APPOINTED COMMANDER ON THK GERMAN FRONTIER,- - 
 
 DEUPATOH TO THE CONVENTION. 
 
 The name of Josephine is invested with a romantic 
 
 and mournful interest. From the quiet life of her 
 
 island-home, she rose to the splendor of royalty which 
 
 borrowed lustre from her virtues ; then, heart-broken, 
 
 found retirement, where, with a meek resignation that 
 
 contrasts beautifully with the untamed ambition of the 
 
 illustrious exile of St. Helena, she lived till her death. 
 
 Besides she is identified with those ecreat events wlilch 
 
 mark the ebb and flow of the mighty tide bearing the 
 
 destiny of mii versal humanity ; revolutions wiiose oub- 
 
 A*
 
 X2 LTKB OF JOSEPHINE, 
 
 siding swell left imperishable characters and me- 
 morials, like the diluvial epochs that have scarred the 
 continents and changed the ocean-bed. These strug- 
 gles will be studied with increasing interest by prince 
 and people, the monarch and the sullen serf who chafes 
 against his heavy chain ; till man's "inalienable rights' 
 are wrung from the unwilling hand of despotism, while 
 rational liberty, sanctioned and guarded by religion, 
 is secured to the awakening nations. 
 
 In this view, Josephine is a heroine of history, alike 
 mteresting to the contemplative mind, which studies 
 biography for the entertainment it affords, and to the 
 Statesman who would obtain lessons of political wis- 
 dom, and become familiar with the origin and progress 
 of revolutions. 
 
 Josephine was born on the island of Martinique, the 
 23d day of June, 1763. Mile. Le Normand, who is 
 questionable authority, puts the date of her birth one 
 day later, the 24th — memorable for the official transfer 
 of the island to the French power. Her father, M. 
 Tasher, in early life joined the army, and was pro- 
 moted to the captaincy in a regiment of cavalry. This 
 rank, without farther evidence, indicates clearly noble 
 descent; for not until the brilliant innovations upon 
 ancient custom by Napoleon, were officers taken with- 
 out regard to lineage, from the common people. He 
 was ordered to the West Indies in 1758, where, retir- 
 ing from service, he settled upon the estate La Pagerie. 
 Very little is known respecting the childhood and 
 youth of his wife, Mademoiselle de Sanois, connected
 
 LrPE OF JOSEPHINB. 13 
 
 with a respectable family who came from a southern 
 province of France, to retrieve the reverses of fortune 
 in the New World. She married M. Tasher in 1761. 
 
 The data are imperfect, from which to gather a 
 complete biography of their gifted daughter ; the asso- 
 ciations, and the moral influences which attended her 
 juvenile years, giving complexion to her character, and 
 shaping her destiny, are comparatively unknown. 
 
 She alludes to the companionship of Maria, a foster- 
 sister, or, as it is affirmed by some writers, an elder 
 daughter of M. Tasher, a contemplative and beautiful 
 girl. In the enjoyment of this intimacy, surrounded 
 by an atmosphere of the finest temperature, and with 
 the solemn ocean spread at her feet, she rapidly de- 
 veloped both her intellectual and physical powers 
 Kind to all, especially to the slaves of the plantation, 
 she was admired and caressed ; careless-hearted as the 
 gazelle, she danced away the hours beneath a sky that 
 seemed to laugh in her joyouc> lace. She had a passion 
 for music, and would wander away to the sea-shore or 
 a forest solitude, and pour her melodies like a wild-bird 
 on the air. Of her rich tones. Napoleon said in after 
 years, " The lirst applause of the French people sound- 
 ed to my ear sweet as the voice of Josephine." 
 
 The inhabitants called her the " pretty Creole," and 
 her genius was equal to her charms. Her lively im- 
 agination and quick perceptions, made her progress in 
 study a pleasant amusement. To copy her own lan- 
 guage, "I did not like the restraint of my clothing, nor 
 to be cramped in my movements. I ran, I jumped.
 
 14 LIFE OF josephint;. 
 
 and danced, from morning to night. Why restrain 
 the wild movements of my childhood? I wanted to 
 do no hurt to those from whom I received any evi- 
 dences of affection. Nature gave me a great facility 
 for anything I undertook. Learning to read and write 
 was mere pastime." 
 
 She passed much of her time during this period of 
 early youth with Madam Renaudin, an amiable aunt, 
 whose mansion was the resort of many cultivated per- 
 sons, among the colonial inhabitants of the islands. 
 Her native refinement was brought out by this culture, 
 and she bloomed into womanhood, " the very persona- 
 tion of grace." Love had unconsciously thrown its 
 gpell upon her blithesome spirit. There was living on 
 the island an English family, who, sharing in the mis- 
 fortunes of Prince Edward, lost their possessions, and 
 self-exiled, had fixed their residence near the home of 
 Josephine. 
 
 Among these noble lugitivos was young William, 
 with whom she rambled and played from their child- 
 hood. The parents of each had seen and consented 
 to the attachment, and Josephine was promised in 
 marriage, when mature age should make the union 
 
 proper. Mr. De K was called unexpectedly to 
 
 England, to prove his heirship to the estate of a de- 
 ceased lord, and was accompanied thither by his only 
 son. This was a sad blow for Josephine. With 
 Maria, who was inclined to melancholy, and loved soli- 
 tude, her sprightly and social nature had less sympathy 
 than with other female friends, to whom she would re-
 
 LIPE OF JOSEPHINE. 15 
 
 late the story of her attachment, beguiling the hours 
 with omens and day-dreams concerning her destiny 
 and absent lover. One day she met a mulatto womau, 
 who was generally known as the magician, on account 
 of her skill in foretelling coming events. She bore the 
 name of Euphemia, and also the familiar surname of 
 David. The following is Josephine's account of the 
 interview : — 
 
 " The old sibyl, on beholding me, uttered a loud ex- 
 clamation, and almost by force seized my hand. She 
 appeared to be under the greatest agitation. Amused 
 at these absurdities, as I thought them, I allowed her to 
 proceed, saying, ' So you discover something extra- 
 ordinary in my destiny ?' * Yes.' ' Is happiness or 
 misfortune to be my lot ?' ' Misfortune : ah, stop ! — 
 and happiness too.' ' You take care not to commit 
 yourself, my good dame ; your oracles are not the most 
 intelligible.' ' I am not permitted to render them more 
 clear,' said the woman, raising her eyes with a myste- 
 rious expression toward heaven. * But to the point,' 
 replied I, for my curiosity began to be excited ; ' what 
 read you concerning me in futurity ?' ' What do I see 
 in the future ? You will not believe me if I speak.' 
 ' Yes, indeed, I assure you. Come, my good mother, 
 what am I to fear and hope ?' ' On your head be it 
 then ; listen : you will be married soon ; that union 
 will not be happy ; you will become a widow, and 
 then — then you will be Queen of France ! Some 
 happy years will be yours ; but you will die in a hoa 
 pitalj amid civil commotions.'
 
 IC LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 *• On concluding these words," continued Josephine 
 " the old woman burst from the crowd, and hurried 
 away, as fast as her limbs, enfeebled by age, would 
 permit. I forbade the bystanders to molest or banter 
 the pretended prophetess on this ridiculous prediction ; 
 and took occasion, from the seeming absurdity of the 
 whole proceeding, to caution the young negresses how 
 they gave heed to such matters. Henceforth, I thought 
 of the affair only to laugh at it with my relatives. 
 But afterward, when my husband had perished on the 
 pcaffold, in spite of my better judgment, this prediction 
 forcibly recurred to my mind after a lapse of years ; 
 and though I was myself then in prison, the transac- 
 tion daily assumed a less improbable character, and 1 
 ended by regarding the fulfilment as almost a matter 
 of course." 
 
 The circumstances of such a prediction are among 
 the authenticated facts in her history : yet to minds 
 unaffected with superstitions of the kind, the result will 
 appear only one of those striking coincidences which 
 sometimes occur in the lowest species of this prophetic 
 legerdemain. 
 
 Josephine was almost necessarily superstitious. 
 From the dawn of consciousness, she was under the in- 
 fluence of parental faith in the marvellous, and listened 
 to the wild tales of unearthly scenes, common among 
 the negro population, till her imagination was excited 
 with the mysteries of human life ; and that desire to 
 read the future, more or less active in every mind, be- 
 came a painful solicitude, that not unfrequently made
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 17 
 
 her sensitive spirit recoil with trembling from her un- 
 folding destiny. This was no blemish upon her char, 
 acter ; for under similar culture the Puritans of Eng- 
 land and America became monomaniacs in their be- 
 lief of the supernatural, and the very phenomena of na- 
 ture, to their disordered fancy, blent with them the 
 gloom and the glories of eternity. 
 
 Thus passed the years to this lovely maiden, so soon 
 to enter upon the arena of French revolutions, and 
 play her part with kings, under the eye of startled 
 Europe. Among flowers and birds — on the lawn and 
 by the sea-side — her gentle heart unfolded its pure affec- 
 tions, and sighed over visions of love which had faded. 
 Parental opposition, with circumstances unknown to 
 her, interposed a hopeless separation between her and 
 
 William De K ; though she never forgot him on 
 
 whom she had lavished the wealth of her young heart's 
 devotion, even while she graced a throne, and won the 
 admiration of millions. 
 
 But new events now engaged her thoughts, and 
 opened before her the career of greatness and of trial. 
 Yiscount Alexander de Beauharnais, who held estates 
 in Martinique under lease to M. Kenaudin, visited the 
 island to establish his claim to the inheritance. He, 
 however, had some time before come to the New Con- 
 tinent, with a commission in the French army, fired 
 with the enthusiasm for liberty, which had just burst 
 like a conflagration from the bosom of the American 
 Colonies upon the world. 
 
 Through Madam Reuaudin he became acquainted
 
 15 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 with the M. Tasher family, and interested in Jose- 
 phine, who was now in the glory of her youthful 
 beauty. That influential lady had fixed her choice 
 upon Beauharn-ais for the future husband of her ad- 
 mired protege ; and though the design met with bitter 
 opposition from relatives, this obstacle yielded to the 
 unaffected kindness and winning manners of Jose- 
 phine, and the marriage took place soon after she had 
 passed her sixteenth year. Beauharnais, though sev- 
 eral years older, was young in appearance, and of 
 commanding figure. During their visit to the capital 
 of France, she was flattered by the nobility, and upon 
 her presentation at court, received the most marked 
 attentions from Marie Antoinette ; who seemed scarce- 
 ly less to admire the accomplished man who had intro- 
 duced the fair Creole into the brilliant circle she adorn- 
 ed — and called him the heau danseur of the royal 
 saloons. 
 
 The months vanished like visions to the bewildered 
 Josephine, in the splendid scenes crowding the gay 
 circles of Paris and Versailles. Weary of pleasure, 
 she accompanied her husband in provincial tours, visit- 
 ing the ancestral domains in Brittany, where she gave 
 birth to Eugene, an only son, and afterwards the dis- 
 tinguished Viceroy of Italy. 
 
 This was in 1780 ; and in 1783 Hortense was bom, 
 who became Queen of Il3lland. Though surrounded 
 by all that could gratify ambition and taste — the em- 
 bellishments of art, lavished on a beautiful residence- 
 gorgeous equipage and retinuo —happy in the domestic
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHIITE. 19 
 
 relations, and beloved by a legion of friends, a midnight 
 cloud was gathering upon her radiant future. Beau- 
 harnais had caught the moral infection which pervad- 
 ed the fashionable world, and made its shining exterior 
 delusive as the phosphorescent light that sometimes 
 plays upon the surface of a decaying form, from which 
 life has departed. Josephine suspected his fidelity, 
 while he in turn, it would seem from the partial dis- 
 closures made of this unpleasant and obscure transac- 
 tion, doubted the sincerity of her affection, through the 
 influence of a jealous female friend, who intimated that 
 the heart of his Creole wife was given unalterably to 
 another. Whether in any degree she gave occasion 
 for suspicion is of little consequence, where the guilt 
 and responsibility of what followed are plainly his 
 own. 
 
 His notions of conjugal fidelity in common with the 
 courtiers of that period, and those that prevailed during 
 the reign of the dissolute Charles of England, were un- 
 worthy the man who won the hand of Josephine ; and 
 she resented the insult he offered to her truthful and 
 virtuous spirit, by his gallantries toward a woman she 
 despised. It was not long, when the language of affec- 
 tion was exchanged for accusation and keen retort, 
 before that knell of happiness, separation, passed his 
 lips. 
 
 He designed to interpose a final barrier, which stung 
 the proud heart of Josephine, and with weeping she 
 besought him to avert this humiliating blow. It ap- 
 pears, however, that he commenced the suit for a
 
 20 LIFE OF JOSEPHINl!. 
 
 divorce, which, by her own management and the in- 
 fluence of friends, was defeated. In her retirement al 
 this time, she felt all that heavy gloom, and abandon 
 of sorrow, wnich fall like night on noonday, upon a 
 heart in which feeling was the ruling element, moving 
 ever to the Cynosure of love, and whose romantic 
 dreams seemed already in their fulfilment, when they 
 dissolved in tears. Her reading harmonized with the 
 hue of her mournful thoughts. " Night Thoughts," 
 and " Hervey's Meditations," became familiar books, 
 and led her contemplations to the vast realities of a 
 hfe to come — " the littleness of time, and the greatness 
 of that eternity which lies beyond it." Whether she 
 cherished any deep and practical religious impressions, 
 imparting to her character that purest element of hero- 
 ism. Christian fortitude, is not known. 
 
 Returning to her beloved Martinique, she found re- 
 pose among the friends of her girlhood, and in the 
 quiet beauty of her sea-girdled home. Though tran- 
 quillity was restored to outward life, yet like the sun- 
 Ht tide she sometimes watched, laying its undulations 
 in foam at her feet, while the sobbings of the retiring 
 storm were heard in the distance ; there were emotions 
 which had no rest in her bosom, while memory turned 
 to France, and the tempest which had driven her an 
 exile from a husband and son to whom her affections 
 clung. 
 
 So the years fled, till the tidings reached Josephine 
 that Beauharnais was prepared to welcome her back 
 with renewed kindness and devotion. With a woman '»
 
 LTPE OF JOSKPHDTB. 21 
 
 heart she had longed for an honorable restoration to 
 her lost position as wife and mother, and hear again 
 the music of Eugene's filial voice, and she prepared to 
 embark. Long afterwards, she gave the following 
 simple narration of her voyage before the ladies of her 
 court at Navarre, while they were admiring her un- 
 rivalled collection of jewels, whose richness and beauty 
 attracted the attention of her most illustrious visitors. • 
 
 " Believe me, my young friends, that splendor is not 
 to be envied which does not constitute happiness. I 
 shall doubtless very much surprise you, by saying that 
 the gift of ;i pair of old shoes afforded me at one time 
 greater satisfaction than all these diamonds now before 
 you ever did." Here her youthful auditors could 
 hardly refrain from visibly intimating their conjecture 
 that this remark was intended as a pleasantry. Jose 
 phine's serious air assuring them of their mistake, they 
 began, with one accord, to express their respectful de- 
 sire of hearing the history of these famous shoes, which, 
 to their imaginations, already promised greater won- 
 ders than the marvels of the glass-slipper. 
 
 " Yes, ladies, it is certain, that of all the presents I 
 ever in my life received, the one which gave me the 
 greatest pleasure was a pair of old shoes — and these, 
 too, of coarse leather. This you will understand in the 
 sequel. 
 
 "Quitting Martinico, I had taken a passage on board 
 a ship, where we were treated with an attention which 
 I shall never forget. Having separated from my first 
 husband, I was far from rich. Obliged to return to
 
 22 LIFE OF JOSEPHDfB, 
 
 France on family affairs, the passage had absorbed th« 
 major part of my resources ; and, indeed, not without 
 much difficulty had I been able to provide the most 
 indispensable requisites for our voyage. Hortense, 
 obliging and lively, performing with much agility the 
 dances of the negroes, and singing their songs with 
 surprising correctness, greatly amused the sailors, who, 
 from being her constant playfellows, had become her 
 favorite society. No sooner did she observe me to be 
 engaged, than, mounting upon deck, and there the ob- 
 ject of general admiration, she repeated all her little 
 exercises to the satisfaction of every one. An old 
 quarter-master was particularly attached to the child ; 
 and whenever his duties permitted him a moment's 
 leisure, he devoted the interval to his young friend, 
 who, in turn, doated upon the old man. What with 
 running, leaping, and dancing, my daughter's slight 
 shoes were fairly worn out. Knowing she had not 
 another pair, and fearing I would forbid her going 
 upon deck should this defect in her attire be discovered, 
 Hortense carefully concealed the disaster, and one day 
 I experienced the distress of beholding her return, 
 leaving every footmark in blood. Fearing some ter- 
 rible accident, I asked, in affright, if she was hurt 
 'No, mamma!' 'But see, the blood is streaming from 
 your feet.' ' It is nothing, I assure you.' Upon ex- 
 amining how matters stood, I found the shoes literally 
 in tatters, and her feet dreadfully torn by a nail. Wa 
 were not yet more than half-way ; and before reaching 
 France it seemed impossible to procure another pair
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHnSTE. 23 
 
 >f shoes. I felt quite overcome at the idea of the 
 k.t)rrow my poor Hortense would suffer, as also at the 
 danger to which her health might be exposed, by con- 
 finement in my miserable little cabin. We began to 
 weep bitterly, and found no solace in our grief. At 
 this moment entered our good friend the quarter-mas- 
 iter, and, with honest bluntness, inquired the cause of 
 our tears. Hortense, sobbing all the while, eager])' 
 informed him that she would no more get upon deck, 
 for her shoes were worn, and mamma had no others to 
 give her. ' Nonsense,' said the worthy seaman ; ' is 
 that all ? I have an old pair somewhere in my chest. 
 You, madam, can cut them to the shape; and I'll splice 
 them up again as well as need be. Shiver my timbers ! 
 on board ship you must put up with many things ; we 
 are neither landsmen nor fops, provided we have the 
 necessary — that's the most principal.' Without giving 
 time for a reply, away hastened the kind quarter-master 
 !n search of his old shoes. These he soon after brought 
 to us with a triumphant air, and they were received by 
 Hortense with demonstrations of the most lively joy. 
 To work we set with all zeal, and before day closed 
 my daughter could resume her delightful duties of sup- 
 plying the evening's diversion to the crew. I again 
 repeat, never was a present received with greater 
 thankfulness. It has since often been matter of self- 
 reproach that I did not particularly inquire into the 
 name and history of our benefactor, who was known 
 on board only as Jacques. It would have been grati-
 
 24 LIFE OF JOSEPHLCraS. 
 
 fying to me to have done something for him, when 
 afterwards, means were in my power." 
 
 Soon after her arrival, she was once more united in 
 " sweet concord," as she expressed it, to M. de Beau- 
 harnais. The gloomy scenes of the past were forgot- 
 ten amid the sacred joys of domestic peace, and Jose- 
 phine was happy as she had been miserable — devoting 
 her tact and energies to the ruUng pm-pose of making 
 her mansion the attractive centre of felicity to her hus- 
 band. But her suffering country was preparing a cup 
 of deeper woe, although it could not press to her trem- 
 bling lips the poison of self-reproach. 
 
 The political elements which had long been in agi- 
 tation now blackened the heavens over the exasperated 
 masses of France. From the conquest wars of Louis 
 XIV., which slaughtered men and absorbed money, 
 followed by his profusion, and the magnificence of his 
 court, the corruption of the social state, and the bur- 
 dens of the poor, had rapidly increased ; while an inso- 
 lent nobility and dissolute clergy rioted on resources 
 wrung from the starving millions. Added to these 
 facts, the American contest for liberty had thrown 
 new ideas of right and oppression, like rockets into 
 a magazine, among the pillaged and discontented 
 classes. 
 
 Louis XVL was now on the throne, whom " Fate 
 had selected as the expiatory victim of the faults of 
 his predecessors." He was evidently a monarch of 
 benevolent and honest heart, but neither brilliant nor 
 heroic — irresolute, and without independence of char-
 
 LIFE OP JOSEPHUTE. 26 
 
 acter, he was incapable of stilling or guiding the 
 storm. 
 
 Beauharnais sympathized with the King, while he 
 was imbued with republican principles and ready to 
 strike for reform. Calonne, the minister of state, 
 alarmed at the current deficit in the finances, which in 
 one year was increased one hundred and twenty-five 
 millions of livres, represented the necessity of imme- 
 diate and radical reform to the King, and proposed a 
 convocation of the Assembly of the Notables ; which 
 occurred in the spring of 1787. Though little was 
 directly accomplished, it prepared the way for convok- 
 ing the States General, which the people throughout 
 the kingdom now demanded in language that must be 
 heard. The King yielded, and the deputies of the three 
 estates assembled at Versailles, 27th of April, 1789. 
 Beauharnais now appeared boldly in the revolution, 
 before whose terrific might were sunk a throne and 
 splendid aristocracy, while the fetters of despotism 
 which bore the rust of ages, were severed like threads 
 of gossamer. In this "Constitutional Assembly," he 
 took his seat as representative for the nobles of Blois. 
 He was conservative in his views ; opposed to those 
 high privileges and feudal laws which excluded the 
 noblesse from the progressive movement of the age, he 
 did not enter fully into the extreme doctrines of democ- 
 racy which spread like a contagion among the rising 
 masses. He made speeches and introduced reports of 
 conciliatory yet republican tone — committing himself 
 fully to the deepening commotion which was soon to
 
 26 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 become a national tragedy. The Assembly was dissolv- 
 ed, September 20, 1791. By a resolution passed, the 
 members were ineligible to re-election for a time, and 
 the Viscount Beauharnais again entered the army. 
 He was associated with La Fayette after the events of 
 August 10th, 1792; and became a member of the 
 third or National Convention, of which he was twice 
 chosen president. A Girondist in politics, he was hu- 
 mane in action, and earnestly desired the safety of the 
 King, whose doom he might delay, but could not 
 change ; for his blood must be poured like oil on the 
 angry billows it would fail to calm. While Jose- 
 phine's husband was thus engaged in reform, her 
 brother-in-law, the Marquis de Beauharnais, was equal- 
 ly devoted to royalty, and a major-general in the army 
 of Conde. But in vain were his efforts — Louis was 
 beheaded, and the sanguinary struggle went forward. 
 The Viscount was appointed commander-in-chief of 
 the Rhine, to defend the German frontier ; for Europe 
 was fairly awake, and revolutionary nobles were 
 obliged to serve as generals, in the absence of ex- 
 perienced leadeis, for the excited and desperate throng, 
 harnessed to this car of Juggernaut, which, on puritan 
 ground, was but the temple of Liberty, lifting its beau- 
 tiful proportions amid a rational people, who with a 
 strong and steady arm had beaten back the invader of 
 human rights. 
 
 The following despatch exhibits the generalship and 
 the republicanism of Beauharnais; dropping by the
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 2'> 
 
 omission of the ie in the autograph, every indication 
 of titled aristocracy. 
 
 TO THE NATIONAL CONVENTION 
 
 Head-quarters, Landau, 20th July, 1793. 
 
 " I have to inform you, citizen representatives, that 
 or the night of the 19th, I quitted the position on the 
 Heights of Menfield, in order to take up another nearer 
 Landau ; and, at the same time, to attack the enemy 
 encamped in the vicinity of that place. I directed the 
 army to advance in six columns, three of which were 
 destined for false attacks. The principal object was 
 to obtain possession of the passes of Anweiller, and 
 the heights of Frankweiller, in front of these passes ; 
 and upon which the enemy lay strongly entrenched. 
 Everything succeeded to my wish. General Arlan- 
 des, with the 10th regiment of infantry, seized the pass 
 of Anweiller; General Meynier, at the head of the 
 G7th, occupied at the same instant Alberweiller and the 
 various defiles leading therefrom ; the vanguard, led on 
 by Generals Landremont, Loubat, and Delmas, re- 
 pulsed the enemy with loss from the heights of Frank- 
 weiller, which was guarded by the emigrants and the 
 free corps of Wurmser. 
 
 " General Gilot, making a sortie with three thousand 
 of the brave garrison of Landau, in order to occupy 
 the enemy's attention at a point where his line rested 
 upon a wood, proved successful in that quarter. The 
 false attacks directed by General Ferriere, and those 
 of the brigades of Generals Lafarelle and Mequillet,
 
 28 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 on the respective points of the hostile line, occasioned 
 a diversion highly favorable to the main attack, by 
 causing the evacuation of the villages of Betheim, 
 Kintelsheim, and Ottersheim. Everywhere the enemies 
 of the republic have been driven back with loss, and 
 have left, contrary to their practice, the field covered 
 with their dead and wounded. We made some prison- 
 ers and have captured several redoubts, without can- 
 noL, it is true, but in which our brave soldiers found 
 bread, great coats, and supplies of various kinds. 
 
 " This action, so fortunate in its results, since the 
 troops of the republic have successfully effected what 
 I had proposed, gives anticipation of still more impor- 
 tant advantages. My communications with the army 
 of Moselle have meanwhile been established by the 
 county of Deuxponts ; and the courage of the repub- 
 licans composing the army of the Rhine promises to 
 become more and more worthy of national confidence, 
 by fulfilling those engagements which that army, by its 
 situation and force, and through the interests of the 
 important city now besieged, had contracted with the 
 country. I am yet unable to speak in detail of those 
 individual achievements which merit the attention of 
 the representatives of the people, and in a free state 
 call for an expression of national gratitude ; but my 
 next letter will contain the necessary particulars. 
 
 " I request you again to accept from all the repub- 
 . leans of the army of the Rhine, the homage of fidelity 
 to the republic, one and indivisible, of their attachment
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 29 
 
 to the constitution, and of their gratitude to the esti- 
 mable legislature to whom that constitution is owing. 
 " The Commander-in-chief 
 
 "of the Army of the Rhine, 
 
 " Alexander Beauharnais." 
 
 This was his last effort for his country — a new chap- 
 ter is opened in the bloody annals of this period, ana 
 in the history of the noble De Beauharnais.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TALL OF THB GIEONDK BEAUHARNAIS ARRESTED AND IMPEISONSD.— 
 
 LETTKR OF JOSEPHINE TO HER AUNT. FRIENDS FORSAKE HER.— COB 
 
 EESPONDENCE WITH BEAUHARNAIS. — LEVITY IN VIEW OF DEATH, AND 
 
 INFIDELITY DURING THE REIGN OF TERROR. JOSEPHINe's KINDNESS TO 
 
 THE SUFFERING. EXAMINATION OF BEAUHARNAIS. LOUIS OBTAINS AN 
 
 INTERVIEW FOR BEAUHARNAIS WITH HIS FAMILY. JOSEPHINE's DE- 
 
 8CRIPTI0N OF THE SCENE. PARENTAL INFLUENCE. BEAUHARNAIS BE- 
 TRAYED. — HIS DANGER INCREASED BY NEW EVENTS. CHARGE OF CON 
 
 Bl'IRACY. — EUGENE AND HORTENSE EXAMINED. JOSEPHINe's ACCOUNT OF 
 
 THE TRANSACTION. AGAIN VISITS THE LUXEMBOURG. SCENES IN PRISON. 
 
 LETTER S. ROBESPIERRE. 
 
 During the progress of the Revolution, a formida- 
 ble club had arisen, called Jacobins, from a suppressed 
 cloister of that name, in which the deputies from Bre- 
 tagne that composed it, held their sessions. In this 
 society, enthusiasm at first well directed, passed into 
 reckless ambition and lawless passion — Marat, Danton, 
 and Robespierre, were the fit leaders of this wild and 
 reigning faction. Opposed to the extreme measures 
 and furious zeal of the Jacobins, was the judicious, 
 earnest spirit of the Girondists, who received their title 
 from the department of Gironde, which had furnished 
 the most splendid minds that shone in their debates, 
 and gave direction to the patriotic ardor of freemen. 
 
 But after the execution of Louis, no barrier was left 
 to check the maddened popu'ace, and a revolutionary
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPnrffE. di 
 
 tribunal was established, whose decisions were final 
 while the property of the doomed was absorbed by the 
 state. The Jacobins, no longer feared the political 
 power of the Gironde, whose moderation they hated, 
 and their vengeaice fell unsparingly on this noble 
 party, which in May, 1793, fell in the embrace of the 
 blind and many-armed Briareus, whose locks were 
 knotted with the best blood of France, and whose 
 strokes slaughtered alike the innocent and the guilty. 
 The proscribed sought refuge in concealment and 
 flight. But Beauharnais, conscious of integrity, trust- 
 ed with mistaken confidence in the magnanimity of 
 desperate men who now raved like maniacs, amid the 
 desolation and wailing of a kingdom. He was arrest- 
 ed by the heartless servitors of Robespierre, and hur- 
 ried away to the prisons of the Luxembourg. No bet- 
 ter account of the whole transaction, in which ruffian- 
 ism triumphed over virtue^ and might over right, with- 
 out the ground of accusation, can be given than by 
 quoting the following extract from the letter of Jose- 
 phine to her aunt, residing in the vicinity of Fontaine- 
 bleau : — 
 
 JOSEPHINE TO MADAM FANNY BEAUHARNAIS. 
 
 " Ah, my dear aunt, compassionate — console — coun- 
 sel me. Alexander is arrested ; while I write he is 
 led away to the Luxembourg ! 
 
 " Two days ago, a man of ill-omened aspect was 
 seen prowling around our house. Yesterday about
 
 32 IJFB OP JOSEPHTNE. 
 
 three o'clock, the porter was interrogated whether citi 
 zen Beauharnais had returned from St. Germain. Now, 
 you know, my aunt, that my husband has not been at 
 St. Germain since the month of May. You were of 
 the party, and may recollect that Cubieres read to us 
 some verses on the pavilion of Luciennes. The same 
 inquisitor reappeared in the evening, accompanied by 
 an old man of huge stature, morose, and rude, who put 
 several questions to the porter. ' You are sure it is 
 Beauharnais the Viscount ?' ' Ci-devant vicounte,' re- 
 plied our servant. ' The same who formerly presided 
 in the assembly ?' ' I believe so.' * And who is a gen 
 eral officer ?' ' The same sir,' said the porter. ' Sir ! 
 sharply interrupted the inquirer, and addressing his 
 companion, who had said nothing, * you see the cask 
 always smells the herring.' Upon this they disap- 
 peared. 
 
 " To-day, about eight in the morning, I was told 
 some one wished to speak with me. This was a young 
 man, of gentle and decent appearance: he carried a 
 leather hag in which were several pair of shoes. ' Citi- 
 zen,' said the man to me, ' I understand you want 
 socks of plum-gray ?' I looked at my woman, Victo- 
 fine, who was present, but she comprehended as little 
 of this question as I did. The young man seemed 
 painfully disconcerted ; he kept turning a shoe in his 
 hand, and fixed upon me a mournful look. At length, 
 approaching close, he said in an undertone, ' I have 
 something to impart to you, madam.' His voice, his 
 looks, and a sigh which half escaped him, caused me
 
 LTFB OF JOSEPHINE. 3? 
 
 seme emotion. ' Explain yourself,' I replied eagerly , 
 my servant is faithful.' * Ah,' exclaimed he, as if in- 
 voluntarily, ' my life is at stake in this matter.' 1 
 arose instantly, and dismissed Victorine with a mes 
 sage to call my husband. 
 
 " ' Madam,' said the young tradesman, when we 
 were alone, ' there is not a moment to lose, if you 
 would save M. de Beauharnais. The revolutionary 
 committee last night passed a resolution to have him 
 arrested, and at this very moment the warrant is 
 making out.' I felt as if ready to swoon away. ' How 
 kno'v ^ou this ?' demanded I, trembling violently. ' I 
 am one of the committee,' said he, casting down his 
 eyes ; ' and being a shoemaker, I thought these shoes 
 would afford me a reasonable pretext for advertising 
 you, madam.' I could have embraced the good young 
 man. He perceived that I wept, and I believe tears 
 stood in his own eyes. At this moment Alexander en- 
 tered ; I threw myself into his arms. * You see mj 
 husband,' said I to the shoemaker. ' I have the honor 
 of knowing him,' was the reply. 
 
 " Your nephew, learning the service which we had 
 received, wished to reward him on the spot. This of- 
 fer was declined in a manner which augmented our es 
 teem. Alexander held out his hand, which the young 
 nan took with respect, but without embarrassment 
 Spite of our solicitations, Alexander refused to flee. 
 'With what can they charge me?' asked he ; ' I love 
 iberty ; I have borne arms for the Revolution ; and 
 had that depended upon me, the termination would
 
 34 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 have been in favor of the people.' ' But you are a 
 noble,' answered the young man, ' and that is a crime 
 in the eyes of revolutionists, — it is an irreparable mis- 
 fortune.' ' Which they can charge as a crime,' added 
 [ ; ' and moreover, they accuse you of having been one 
 in the Constitutional Assembly.' ' My friend,' replied 
 Alexander with a noble expression and firm tone, ' such 
 .s my most honorable title to glory — the only claim, in 
 fine, which I prefer. Who would not be proud of hav- 
 ing proclaimed the rights of the nation, the fall of des- 
 potism, and the reign of the laws ?' ' What laws !' ex- 
 claimed I : 'it is in blood they are written.' ' Madam,' 
 said the young man, with an accent such as he had not 
 yet employed, ' when the tree of liberty is planted in 
 an unfriendly soil, it must be watered with the blood 
 of its enemies.' Beauharnais and I looked at each 
 other ; in the young man, whom nature had constitut- 
 ed with so much feeling, we recognized the revolution- 
 ist whom the new principles had been able to render 
 cruel. 
 
 " Meanwhile, time elapsed ; he took his leave of us, 
 repeating to my husband, ' Within an hour it will no 
 longer be possible to withdraw yourself from search. 
 I wished to save, because I believe you innocent ; such 
 was my duty to humanity ; but if I am commanded to 
 arrest you, — pardon me ; I shall do my duty, and you 
 will acknowledge the patriot. In you I have ever be- 
 held an honorable man — a noble and generous heart ; 
 .t is impossible, therefore, that you should not also be a 
 good citizen.'
 
 IJFK OF JOSEPHTNB. 85 
 
 »'AVlien our visitor had departed, 'Such,' said Alex- 
 ander to me, ' are the prejudices with which our youth 
 are poisoned. The blood of the nobles, of those even 
 the most devoted to the new ideas, must nourish liberty. 
 If these new men of the Revolution were only cruel 
 and turbulent, this sanguinary thirst, this despotic rajre- 
 would pass away ; but they are systematic, and Robes 
 pierre has reduced revolutionary action into a doc- 
 trine. The movement will cease only when its ene- 
 mies, real or presumed, are annihilated, or when its 
 author shall be no more. But this is an ordeal which 
 must in the end strengthen liberty ; she will ferment 
 and work herself clear in blood.' 'You make me 
 shudder,' said I to Alexander ; ' can you speak this and 
 not flee?' 'Whither flee?' answered my husband: 
 ' is there a vault, a garret, a hiding-place, into which 
 the eye of the tyrant does not penetrate ? Do you re- 
 flect that he sees with the eye of forty thousand com- 
 mittees animated by like dispositions and strong in his 
 will ? The torrent rolls along, and the people throwing 
 themselves into it, augment its force. We must yield : 
 if 1 be condemned, how escape ? if I be not, free or in 
 prison, I have nothing to fear.' My tears, my en- 
 treaties were vain. At a quarter before twelve, three 
 members of the revolutionary committee made their 
 appearance, and our house was filled with armed men. 
 " Think you my young cordwainer formed one in 
 this band ? You are not deceived and his functions 
 there were painful to me. I confess, however, I beheld 
 
 him exercise these with a sort of satisfiiclion. He it 
 3 B*
 
 36 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 was who signified to Alexander the order placing him 
 under arrest, which he did with equal urbanity and 
 firmness. In the midst of a crisis so grievous to me, I 
 could not help observing in this young man a tone of 
 authority and decency which placed him in striking 
 contrast with his two colleagues. One of these, the 
 same old inquisitor who the night previously had made 
 it his business to inquire concerning the presence and 
 occupation of my husband, was once a planter in Mar- 
 tinico, and who, despite of equality, has never beheld 
 in the human species but two classes, — masters and 
 slaves. His present opinion is, that the Revolution 
 will be brought to a happy conclusion only when its 
 agents shall have reduced all its enemies to the condi- 
 tion of the negroes of Senegal when exported into 
 America ; and to accomplish this end, he demands tha 
 the whole race of priests, nobles, proprietors, philos- 
 ophers, and, in short, all the aristocratic classes, be 
 despatched to St. Domingo, there to replace the caste 
 . of the blacks, suppressed by the Revolution. ' Thus,' 
 added the ferocious wretch, addressing his words to 
 me with a sinister glance directed from his sunken 
 eyes, ' thus the true republicans secure the grand moral 
 triumph, by measures of profound and elevated policy !' 
 His third compeer, vulgar and brutal, busied himself in 
 taking, in a blustering way, an inventory of the prin- 
 cipal pieces of furniture and papers. From these latter 
 ne made a selection, collecting the pieces into a parcel, 
 which was sealed and forwarded to the committee. 
 The choice chiefly included reports and disco»-jsesi
 
 IJFK OF josEPnmB. 37 
 
 pronounced by Alexander in the Constitutional Assem- 
 bly. This meeting, held in horror by the revolution 
 ists, is not less odious to the aristocrats of all classes 
 and shades. Does not this prove that that assembly 
 had resolved all the problems of the Revolution, and, 
 as respects liberty, had founded all the necessary 
 establishments ? From the regime of 1789, it had 
 taken away all means ; from that of 1793, it removed 
 all hope. Alexander has often repeated to me, that to 
 neither there remained any chance of rising, save by 
 violence and crime. Ah! why did he foresee so justly, 
 and why should he, to the title of a prophet, perhaps 
 add that of a martyr ?" 
 
 De Beauharnais was a prisoner, and Josephine a 
 lonely mother. She learned in her calamity, that 
 saddest lesson of life, the frailty of friendship, which 
 disappears, too often, with the first breath of the rising 
 storm. She complains touchingly of this abandon- 
 ment by those who frequented her mansion in brighter 
 days, in a letter to a friend, and turns with mournful 
 pleasure to the messages that reach her from the cell 
 of her calm and even cheerful husband. 
 
 " Think of my house solitary, myself more solitary 
 — more forsaken still. In the course of five days, since 
 ft« was taken from me, all his friends have disappeared, 
 Dne by one. At this moment when I sit down to write 
 it is six o'clock in the evening, and nobody has come 
 here. Nobody! I am wrong; my excellent young 
 man does not stand aloof; he comes twice or thrice in 
 the day with news from Luxembourg. Provided liia
 
 88 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 duty be not compromised, he cares little about exposing 
 his person ; the pestilence of misfortune does not keep 
 him at a distance. Alexander confides to him those 
 letters which he desires I only should read ; his jailers- 
 Ihe committee, have the first perusal of the others," 
 
 There is a quiet raillerie in his letters, which illu* 
 trates the unconquerable buoyancy of the national 
 character, as will be seen in the subjoined commun' 
 cation. 
 
 VISCOUNT DE BEAUHARNAIS TO JOSEPHINE 
 
 "Lo! pauv re petite, you are still unreasonable, t&m 
 I must console you ? That, however, I can easily do 
 for even here is the abode of peace when the con 
 science is tranquil, and where one can cultivate foi 
 one's self and others all the benevolent sentiments of 
 the heart, all the best qualities of the spirit, all the gen 
 tie affections of our nature. I should be troubled about 
 our separation, were it to be long; but I am a soldier; 
 and at a distance from you, my sweet Josephine, re- 
 moved from our dear children, I bethink myself of war , 
 in truth, a slight misadventure is a campaign against 
 misfortune. Ah! if you knew how we learn to com- 
 bat our mischance here, you would blush for having 
 been afflicted. Every captive — now this is literally 
 the case — leaves his sorrows at the grated entrance, 
 and shows within only good-humor and serenity. We 
 have transpoited to the Luxembourg the entire of so- 
 ciety, excepting politics ; thus, you will grant roe that
 
 LTFK OF JOSEPHINIU 39 
 
 We have left the thorns in order to ojather the roses. 
 We have here charning women, who are neither 
 prudes nor coquettes ; old men, who neither carp nor 
 moralize, and who demean themselves kindly ; men of 
 mature age, who are not projectors ; young men, al- 
 most reasonable ; and artists, well bred, sober, withoul 
 pride, amuse us by a number of pleasant facts, and en- 
 tertaining anecdotes ; and, what will astonish you more 
 than all the rest, we have monied men, become as po- 
 lite and obliging as they were generally vulgar and im- 
 pertinent. We have here, then, all that is best, always 
 excepting my Josephine and our dear children. Oh ! 
 the choice — the good — the best, compose that cherish- 
 ed trio. I ought likewise to except our good friend 
 Nevil ; the only fault in him is his notion of relation 
 ship to Brutus, As to his title of committee man, 1 
 have no reproach to make on that score ; I find it too 
 much in my favor. He is the messenger, my beloved 
 friend, who will convey to yon this letter, in which I 
 enclose one thousand kisses, until such time as I shall 
 be able more substantially to deliver them myself 
 and without counting." 
 
 Such were the consolations of infidelity during the 
 Reign of Terror. Men listened to the sentence of ex- 
 ecution with a smile of indifference, made mirth at 
 their hastening departure from time, and gazed with 
 jesting lips upon the lifted blade of the guillotine, wet 
 with the blood of their comrades ; and called it the sub- 
 lime decision of minds which were above the shadows 
 of superstition, and in the clear serene of leasou
 
 40 LIFE OF JOSEPHmB. 
 
 Their courage was madness, and their joy the levity 
 of idiotic folly. How strangely in this period of law- 
 lessness and gigantic crime, did man affect to efface 
 every trace of the Divine image from his soul — hush 
 the forebodings of future retribution — and blot out that 
 instinctive desire, to which Von Rotteck finely alludes 
 in his splendid history : " Whenever men think and feel 
 humanely, there lives the idea, the presentiment at 
 least, of God and immortality." Neither Beauharnais 
 nor Josephine have left any record of their own re- 
 ligious opinions, amid the blasphemies of this almost 
 universal atheism, whose epitaph upon the tombstones 
 of its murdered victims was, " Death is an eternal 
 sleep!" 
 
 Leaving for a while the frightful scenes of Paris, 
 Josephine made every exertion to alleviate the miseries 
 of the suffering poor she met in the way, or followed 
 to their kennels in the suburbs of the cities. Widows 
 and orphans were famishing in groups, while the cry 
 for bread was drowned only by that for blood. Many 
 of these homeless wretches blessed the hand of Joseph- 
 ine, and lived to honor gratefully as Queen her whom 
 they loved as a ministering angel when ready to perish. 
 Confident of her husband's release, she cheerfully 
 waited for the event. In the mean time, De Beauhar- 
 nais was examined before a revolutionary committee — ■ 
 a tribunal which in its original institution was styled, 
 the " Committee of Public Salvation ;" at which Robes- 
 pierre, after he had rid himself of Danton, who shared 
 the power, presided in " bloody omnipotence," and like
 
 LIFE OF JOSKPHENB. 41 
 
 Nero, gloried in his homicidal pastime, till he drained 
 the wine-cup of unmingled depravity, and died in his 
 hideous intoxication. 
 
 The ordeal was so favorable to the integrity of the 
 Viscount, that Josephine was encouraged in hope, and 
 sent the following account of the affair to Madam 
 Fanny de Beauharnais, which will be read with in- 
 terest, both as a record of scenes in which justice was 
 a mockery, and an index of characters memorable for 
 cruelties inflicted in the name of liberty, that make the 
 spirit recoil from the contemplation of history. 
 
 " Alexander has been examined to-day, and to-mor- 
 row I shall have permission to visit him. The presi- 
 dent of the committee is a good enough man, but void 
 of all energy : whom I know not how many quintals 
 of fat deprive of movement, ideas, and almost of speech 
 With the best intentions in the world, he has less au- 
 thority than the meanest clerk in his office. He arrives 
 late, gets to his chair, puffing and blowing, falls down 
 heavily, and, when at length he is seated, remains a 
 quarter of an hour without speaking. Meanwhile a 
 secretary reads reports which he does not hear, though 
 affecting to listen ; sometimes he falls asleep during the 
 reading, a circumstance which prevents not his awak- 
 ing just in time to sign what he has neither heard nor 
 understood. As to the examinations which he com- 
 mences, and which all of his colleagues contmue, some 
 are atrocious, a great number ridiculous, and all more 
 or less curious. What, indeed, can be more remarka- 
 ble than lo behold the highest orders interrogated be-
 
 42 LIFE OF JOSEl'HnfB. 
 
 fore those who, notwithstanding their elevation, are but 
 the dregs of society ? My dear aunt, when I speak 
 thus, understand me to make no reference to birth, for- 
 tune, or privileges ; but to sentiment, conduct, and 
 principles. 
 
 " Enclosed I send you an outline of my husband's 
 examination, in which, as you will perceive, the ridicu- 
 lous contends wit'h the horrible. Such are the true 
 features of our era." 
 
 " President. — Who are you ? 
 
 M. de Beauharnais. — A man, and a Frenchman. 
 
 President. — None of your gibes here ! I demand 
 your name. 
 
 M. de B — Eugene- Alexander de Beauharnais. 
 
 A Member. — No de, if you please ; it is too aristo- 
 cratic. 
 
 M. de B. — Feudal, you would say. It is certain, a 
 name without the particle would be more rationa.. 
 The offence, if it be one, comes of time, and my an- 
 cestors. 
 
 Another Member. — Ah ! so you have got ancestors ! 
 The confession is an honest one ; it is well to know as 
 much. Note ^A(2^, citizens ; he has a grandfather, and 
 makes no secret of it. [Here nine of the twelve mem- 
 bers composing the committee fell a laughing. One of 
 those who, amid the general gayety, had maintained 
 an ai)pearance of seriousness, called out, in a loud 
 tone, ' Fools ! who does not know that ancestors are 
 old musty parchments ? Is it this man's fault if his 
 eredcutials have not been burned ? Citizen, I advise
 
 TIFE OP JOSEPHINK. 42 
 
 thee to bestow them here with the committee, and ! 
 give thee the assurance that a good bonfire shall soon 
 render us an account of thine ancestors.' Here a 
 lidiculous laughter took possession of the entire of the 
 honorable council, and not without much difficulty 
 could the fat president recall them to a sense of de- 
 corum. At the same time, this explosion of hilarity 
 liaving put him into good-humor, he politely requested 
 the accused to be seated. Again he was interrupted 
 by a member calling him to order, for having used the 
 plural to a suspected citizen. Hereupon the uproar 
 began anew more violently than ever, from the word 
 Monsieur having been applied to the president by the 
 member as a joke. Order once more established, my 
 husband embraced the first moment of silence to feli- 
 citate the members on the innocent nature of their 
 discussions, and to congratulate himself in having for 
 judges magistrates of such a joyous disposition.] 
 
 President, with an important air. — Dost take our 
 operations for farces ? Thou art prodigiously deceived. 
 The suspected citizen is right, colleagues, in calling us 
 judges ; that title ought to restore us to gravity. 
 Formerly, it was permitted to laugh, now we must be 
 serious. 
 
 AT. de B. — Such is the distinction between the old 
 and new regime. 
 
 President. — Proceed we then seriously, and con- 
 tinue the examination. Citizen Jarbac (to one of the 
 secretaries,) be'st thou there ? (To M. de B.) — Thy 
 titles and qualities ?
 
 44 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 M. dc B. — A French citizen, and a general in tlie 
 service of the republic. 
 
 A Member. — President, he does not declare all ; he 
 was formerly a — 
 
 Another Member. — A prince or a baron at least. 
 
 M. de B., smiling. — Only a vicomte, if so please 
 you, and quite enough, too. 
 
 President. — Enough ! it is a great deal too much : 
 so you confess being a noble. 
 
 M. de B. — I confess that some men so call me, and 
 so, for some time, I believed, under the reign of igno- 
 rance, habit, and prejudice. 
 
 President. — Acknowledge also that you are not 
 yet entirely disabused. 
 
 M. de B. — The obstinacy of some men who persist 
 in combating a chimera preserves for such things a 
 sort of reahty. As for myself, I have long regarded 
 the illusion as dissipated. Reason had taught me that 
 there could exist no distinctions save those which re- 
 sult from virtue, talent, or service ; a sound policy has 
 since demonstrated to me that there ought to exist 
 none other. 
 
 Citizen Nevil. — That I call reasoning from prin- 
 ciple. 
 
 President. — Without denying the consequences^ 
 whence has the accused derived these principles.'' 
 From the' Constitutional Assembly? 
 
 M. de B. — I consider it an honor to have been a 
 member of that Assembly. 
 
 President. — Did you not ever preside there ?
 
 lh'e of josephinb. 46 
 
 M. de B. — Yes, citizen ; and at an ever-momorable 
 era. 
 
 President. — That was after the flight of the tyrant? 
 
 M. de B. — That was on the occasion of the journey 
 of Louis XVI. to Varennes, and on his return. 
 
 Member. — For a bet, the citizen does not consider 
 Lewis Capet to have been a tyrant. 
 
 M. de B. — History will explain, and posterity will 
 pronounce. 
 
 Citizen Nevil. — The question here is, not what citi- 
 zen Beauharnais thinks, but what he has done. 
 
 President. — Just — most just : see we then what 
 citizen Beauharnais has done. 
 
 M. de B. — Nothing ; and that in a distempered time, 
 1 conceive to be the best of all proceedings. 
 
 President. — Thus you declare for no party ? 
 
 M. de B. — No, if by party you mean factions which 
 hate each other, rend the State, and impede the reign 
 of the laws, and the strengthening of the republic ; but 
 yes — if by party you understand the immense majority 
 of the French people who desire independence and 
 liberty : of that party am 1. 
 
 A Member. — It remains to be known through what 
 means of adherence "^ 
 
 M. de B. — I should prefer, in order to persuade, the 
 means employed by reason, to convince those of sen- 
 timent, against anarchy, by turns the cause and the 
 effect of factions : I nevertheless believe it is not forbid- 
 den to employ force. But I require that it be used so 
 as not to be abused; that men hrie recourse to it
 
 4^6 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 rarely, and that they yield to humanity whatevei they 
 can take from severity without compromising the 
 safety of the State. 
 
 A Member, (it was the old wretch charged wit^ the 
 arrest of my husband.) — Humanity ! humanity ! In 
 certain mouths, such language is suspected. 
 
 M. de B. — And ought to be so, if it signify pity lor 
 wilful criminals ; but it is respectable when invoked 
 in favor of inexperience and error. 
 
 A Member. — Such is the tone held by all mode- 
 rates. 
 
 M. de B. — Moderation is the daughter of reason, 
 and the mother of power ; why should I be violent 
 and agitated, if, in a sound state of mind, I feel my 
 self vigorous through calmness, and powerful by wis- 
 dom ? 
 
 Nevil. — I assure you, citizens, that neither Rous- 
 seau, nor Mably, nor Montesquieu ever wrote any- 
 thing more sensible. 
 
 A Member. — Who are these people ? do they belong 
 to the section ? 
 
 Another Member. — Don't you see they are Feuillans ? 
 All that has the smack of moderatism, and is not 
 worth a . 
 
 President. — You are all wrong, citizens ; these are 
 authors of the reign of Louis XIV., and you may see 
 their tragedies played every night at the Theatre 
 Fran^ais." 
 
 " Here a new uproar ensued, some defending, others 
 impugning, these novel discoveries in literary history.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINK. 47 
 
 My husband would have smiled in derision, had he 
 not sished to think in whose hands the fate of his 
 fellow-citizens had thus been placed. Nevil, by labor- 
 ing to bring back the debate to its proper object, 
 endeavored to terminate a sitting equally painful and 
 ludicrous. After some more absurd and irrelevant 
 interrogatories, the president decided for the provisional 
 detention of Alexander. ' Time will thus be afforded,' 
 so concluded his address, with revolutionary fore- 
 thought, • for convicting you ; and you, citizen, will 
 have leisure for your defence. If you love your 
 country, you can serve it as well by your resignation 
 as by your activity ; and if liberty be dear to you, it 
 will become much more so in a prison. Thereupon, I 
 remit you, not as culpable — God forbid ! but as one 
 who may become guilty. You will be inscribed upon 
 the registers of the Luxembourg merely with this 
 favorable remark : committed of being suspected !' " 
 
 Mercy was an attribute unknown except in fitful, 
 momentary manifestations, with those who sat in the 
 iudgment-seat during this frightful period. Louis of 
 the Lower Rhine, who was a companion in crime and 
 rank with Robespierre, yielded to the entreaty of 
 Beauharnais, and consented to a meeting of his family 
 with him in prison. She received the intelligence 
 with a bounding and hopeful heart, as the dawn of 
 returning joy to her desolate dwelling, and hastenec 
 with Eugene and Hortense, to embrace the captive. 
 Josephine has feelingly and most beautifully described
 
 LITE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 the scene which followed, in a letter to her sympathiz- 
 ing aunt. 
 
 " This has been a day at once very delightful, and 
 very painful. My husband having desired to see us, I 
 resolved, in order to spare their young feelings, to send 
 the children first, and Nevil took charge of them for 
 this purpose. They had for some time been told that 
 their father, being sick, was under the care of a famous 
 ph3'sician, who, on account of the salubrity of the air, 
 and the spacious buildings, resided in the Luxembourg. 
 The first interview passed over very well ; only Hor- 
 tense remarked that papa's apartments were extremely 
 small, and the patients very numerous. At the time 1 
 arrived they had left their father, a kind-hearted turn 
 key, gained by Nevil, having taken the precaution to 
 keep them removed. They had gone to visit in the 
 neighboring cells, whose inmates were touched by their 
 youth, their situation, and their ingenuousness. I 
 dreaded the sight of our mutual emotion : our interview 
 took place in their absence. Alexander, who supports 
 his captivity with courage, showed himself unable to 
 bear up against my tears. Recovering myself at 
 length, and alarmed to see him so greatly moved, 1 
 constrained my own sorrow, and endeavored in turn to 
 soothe his. Our children now made their appearance. 
 This brought on a new crisis, the more painful that we 
 felt its cause must be dissembled. 
 
 * Hortense, who is sincerity itself, was for long de- 
 ceived, and in all the tenderness of an affectionate 
 heart, wished to persuade us that we acted wrong in
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHIITB. 49 
 
 afflicting ourselves, since papa's illness was not danger- 
 ous. All this while poor Hortense exhibited that light 
 air of incredulous hesitation which you know becomes 
 her so well. ' Do you believe that papa is ill ?' said she 
 to her brother; 'if so, ut least, it is not the sickness 
 which the doctors cure.' ' What do you mean, my 
 dear girl,' asked I ; 'can you suppose that papa and I 
 would contrive between us to deceive you ?' * Pardon, 
 mamma, but I do think so.' ' Oh ! sister,' eagerly 
 interrupted Eugene, ' that is a very singular speech of 
 yours !' ' On the contrary,' replied she, ' it is quite 
 simple and natural.' ' How, miss ?' said I, in my turn, 
 affecting severity. ' Unquestionably,' continued the 
 little sly one, 'good parents are permitted to deceive 
 their children when they wish to spare them uneasi- 
 ness ; is it not so, marama?' At these words, she 
 threw herself upon my bosom, and, putting one arm 
 around her father's neck, drew liim gently towards us. 
 A smile shone through her tears ; and Eugene, min- 
 gling his caresses in this domestic scene, rendered the 
 whole truly alfecting. Amiable and gentle child, he 
 shows as much singleness of heart as his sister displays 
 penetration and s{)irit. Both have hitherto formed our 
 joy : why should it be, that, at this crisis, they are the 
 cause of our most lively disquietudes, and occasion to 
 me — to me personally, inexpressible uneasiness, which 
 I am unable to subdue, and can with difficulty combat; 
 for myself I have no fear ; but for them — for Alexan- 
 der, I become a very coward. 
 
 " In the course of the visits which my children had
 
 50 LIFB OF JOSEPHINIS. 
 
 made, and from the conversations m^ di. 1(^1 iter Lr-J 
 collected, and overheard, she had divined that he 
 father was a prisoner. We now acknowled^-ed wha 
 it was no longer possible to conceal. ' And ih"} rea 
 son?' demanded Hortense. Even her brother, lew 
 timid than usual, would know the motive for sucK 
 severity. It would have been very difficult to satisfy' 
 them. Strange abuse of power, abused and despicable 
 excess of tyranny, which a child has judgment tc 
 condemn, which all ought to possess the right tc 
 punish, and yet of which men dare not complain ! 
 
 " ' Oh,' cried Hortense, ' when we are able, we wil 
 punish your accusers.' ' Hush, my child,' said hei 
 father, ' were you to be overheard speaking thus, ' 
 should be ruined, as well as yourself and your mother , 
 while we would not then enjoy the consolation o^ 
 being presented altogether unjustly.' 'Have you not 
 often explained to us,' remarked Eugene, 'that it is 
 lawful to resist oppression ?' ' I repeat the same senti- 
 ment once more,' replied my husband ; ' but prudence 
 ought to accompany resistance ; and he who would 
 overcome tyranny, must be careful not to put the 
 tyrant on his guard.' 
 
 " By degrees the conversation assumed a less serious 
 turn. We forgot the present misfortune to give our- 
 selves up to soft remembrances and future plans. You 
 will readily conceive that in these latter you were far 
 from being overlooked. 
 
 " ' T wish every possible happiness to my aunt/ said 
 /A'*^xander, laughing: 'nevertheless as the Nine are
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPnnrE. 51 
 
 Raid never to be so interesting as when ihe) are afflict- 
 ed, I woulii beseech just a few days' captivity for my 
 aunt's nurse ; a fine elegy would doubtless be the re- 
 sult, and the glory of the poetess, by immortalizing her 
 prison would prove ample consolation for having in- 
 habited one.' What say you to the wish, my dear 
 aunt?" 
 
 While that parental training developed in this sim- 
 ple narrative, which in any emergency finds falsehood 
 an auxiliary, may be as questionable as the counsel of 
 the French nobleman to his wife, urging the neces- 
 sity of teaching his sons fashionable oat/is as a pre- 
 ventive to lying; Josephine evidently imparted ele- 
 vated sentiments to her children, which were enforced 
 by their unfortunate father, and sealed with his 
 blood. 
 
 The very expressions of patriotism, and hostility to 
 despotism, which were exchanged in this domestic 
 group, were overheard by the spies of the Convention, 
 and reported to the " man-slayer," who guided its " in- 
 fernal machinery." The severities which marked the 
 treatment of prisoners were increased — closer confine- 
 ment required, and life soon lavished in atonement 
 for the kindness of delay. In another communication 
 to her relative, Josephine writes : — 
 
 " I must now, my esteemed aunt, collect all my forti- 
 tude to inform you of the catastrophe which has just 
 befallen us ; you will need the whole of yours to sus- 
 tain the recital. The observations made by my hus- 
 band to his children, and which I transmitted, will not 
 4 C
 
 62 LIFE OF JOSEPHINS. 
 
 ha\ e escaped you. ' It is permitted,' such were his 
 words to Eugene, * it is even a duty to resist oppres- 
 sion ; but prudence ought to direct force, and he who 
 would subvert or subdue tyranny must beware of dis- 
 closing his designs.' To explain to you how these 
 words, which we conceived were heard by ourselves 
 alone, reached the ears of spies, would be difficult for 
 me ; and now^ that I reflect upon the circumstance, the 
 disclosure appears still more mysterious. At first we 
 suspected Nevil ; but you will conceive with what in- 
 dignation against ourselves we repelled a suspicion 
 which, for the moment, forced itself upon our alarmed 
 fancy. One of the saddest miseries of adversity is, 
 that it renders men unjust, awakening doubts of the 
 sincerity of friendship, so rarely given to misfortune. 
 In thinking the best of the conduct of that excellent 
 young man 1 did well ; for it is still through his means 
 that I am able to transmit you the following details : — 
 I am thus completely ignorant by whom or in what 
 manner we have been betrayed. 
 
 " As soon as the Revolutionary Committee had 
 knowledge of my poor Alexander's remark, they inter- 
 cepted all communication between him and the other 
 prisoners ; and, which has thrown us into greater con- 
 sternation still, between him and his family. On the 
 morrow he was shut up in his chamber, which fortu- 
 nately opens upon a small corridor communicating with 
 a second apartment, at present unoccupied, an arrange- 
 ment which, hitherto unobserved, triples the space foi 
 exercise Two days after, the doors were thrown open
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 63 
 
 and he leceived the very unexpected visit of a mem- 
 ber of the Committee of General Safety. The visitoi 
 was Vadier, his colleague in the Constitutional Assem- 
 bly, a gray-headed, suspicious ruffian, who follows the 
 dictates of habitual misanthropy, and with whom sus- 
 picions are equivalent to proofs. In the tone assumed 
 with my husband, the latter instantly recognized pre- 
 judice and personal hatred, and shrunk from penetrat 
 ing farther. As for myself, the bare idea causes me to 
 shudder, and were I to dwell upon the thought for a 
 moment, I feel that terror would freeze my heart. 
 
 " ' Without inquiring,' answered Alexander, ' by 
 what means you have discovered my thoughts, I am 
 very far Irom disavowing the maxim which you repeat 
 after me, or the principles you attribute to me. Is not 
 the entire theory of the Revolution comprehended in 
 these ideas? do they not teach a doctrine which its 
 friends have reduced to practice ? are not these princi- 
 ples yours also ?' ' All that I grant,' replied Vadier ; 
 'but times, places, persons, change all ; and a truth of 
 this nature, admirable as it may be in speculation, be- 
 comes a dagger when men know not how to use it ; ift 
 is a two-edged weapon which we have done well in di- 
 recting against the enemies of liberty : but if it so hap- 
 pen that those who have been wounded, though not 
 prostrated, essay to turn it against the defenders of 
 freedom, if, in such a retrograde and criminal move- 
 ment, ttiey were guided by one of those arms which 
 nad combated them, and which in protecting them to- 
 day, desired to avenge their wounds of the past, say
 
 54 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 
 
 would such a one be guiltless? would the intentions he 
 obeyed be pure ? or, could too great severity be exer- 
 cised to prevent the effect rather than have to punish 
 the consequences ?' ' In these dangerous and forced de- 
 ductions,' answered M. de B., 'I recognize the doctrine 
 of your master. Under deceitful hypotheses you may 
 base at will the scaffolding of any proposition, however 
 absurd ; and arguing from the possible to the positive, 
 you deliver the innocent to punishment, as the means 
 of preventing them from guilt.' ' Whoever is suspect- 
 ed,' was the atrocious reply, 'deserves suspicion.' 
 ' Speak more honestly at once,' replied your nephew : 
 ' whoever is innocent soon falls under suspicion ; and, 
 once suspected, he perishes ; if it be imagined that his 
 innocence may waver, you quickly punish him as crim- 
 mal.' ' You press the consequences rather from feeling 
 than reason,' returned Vadier ; ' we designate and treat 
 as criminal, him only who impedes or corrupts the 
 principles of the Revolution. Would you have spoken 
 out had not the anti-revolutionarv doctrines, in de- 
 spite of us, and even without our knowledge, refuted 
 you ? Woe to the guilty who compromise themselves.' 
 * Woe, rather,' cried my husband, ' woe to those tyrants 
 who explain, or rather who mystify, by an insidious 
 and crafty sophistry, their system of manslaughter ! we 
 may easily put aside the thrust which is aimed at us 
 in honest hostility ; and, as the President du Harley re- 
 marks, a mighty space interposes between the heart of 
 the good man and the poniard of the miscreant. But 
 hcv avoid the stab made in darkness? theie is no 
 
 I
 
 LIFB OF JOSEPHINB. 53 
 
 cemeu) we must be silent and bare the throat.' At 
 the-.e \/v,vds, wliich I much blame, the old President of 
 the General Safety Committee left the prison ; and 
 Nevil, who had been listening in the corridor, imagined 
 he remarked in his naturally stern countenance an m- 
 describable expression of the most sinister import. I 
 shall keep you daily informed of the consequences of 
 this affair, which fills me with inexpressible alarm." 
 
 The horizon now blackened around De Beauharnais, 
 and his hunted family — the fatal bolt was aimed with 
 relentless and murderous decision of purpose at another 
 warm and manly heart, whose ebbing current would 
 honor the soil it baptized, and like that of the first mar- 
 tyr, cry to Heaven against 
 
 " Man's inhumanity to man ;" 
 
 whether in the sceptred homicide, or as now, a fla- 
 gitious mob, apotheosizing liberty while trampling on 
 her sacred form. The fearful authority of Robespierre 
 was, at this stage of revolutionary progress, shaken, and 
 he entered upon the desperate struggle to regain his 
 vanishing and terrible greatness. The reaction against 
 the monster of crime, was encouraged by Callot d'Her- 
 bois, Tallien, Barras, and others, who figured as chiefs 
 in the events which preceded the 27th July, 1794 ; 
 and the vigilance and activity of Robespierre's emis- 
 saries proportionally increased. 
 
 When, therefore, a pretext was found to excite the 
 popular feeling more intensely against the "captive 
 aristocracy," so that the trembling demon of the fierce
 
 56 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 commotion, and his subordinate spirits, might dispose 
 of ttieir foes with the guillotine, it was improved with 
 cowardly haste. 
 
 Soon after the interesting scene in the cell of Beau- 
 liarnais, the revolutionary newspapers came out with 
 flaming editorials upon the " grand conspiracy discov- 
 eied in the house of seclusion at the Luxembourg;'' 
 and with the assurance that the argus-eyed adminis- 
 tration would penetrate the terrible plot, threatened 
 the summary punishment, which too quickly followed. 
 
 Nevil, the youth who in disguise attempted to save 
 de Beauharnais, exhibiting a singular attachment to 
 the unfortunate general he aided officially to imprison, 
 was now arrested, and conveyed with inquisitorial 
 secrecy to his place of confinement. Then the " Com- 
 mittee" entered the sanctuary of home, endeavoring to 
 extort from childhood, evidence of parental guilt. The 
 description as given by Josephine, makes the con- 
 templative reader pause with painful emotions over the 
 public and domestic tragedies of a " Republic," which 
 poured the crimson tide of human life in sluices along 
 the streets — and instead of the Genius of Liberty, was 
 guarded by atheistical bacchanals, grasping the drip- 
 ping blade of the assassin. 
 
 JOSEPHINE TO MADAM FANNY DE BEAUHARNAIS. 
 
 " Will you believe it, my dear aunt ? My children 
 have just undergone a long and minute examination! 
 That wretched old man, member of the Committee,
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniiTE. 5'i 
 
 and whom I have repeatedly named to you, introduced 
 himself into my house ; and under pretence of feeling 
 interested in my husband, and of entertaining me, set 
 my poor ones a talking. I confess that at first I was 
 compfetely thrown off my guard by this stratagem; 
 only I could not help wondering at the affability of 
 such a personage. Innate guilt, however, soon betray- 
 ed itself when the children replied in terms whence it 
 was impossible to extort the least implication against 
 their unfortunate parents. Thus I speedily detected 
 the deceit. When he perceived I had penetrated nis 
 craft, he ceased to feign, and declaring that he had 
 been charged with obtaining from my children infor- 
 mation so much the more certain as being ingenuous, 
 he proceeded to interrogate them in form. Upon thia 
 avowal, I was sensible of an inexpressible revulsion 
 taking place within me ; I felt that I grew pale witn 
 affright — that I now reddened with anger — now trem- 
 bled with indignation. I was on the point of expressing 
 to this hoary revolutionist the loathing with whicn ne 
 inspired me, when the thought arose that I might thus 
 Qo injury to my husband, against whom this execrable 
 man shows inveterate enmity; then I repressed my re- 
 sentment in silence. Upon his desiring to be left alone 
 with my little ones, I fell again the spirit of resistance 
 rising within me ; but such ferocity appeared in his 
 looks that I was constrained to obey. 
 
 "Having locked up Hortense in a closet, he com 
 menced by questioning her brother. When my daugh 
 ter's turn came, oh, how I trembled on perceivmg tue.
 
 68 LIFE OF JOSEPDINB. 
 
 length to which her examination extended ! for our in- 
 quisitor had not failed to remark in the dear girl an 
 acuteness and penetration far beyond her years. Af- 
 ter sounding them as to our conversations, our opin- 
 ions, the visits and letters which we received, and es- 
 pecially on the actions which they might have wit- 
 nessed, he broached the capital question, namely, the 
 discourse held with their father in prison. My chil- 
 dren, each in character answered excellently well, and 
 spite the subtlety of the wretch, who wished to find 
 guilt, the sound understanding ^f my son and the intel- 
 ligent address of his sisier, disconcerted, if they were 
 not able to confound, the knavery. What conse- 
 quences will they extort from an examination such 
 as truth dictates to lips that are guileless ? It can re- 
 dound only to the triumph of innocence and the shame 
 of its accusers : will they dare to produce it, if thence 
 arise this two- fold check ? 
 
 " Still the same silence concerning the unfortunate 
 Nevil. Notwithstanding my repugnance, I have de 
 cided on requesting an audience of a member of the 
 Committee of General Safety, Louis, (deputy of the 
 Lower Rhine,) of whom report speaks less unfavorably 
 than of his colleagues. Your nephew has expressly pro- 
 hibited me from seeing these men, whom he regards as 
 the assassins of our country ; but he has not forbidden 
 me to solicit from gratitude, and in favor of friendship. 
 Had he done so, I could almost have dared to disobey 
 the injunction. I hold the ungrateful in horror, and 
 certainly shall never increase their number."
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHnSTE. 6S 
 
 She was successful in her appHcation — Louis gained 
 for her access to the prison-pohce, and through him to 
 Prosper Sigas, whose decision completed the formalities 
 of admission. The frightful disclosures which were 
 made there, in the loathsome dungeons of innocence, 
 reminded one of the gloomy " slave-ship," whose rayless 
 hold of sullen wretches was at length opened to the 
 light of day, and the groans heard, which were foi 
 centuries wasted on the solitude of the ocean. She 
 graphically portrays some of those horrors, whose 
 gigantic sepulchre under the old order of things, was 
 the ancient Bastile, swept away by the revolutionary 
 storm. The letter is addressed to 
 
 MADAM FANNY BEAUHARNAIS. 
 
 " Louis, the deputy of the Lower Rhine, whom 1 
 just saw for a moment, appeared to me not without 
 some good, and I believe him not insensible. The 
 accents of pity seem to find his heart not inaccessible. 
 lie does not repel misfortune, nor add bitterness to the 
 reproaches wrung from grief; but those qualities 
 precisely which recommend him to the oppressed, 
 become vices and lessen his influence with the oppres-. 
 sors. He enjoys little credit ; and after hearing my 
 petition, could do nothing therein directly, but intro- 
 duced mi to his colleague, who is charged with the 
 pDlice of the prisoners. The latter, with malice in his 
 look, and mockery on his tongue, complimented mo 
 ■\ronicallv upon the interest I expressed in Nevil's fate.
 
 60 LIFE OF JOSEPUIJfE. 
 
 ' The cordvvainer,' said the ruffian, ' is a vigorous an 
 handsome youth : it is quite as it should be for him to 
 be protected by a woman who is young and handsome 
 also. If she now manifest sensibility, the time may 
 come when he will be able to show his gratitude. As 
 to the matter in hand, however, his examination being 
 finished, his affair is no longer a concern of mine. 
 You must therefore transport yourself into the office 
 of citizen Prosper Sigas, who, if so disposed, may grant 
 you the required permission. You may say that I 
 recommend him to be yielding, for it is really a sin to 
 keep so long separated from each other, two young 
 people who only ask to be reunited.' 
 
 "After these impertinences, to which I deigned no 
 reply, the fellow gave me a card to the functionary 
 whom he had just named. Oh ! as for this latter, he 
 proved quite another sort of person : to my delight and 
 great astonishment, I found in M. Sigas all the urbanity 
 desirable in a man of the world, joined to that knowl- 
 edge of detail which we have a right to expect in a 
 public officer. He informed me, that notwithstanding 
 a first examination, citizen Nevil still remained in the 
 depot of the Committee of General Security. * As it is 
 supposed,' continued my informant, ' that he has dis- 
 closures to make, it has been judged fit to place him 
 there, that he may be forthcoming when wanted. 1 
 am sorry for it, first on his own account, and next on 
 yours, madam, whose interest he appears so fortunate 
 as to have excited. There is your permission to 
 communicate with him ; you will observe that it
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHIKTE. 61 
 
 ftuthorizes these commnnications only in the pres- 
 ence of a witness ; but this postcript which I add^ 
 gives the power to render the witness invisible if cir- 
 cumstances permit ; or, if not, makes him blind and 
 deaf.' Avow, my beloved aunt, that though now 
 misplaced, it would not be easy to find a more amia- 
 ble personage than M, Prosper Sigas. 
 
 " From the officers of the Committee I descended to 
 (he Hotel de IJrionne, under the gate of which the 
 depot is situated. You will have difficulty in believing 
 that neglect, or rather atrocity, could be carried so far 
 as to establish this depot in a subterranean passage, 
 narrow, dark, receiving through grated loopholes a 
 struggling and doubtful light, and which, in close 
 contact with a public sewer, has, upon the roof, the 
 channels of wells constantly in use. In this damp, 
 gloomy, and infected hole are to be found, by tens and 
 twelves, huddled into spaces of fifteen feet square, 
 captives unknown to each other, and without other bed 
 than a few boards raised some thirty inches from the 
 floor, spreading mutual infection from the bodies, while 
 ihey envenom the evils of their minds by dreadlul 
 confidences. Here groaned Nevil, when to his great 
 astonishment, he was called out, and recognized me 
 with lively satisfaction. It is quite true that he haa 
 been examined, but less upon what concerns my 
 husband than upon what passed at the Luxembourg 
 He is prepared for new trials." 
 
 Robespierre, though a man of ordinary powers, and 
 by nature a coward, besides exercising with energy
 
 62 LIFE OF JOSErniNE. 
 
 that paralyzsd the nation, the might of brute force 
 displayed tact in the management of that horrible 
 enginery, which shook the kingdoms of Europe. 
 When he bsheld symptoms of a reaction involving the 
 decline of his demoniac authority, like a lion crouching 
 before the hunted prey he would beguile to his lair, he 
 affected a lenity, against which his bitter spirit chafed 
 with hidden passion, that waited only the opportunity 
 to send forth its volcanic fires. He gave more latitude 
 to the press, and permitted debate — apologizing with 
 apparent regret for the enormities committed, while all 
 the time, heads were rolling upon the scaffold, beneath 
 the axe, whose fatal stroke fell like the steady beat of 
 a machine for perpetual motion, until action wore our 
 its iron heart. 
 
 He began to read in the lurid glare of the meteor of 
 his fame, which had culminated upon a sky darkened 
 with the smoke of slaughter, the despairing looks of 
 millions, and caught the murmur of the angry deep, 
 his trident had ruled too long. His mercy was in vain, 
 only as it threw a pleasant illusion upon hearts like 
 Josephine's, tortured with suspense, and clinging to the 
 object of affection. His cuf) of trembling was well 
 nigh full — the corsair of the wrathful billows, was 
 already reeling in the circ'.es of the vortex awaiting it.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 fwCPHmE cni>kcei\t:d. — her arrest. — description of the soknm.— 
 
 THE PRISON. HORTENSE AND EUGENE. JOSEPHINE's COMPOSURE. HE* 
 
 KINDNESS TO THE PRISONERS. CORRESPONDENCE WITH BEArHARNAH 
 
 RENEWED. ROMANTIC STORY. PRISON HORRORS. BEAUHARNAIs' IN- 
 TEREST IN THE YOUNG MANIAC. RETURNING HOPE. — LEVITY OF PRIS- 
 ONERS. — Josephine's maternal character. — Robespierre's policy. 
 
 the interposition of FRIEND.S. JOSEPHINE's APPEAL TO SIGAS.^ 
 
 RESULT. MEETING OF BEAUHARNAIS AND JOSEPHINE. CRISIS IN DES- 
 TINY. LAST HOURS OF BEAUHARNAIS. HIS EXECUTION. RELICS UNEX- 
 PECTEDLY RECEIVED BY JOSEPHINE. HER DISTRESS AND DANGER. 
 
 CHEERED BY THE PROPHECY OF EUPUEMIA. CIRCUMSTANCES OF ROBES- 
 
 PIERRE's death. LIBERATION OF JOSEPHINE. INTEREST IN HER CHIL 
 
 DREN. FAMINE. DOMESTIC SUFFERING. SURTEY OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 BEAUHARNAIS FAMILY TOWARDS THE CLOSE OF THE YEAS 1795. 
 
 During the interlude of hope, Josephine wrote to her 
 husband, breathing encouragement and the affection 
 of a true woman's heart in every Une. She referred to 
 a pamphlet which about this time appeared, condenm- 
 ing the severity of the Committee, and intimating a 
 restoration of ancient customs, written by Desmoulins, 
 himself soon after a victim to the veno-eance of the 
 chief, who permitted him to write and live no longer 
 than micjht subserve his desiarns. 
 
 The infidelity of Robespierre also, it seems, about 
 tliis time assumed the phase of Deism ; which she re- 
 garded as indicative of slumbering humanity awaking 
 zo activity. But Beauharnais understood the Revolu-
 
 64 LIFE OF JOSEPniNE. 
 
 lion better than his faithful wife, and discerned beneath 
 a seeming tranquillity, the unsubdued elements, whose 
 open war would soon again pour their fury upon the 
 heads of those enrolled on the list of proscription or 
 suspicion. He replied to her note of gratulation in the 
 following emphatic language : — 
 
 DE BEAUHARNAIS TO JOSEPHIXE. 
 
 " My poor friend, what an error is thine ! Hope de- 
 ludes you ; but in the times wherein we live hope dis- 
 appoints and betrays. I have read with attention the 
 work of Desmoulins : it is the production of an honest 
 man, but a dupe. He wrote, you say, to the dictation 
 of Robespierre : it is probable : but after having urged 
 him thus far, the tyrant will sacrifice him. I know 
 that determined man : he will not retreat before anv 
 difficulty ; and, to secure the triumph of his detestable 
 system, he will even, if need be, play the part of a man 
 of feeling. Robespierre, in the conviction of his pride, 
 believes himself called to regenerate France; and hia 
 views are short-sighted, and his heart cold ; he con- 
 ceives of radical regeneration only as a washing in 
 blood. It is the easiest mode of reform, for the victims 
 are penned, and the butcher has merely to extend his 
 hand, and drag them to the slaughter-house. Some, 
 however, before expiring, had raised a cry of amenta, 
 tion, and this note the credulous Camile is employed to 
 repeat, in order to try conclusions with opinion 
 Whatever may be his object, it will incur opposition,
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHIKTE. 65 
 
 which will oe wrested by the tyrant into a cause lor 
 the sacrifice of new victims. Such is the grand out- 
 line of his pohcy. 
 
 " I grieve, my dear Josephine, to destroy your heart's 
 illusion ; but how can I entertain it, who have viewed 
 too closely the manoeuvres of tyranny ? When we 
 are unable to oppose to despotism a power capable of 
 crushing it, there remains but one possibility of resist- 
 ance, namely, to receive its inflictions with a virtue 
 which may cover it with dishonor. Those who come 
 after us will at least profit by our example, and the 
 legacy of the proscribed will not be lost to humanity." 
 
 Scarcely had Josephine perused these warnings of 
 impending danger, before they proved to be the tocsin 
 of a darker calamity, tliat brought her beneath the very 
 shadow of the guillotine. She was thrown into prison, 
 where entire families were pining ki unpitied wretch- 
 edness, a fate which she might have anticipated long 
 hefore, but for a soul buoyant and hopeful, and full of 
 that kindness which " thinketh no evil." Her disinter- 
 ested devotion to her family, appears finely in the lettei 
 written immediately after the sad event. How sweet- 
 ly Hortense returns a mother's love, and even in her 
 dreams directs the weary spirit to the only source of 
 help and composure amid the beatings of the tempest. 
 
 JOSEPHINE TO MAPAM P. BEAUHAKXAIS. 
 
 "I commence this letter at a venture, and without 
 knowing if it will reach you. On Tuesday last Nevil's
 
 66 LIFE OF JOSETHmB. 
 
 molhcr entered my apartment with an air of anxiety, 
 and even grief, on her countenance. My mind revert- 
 ed to her son. ' I do not weep for him,' said the good 
 woman, sobbing aloud as she spoke ; ' though he be in 
 secret confinement, I have no fears for his Ufe ; he be- 
 longs to a class whose members are pardoned, or rathe 
 overlooked ; others are more exposed.' * Others !' In- 
 stantly my thoughts were at the Luxembourg. ' Has 
 Alexander been called before the tribunal ?' exclaimed 
 I ! 'Be comforted, the viscount is well.' I could then 
 think of no one for whom to feel alarm. The kind- 
 hearted creature proceeded, with many precautions, to 
 inform me that she alluded to myself. I immediately 
 became tranquil. After having trembled for all that 
 we love, my God ! how delightful to have to fear only 
 for one's self! 
 
 " Yesterday morning I received an anonymous let- 
 ter, advertising me of danger. I could have fled ; but 
 whither retire without compromising my husband ? 
 Decided thus to await the storm, I sat down with my 
 children, and in their innocent caresses could almost 
 have forgotten my misfortunes, if their very presence 
 had not more forcibly recalled the absence of their 
 father. Sleep stole them from my arms, which at such 
 a moment folded them, as if instinctively, in a more 
 tender embrace. Alas ! the love which unites a mother 
 to her offspring has its superstitions also : and I know 
 not what invincible presentiment overcame- me with 
 vague terror. Judge, if, thus left quite alone, I could 
 banish this painful sentiment. Yet Heaven is witness,
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniIfE. Bl 
 
 thai the three cherished beings who constitute my 
 w hole happiness, occasion likewise my sole pain. How 
 think of myself when they are threatened ? 
 
 " I continued plunged in these reflections, when a 
 loud knocking was heard at the outer door of the house. 
 I perceived that my hour was come, and, finding the re- 
 quisite courage in the very consciousness that the blow 
 was inevitable, I resigned myself to endurance. While 
 the tumult continued increasing, I passed into my chil- 
 dren's apartment ; they slept ! and their peaceful 
 slumber, contrasted witli their mother's trouble, made 
 me weep. I impressed upon my daughter's forehead, 
 alas ! perhaps my last kiss ; she felt the maternal 
 tears, and though still asleep, clasped her arms round 
 my neck, whispering, in broken murmurs, ' Come to 
 bed, fear nothing ; they shall not take you away this 
 night. I have prayed to God for you.' 
 
 " Meanwhile, a crowd had entered my sitting-room, 
 and there, at the head of ferocious and armed men, I 
 found the same president already named, whom very 
 weakness renders inhuman, and whose sloth favors his 
 prepositions against the accused. These prejudices, 
 60 far as concerned me, were deemed by him sufficient 
 warranty for my arrest ; without examination, as 
 without probability, I saw that he firmly believed in 
 what atrocious ignorance has termed the conspiracy of 
 the Luxembourg. I spare you needless details; already 
 have I been forced to impart too many sad ones. Let 
 it suffice to know, that seals being placed upon every 
 ai'ticle with lock and key, I was conducted to the
 
 68 LIFE OF JOSKPHINE. 
 
 house of detention at the Carmelites. Oh, whaf 
 shudderings came over me on crossing that threshold, 
 still liumid with blood ! Ah ! my belovea aunt, for 
 what outrages are not those men prepared who did not 
 punish the execrable crimes committed here !" 
 
 Josephine's prison "at the Carmelites," was a con- 
 vent distinguished in the Reign of Terror, for its heca- 
 tombs of the eight thousand slain during four days of 
 execution at the hands of an infatuated mob. Gloomy 
 days! when women rolled their sleeves for human 
 butchery, and smiled at the havoc which drenched the 
 dungeon-floor with blood, and awakened the perpetual 
 and dismal echoes of dying agony. 
 
 We can hardly appreciate the heroism of charactei 
 which sustained this fair victim, away from every 
 pleasant association, and surrounded with the stains of 
 that general assassination ; while her husband and 
 oflspring were at the mercy of excited enemies. How 
 marvellous often the different phases of destiny ! A 
 dismal, bloody cell, and a dazzling throne — such the 
 words that might have been traced in the crimson 
 mould upon those dreary walls, as a brief memoir of 
 the captive. 
 
 Hortense and Eugene left alone in the solitude of a 
 great city, which heeded not the friendless and suffer- 
 ing, were thrown upon their youthful resources for 
 escape from their night of desolation. A reckless 
 crowd and the prison-pile were near — the mansion of 
 the benevolent Madam F. Beauharnais in the distance 
 — the prospect of access to either seemed equally hope-
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniNB. 6fi 
 
 less. Bui never does the influence of early culture 
 appear more decidedly than in circumstances like these ; 
 when the want of experience and mature judgment 
 throws the mind back upon the counsels of parental 
 love. After various devices, they enlisted the mother 
 of Nevil in their behalf; she transmitted intelligence 
 of their unnatural orphanage to the amiable relative 
 residing in the country, who soon conveyed them to 
 her domain. Josephine was immediately informed of 
 their safety, as the following extract from a letter to a 
 lady in London, pleasantly shows, while it indicates 
 also a sensible view of life, and a sublime calmness of 
 spirit. 
 
 " Let me place before you, my dear friend, two con- 
 trasts, which we but seldom remark, though they 
 present themselves every day ; and of which I have a 
 fancy to talk with you for a moment. Good news, last 
 evening, of my children — to-day, hopes in my husband's 
 affairs : what more favorable to appetite, to sleep, and 
 to good-humor ? Thus, mine is not so very sour ; and 
 that it may become altogether agreeable, I set about 
 writing to you. 
 
 " You are young, rich, handsome, witty, adored by 
 an amiable husband, and courted by a circle where 
 your talents are applauded and enjoyed ; why, then, 
 are you not happy? I possess little fortune, still less 
 beauty, no pretensions, few hopes ; how then am I able 
 to taste some felicity ? Grave philosophers might 
 perhaps enter into lengthy discussion, in order to 
 resolve the question The problem would become still
 
 70 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 more complicated were I to add — the one lives in the 
 land of independence and of liberty — yet she weeps : 
 the other vegetates in a region of servitude — and. 
 though in prison, is yet tranquil. To explain this 
 diversity by difference of characters, is rather to post- 
 pone the explanation than to remove the difficulty ; for 
 whence arises the difference of character ? 
 
 " My dear Clara obeys the impulse of her heart 
 when she recounts to me sorrows which she exagger- 
 ates : I, on my part, yield to the dictates of mine while 
 entertaining her with what another would call pains, 
 but which two days of slight hope, springing up once 
 more in my breast, has transformed into pleasures. 
 
 " Know you, my beloved friend, what it is that in a 
 place such as this, creates unceasingly those pleasures 
 which are almost always soothing, sometimes even 
 positive happiness ? — two trifling combinations which 
 concurred fortuitously ; namely, a parody of life in the 
 great world, and the simplicity of private retirement. 
 
 " Among the hundred and sixty captives composing 
 our establishment, five or six private societies have 
 been formed through resemblance of individual opin- 
 ions and character. Some others there are, still more 
 closely associated by the most tender affections, and 
 these, isolated and silent, mix little with the pleasures 
 of the rest, which they never disturb. As for me, in- 
 dependently of a number of Lcquaintances and fiiends 
 whom I have recovered, I see everybody and every- 
 where meet with hearts to console and misfortunes in
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniNlC 71 
 
 which to sympathize. This reminds me that you, m^^ 
 dear Clara, believe yourself to be among the unfortunate 
 and under that title have a right to what 1 lavish upon 
 others. To-day, however, you shall have no consola- 
 tion beyond the certainty of ar approaching melioration 
 in my destiny. Is not that sufficient to render yours 
 happy, at least for some moments ? Need I assure you 
 of my participation in your afflictions, imaginary 
 though they be ? and know you not, that while you 
 suffer I suffer also ? The greatest of all misfortunes is 
 to doubt that which we love to think true, and such 
 sorrow at least we shall never experience, so far as 
 depends upon each other. Adieu, my friend. Courage ! 
 Must that word be pronounced by her who languishes 
 in prison? Ought she not rather to preserve for her- 
 self the exhortations which she sends to you? My 
 children are well — De Beauharnais' affair assumes a 
 more favorable turn — why, then, should my fortitude 
 fail ? Once more adieu." 
 
 Josephine by acts of kindness and looks of sympathy 
 towards those confined with her, won that affection 
 cherished by all who came within the circle of influ- 
 ence, which like a charmed atmosphere always attend- 
 ed her. There was a graceful freedom from all osten- 
 tation of manner, that made her attentions doubly 
 grateful to the suffering — and a true feminine delicacy 
 of feeling, which rendered her conversation charming 
 to the humblest admirer. 
 
 Correspondence was permitted under inspection, be- 
 tween her and Beauharnais, through the faithful Nevi^
 
 72 LIFE OF JOSEPnrNE. 
 
 who had obtained his liberty. She describes, with, 
 great simplicity, an affair of romantic interest connect- 
 ed with her prison friends, and sketches vividly the 
 sanguinary events that might have filled the imagina- 
 tion of a superstitious person with a thousand ghostly 
 visions, and unearthly sounds of anguish and impre- 
 cation. 
 
 JOSEPHINE TO BEAUHARNAIS. 
 
 "You have not forgotten the unfortunate village 
 maiden in the environs of Rouen, who being abandon- 
 ed by her lover, became insane, and wandered about 
 the highways, inquiring of every traveller concerning 
 her ungrateful seducer. The good Marsollier caused 
 us to shed many tears when he related some years ago 
 the misfortunes of the poor, forsaken maniac ; and our 
 amiable Dalayrac has rendered them familiar to the 
 public ear by verses which will not soon be forgotten. 
 Well, my friend, there is in this house a youth, who, 
 with even greater propriety than Nina, might become 
 the hero of a drama. He is an English boy, named 
 Tommy. The fatal consequences of an unfortunate 
 passion have often been to be deplored, which, by de- 
 priving the hapless sufferer of reason, takes away all 
 feeling of sorrow ; but the sentiment of gratitude is 
 rarely so profound as to produce the same effect. The 
 wretched Tommy is a touching example of the excess 
 of an affection of which much is said, but little felt. 
 This history struck me as so interesting that i resolved
 
 LIFE OP JOSEPHINB. 78 
 
 to send you the relation. Your heart will appreciate 
 the simple recital ; and, by occupying you for a few 
 minutes with the sorrows of others, I shall beguile you 
 from your own. To lament over our species, to give 
 tears to their griefs, is, alas ! the sole distinction voueti- 
 safed in a season of trial. 
 
 " A respectable priest of St. Sulpice had conceived 
 an affection for Tommy, and bestowed upon him the 
 principles of a Christian education : I say Christian, in 
 the full extent of the word ; for the worthy Abbe Cap- 
 deville, equally tolerant as pious, made the youth his 
 pupil only, nor once thought of renaering him his pros- 
 elyte ; persuaded that religion in a pure mind will in- 
 sinuate itself gently by example, and can never be 
 prescribed as maxims. Those which he inculcated 
 upon Tommy were drawn from a universal charity, of 
 which he exhibited meanwhile an affecting example in 
 his own practice. A witness of numerous benefac- 
 tions, distributed with no less kindness than discern- 
 ment, Tommy could not doubt that the first foundation 
 of religion is to be laid in charity. He was in like 
 manner convinced that indulgence and toleratior, 
 must have been ordained by God, whom he beheld so 
 well manifested in the benevolent Abbe. This priest 
 reserved for himself nothing beyond the simplest neces- 
 aaries : lavish towards others, he refused to himself 
 whatever could not be regarded as indispensable at an 
 age so advanced as his. The calmness and placidity 
 of his countenance testified that his heart had ever 
 been tranquil. Never did a shade appear on is vis-
 
 j4 l-TPE OF JOSEPHnSTE. 
 
 age. save when he found it impossible to be of servitw 
 to a brother, or soothe the remorse of a guilty con- 
 science. 
 
 " Tommy, gifted with quick penetration and lively 
 sensibility, conceived for his benefactor an attachment 
 so much the more ardent that he had previously never 
 known any one to love ! He had been deprived of a 
 mother's tenderness before he could feel his loss ; and , 
 he was not more than eight years old when Providence 
 threw him in the way of this protecting angel. An 
 orphan, forsaken by all the world, he had been receiv- 
 ed, brought up, and educated by M. Capdeville. To 
 obey the latter appeared so delightful to him, that he 
 succeeded in all things ; it sufficed that his father — for 
 so the boy named the good priest — directed him to do 
 anything, in which case an indefatigable perseverance 
 enabled him to surmount every difficulty. This amiable 
 and excellent youth displayed a remarkable aptitude 
 for music. His voice, harmonious, though not bril- 
 liant, accorded with several different instruments ; and 
 his daily progress on the harp permitted the anticipa • 
 tion that, by-and-by, he would be able to impart to 
 others what he himself so well knew. M. Capdeville 
 being a man of great learning, received as pupils the 
 children of several distinguished professors, who in 
 turn, took pleasure in teaching the protege of their 
 friend. Thus, without expending what he conceived 
 to be the property of the poor, the worthy man found 
 means of procuring the best masters for his dear 
 Tommv ; and so modest liimself in everything per
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHItfi:. 75 
 
 sonal, he enjoyed with pride the success of this child 
 of his adoption. Alas ! the nappiness which he thus 
 experienced was destined to be of short duration ! 
 
 " The consequences of the fatal 10th of August, 
 crowded the prisons with almost every priest who had 
 not taken the constitutional oaths. The Abbe Cap- 
 deville, persuaded that churchmen ought to obey the 
 powers that be, according to the precepts of the gos- 
 pel, had given the required pledges, and submitting, if 
 not in heart, at least" to authority, had consequently no 
 reason to fear any measure against himself. But how 
 abandon the venerable Archbishop of Aries, his di- 
 ocesan and constant patron ? In consequence of this 
 devotedness, the revolutionists of the section, who had 
 seen, and wished to see, only an accomplice in a grate- 
 ful friend, pronounced his imprisonment in the Carmel- 
 ites. Here, some days afterward, by various means, 
 and after much difficulty, Tommy contrived to join his 
 benefactor; for, at a time when a word, a look even, 
 sufficed to plunge the individual into a dungeon, the 
 poor youth was denied the privilege, which he solicited 
 with ardor, of serving in his turn the old man who had 
 watched over his childhood. The heartless men who 
 refused for some time his request, termed their denial a 
 favor, while it was but cruelty. One of the members, 
 who had formerly been under obligations to M. Capde- 
 ville, at length obtained an order, and Tommy, to his 
 inexpressible joy, was shut up with his benefactor. 
 
 " I wish to spare you, my friend, the description 
 
 which has since been given me of the horrible massa- 
 i)
 
 76 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 ere which took place on the 2d of September in this 
 prison — a spot forever memorable by reason of the 
 sublime resignation of the numerous victims there sac- 
 rificed. The chapel was particularly selected by the 
 murderers as the scene of death for the clergy. They 
 seemed to have been dragged thither in order that their 
 last look might rest upon Him who, persecuted like His 
 servants, had taught them to forgive ; and the last sighs 
 of these unfortunate men respired in feeble hymns of 
 praise. They were actually praying for their assassins 
 when the frantic mob burst into the sacred place ! The 
 Archbishop of Aries, seated in a chair on account of 
 his great age, was giving his last benediction to his 
 kneeling companions ; Capdeville, on his knees also, 
 was reciting the prayers for those in peril — the respon- 
 ses within were given as from a choir of martyrs, and 
 without, in the savage vociferations of a furious crowd 
 eager to shed blood. 
 
 " Tommy, dreadfully agitated, traversed the whole 
 building, in every sense of the word, stopping in order 
 to listen, weeping at intervals, and uttering mournful 
 cries. Some neighbors, whom a courageous pity had 
 emboldened to enter, wished to save him and favored 
 his escape ; but returning to his master, or rather friend, 
 he took a station by his side, and refused to be sepa- 
 rated from him. The ruffians, having forced open the 
 door, and broken the windows, penetrated by several 
 points at once : the pavements of the chapel, and the 
 steps of the sanctuary, were speedily inundated with 
 blood. Capdeville, struck immediately after the Bishop,
 
 LITE OF JOSEPUINE. 71 
 
 fell at his feet, and extending a mangled hand to 
 Tommy, expired as he looked upon him. That look 
 was a last blessing. 
 
 " Already the poor youth, or rather child — for he is 
 not yet sixteen — exhibited unequivocal symptoms of 
 alienation of mind ; on the death of his friend a fixed 
 insanity appeared. The unfortunate Abbe, who had 
 knelt apart from the companions of his martyrdom, 
 having been engaged in ofiiciating, had fallen with his 
 head supported on the upper step of the altar, and his 
 body extended across the others : the left hand was 
 pressed against the heart, and the right, as I have al- 
 ready said, extended toward his pupil. The blow that 
 had deprived him of life had been so rapid in its oper- 
 ation, that death had not effaced his habitual expres- 
 sion of benevolence which lightened his placid counte- 
 nance. He seemed to smile and slumber ; by some 
 change in the reasoning faculties. Tommy became con- 
 vinced that his friend slept. Instantly as if by encliant- 
 ment the scene of slaughter disappeared from before 
 his vision ; he knelt down by the side of the bleeding 
 corpse, waiting its awaking. After three hours of 
 watching, and as the sun sank beneath the horizon, 
 Tommy went to seek his harp, and again sat down 
 beside the remains of his friend, playing melancholy 
 airs, in order to hasten his awaking, which appeared 
 to him to be long in taking place. While thus em- 
 ployed, sleep stole over his own frame, and the chari- 
 table hands which removed from the despoilere the 
 bodies of the martyrs carried away Tommy, and laid
 
 18 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 him on his bed. There he remained eight-and-fortj 
 hours in a kind of lethargy, whence, however, he 
 awoke, with all the appearances of soundness of body 
 and mind. But, if health had been restored, reason 
 had fled forever. 
 
 " In commiseration of his pious madness, a free asy- 
 lum has been granted to him in this house, where he 
 passes the day in silence till each afternoon at three 
 o'clock. The moment that hour strikes. Tommy, who 
 ordinarily walks slowly, runs to seek his harp, upon 
 which, leaning against the ruins of the altar still re- 
 maining in the chapel, he plays his friend's favorite 
 airs. The expression of his countenance on these oc- 
 casions announces hope ; he seems to expect a word 
 of approbation from him whose remembrance he cher- 
 ishes ; this hope and this employment continue until 
 six o'clock, when he leaves off abruptly, saying, ' Not 
 yet ! — but to-morrow he will speak to his child.' He 
 then kneels down, prays fervently, rises with a sigh, 
 and retires softly upon tiptoe, that he may not disturb 
 the imaginary repose of his benefactor. The same 
 affecu ig scene takes place day after day; and during 
 the intervals, the poor boy's faculties seem completely 
 absorbed, till the fatal hour calls forth the same hopes, 
 destined forever to be chilled by the same disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 " Though a prisoner within the same building, I had 
 not had an opportunity of seeing the unfortunate youth. 
 I have just for the first time looked upon that counte- 
 nance whereon are depicted so many griefs and virtues.
 
 LtFE OF JOSEPUINB. 7fl 
 
 I found it impossible to entertain you with anything 
 else to- day Adieu, then, my friend, till to-morrow ; 
 but more happy than Tommy, I am certain of beirg 
 able to repeat to the object of my solicitude all the ten- 
 derness with which he inspires me," 
 
 There cannot be a more touching disclosure of a pure 
 philanthropy and disinterested kindness of heart, than 
 this little narrative. And were it not for a native flow 
 of animal spirits, and familiarity with sad reverses, in 
 a period of wild discord, Josephine's cheerful interest 
 in the happiness of others, and the comparative sajig- 
 froid of Beauharnais, amid the thickening gloom that 
 to every observant eye hung menacingly on the future, 
 would be marvellous. He enters into her benevolent 
 commiseration of Tommy, with a delicacy of feeling 
 and sympathy, which shed an attractive lustre upon his 
 character, and afford, in the subjoined reply, a pleasing 
 continuation of the young maniac's history. 
 
 BEAUHARNAIS TO JOSEPHINE. 
 
 "Your history, my beloved friend, is extremely 
 touching, and little Tommy very interesting. After 
 having read your letter more than once, privately, 1 
 communicated it to our circle, and each like myself, 
 praised, as he deserves, the poor victim of the noblest 
 of all sentiments — that is to say, all have shed teara 
 over his misfortunes. All France would do the same 
 were the circumstances disclosed. Ah ! how he merits 
 to be known ! What a contrast to the crimes of tiie
 
 80 IJTK OF JOSKPHINB. 
 
 age ! But the epochs of the greatest iniquities are 
 likewise the eras of the loftiest virtues, and for the 
 sake of example, that of Tommy ought not to remain 
 in obscurity. We have talents here which will find 
 delight in holding up his to general admiration. One 
 of us is prepared to paint the portrait of your Tommy ; 
 another will dedicate his literary exertions to the same 
 pious purpose ; and this little monument, offered with- 
 out pretension to a public not naturally insensible, 
 may, perhaps, lay the foundation of the orphan's 
 fortune. 
 
 " For my own part, I shall be happy to contribute to 
 this effect by attaching the forsaken youth to the 
 fortunes of our son. Eugene bears in his heart the 
 germ of every virtue; and how would these seeds of 
 goodness be ripened into activity by the example of 
 one who had carried even to excess the affections of 
 attachment and gratitude ! Do not lose sight of thi!» 
 idea ; it will, my good Josephine, accord with youi 
 benevolent inclinations ; and, should it ever be realized, 
 we shall have gained, from the most painful occurrences 
 of our life, the rarest of all monuments — the most 
 affecting of all recollections. 
 
 " My oppression diminishes daily ; there remains 
 only a severe cold, which has fixed upon my chest, 
 through the perpetual irritation inseparable from my 
 situation. At the sight of the doctor, all this disappears ; 
 and when I read your letters, my dear Joseph' ae, I 
 cannot persuade myself but that I am happy ! When 
 we shall once more be reunited, my happiness will no
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 81 
 
 longer be an illusion, and you will be of tfie same mind 
 for you will feel it to be real." 
 
 Josephine attributed this returning hope of a reunion, 
 to the effect of reading of the " Old Cordelier," a work 
 whose appearance was hailed by the victims of Rot)es- 
 pierre, as evidence of more moderation in views, and a 
 less brutal policy to succeed that which decimated 
 France. After alluding with triumphant anticipation 
 to the new ground of courage, in a note to Beauharnais, 
 she casually discloses the volatility and irreligion of the 
 noblesse ; showing their entire incapacity to introduce 
 a better order of things in government, had they 
 attained the power. While lust, blasphemy, and legal- 
 ized murder, were filling the land with horrors at 
 which the civilized world stood aghast, and executioners 
 were impatient to add their bodies to the gladiatorial 
 show, these captives were busy with the plans of 
 extravagant pleasure, and dreaming only of the sports 
 of the turf, and the excitement of the chase. In her 
 own words : " One half of our captives htvt given 
 orders for fetes, country parties, and new ^^u'Tiiture. 
 To-day, Madam de S. sent for a famous joc7/.y, with 
 whom she has concluded a treaty for replen7'<hing her 
 stud ; and the old Du Merbion, with whom you may 
 recollect having hunted at Rainey, has ordered from 
 Scotland six couple of terriers, such as were never seen 
 in France. In short, projectors of all descriptions are 
 retained by the month ; and when we do get out I 
 know not if we shall find a morsel of food ! Nevil's 
 mother participates in our hopes and our joys and
 
 B2 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 y^ou, my dear Alexander, you must not destroy them 
 with a cruel foresight — an ill-founded distrust, and all 
 the sinister presentiments inspired by too much experi- 
 ence, by the remembrance of a home, and the aspect 
 of a prison. Till we meet, my beloved, adieu; I do 
 not to-day embrace you upon cold paper ; for I hold 
 myself in reserve soon to lavish upon you endearments 
 like my affection — real. 
 
 " P. S. I have written to our aunt, imparting the 
 happy news. I wrote also to our children, and have 
 informed Eugene of a companion worthy of him. 
 Tommy consents to live with us, but stipulates one 
 express condition — namely, that, upon the second day 
 of every month, at three o'clock in the afternoon, he 
 shall be permitted to come here, and, by the harmony 
 of his notes, charm the dreams of his sleeping friend 
 during the whole continuance of the Revolution ! 
 Poor Tommy ! who would not be moved by a delirium 
 so affecting !" 
 
 This postscript is the last glimpse of her protege, 
 Tommy; the effect of subsequent release upon the 
 helpless one among thousands — his wanderings and 
 death are unrecorded. He was nevertheless great as 
 the greatest, in the essential elements of humanity, and 
 his title to immortality beyond the dread theatre of his 
 sufferings. 
 
 Josephine amused herself in writing to her husband 
 and children, while her presence and goodness shed a 
 beautiful radiance athwart the gloom of desponding 
 spirits in that prison, and formed a fine contrast with
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 8S 
 
 the idiot folly and sensuality that marked the character 
 of her associates, from the fashionable walks of life. 
 She was a fond mother, and yet endowed with decision, 
 which never sacrificed principle, and propriety, to 
 parental partiality. There is a delightful illustratior- 
 of this trait, in a brief letter to Hortense after an 
 adventure that no less displayed the impulsive ardor of 
 the daughter, who, leaving her aunt secretly one 
 morning, rode to Paris, thirty miles, with a market- 
 man ; returning the following day without having 
 obtained the object of her filial flight. 
 
 JOSEPHINE TO HORTENSE. 
 
 " I should be entirely satisfied with the good heart of 
 
 my Hortense, were I not displeased with her bad head. 
 
 How, TTtiy daughter, is it, without permission from your 
 
 aunt, that you have come to Paris ? What do I say ? 
 
 It is contrary to her desire ! This is very bad. But 
 
 it was to see me, you will say. You ought to be quite 
 
 aware that no one sees me without an order, to obtain 
 
 which requires both means and precautions, such as 
 
 poor Victorine is little able to take. And, besides, you 
 
 got upon M. Darcet's cart, at the risk of incommoding 
 
 him, and retarding the conveyance of his merchandise 
 
 In all this you have been verv inconsiderate. Mv 
 
 child, observe, it is not sufficient to do good ; you must 
 
 also do that good properly. At your age, the first of all 
 
 virtues is confidence and docility towards ycur rela- 
 
 lions. I am therefore obliged to tell you, that I prefei 
 6 D*
 
 P4 LIKE 'OF JOSErnrNK 
 
 your brother's tranquil attachment to your misplaced 
 warmth. This, however, does not prevent me from 
 embracing you, but less tenderly than I shall do when 
 I have learned that you are again at Fontainebleau " 
 
 This reproof almost broke Hortense's sensitive heart, 
 soothed only by the renewed affection and attentions 
 of her guardian aunt. 
 
 Robespierre was still apparently relenting, approving 
 the conservatism of the " Old Cordelier," whose publi- 
 cation, after all, was only permitted as a test of popular 
 feeling. And when he saw that the subsiding swell of 
 madness for blood was slowly sweepmg down upon his. 
 throne of terror, his suspension of the unsparing havoc 
 was an interlude of preparation with him — his blows 
 would be more certain when his eye had scanned fullv 
 the front of darkening danger. 
 
 But Josephine and De Beauharnais both cherished 
 anticipations of release, strengthened by the interposi- 
 tion of friends who had come into places of power. 
 Cubieres and Sigas were principals in this effort to 
 save the Viscount, and others before whom he would 
 be summoned if tried, had served under his command 
 in the army, Sigas, minister of war, was selected to 
 report this case to the Committee of Public Safety, 
 which drew from Josephine a communication credita* 
 ble alike to the mind and heart of the writer.
 
 LTPE OF JOSEPHrNB. 
 
 8S 
 
 JOSEPHINE TO CITIZEN PKOSPER SIGA8. 
 
 " Citizen, — I am informed that you have been em 
 ployed to prepare a report, to be presented to t)ie Com- 
 mittee of General Safety, on the afi'air of Genera 
 Beanharnais. For this I give thanks to heaven ; and 
 had I been permitted to choose my judge, that choice 
 would have fallen upon you. I had heard you men- 
 tioned, and always has your name been accompanied 
 by those honorable but considerate epithets which flat- 
 tery can never invent, which can be inspired by grati- 
 tude alone, and are never deceitful. Subsequently 
 chance, or rather Providence, became less severe to- 
 wards ns — placed me in momentary correspondence 
 with you. That brief space sufficed to convince me, 
 that the gratitude of those whom yoa have obliged is 
 only consistent with truth. I also am become one of 
 those whose misfortunes you have endeavored to miti- 
 gate, I have to unite my gratitude to that of the many 
 unfortunate beings whom you have labored to render 
 forgetful of their calamities. Nor are you ignorant 
 that mine increase in bitterness each day that passes 
 away while my husband remains in prison untried 
 For it is no longer his liberty which he solicits — he de 
 •nands his trial. A brave soldier has a right to this 
 when he is accused of a crime which compromises his 
 honor. 
 
 " Alexander de Beauharnais a conspirator ! One ol 
 the founders of liberty meditating its downfall! He
 
 86 LIFE OV JOSEPHIVE. 
 
 who among a hundred others, was dist'nguished as a 
 promoter of the republic, essaying to overturn freedom •. 
 Citizen, you have never believed the accusation, and 
 those who have brought it forward believe it no more 
 than you. But the importance lies in that his judges 
 should no longer give credit to the imputation. Let 
 them listen to you, and they will be persuaded. Do 
 not tell them, however, tlxat his wife, equally innocent 
 as himself, languishes far from him, under other bolts 
 than those by which he is retained. I speak of myself 
 only to enable you to appreciate the injustice done to 
 Alexander. Forget the mother persecuted, and her 
 children dispersed, in order to think solely of the father 
 and husband, or rather of the soldier and citizen, wor- 
 thy of recovering honor and liberty." 
 
 The appeal was successful in obtaining an interview 
 between Josephine and her husband by his removal to 
 the office of the Committee. The meeting was ar- 
 ranged without the knowledge of either, with the fur- 
 ther design of securing the main object if possible. 
 
 She was brought from prison and conducted to an 
 ante-room, there to await the summons for trial before 
 the tribunal of mock-justice. While in an agony of 
 suspense in the very grasp of the foe, suddenly De 
 Beauharnais was ushered into the apartment. The 
 mutual surprise was overwhelming, BefiUharnais, 
 pale and haggard from confinement, fixed his brilliant 
 eye upon the beautiful being before him, in amaze- 
 ment, while with mantling cheek and quivering lip, 
 after a momentary pause, she rushed to his arms.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 87 
 
 They wept with rapture, and when the emotion which 
 effaced the gloomy record of " a whole year of misery ! 
 was past, and thought returned to the future, a ray of 
 hght played upon the horizon of despair to the gaze of 
 the Viscount, whose hastening ordeal would blot it out 
 forever, Sigas broke the charm of this unexpected 
 hour of bliss, by entering to announce the removal 
 from office of reporter Louis of the Lower Rhine, wlio 
 was kindly disposed toward the family of Beauharnais ; 
 and consequently to urge an examination upon the 
 new officer of the Committee, would be inexpedient, 
 perhaps defeat the noble purpose of friends who had 
 made the encouraging movement. 
 
 Josephine writes : — " I also resolved to profit by this 
 information, and promised to solicit no audience till a 
 more favorable moment. This occasion had indeed, 
 been far from unpropitious, since it had brought us to- 
 gether. But in what a place ! and at what a crisis ! 
 I know not what my poor Alexander thought of me ; 
 for my part, I found him very pale, very thin, and 
 sadly changed. As to his disposition, that is ever the 
 same ; he is the most amiable and the noblest of men. 
 Resignation, courage, heroic sentiments, and conduct 
 still more magnanimous, such are the principles of his 
 ciiaracter. He had wept with joy on once more be- 
 holding me ; when it had become necessary that we 
 should separate, he was calm and collected. He em- 
 braced me more like a friend than a husband, and rec- 
 ommended our children to my care. Such tranquillity 
 becomes innocence like his. Now Z grieve that these
 
 88 LIFE OP JOSEPHHSTE, 
 
 people of the Committee did not see him. Could thej 
 have resisted the ascendency of his virtues ?" 
 
 This trusting wife, with all her experience in scenes 
 of human cruelty — her sorrows inflicted by the fero- 
 ity of the gory tribunal, did not fathom the caverns 
 of iniquity in the bosoms of those who held the reins 
 that guided the car of Reason over the corpse of every 
 opposing citizen, whether prince or beggar. 
 
 Her next intelligence of Beauharnais was the sen- 
 tence on the 6th Thermidor, (July 23d, 1794,) and its 
 execution on the succeeding day. Two days later 
 Robespierre fell amid the execrations of the mob, just 
 in time to avert the lifted stroke from the head of Jose- 
 phine. So does destiny hinge on moments, and lie 
 coiled in a passing event, that with a little change in 
 ts relation to the individual, it would have given a dif- 
 ferent aspect to time and eternity. Had Robespierre 
 been slain a few hours sooner, Beauharnais had lived, 
 and ''the first wife of Napoleon," never been added to 
 the honors of Josephine — had the tyrant been spared 
 till another morning, she would have been thrown with 
 her beheaded companion into the pit of the undistin- 
 guished dead. 
 
 When apprized of his doom, Beauharnais was calm, 
 for the event had been expected, till the apprehension 
 assumed the form of a presentiment, and prepared Lis 
 mind for the time of sacrifice. It would seem that he 
 was a believer in Revelation, and borrowed sustaining 
 hope from its sacred page, intelligently appreciating 
 the solemnity of entering "within the veil" of com-
 
 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 8ft 
 
 pleted destiny, and of reckoning with a Judge whose 
 decisions are unerring and final. 
 
 During this night of contemplation, his last on earth 
 he wrote a parting message to JosephinCj interrupted 
 DV the messengers of death, from whom he purchased 
 a lock of his own hair, shorn off in accordance witl; 
 usage, before execution, to expose fully the victim's 
 neck to the fatal axe. What a concentration of life 
 into that brief period ! The past lay behind him with 
 its bitter and pleasant memories — the present like the 
 last goblet of water pressed to the parched lip of the 
 perishing for thirst, each drop a treasure, was counted 
 by moments — and before his swimming eye lay a cul- 
 prit's grave, and the vast shadows of a realm un- 
 known. 
 
 Enclosing the memorial of affection in the letter, he 
 was hurried away to the guillotine, and for a while 
 silence rested on the closing scene of his tragical ca- 
 reer as a member of the Gironde. At length the relic 
 reached Josephine, and, to quote from a line to Madam 
 F. Beauharnais, transmitting the manuscript for peru- 
 sal, produced " a sweet change in all her feelings," dis- 
 pelling a dark mystery, and reviving affection with new 
 tokens of love. 
 
 DE BEAUHARNAIS TO JOSEPHINE. 
 
 " MGHT OF THE B-^TH THT.RMIDOR, 
 
 Year 2d, Conciergery (24-25<A July, 1794.) 
 
 " Ifet some moments to tenderness, to tears, and to 
 regret — then wholly to the glory of my fate, to the
 
 90 LIFE OF JOSEPHIlSrE. 
 
 grand thoughts of immortaUty. When you receive 
 this letter, my Josephine, your husband will have long 
 ceased to live here, but, in the bosom of his God, he will 
 have begun to enjoy a real existence. Thou seest, 
 then, that there is indeed no cause for mourning on his 
 account ; it is over the wicked, the insensate men who 
 survive him that tears are to be shed ; for they inflict, 
 and are incapable of repairing the evil. But let us not 
 sully with their guilty image these last moments. I 
 would, on the contrary, adorn them by the thought, 
 that having been united to a charming woman, I might 
 have beheld the years passed with her glide away with- 
 out the slightest cloud, had not wrongs, of which I be- 
 came sensible only when too late, troubled our union. 
 This reflection wrings tears from me. Thy generous 
 soul pardoned the moment that suffering overtook me ", 
 and I ought to recompense thee for such kindness by 
 enjoying, without recalling it to thy remembrance, since 
 I must thus bring back the recollection of my errors 
 and thy sorrows. What thanks do I owe to Provi- 
 dence, who will bless thee 1 
 
 " Now Heaven disposes of me before my time, and 
 even this is one of its mercies. Can the good man 
 live without grief when he sees the world a prey to the 
 wicked ? I should think myself happy, therefore, in 
 being removed from their power, did I not feel that I 
 abandon to them beings so valued and beloved. If, 
 however, the thoughts of the dying be presentiments, 1 
 expei'ience one in the recesses of my heart which as- 
 Bures me that these horrible butcheries are soon to be
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 91 
 
 * 
 
 suspended — that to the victims are to succeed tlieir 
 executioners — that the arts and sciences, the true pros- 
 perity of states, shall flourish again in France — that 
 wise and equitable laws will reign after these cruel 
 sacrifices — and that you will obtain that happiness of 
 which you were always worthy, and which to the pres 
 ent time has fled from you. Our children will con- 
 tribute to your felicity — they will discharge theii 
 father's debt. 
 
 " I resume these incoherent and almost illegible lines, 
 which my jailers had interrupted. 
 
 " I have just undergone a cruel formality, which, 
 under other -circumstances, thev should have forced me 
 to endure only by depriving me of life. But why 
 strive against necessity ? reason requires that we do 
 all for the best. My hair has been cut off. I have 
 contrived to purchase back a portion of it in order to 
 bequeath to my wife, and to my children, undeniable 
 evidence, pledges of my last recollections. I feel that 
 at this thought my heart is breaking, and tears bedew 
 the paper. Farewell, all that I love ! Love each 
 other ; speak of me ; and never forget that the glory 
 of dying the victim of tyrants, the martyr of freedom, 
 ennobles the scafibld." 
 
 In the mean time, Josephine was suffering the an- 
 guish of suspense as to her own fate, which, with this 
 sudden bereavement, prostrated her system, and well 
 nigh dethroned reason. She heard without pain the 
 summons to prepare for the guillotine. But the fall of 
 Robespierre, and his fearful end, before the decision
 
 92 ' LIFE OF JOSEPUINJE. 
 
 was carried into effect, rescued her from the murderer's 
 hand, and with seventy others doomed to death on the 
 following morning. 
 Never, perhaps, was there a more forcible illustra- 
 
 'on of the mastery of sn23erstition over the mind, when 
 it once has usurped control of the imagination, than 
 that afforded by Josephine's turning triumphantly amid 
 the sad yet changeful events that crowded upon her, to 
 the prediction of Euphemia, the ^'"magician'''' of Mar- 
 tinique. "When the jailer came to remove the furni- 
 ture of her prison for another captive, and replied to 
 the remonstrance of Duchess d'Aiguillon, with an 
 
 ' atrocious laugh," as he finished his work, " She will 
 not need it ; she is to be taken to a new lodging, 
 and thence to the guillotine ;" while her companions 
 lifted a wild lamentation, she calmed their fears by as- 
 suring them, she was yet to be the Queen of France. 
 A singular reaction of feeling brought back, with the 
 
 power of a revelation from the skies, this remarkable 
 hit in the guessings of a gipsy, and was at least ser- 
 viceable in reviving her worn and drooping spirits. 
 
 The circumstances of Robespierre's death, whom 
 the delirious populace at first named the " patriot" — 
 then the " virtuous" — then again the " incorruvtihle'* 
 — and at length the "great," exhibit impressively the 
 certain retribution of gigantic crime, and also the in- 
 fluence of small events on the destinies of men. The 
 murmur of "tyrant" which had startled him to vigi- 
 lance and mock clemency, found a response even in 
 the party who sustained him in power, and a con-
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPnUfB. 93 
 
 spiracy was formed of which Talhen was the guiding 
 genius. But to hurl the ensanguined Titan from his 
 seat was no trivial exploit, and when or how the con- 
 spirators should " crush the wretch," was a problem 
 whose solution might have been delayed till the morn- 
 ing sacrifice of citizens had filled the open pits that 
 waited for the mutilated forms of princes and mendi- 
 cants — maidens and mothers — but for Tallien's love 
 for a beautiful captive, Madam de Fontenay, who for 
 his sake leaving her husband, was finally divorced. 
 She found that her blood was required, and without 
 immediate action, she would be hurried to the scaffold. 
 One evening as she was wont to do, she stood before 
 the prison-grates, accompanied by her friend Madam 
 Beauharnais, to have at least a look from Tallien, who 
 thus nour'shed his own attachment. Madam de Fon- 
 tenay determined to make an effort to avert the stroke 
 of the dictator. She resorted to one of the many dis- 
 guises employed by parted friends in all ages, under 
 the vulture eye of oppression. Attracting Tallien's 
 attention, she threw a cabbage-stalk from the window, 
 enclosing a note, entreating him ' if he loved her, to 
 urge every means to save France, and her." The die 
 was cast — he hastenci to the Committees, and fanned 
 the discord there, then entered the Convention, where 
 Robespierre was silently waiting like a couchant tiger 
 for conflict with his foes. St Just was addressing the 
 assembly, and as he uttered the words, " I lift the 
 veil," he forced him from the tribune, and shouted with 
 awakening energy, " I rend it asunder !" Then like
 
 94 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Cicero on Catiline, he turned iiis impetuous harangue 
 upon Robespierre, until the indignation was concen- 
 trated in that cry of vengeance, " Down with the 
 tyrant !" resounding through the hall, the knell of his 
 doom. He was arrested in the circle of his adherents, 
 who made a short struggle in his defence ; but escap- 
 ing from custody and accompanied by them, he pro- 
 ceeded to the Hotel de Ville. The Convention de- 
 clared them all " outlaws," and broke in upon their 
 conclave to finish the summary sentence. After an 
 unsuccessful attempt to kill himself, Robespierre was 
 dragged to the guillotine, and his brother, with others 
 of the Jacobin oligarchy, soon after followed him to 
 the block. Thus perished amid the execrations of the 
 people, the homicide they worshipped as a god when 
 he rose to his guilty eminence on the ruins of a fallen 
 throne. This was on the 9th Thermidor, (July 27, 
 1794.) And thus a woman indirectly slew the ruler in 
 this Reign of Terror, and opened the way for her com- 
 panion in peril, to reach the summit from which he 
 was so suddenly hurled, and which her virtues would, 
 by a mighty contrast, brilliantly adorn. 
 
 And it was doubtless through the influence of this 
 lady, afterwards Madam Tallien, that Josephine re- 
 gained her freedom — though the process of her libera- 
 tion is not disclosed. For under the new government 
 of a kingdom still throbbing to its centre with the vol- 
 canic action of the mad-fever raging in its bosom 
 there was only a cessation of cruelties — a conservative 
 check thrown upon the revolutionary struggle; while
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHDfB. 9i 
 
 the masses were suffering, and the prisoners retained 
 as a kind of hostage for future emergency. Josephine 
 warmly acknowledged the kindness of the interposition 
 which saved her, and was ever afterwards a devoted 
 friend of Madam Tallien. 
 
 Letters which were written by the widowed mother 
 the night before her anticipated trial, evince the un- 
 sullied devotion to her family, so conspicuous in every 
 change of her varied fortunes. She prepared messages 
 for Eugene and Hortense, in which she says, " My last 
 sigh will be one of tenderness, and I hope my la-st 
 words may prove a lesson. Time was when I could 
 impart sweet instructions, but the present will not be 
 less useful, that they have been given in the season of 
 calamity." Although restored to her joyful offspring 
 and the bosom of friends, her property had gone down 
 in the vortex from which she but narrowly escaped, 
 and France itself was desolate. Her benevolence in 
 brighter years, was remembered, and there were 
 those who cheerfully extended aid in the destitution 
 that prevailed, especially Madam Dumoulin, an excel- 
 lent woman, " to whom," she has said, " I was actually 
 indebted for my daily bread." The famine raged so 
 fiercely, the wealthiest were fearful of starvation — and 
 the common people, like those of afflicted Ireland at 
 present, were frantic skeletons or dying maniacs. As 
 the previous years were called the Reign of Terror, so 
 1795 might be named the "starving time J' It is also 
 related that to escape the restless spirit of ochlocracy 
 which yet was rife, Madam Beauharnais was obliged
 
 90 LIFE OP JOSEPHINB. 
 
 to apprentice Eugene to a carpenter in the Rue del' 
 Echelle, lest his noble blood should make him a mark 
 for the assassin's stroke ; and that the subsequent Vice- 
 roy of Italy, in this condition, was seen bearing on his 
 youthlul shoulders the h^avy plank, and other burdens 
 incident to his rough employment It is certain, his 
 mother afterward alluded to their humble life at Fon- 
 tainebleau, to restrain ambition, and enforce on the 
 prince's mind the lessons of humanity and magna- 
 nimity. 
 
 We may here pause, where the " counter-revolution 
 equally bold and artful, raised its vengeance-glowing 
 head;" and survey the outline of the unparalleled 
 movement, whose rapid sweep astonished the nations. 
 
 Its rise was manifestly the legitimate result of cor- 
 ruption in the social and political state, in contrast 
 with the diffusion of intelligence among the people. 
 Since the advent of Christ, ideas of equality of rights, 
 essential to human responsibility, had been penetrating 
 the minds of the enslaved, and the press scattered 
 hem like firebrands among the combustible material 
 that lies beneath the shadow of every despotic throne. 
 National bankruptcy and pecuniary distress, in con- 
 nection with the light Montesquieu shed on the cause 
 of freedom, followed by Voltaire and Rousseau, whose 
 scepticism also prepared the way for the blind atrocity 
 which distinguished the revolution ; hastened the dread- 
 ful consummation of awakening rebellion in France. 
 
 The clear illumination of Revelation was discarded 
 as superstition and sensuality, passion, characteristic
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniNE. 9^ 
 
 frivolity, and aristocratic bitterness of the court and 
 foreign monarchies to innovation, made the struggle 
 from its commencement a lawless, dark, ferocious, and 
 hopeless civil war. Yet did 1789 bring such a shiver- 
 ing of fetters, and shout of uprising millions, that the 
 sound rose above the shrieks of madness and groans of 
 death-agony, and fell like music on the ear of the 
 oppressed, and as a knell, was listened to by anxious 
 kings. The echo of that conflict has not died away, 
 but a response is heard in the deepening voice of the 
 masses demanding justice ; and beheld in the birth- 
 throes of liberty that shake the dynasties of Europe. 
 
 As we have seen, the first decisive action was the 
 convocation of the Estates, April 27th, 1789. The 
 committal of Louis to the tb".rd estate, or the people, 
 by which his authority was gone — and the consequent 
 indecision when urged to crush the tumult by massacre, 
 followed by the report of the banishment of Necker 
 and Montmain, both popular ministers — inflamed the 
 multitude, and spread insurrection on every side. 
 Then came the storming of the Bastile, the state for- 
 tress, in which the noblest and purest had wept and died. 
 The eager throng raising their wild outcry, rushed 
 upon the hoary sepulchre of hope and innocence like 
 resistless surges, till it fell amid the acclamations of 
 millions, and their tears of joy ; while the overthrow 
 resounded over the continent, gladdening everywhere 
 the hearts of the good. 
 
 Political fanaticism, excited and encouraged by as- 
 piring and unprincipled leaders, succeeded ; the aban-
 
 98 LIFE OF JOSEPmNB. 
 
 doned and homeless flocked together, with curses beg- 
 ging for bread, until forty thousand marched toward 
 Versailles, and the royal family were compelled to ask 
 for mercy. Conducted by the rabble to Paris, Louis 
 was a creature of the living tide, that now with accumu- 
 lating strength bore on its bosom the titles of nobility 
 and the insignia of rank, threatening the very citadel 
 of Bourbon power. Clubs arose which favored the 
 concentration of Revolutionary action. The King 
 finally fled, but after five days, returning, was reinstated, 
 and signed a constitution which was speedily over- 
 thrown, while foreign coalition to crush democracy, 
 "poured oil on the blazing flame." September 21st, 
 1792, the Jacobin faction, headed by Robespierre and 
 Marat, having obtained the ascendant, declared Royalty 
 forever abolished, and France a Republic. 
 
 Louis XVL was arraigned before the Convention, 
 December 11th; January 17th condemned, and was 
 executed on the 21st of the same month. Next fell 
 the Gironde, of whom Beauharnais was a chief in 
 elevation of mind, and terrorism with its hideous tribu- 
 nal was supreme. In this unexampled machinery of 
 desolation, were a Committee of Public Safety, the 
 many-headed monster which wielded the strength — 
 having its secret courts, and dictating measures at 
 pleasure, however villanous their design. The Com- 
 mittee of Public Security was subordinate, acting as 
 police, and with the former constituting the Legislative 
 .Assembly as far as any deliberative action softened th 
 fierceness of misrule and unbridled depravity. The
 
 LIl'E OF JOSEPniNB. 
 
 99 
 
 Drowning terror was the Tribunal, whose eight judges 
 and twelve jurymen, were a frightful semblance of 
 justice to the accused. This executive, afterward 
 divided into four branches for more successful opera- 
 tion, was aided by the Parisian Club, whose members 
 hunted out the suspected, whether retired citizens or 
 active patriots — and the guillotine declared permanent, 
 flooded the land with the life-stream of headless trunks, 
 till more than a million were offered up to the deity of 
 Reason. 
 
 So from each smiling valley and sunny slope, with 
 the spreading dawn, the sledges were visible loaded 
 with victims, and the green turf bathed in the red bap- 
 tism, till the people drunk with slaughter, turned on the 
 insatiate autocrat, and trampled him indignantly under 
 their feet. This crisis reserved Josephine for new 
 scenes, and brighter as well a& ^lOomier days. 
 
 With the pliancy of disposition, so striking in 
 Frenchmen, Paris stained with blood, soon displayed 
 the gorgeous livery of fashion, and circles of festivity 
 Madam Tallien, and Madam Beauharnais, were con- 
 spicuous in the saloons, on account of their beauty and 
 accomplishments, especially the former, vf\\os,& personal 
 attractions were superior to those of the graceful 
 widow. It is pleasing to witness amid this singular 
 oblivion of the past, a remembrance of the dead, and 
 cultivation of the better feelings, as in the following 
 letter ol 
 
 JOSEPHINE TO MADAM t . BEAUHARNAIS. 
 
 ** I must relate to you a charning trait of our Eugene 
 7 E
 
 100 LITE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 Yesterday, being the 7th Thermidor, the anniversary 
 of a day ever to be deplored, I sent for him, and show 
 ing the engraved portrait of his father, said, ' There 
 my son, is what will prove equivalent to six months of 
 diligent study and of wise conduct. The portrait is for 
 you ; carry it to your chamber, and let it often form 
 the object of your contemplations. Above all, let him 
 whose image it presents be your constant model : he 
 was the most amiable and affectionate of men, he 
 would have been the best of fathers.' Eugene spoke 
 not a word : his look was cast down, his countenance 
 suffused, and his grief evident in his agitation. On 
 receiving the portrait, he covered it with kisses and 
 tears. Mine also flowed apace, and thus, silently 
 locked in each other's embrace, we offered to the 
 shade of Alexander an acceptable homage. 
 
 " The same evening all my friends having retired 
 
 excepting Cubiere and St. , I beheld my son enter, 
 
 followed by six of his young friends, each decorated 
 with a copy of Alexander's portrait, suspended from 
 the neck by a black and white ribbon. ' You see,' 
 said Eugene, ' the founders of a new order of knight- 
 hood ; behold our tutelary saint,' pointing to the 
 portrait of his father, ' and these are the first members,' 
 introducing his youthful friends. ' Ours is named the 
 order oi Filial Love, and if you would witness the first 
 inauguration, pass with these gentlemen into the small 
 drawing-room.' Judge, my dear aunt, of my emotion ! 
 We followed Eugene. Our little saloon, fitted up with 
 a taste in which I recognized the hand of Victorine,
 
 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 101 
 
 was ornamented with a long garland 3f ivy, roses, and 
 laurels. Inscriptions, extracted from the printed dis- 
 courses or remarkable sayings of M. de Beauharnais, 
 filled the intervals, and beneath them were girandoles 
 with lighted tapers. This heroic and simple decora- 
 tion served as an offset to a species of altar, upon 
 which, surrounded with festoons of flowers, and with 
 flambeaux, stood the whole-lengthportrait of my unfor- 
 tunate husband. Three crowns, one of white and red 
 roses, a second of laurel, and the third of cypress, were 
 suspended from the picture-frame ; and in front stood 
 two vases with perfumes. Six others of my son's com- 
 panions, ranged about the altar, maintained a respect- 
 ful silence. On seeing us, the greater part, being arm- 
 ed with swords, unsheathed their weapons, and clasp- 
 ing the hand of my son, took the oath, ' to love theii 
 parents — to succor each other — and to defend their 
 country.' At this sacred word, my son, unfurling and 
 waving a small pennon, shaded among its folds the 
 head of his father. We embraced each other, min- 
 gling tears with smiles, and the most amiable disordei 
 succeeded to the ceremonial of inauguration. 
 
 " Ah ! my beloved aunt, could anything comfort me 
 for my irreparable loss, would not my children prove 
 my consolation, who, while they make me feel it more 
 acutely, sweeten the pain by so many good and endear- 
 •ng qualities ! How much did I regret that my Ilor- 
 tense was absent ! — but she is with you. She will read 
 my letter ; she will weep with joy in there recognizing 
 her own affections, and will double her delight while
 
 J02 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 she runs to mingle tears with those of her brother, who, ' 
 I am well assured, will ever bear in mind his father's 
 constancy and courage, and will strive to render him« 
 self worthy of the name he bears, by perpetuating the 
 brilliant actions which render the warrior illustrious, 
 and which honor the peaceful citizen. The heart of 
 my Eugene includes all that is good and great." 
 
 Cheered by visions of Eugene's future glory, and 
 idolized in the society of the metropolis, where even 
 over Barras and others who had been associated with 
 the terrorists, she threw a subduing spell, while she won 
 their friendship, advantageous as it was sincere, Jose- 
 phine passed quietly the vernal months of 1795 ; a pre- 
 lude to her entrance upon a wider and more splendid 
 *heatre of ir fluence.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BONAPARTE IN PARIS.-— A GLANCE AT HIS BISTORT. PERSON AI APPEARANCK. 
 
 HIS EXPLOIT THE 13tH VENDEMIAIRE. ACQUAINTANCE WITH JOSE- 
 PHINE. HER VIEWS OF A SECOND MARRIAGE. HESITATES. NAPOLEON 
 
 FREQUENTS THE MANSION OF MADAM DE BEAUHARNAIS. HIS CON VERSA' 
 
 TIONAL POWERS. MARRIAGE. LEAVES HIS BRIDE TO JOIN THE ARMY. 
 
 dUILLIANT SUCCESS. CORRESPONDENCE. EUGENE's HEROISM. LETTERS 
 
 TO JOSEPHINE. HER RESIDENCE AT MILAN. BONAPARTe's PECULIARI- 
 TIES, AND KINDNESS TO JOSEPHINE'S FAMILY. HE MARCHES TO RASTADT. 
 
 RETURNS TO PARIS. JOSEPHINE JOINS HIM. 
 
 It was " Prarial"* of the third year of the Repub- 
 lic, (1795,) when Napoleon, the hero of Toulon, return- 
 ed to Paris, suspended from his rank as General of the 
 artillery, and taking private lodgings, renewed his in- 
 timacy with his old classmate and friend, Bourrienne. 
 Albitti and Salicetti, who succeeded the terrorists as 
 Representatives of the people, influenced by the mis- 
 representations of his enemies, or jealous of the young 
 Corsican, whose rapid advancement astonished them 
 ordered the arrest which resulted in this humiliation ; 
 and had it occurred a few weeks earlier, would doubt- 
 
 * Tlie new calendar formed October, 1793, upon the abolition of 
 the Christian Register, divided the year into twelve months of thirty 
 days each, succeeded by five complemental days. The names of the 
 month? are taken from the seasons. In the Spring, were Germineal, 
 Florial, and Prarial; in the Summer, Messidor, Thermidor, and 
 Fructidor ; in the Autumn, Vendimiere, Bratnuire, and Frumiare ; m 
 the Winter, Nivose, Fluviose. and Ventoae.
 
 104 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 less have added him to the myriads despatched by the 
 guillotine. Here the months passed away ; tlie youth- 
 ful officer frequenting the theatres, and moving quiel- 
 ly among the busy crowds that thronged the Capital, 
 scarcely arrested their attention, much less the eye of 
 beauty ; while his restless spirit cliafed against his in- 
 activity, like the captive eagle upon the iron grate that 
 confines his free pinions. But his generous impulses 
 found culture in relieving the pitiful groups that cross- 
 ed his daily paths, and he often enlisted the sympa- 
 thies of others for the wretched. 
 
 Bonaparte's career up to this time had prepared him 
 for his mission. In Corsica, he was cradled in the 
 midst of political agitation, and hostile from his boyhood 
 to the subjugation of the island, he became meditative 
 and reserved, nourishing that self-reliance and indepen 
 dence of character, which made him at Brienne a 
 sullen solitaire, and target of raillery to his fellow 
 students. This strengthened his sublime decision of 
 character, and quickened his keen observation of 
 human nature, while it gave him that appearance of 
 severity and contempt for man, which distinguished his 
 manner when mingling with promiscuous society. 
 
 He was at this date, twenty-six. The dark com- 
 plexion of early years had worn off under the mild sky 
 of France ; but a contagious disease he had taken 
 at Toulon, from a soldier, and which penetrated his 
 system with malignant power, so reduced his frame, 
 that his flashing eye seemed set in the sockets of a 
 skeleton. Yet his ambition was untamed, and lie
 
 LIFE or josErniNE. 105 
 
 waited anxiously for an occasion which ihe convulsions 
 of the country in their constantly changing aspect, in 
 the following autumn presented. The Convention had 
 lost favor with the multitude, and a new step was 
 demanded in the march of revolution. A coustitutio.1 
 was formed, securing a Directory of five, the execu- 
 tive — a Council of five hundred, the House of Com- 
 mons — and the Council of Ancients, answering tj the 
 English Peers. The Convention, unwilling to part 
 with authority, made it a condition of acceptance, that 
 the second division should include two thirds of their 
 members. This excited the Parisians, especially the 
 superior classes, who were indignant because it dis- 
 closed an arbitrary and selfish tenacity of power. 
 With these insurrectionary sections, the National 
 Guard united, and the forces prepared to attack the 
 Tuilleries, and compel the assembly to meet the wishes 
 of the majority, and change their measures. With five 
 hundred regular troops, and the remnant of Robes 
 pierre's ruffian army, the Convention prepared to 
 resist the onset. Menou assumed the command, and 
 failed to fill the perilous position. While his indecision 
 alarmed the body still in session, Barras exclaimed, as 
 if a sudden revelation had aroused him, " I have tlie 
 man whom you want : it is a little Corsican officer, 
 who will not stand upon ceremony." This expres- 
 sion determined the destiny of Napoleon. He was 
 Boon in command, and the 13th Vendemiare, (October 
 5th,) planted his cannon at the cross-streets and bridges, 
 sweeoing with his hail of death the advancing cohnnns
 
 lOe LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 of the insurgents, till the pavements were covered 
 with the slain, and the flame of rebellion extinguished 
 in blood. The new order of things was established, 
 and Barras, the presiding spirit, obtained for Bonaparte 
 the generalship of the Army of the Interior, and the 
 office of commandant of Paris. He was now no 
 longer a unit among the many, but the military chief- 
 tain of a kingdom. Charged with the w^ork of disarm- 
 ing the conquered citizens, he obtained the sword of 
 the Viscount De Beauharnais, a blade its mouldering 
 possessor never dishonored. Eugene, in his boyish 
 enthusiasm, resolved to have the weapon wielded by a 
 father he loved and lamented. Presenting himself to 
 Napoleon, he made his request — the General was struck 
 with his earnestness and manly bearing, and restored 
 the relic, which he bore away bathed with tears. The 
 next day Josephine called at the commandant's head- 
 quarters, to thank him in person for his kindness. 
 This increased the interest Napoleon had entertained 
 for her since through the friendship of Barras he 
 formed her acquaintance in the social circles of Paris. 
 It is related that before he indulged serious intentions 
 of marrying Madam Beauharnais, he offered himself to 
 Madam De Permon, an old family friend, and an 
 Interesting widow, but was rejected. However this 
 may be, he was deeply smitten with the charms of the 
 lovely woman, whose son had given assurance of her 
 excellent qualities in his own admirable behavior. 
 The increasing attachment was every way favorable to 
 Napoleon's plans and advancement, but subject of
 
 LIFE OF JOSIiPniNE. lOV 
 
 painful solicitude to her, which is well expressed in a 
 letter of some length, affording also farther insight into 
 a heart, cultivated no less than her genius. 
 
 " My dear friend, I am urged to marry again : my 
 friends counsel the measure, my aunt almost lays hei 
 injunctions to the same effect, and my children entreat 
 my compliance. Why are you not here to give me 
 your advice in this important conjuncture ? to per- 
 suade me that I ought to consent to a union which 
 must put an end to the irksomeness of my present 
 position ? Your friendship, in which I have already 
 experienced so much to praise, would render you 
 clear-sighted for my interests ; and I should decide 
 without hesitation as soon as you had spoken. You 
 have met General Bonaparte in my house. Well ! — he 
 it is who would supply a father's place to the orphans 
 of Alexander de Beauharnais, and a husband's to his 
 widow. 
 
 " ' Do you love him ?' you will ask. Not exactly. 
 ' You then dislike him ?' Not quite so bad ; but I find 
 myself in that state of indifference which is anything 
 but agreeable, and which to devotees in religion gives 
 more trouble than all their other peccadilloes. Love, 
 being a species of worship, also requires that one feel 
 very differently from all this ; and hence the need I 
 have of your advice, which might fix the perpetual 
 irresolution of my feeble character. To assume a de- 
 termination has ever appeared fatiguing to my Creole 
 supineness, which finds it infinitely more convenient to 
 
 follow the will of others. 
 
 E*
 
 108 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 " I admire the general's courage — the extent of his 
 information, for on all subjects he talks equally well — 
 and the quickness of his judgment, which enables him 
 to seize the thoughts of others almost before they are 
 expressed ; but, I confess it, I shrink from the despotism 
 he seems desirous of exercising over all who approach 
 him. His searching glance has something singular and 
 inexplicable, which imposes even on our Directors : 
 judge if it may not intimidate a woman ! Even, what 
 ought to please me, the force of a passion, described 
 with an energy that leaves not a doubt of his sincerity, 
 is precisely the cause which arrests the consent I am 
 often on the point of pronouncing. 
 
 " Being now past the heyday of youth, can I hope 
 long to preserve that ardor of attachment which, in the 
 general, resembles a fit of delirium ? If, after our 
 union, he should cease to love me, will he not reproach 
 me with what he will have sacrificed for my sake ? — • 
 wnll he not regret a more brilliant marriage which he 
 might have contracted ? What shall I then reply ? — 
 what shall I do ? I shall weep. Excellent resource ! 
 you will say. Good heavens ! I know that all this can 
 serve no end ; but it has ever been thus ; tears are the 
 only resources left me when this poor heart, so easily 
 chilled, has suffered. Write quickly, and do not fear 
 to scold me, should you judge that I am wrong. You 
 know that whatever comes from your pen will be taken 
 in good part. 
 
 " Barras gives assurance, that if I marry tjie general, 
 he will so contrive as to have him appointed to the
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 109 
 
 command of the army of Italy. Yesterday, Bonaparte, 
 speaking of this favor, which already excites murmur- 
 ing among his fellow-soldiers, though it be as yet only 
 a promise, said to me, ' Think they then, I have need 
 of their protection to arrive at power? Egregious 
 mistake ! They will all be but too happy one day 
 should I condescend to grant them mine. My sword 
 is by my side, and with it I will go far.' 
 
 " What say you to this security of success ? is it not 
 a proof of confidence springing from an excess of van- 
 ity ? A general of brigade protect the heads of 
 government! That, truly, is an event highly prob&. 
 ble ! I know not how it is, but sometimes this way • 
 wardness gains upon me to such a degree, that almos 
 I believe possible whatever this singular man may take 
 it into his head to attempt ; and with his imagination, 
 who can calculate what he will not undertake ? 
 
 " Here we all regret you, and console ourselves for 
 your prolonged absence only by thinking of you every 
 minute, and by endeavoring to follow you step by step 
 through the beautiful country you are now traversing. 
 Were I sure of meeting you in Italy, I would get mar- 
 ried l;)-morrow, upon condition of following the gen- 
 eral , but we might perhaps cross each other on the 
 route; thus I deem it more prudent to wait fcr your 
 reply before taking my determination. Speed, then, 
 your answer — and your return still more. 
 
 " Madam Tallien gives me in commission to tell you, 
 that she loves you tenderly. She is always beautiful 
 and good ; employing her immense influence only to
 
 110 LIFE OF JOSEPniNE. 
 
 obtain ijardon foi the unfortunate who address them- 
 selves to her ; and adding to her acquiescence an air of 
 satisfaction, which gives her the appearance of being 
 the person obliged. Her friendship for me is ingenuous 
 and affectionate. I assure you that the love I bear tow- 
 ards her resembles my affection for you. This will give 
 you an idea of the attachment I feel for her. Hortense 
 becomes more and more amiable; her charming figure 
 develops itself; and I should have fitting occasion, if 
 so inclined, to make troublesome reflections upon vil- 
 lanous Time, which merely adorns one at the expense 
 of another. Happily, I have got quite a different 
 crotchet in my head at present, and skip all dismals in 
 order to occupy my thoughts solely with a future 
 which promises to be happy, since we shall soon be re- 
 united, never again to be separated. Were it not for 
 this marriage, which puts me out, I should, despite of 
 all, be gay ; but while it remains to be disposed of, 1 
 shall torment myself; once concluded, cowie what may, 
 I shall be resigned. I am habituated to suffering ; and 
 if destined to fresh sorrows, I think I can endure them, 
 provided my children, my aunt, and you were spared 
 me. We have agreed to cut short the conclusions of 
 our letters, so adieu, my friend." 
 
 It is very apparent, that Josephine was more deeply 
 interested in her admirer than she would have her 
 friend believe ; and asking counsel, was only declaring 
 both her passion and intention to marry. The months 
 departed, and Napoleon, though environed with duties 
 which attended his appointment, retired at evening to
 
 LFFE OF JOSEPniNE. Ill 
 
 the mansion of Madam Beauharnais, to hear the mel- 
 ody of her voice, and enjoy an interlude of romantic 
 pleasure, amid the stormy scenes that opened befor 
 his feet the path of glory. With a few select friends, 
 among whom Madam Tallien was conspicuous, there 
 were frequent meetings of the parties, and brilliant 
 entertainments, which extended the friendship and in- 
 fluence of the commander-in-chief, among the very 
 class the most available in carrying forward his am- 
 bitious schemes ; already towering above Alpine sum- 
 mits, and embracing thrones which had withstood the 
 flow of centuries. 
 
 Josephine has left her testimony respecting the fine 
 conversational powers of her lover — which is proof of 
 his ability in this department, whenever he chose to in- 
 dulge the abandon of wit and compliment in the so- 
 ciety of women, for whom, it is well known, he enter- 
 tained but a light opinion ; owing doubtless to the 
 frivolous character and easy virtue of the majority of 
 those he met in the gay society of the metropolis. 
 
 The spring-time spread beautv again over the val- 
 leys of unhappy France, while the tocsin of war fell on 
 the eager ear of Napoleon. How the waving foliage 
 nourished by the decaying dead, the bending sky, and 
 the harmonies of nature filling it, mocked the mourn- 
 ful dwellings and breaking hearts, whose trampled 
 vineyards \vere a symbol of what madness had wrought 
 and an index of future desolation by the shock of con- 
 tending armies ! But Napoleon listened only to the 
 ravishinfT tones of love, and the sweeter notes of fame's
 
 112 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 shrill trumpet ; for his pulse never beat so wildly with 
 hope and enthusiasm before. 
 
 He led Josephine to the altar according to revolu- 
 tionary form, which was a simple presentation before 
 the proper magistrate, March 9th, 1796. Barras and 
 Tallien witnessed the ceremony, and signed with Le- 
 marois, an aid-de-camp, and Calmelet, a lawyer, the act 
 recorded in the state register of Paris. 
 
 Twelve days later he bade adieu to his bride and 
 was on his way to the plains of Italy — a parting that 
 blended in one tide of strong emotion, the affection of 
 an ardent, impetuous spirit, and the glowing desire to 
 encircle his brow with laurels, that 
 
 " would burn 
 
 And rend bis temples in return ;" 
 
 and which would prove a crown of Upas to the fair 
 forehead of the sorrowful Josephine. After a hasty 
 visit with his mother, at Marseilles, of whom he always 
 Bpoke with tender regard, he joined the suffering army 
 at Nice. He rallied the drooping courage of brave 
 men, and his accents caught with a resurrection power 
 the ear of Augereau, Massena, and Lannes, veterans 
 in service, but disheartened by ranks of unclad and 
 hungry soldiers. He pointed to the opulent cities and 
 beautiful fields beneath the shadow of the Alps which 
 lay between them and his fifty thousand starving -^var 
 riors, and disclosed with cheerful assurance, the pro- 
 ject of crossing the cloud-mantled barrier. His sue- 
 ?essful march — his splendid victories, and his terrific
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 113 
 
 devastation, are familiar to all readers of history. The 
 national standard, within a year, waved along the 
 mountain defiles which had sheltered the flower of the. 
 Austrian army, and over plains on which the disci-^lin- 
 ed columns had encamped securely ; while the name 
 of Napoleon was heard from one side of the continent 
 to the other. 
 
 But his heart was true to Josephine, and turned from 
 the spoils of victory and applause of millions, to meet 
 the smile of her approval, and hear in fancy her accents 
 of congratulation and love. Of the correspondence 
 which passed during these stirring events, but little 
 which is authentic, is preserved. The extravagant 
 letters attributed to him, are doubted by judicious biog 
 raphers, because so unlike his previous and subse- 
 quent communications, in the fulsome adulation, and 
 approach at least, to bombast, for which they are dis- 
 tinguished. But it were not strange if at twenty-six, 
 with a distant bride he had left so qinckly, and covered 
 with glory that would bewilder an aged conqueror, he 
 did pour his raptures in language whose extravagance 
 seems now the fond ravings of a happy lunatic, rather 
 than the utterance of an intellect well poised as it was 
 creative and mighty. 
 
 Eugene soon joined his father-in-law, in the cam- 
 paign, and won distinction for himself, grateful to Na- 
 poleon as it was flattering to the young soldier. This 
 will appear in the subjoined notes originally furnished 
 bv Josephine . —
 
 [14 LIFE OP josephhte. 
 
 FROM GENERAL BONAPARTE TO HIS WIFE. 
 
 " M ? BELOVED FRIEND, — My first kurel is due to my 
 :,euntiy ; my second shall be yours. While pressing 
 rt-lvinzi, I thought of France ; when he was beaten, I 
 thought of you. Your son will send you a scarf sur- 
 rendered to him by Colonel Morback, whom he took 
 prisoner with his own hand. You see, madam, that 
 our Eugene is worthy of his father. Do not deem me 
 altogether unbeserving of having succeeded to that 
 brave and unfortunate general, under whom I should 
 have felt honored to have learned to conquer. I em- 
 brace you. Bonaparte." 
 
 The brevity and delicacy of feeling which are no- 
 ticeable in the above, are in pleasant contrast with the 
 effusion of the delighted and affectionate son, flushed 
 with honors, and impatient for a wider field of action 
 
 FROM COLONEL EUGENE BEAUHARNAIS TO HIS MOTHER. 
 
 "My dear and RESPECTED MOTHER, — Detained at 
 Lyons by business, I cannot resist my impatience to 
 commune with you. I have been so fortunate as to 
 perform, under the eye of General Bonaparte, an ac- 
 tion which obtained his approbation, and has inspired 
 me with a more honorable opinion of myself. In ta- 
 King prisoner an Austrian lieutenant-colonel, I thought 
 of my father ; 1 was seen by the general, and felt con-
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniNTS. 114 
 
 Bcious that yoa would applaud me. What mctives to 
 servo one's country ! Tliese encouragements will at 
 all times be tlie same, and tliey will ever possess tlie 
 same influence over mj heart. Hang up the scarf in 
 your cabinet, under the portrait of my father, to whom, 
 with you, I render this homage. As to the one woven 
 and given me by Hortense, tell her it shall not easily 
 be taken from the wearer. We intend to make the 
 Austrians very prodigals in this respect, but are all re- 
 solved to continue towards them the same niggards as 
 heretofore ! 
 
 " Farewell, my good and gracious mother ! Eight 
 days hence and my noble gray shall be put to his 
 mettle, as if with a bound I could place myself at your 
 feet." 
 
 Bourrienne, who admired the handsome colonel, 
 wrote the following complimentary passage concerning 
 him, then in his seventeenth year. " Eugene had an 
 excellent heart, a manly courage, a prepossessing ex- 
 terior, with an obliging and amiable temper. His life 
 is a matter of history ; and those who knew him will 
 agree that his maturer years did not disappoint the 
 promise of his youth. Already he displayed the cour- 
 age of a soldier, and at a later period evinced the 
 talent of a statesman." 
 
 Napoleon having concluded the preliminaries ot 
 peace at Leoben, passed rapidly through the Vene- 
 tian States to Milan, and fixed his residence at Mon- 
 tebello, a delightful country-seat six miles from that 
 city. Here Josejihine, having arrived from Paris.
 
 116 LIFE OF J08EPHINB. 
 
 began to enjoy what circumstances had hitherto denied 
 her since her second marriage, the tranquillity and joy 
 of home. She won the affection and homage of the 
 gay Milanese ; many lavished upon her attentions ex- 
 pressive of gratitude to the victor, whom they regarded 
 as their liberator. Thus from pure admiration or 
 motives of policy, all classes sought with enthusiasm 
 to honor the wife of Napoleon, and enhance the pleas- 
 ures of her sojourn among the romantic scenery of 
 that country — whose southern boundary was beautiful 
 and fallen Italy. 
 
 But she soon became weary of the pomp and cere- 
 mony of what was to her, except in name, a splendid 
 court. Balls and the drama, fetes and concerts, which 
 she felt obliged to grace with her presence, were to her 
 imaginative and sensitive nature the tiresome whirl of 
 a dazzling panorama of vanishing views,and she longed 
 for more elevated communion. She therefore went 
 forth, and under a sky, which bent lovingly over her 
 as when she was the charming Creole of Martinique, 
 and looked upon the glorious summits, and unrivalled 
 lakes that slept in their embrace. Her excursions to 
 the Apennines, Lake Como, and especially to Lake 
 ^aggiore, afforded her refreshment of spirit and of 
 frame. On the latter clear expanse repose the Borro- 
 mean Islands, celebrated by Tasso and Ariosto, in 
 glowing language. These lie in a gulf ornamented 
 with tasteful dwellings and terraced gardere, with the 
 orange, citron and myrtle to lend shade and beauty 
 to the esplanade. In the distance the Alps lift their
 
 LITE OF JOSEPniKB. 117 
 
 golemn brows into the azure, girdled with cullivateo 
 fields, mantling foliage, and glittering with ice -plains, 
 that flash in the sunlight, like a motionless sea of dia- 
 monds. On the other side is the open country, covered 
 with vineyards, dotted with villages and cities, and 
 presenting all the variety of picturesque landscape so 
 attractive to the traveller in southern Europe. Jose- 
 phine stood here entranced, like the Peri of this para- 
 dise. At her feet lay the crystal waters, reflecting the 
 green slopes, the mansions of wealth, and the wander- 
 ing clouds ; while the white wings of distant sail boats 
 passed each other on the bright undulations. Napoleon 
 loved this resort, where the grand and beautiful en- 
 circled him, invested with associations of the glory of 
 a former age. His expanding genius, and soaring am- 
 bition, were pleased with scenes that embellished the 
 majestic heights guarding the land of his victories, and 
 which were silent exponents of his own dawning great- 
 ness. Even in his social intercourse he manifested a 
 consciousness of superiority — an isolation of character, 
 in avoiding a disclosure of his purposes and feelings, 
 while his penetrating glance and admirable tact drew 
 from others their very shade of changing thought. 
 Josephine complains of this restless independence and 
 distrust, which withheld from her the unrestrained in- 
 tercourse of confiding affection. There was in her a 
 transparent candor and lively sympathy, Napoleon 
 doubtless feared ; for secrecy he well knew was his 
 only security, while his movements wiiich had the 
 tamp of destiny, were under the inspection of a legion
 
 118 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 of powerful foes. And there is always connected with 
 great genius an egoism, as the Germans term this self- 
 reliance and irritability, which are unfavorable either 
 to friendships or domestic felicity. But far as any ob- 
 ject besides *he sceptre of the world could reign over 
 his heart, Josephine had control, and was cherished in 
 moments of rest from his stupendous plans, with the 
 fondness of early attachment. He was exceedingly 
 kind to her son and daughter, both in correspondence, 
 and projecting their advancement and happiness, ia 
 proportion to his own exaltation and resources of use- 
 fulness to friends. He was not destitute of deep emo- 
 tion — nor a stranger to the better feelings of our nature; 
 and yet there was ever a conflict between these and 
 the attainment of his chief good — the unquestioned 
 pre-eminence of power which should overshadow a 
 continent at least — a principle of action that, in its 
 legitimate result, would, if possible, map out the heavens, 
 and give away to his favorites, the stars. 
 
 One little incident illustrates his regard for his wife 
 amid the stirring events that heralded his name, and 
 betrays the same superstitious faith in omens she 
 cherished. Isaby, a celebrated artist, painted a minia- 
 ture of Josephine at the time of her marriage, which 
 he constantly wore near his heart, in the feverish 
 repose of his *.ent, and in the smoke of battle. When 
 ihe war-cloud rolled away from the bed of the slain, 
 and the shout of victory drowned the groans of the 
 dying, with the pause of joy that succeeded to the con- 
 Sict, he not unfrequently drew forth this talisman of
 
 UTE OF JOSEPHINE. 119 
 
 his purest hopes and most rational delight, and then 
 hastened to communicate the tidings of conquest to the 
 original ; in which the expression once occurs, " In the 
 contest I think of France, afterward of you." By some 
 accident it happened that the glass covering the picture 
 was broken, and immediately the presentiment awa- 
 kened that Josephine was dead — a solicitude which was 
 calmed only with the return of a courier sent to learn 
 if she were among the living. 
 
 When about quitting Milan for Rastadt, he presented 
 a flag to the Directory by General Joubert, the mes- 
 senger appointed for the occasion, on one side of which 
 was the inscription, " To the army of Italy, the grateful 
 country ;" on the other a condensed, yet ambitious 
 bulletin of his campaign : " One hundred and fifteen 
 thousand prisoners ; one hundred and seventy stand- 
 ards ; five hundred and fifty pieces of battering can- 
 non ; six hundred pieces of field artillery ; five bridge 
 equipages ; nine sixty-four gun ships ; twelve thirty- 
 two gun frigates ; twelve corvettes ; eighteen galleys ; 
 armistice with the King of Sardinia; convention with 
 Genoa ; armistice with the Duke of Parma ; armistice 
 with the King of Naples ; armistice with the Pope ; 
 preliminaries of Leoben ; convention of Montebello 
 with the republic of Genoa ; treaty of peace with the 
 Emperor at Campo-Formio. 
 
 " Liberty given to the people of Bologna, Ferrara, 
 Modena, Massa-Carrara, La Romagna, Lombardy, 
 Biessera, Bormio, the Valletina, the Genoese, the Im- 
 perial Fiefs, the people of the departments of Coreigra,
 
 120 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 of the ^gean Sea, and of Ithaca. ' Sent to Paris ali 
 the master-pieces of Michael Angelo, of Genercino, of 
 Titian, of Paul Veronese, of Correggio, of Albano, of 
 Carracei, of Raphael, and of Leonardo da Vinci.' " 
 
 But the Directory were, in return for his success, 
 envious of his popularity, which with the word Liberty, 
 was traversing the valleys, and echoing among the 
 snow-crowned tops of the Alps and Apennines, and 
 annoyed both himself and Josephine by the subtle 
 vigilance of spies ; whose presence failed to obtain 
 from either, treasonable or unlawful aspirations, with 
 which to check, by the interposition of authority, the 
 splendid course of this hero, whose youthful promise 
 was that of bearing at length the prize alone in the 
 Olympic games of blood, whose honors Kings and 
 Generals had struggled for, and alternately lost and 
 won. 
 
 Leaving Josephine and her family at Milan, he 
 reached Mantua, celebrated the funeral of General 
 Hoche, attended to the erection of a monument to the 
 memory of Virgil, then amid the acclamations of the 
 people marched toward Rastadt. In addition to the 
 portrait given incidently in the preceding narration of 
 Napoleon's personal appearance, an additional extiact 
 from a letter written at this time by an observer of the 
 triumphal procession, is interesting, and has an air of 
 fidelity in the description. 
 
 " I beheld with deep interest and extreme attention 
 that extraordinary man who has performed such great 
 deeds, and about whom there is something which seems
 
 LIFE OP JOSEPHmE. 121 
 
 to indicate that his career is not yet terminated. 1 
 found him very hke his portrait, small in stature, thin, 
 pale, with the air of fatigue, but not in ill health as has 
 been reported. He appeared to me to listen with more 
 abstraction than interest, as if occupied rather with 
 what he was thinking of, than with what was said to 
 him. There is great intelligence in his countenance, 
 along with an expression of habitual meditation which 
 reveals nothing of what is passing within. In that 
 thinking head, in that daring mind, it is impossible not 
 to suppose that some designs are engendering which 
 shall have their influence on the destinies of Europe." 
 
 Already despising the weakness of the Directory, 
 Bonaparte was elated and encouraged by the enthu- 
 sia«5m of the people in the cherished determination to 
 overthrow the wretched government, soon as the blow 
 could be decisively given. This it would seem was a 
 reason for the family arrangement which fixed the 
 residence of Josephine and her children indefinitely at 
 Milan, while he returned to the Capital to mature his 
 plans ; thus keeping them away from the centre of 
 danger should there in the event of rupture be a recoil 
 of the rulers he scorned, upon himself But there were 
 restless, slanderous spirits, that ever haunt society, who, 
 employed by Napoleon's brothers, in their jealousy of 
 his wife's influence, were eager for an opportunity to 
 ruin her peace and torment her illustrious companion 
 It was rumored that her stay in Milan, was induced by 
 a desire to shine in its gay circles, and by her fascina- 
 tion lead a train of princely admirers Though utterly
 
 122 UPE OF JOSEPHINE:. 
 
 false, it was the commencement of detraction and 
 suspicion which poisoned the cup of pleasure and ap- 
 plause. 
 
 She was summoned to Paris, and the prelude to an 
 other long separation consequent upon the widening 
 field of the Commander's victories, was evidently 
 clouded with an interruption of domestic tranquillity, 
 which but for the magic of her sincere devotion, in- 
 spiring confidence and diffusing a subduing kindness, 
 might have deepened into the gloom of a sad eclipse. 
 
 An invasion of England had been in contemplation 
 by Bonaparte, but the opposition of the Directory 
 foiled his designs, and his own observation of the haz- 
 ard of the enterprise induced him to abandon it for 
 another. In these schemes his noble wife did much 
 in obtaining influential friends to aid him in securing 
 their adoption. The expedition to Egypt was finally 
 decided upon by the Directory, who were willing to 
 place the envied general in a command that would 
 remove him to a dangerous climate, and perhaps rid 
 them altogether of his dreaded preeminence. He re- 
 ceived his appointment April 12th, 1798, and with a 
 troop of a hundred Savans, to gather antiquarian em- 
 bellishments for the gallery of the Louvre, which he 
 bad already adorned by his contributions from the 
 ^binets of Italy, and also to make scientific re- 
 ^,^;arches ; he hastened to Toulon to join his assem* 
 bled army and magnificent fleet.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PEPAK1TSE OF NAPOLEOX FOR EGTTT. THE PARTING WITH JOSEPHINK At 
 
 TOULON. SHE RETIRES TO PLOMBIERES. ACCIDENT. SENDS FOR HOB- 
 TENSE. EXCURSION HOME. — RARE QUALITIES OF JOSEPHINE's CHARAC- 
 TER. CONSEQUENCES OF HER CONFINEMENT AT PLOMBIERES. RUMORa 
 
 OF napoleon's DISASTERS IN EGYPT. MALMAISON. JOSEPHINE WATCHED 
 
 BY SECRET ENEMIES. CHARGES OF INFIDELITY TRANSMITTED TO NAPO- 
 LEON. HER INNOCENCE VINDICATED. MATERNAL SOLICITUDE AND FAITH- 
 FULNESS. napoleon's RETURN TO FRANCE. UNFORTUNATE MISTAKE.— 
 
 HIS ANGER. THE RECONCILIATION. FRANCE. 
 
 On the 19th of May, the winds having driven his 
 watchful enemy, Nelson, off the coast. Napoleon or- 
 dered a hurried embarkation of his troops ; the anchors 
 were Hfted and the squadron moved out of the harbor 
 beneath the splendor of the rising sun. For six leagues 
 along the Mediterranean shore, the grand armament in 
 the form of a semicircle, unfurled its thousand snowy 
 wings, and threw upon the breeze its gay streamers ; 
 while the uniform of forty thousand "picJted soldiers," 
 reflected the unclouded beams of the ascenalng oib 
 Josephine, who accompanied the General-in-chief to 
 Toulon, extorting a promise of permission to follow 
 soon his fortunes in the East, gazed with a full heart 
 jpon the dazzling pageant. Amid all the magnificence 
 of the spectacle, her eye followed alone the L'Orient, 
 which bore a husband and son, whose farewell embrace 
 still thrilled her sensitive frame, till its tall mast became
 
 124 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 a speck in the distance, and vanished like departing 
 hope from her tearful gaze, beneath the horizon's rim. 
 Yet there was the possibility of meeting her husband in 
 accordance with the assurance given, among the ruins 
 of Memphis and Thebes, which restored the dreams of 
 a calmer, brighter future. She had a soul that soared 
 like the sky-lark when the storm is past, and breathed 
 the gentlest music of love, in the ear of whoever would 
 listen. It was eminently her experience, that 
 
 " Even through the shower 
 
 Of tear-drops on life's way, 
 The rainbow promises of hope 
 Will dance, and make us gay." 
 
 She retired to Plombieres, celebrated for its springs, 
 whose waters it was thought might give that tone of 
 perfect health to her system, Napoleon ambitiously 
 desired for the transmission of his accumulating honors, 
 and which she sought ardently for his sake. It was 
 arranged that she should remain there until the arrival 
 of the frigate from Egypt to convey her thither. But 
 a melancholy accident again darkly overshadowed her 
 prospects, and lengthened her stay into a captivity of 
 several months. The scene is thus described by a 
 biographer. 
 
 "Madam Bonaparte, a few days after her arrival, 
 was sitting one morning in the saloon at work, and 
 conversing with the ladies of her society, among whom 
 were Mesdames De Crigny, afterward married to the 
 celebrated Denon, and De Cambes. The latter, who 
 was in the balcony entertaining the party with what
 
 LITE OP JOSEPHnrS. 125 
 
 passed in the street, expressed great admiration of a 
 beautiful little dog which she observed below. Upon 
 this, all eagerly rushed upon the balcony, whicn came 
 down with a fearful crash. Happily, no lives were 
 lost ; but the unfortunate individual who had been the 
 innocent cause of the accident had her thigh-bone 
 fractured, and Josephine herself was grievously bruised. 
 The contusions on her hands and arms were so severe 
 that for some time she had to be fed like an infant. 
 Charvet, afterward steward of the household, who was 
 at this time principal male domestic, happening to be in 
 a room immediately above, hastened to the assistance 
 of his mistress, and by his direction a sheep was 
 instantly killed, and Madam Bonaparte wrapped up in 
 the hide yet warm from the animal. By this simple 
 remedy, not only was the present pain allayed, but a 
 preparation made for more scientific and fortunately 
 successful treatment." 
 
 Hortense was at Germain-en- Lay e, a pupil in the 
 boarding school of Madam Campan ; where she was 
 admired for a character which combined with amia- 
 bility, a dash of that independence of feeling and 
 action, always exhibited by her lamented father. Mes- 
 sengers were sent to bring her to Plombieres to enliven 
 the solitude of Josephine ; tidings that made her young 
 heart bound with rapture. Though successful in 
 scholarship, her laugh rang out as she ca.st aa Je her 
 books, or turned from the prison of girlhood, io the 
 shaded lawn and the carriage waiting at the gate, for a 
 ride into the beautiful country with its free air and
 
 126 LIFE OF JOSETHUTE. 
 
 music — and toward the being upon whose bosom hei 
 affections set in an unbroken tide. Among the anec- 
 dotes related of this excursion is the following : While 
 lazily travelling through one of those dark forests dis- 
 tinguished for wild traditions and tragical robberies, 
 her companions, in musing mood, had fallen into a 
 dreamy semi-somnolence, when a startling report sud- 
 denly aroused them ; with alarm they gazed into the 
 shadowy twilight to behold the armed brigands. But 
 fragrant drops flooding the perspiration excited by fear, 
 and a merry shout, dispelled the bewildering apprehen- 
 sion. Hortense had exploded a bottle of champaign 
 in the faces of the sleepers, and its foam instead of 
 burning powder discolored their pallid features. Then 
 the old woods gave back the echoes of mirth, and the 
 very wheels seemed to revolve more rapidly to accord 
 with the ringing gladness. And when she was clasped 
 in a mother's embrace, the same silver tones repeated 
 her name, and a full fountain poured tears of joy upon 
 the fair forehead whose marble was mantling with the 
 glow of returning health. 
 
 There is no aspect of Josephine's history which fails 
 to display the fine outline of a pure-minded and re- 
 markable woman. Though her emotions were strong 
 and intense, her clear judgment shone upon every 
 emergency, and in the performance of every duty. In 
 the education of her own and other children — in direct- 
 ing the affairs of Napoleon's domestic relations, there 
 was that rapid survey of the various responsibilities 
 imposed, and decision in doing, which the great Chief-
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPnnSTE. 127 
 
 lain so sublimely manifested on tlie vast battle-field 
 of nations. A single letter will shed additional light 
 on this peculiar excellence, written relative to the 
 discipline of a niece also under Madam Campan — 
 while it contains valuable suggestions for the consid- 
 eration of youth : — 
 
 " My Dear Madam Campan — "With my niece whom 
 I return to your charge, receive also my thanks and 
 my reproof. The former are due for the great care 
 and brilliant education which you have bestowed upon 
 the child ; the latter for the faults which your sagacity 
 must have discovered, but which your indulgence has 
 tolerated. The girl is gentle, but shy ; well informed, 
 but haughty ; talented, but tlioughtless ; she does not 
 please, and takes no pains to render herself agreeable. 
 She conceives that the reputation of her uncle and the 
 bravery of her father are everything. Teach her, and 
 that by the severest means, how absolutely unavailing 
 are those qualities which are not personal. "We live in 
 an age where each is the author of liis own fortunes ; 
 and if those who serve the state in the first ranks ought 
 to have some advantages and enjoy some privileges, 
 they slioula on that account strive only to render 
 themselves more beloved and more useful. It is solely 
 by acting thus that they can have some chance of 
 excusing their good fortune in the eyes of envy. Of 
 these things, my dear Madam Campan, you must not 
 allow my niece to remain ignorant, and such are the 
 instructions which in my name you should repeat to 
 Der constantly. It is my pleasure that she treat aa
 
 ^28 LiPE OP J0SEPHi]^ra;. 
 
 equals every one of her companions, most of whom are 
 better or as good as herself, their only inferiority con- 
 sisting in not having relations so able or so fortunate. 
 The impressive fact that an unexpected and regret- 
 ted occurrence is often the pivot on which life and des- 
 tiny turn, is apparent in the annals of distinguished as 
 well as humble individuals. An invisible hand is seen 
 in these transactions which change the direction of 
 events influencing personal existence forever, and 
 affecting sometimes the interests of an empire, and of 
 the world. The frigate Pomona, which was to convey 
 Josephine to the Pyramids, and had before borne her 
 from her native island to France, fell into the hands of 
 the English ; and had she taken passage at the time 
 proposed, she would have been carried a captive to 
 England — changing the condition of things entirely 
 with her, and perhaps indirectly the struggle with a 
 haughty realm, whose prowess at length crushed the 
 arbiter of Kingly quarrels and the almoner of thrones 
 Napoleon's triumphs followed by terrible reverses, 
 which brought his army to the brink of ruin, gave rise 
 to rumors of his defeat, and even assassination, that 
 tortured the heart of Josephine with suspense. She is 
 said to have overheard one day, Le Tour of the Di- 
 rectory, remark, " That is the wife of that scoundrel 
 Bonaparte : if he is not dead for Europe, he is, at least, 
 for France." Many of her former friends during this 
 period of disaster, were less attentive ; an indication 
 of faithlessness which her disinterested spirit felt keen- 
 ly as the point of a traitor's weapon among the neivea
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniNB. 129 
 
 of her delicate form. She purchased Malmaison, and 
 quietly spent the subsequent months of Bonaparte's ab- 
 sence — " exiled in her own domain." 
 
 These estates antecedently belonged to the national 
 lands, whose rural beauty and picturesque views at- 
 tracted the admiration of Josephine soon after the 
 death of Beauharnais, when anxious to secure a her- 
 mitage for herself and a refuge for her children. By 
 the intervention of her unfailing friend, Barras, tne re- 
 formed terrorist, who had obtained a restoration in 
 part of the Viscount's property, she nearly completed 
 the purchase, when a new phase of revolution, and his 
 earnest persuasion, made her the wife of Napoleon. 
 Her indebtedness to this influential Director, and the 
 grateful acknowledgment which flowed spontaneously 
 when kindness was experienced, are expressed in he • 
 own sensible and simple style, in a note written to 
 him, while negotiating for a title to this attractive 
 country residence. 
 
 "to citizen barras, 
 
 " Member of the Executive Directory. 
 
 " Sir, — Nothing could be more agreeable than the 
 statement in your letter ; yet few things could have 
 less surprised me. I know your influence, and more 
 especially your zeal. I felt assured of your interest ; 
 and was not less confident of your success. Thus I 
 find myself certain of possessing a refuge ; and, thanks 
 to the benevolence M'hose delicacy enhances the bene-
 
 130 LITE OF josEPnno:. 
 
 fit, that asylum accords with my wishes. There I can 
 resign my heart to its tastes — tastes peaceful and pure 
 — which in the days of prosperity I cultivated through 
 caprice or from fashion, but which I now cherish from 
 predilection. With them I have also inspired my 
 children : in these they have already experienced the 
 amusement of their early years, and there they will 
 continue to seek the enjoyment of maturer age. Heirs 
 of a proscribed sire, modesty and obscurity suit both 
 their desires and their condition. The way of life 
 upon which we are to enter at Malmaison befits in all 
 respects our inclinations and situation; and, notwith- 
 standing immense losses, if the father of my children 
 survived, I should not have a single wish to form. 
 But had he lived, should I have known you ? should 1 
 have been unfortunate ? or should I have experienced 
 how much benevolence may soothe the unhappy ? 
 Each situation of life must be taken with all its 
 chances ; the most painful may thus, perhaps, still ex- 
 hibit something favorable, and of that, good sense con- 
 sists in making the most. It is easy, will be the re- 
 mark, to talk thus, when passion no longer agitates. I 
 have undergone the ordeal — a course of suffering, 
 when for many months, I could not even conceive one 
 day of gladness. I had then only a choice of mis- 
 fortunes. I believe them passed ; and what you are 
 now doing for me renews my life. In devoting it to 
 solitude, to study, and to the education of my children, 
 I shall consecrate it to our tranquil happiness and to 
 our unalterable gratitude."
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB, 131 
 
 But the years that were antici|.ated with subdued 
 feeUng, as devoted to seclusion, had gone full ot" aston- 
 ishing change, bringing her forward upon the fore- 
 ground of a drama, that riveted the observation oi 
 man wherever the radiating lines of communication 
 carried the bulletin of European war. And now ex- 
 pecting the return of Napoleon, who had gained and 
 lost new laurels beneath the frown of the pyramids 
 and of consecrated Tabor, dipped in the blood of the 
 brave Mamelukes, Egypt's best forces, and the deci- 
 mated ranks of the "Army of the East" — Josephine 
 resolved to prepare a Itome for the fugitive chieftain, 
 whom she had learned to love for his own sake, how- 
 ever her woman's pride may have been flattered by 
 the splendor of his renown. She therefore embellish- 
 ed Mahnaison with reference to his taste, and lived in 
 the enjoyment of a select society, embracing members 
 of the Directory, over whom her influence was always 
 in behalf of the proscribed and unfortunate, impa- 
 tiently awaiting his arrival to the shores of France. 
 But vigilant foes haunted the mansion of persecuted 
 innocence, to fabricate reports unfavorable to lier 
 fidehty, with which to inflame the jealousy of her im- 
 perious husband. The Bonaparte family were leagued 
 against her, and every circumstance that would admit 
 of doubtful import touching her virtue, was carefully 
 recorded for the deadly thrust at her reputation. The 
 difficulty of transmitting letters gave her no opportu- 
 nity to make a defence against the accusations that 
 reached Napoleon. She was of course under cruel
 
 132 LIFE OF JOSEPHIXB. 
 
 Buspicion, while the energies of her intellect and graces 
 of person were employed to keep unblemished his 
 name, and prepare the way for advancing measures he 
 suggested before his departure, or during the expedi- 
 tion. The baseness of Junot affected her deeply, and 
 she made a last appeal to the honor and sympathy of 
 the alienated sovereign of her heart, which ought to 
 have moved the bitterest enemy to tenderness and rec- 
 onciliation. 
 
 JOSEPHINE TO GENERAL BONAPARTE. 
 
 " Can it be possible, my friend ? is the letter indeed 
 yours which I have just received ? Scarcely can I 
 give it credence, on comparing the present with those 
 now before me, and to which your love gave so many 
 charms ! My eyes cannot doubt that those pages 
 which rend my heart are too surely yours ; but my 
 soul refuses to admit that yours could have dictated 
 those lines, which, to the ardent joy experienced on 
 hearing from you, have caused to succeed the mortal 
 grief of reading the expressions of displeasure, the 
 more afflicting to me that it must have proved a source 
 of fearful pain to you. 
 
 " I am wholly ignorant in what I can have offended, 
 lo create an enemy so determined to ruin my repose 
 by interrupting yours ; but surely it must be a grave 
 reason which can thus induce some one unceasingly 
 to renew against me calumnies of such a specious 
 nature as to be admitted, even for a moment, by one
 
 LIPE OF JOSEPHINB. 133 
 
 who hitherto has deemed me worthy of his entire affeo- 
 tion and confidence. These two sentiments are neces- 
 sary to my happiness ; and if they were so speedily to 
 be refused me, ah ! why was I ever made sensible of 
 the delight of possessing them ? Far better would it 
 have been for me never to have known you ! 
 
 " When I first became acquainted with you over- 
 whelmed in sadness from the sorrows that had over- 
 taken me, I believed it impossible that I should ever 
 again feel a sentiment approaching to love. The 
 scenes of blood I had witnessed, and whose victim I 
 had been, pursued me everywhere. Such were the 
 causes which prevented apprehension in often meeting 
 you : little did I imagine that I could for a single in- 
 stant fix your choice. As did all the world, I admired 
 your genius and your talents : more truly than any 
 other did I foresee your coming glory ; but notwith- 
 standing all this I was unmoved — loving you only for 
 the services you had rendered to my country. You 
 should have left me to cherish this admiration, and not 
 have sought to render it impassioned, by employing 
 those means of pleasing, which you above all men pos- 
 sess, if, so soon after having united your destiny to 
 mine, you were to regret the felicity which you alone 
 had taught me to enjoy. 
 
 " Do you believe that it is possible for me ever to 
 forget your cares and your love? Think you I can 
 ever become indifferent about one who sweetena 
 existence by all that is delightful in passion ? Can 1 
 ever efface from my memory your kindness to Hor-
 
 134 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 tense — your counsel and example to Eugene ? If this 
 appear to you impossible, how can you suspect me of 
 being interested for a single moment in what is alien 
 to you ? 
 
 " Oh ! my friend, in place of lending an ear to im- 
 postors, who, from motives which I explain not, seek 
 to ruin our happiness, why do you not rather reduce 
 them to silence, by the recital of your benefits to a 
 woman whose character has never incurred the sus- 
 picion of ingratitude ? On hearing what you have 
 done for my children, my traducers would be silent, 
 since they must know that, j^ a mother, I first became 
 attached to you. Since that event, so dear to my 
 remembrance, your conduct, admired as it has been 
 throughout the whole of Europe, has, in my heart, but 
 awakened deeper admiration of the husband who made 
 choice of me, poor as I was, and unhappy. Every 
 step which you take adds to the splendor of the name 
 I bear — and is such a moment seized to persuade you 
 that I no longer love you ? What absurdity — or rather 
 what vileness on the part of your companions, jealous 
 as they are of your marked superiority. Yes, my 
 friend, I love y3u with a sincerity known well, even to 
 those who assert the contrary. They must be con- 
 scious of wronging me, for several times I have written 
 to them, in order thus to hear of you, to entreat them 
 to watch over you, and by their affection to console 
 you for the absence of yonr friend : finally, to keep 
 me informed of everything connected with you. But 
 how have these people acted, who pretend such devo«
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 185 
 
 tion, in whom you confide, and according to whose 
 report you judge me with inconceivable injustice ? 
 They conceal from you whatever might lessen the pain 
 of absence ; they take advantage of your suspicious 
 character, in order to create disquietudes that ma^ in- 
 duce you to quit a country which they detest ; and the 
 more they irritate you, the better they are pleased. 
 Such is the light in which things appear to me, while 
 you are deceived regarding their perfidious 'ntentions 
 Believe me, my friend, so soon as you ceased to be 
 their equal, you became their foe ; your victories even 
 are but so many motives for their hating you. 
 
 " I know these intrigues, although I disdain to 
 avenge myself by naming men whom I despise, but 
 whose valor and abilities may be useful to you in the 
 grand enterprise so happily commenced. On your 
 return I will disclose the secret, and show you who are 
 those envious of your glory. But no — when we are 
 united once again, I shall forget all the evil which they 
 would have wrought me, to remember only the exer- 
 tions which they may have made in your service. 
 
 " It is true, I see much company, for every one 
 strives to be foremost in complimenting me on your 
 success, and I confess I have not the resolution to shut 
 my door against any one who comes to speak of you. 
 My male writers are very numerous ; they compre- 
 hend your daring achievements better than women ; 
 vOey talk with enthusiasm of your noble deeds, while, 
 at the same time, they cannot complain of your having 
 taken widi you their spouse, their brother, or their
 
 136 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 father. Women fall upon these subjects, and when 
 they do not praise you, they do not please me. Still 
 it is among my own sex that I can find those whose 
 heart and understanding I prefer to all, because their 
 friendship for you is sincere. Of these I place first the 
 names of the accomplished ladies D'Aiguillon, Tallien, 
 and my aunt. These are my intimates — I never quit 
 them — and they will tell you, ungrateful as thou art, if 
 I have thought ' of playing the coquette with all the 
 joorld.' These are your own expressions, and they 
 would be odious to me, were I not certain that you 
 have disavowed, and at this moment are sorry for 
 having written them, 
 
 "I tremble when I think of the dangers which sur- 
 round you, of more than half of which I should be 
 ignorant, did not Eugene reiterate his requests to me 
 to write you not to expose yourself to perils, and to 
 take more care of a life, not only dear to your family 
 and your friends, but upon which hangs the destiny of 
 your brethren in arms, and thousands of brave followers 
 who could have courage to endure so many fatigues 
 while under your eye alone. Let me conjure you, my 
 friend, not to exceed your strength, and to listen less to 
 your own daring than to the counsels of those who 
 love you. Berthier, Bourrienne, Eugene, Caffarelli, 
 less ardent, may also sometimes see more clearly. 
 They are devoted to you ; listen, then, to them, hut to 
 them only — you understand me ? — then both you and 
 I will be happier. 
 
 " Here I receive honors which sometimes cause me
 
 LIFE or JOSEPHINE. 13^ 
 
 embarrassment. Besides, being little accustomed to 
 such homage, I see they displease our authorities, who, 
 always distrustful and apprehensive of losing their 
 power, are ever on the watch. Disregard these people, 
 you will say ; but my friend, they will endeavor to 
 hurt you : they will accuse you of seeking to lessen 
 their power ; and I should be grieved to contribute in 
 aught to a jealousy which your triumphs sufficiently 
 justify. When you shall return covered with laurels, 
 good heavens ! what will they do, if already they are 
 on the rack ! I cannot calculate where their resent- 
 ment will stop ; but then you will be by my side, and I 
 shall feel secure. 
 
 " Let us think no more of them, nor of your suspi- 
 cions, which I will not refute one by one, because they 
 are all equally devoid of probability. But to repose 
 from disagreeables, let me conclude with some details 
 which will interest you, because they affect me. 
 
 " Hortense, that she may console me so far as de- 
 pends upon her, employs all her little heart to conceal 
 her fears on your account and her brother's, and puts 
 in requisition all the resources of her mind, in order to 
 dissipate that sadness — to you so dubious — which yet 
 never leaves me. By her talent, and the charms of her 
 conversation, she sometimes contrives to call up a 
 imile then, in her joy, she exclaims, 'Dear mamma, 
 they snail know that in Cairo !' Cairo ! the name 
 instantly reminds me of the distance which separates 
 me from my husband, and my son — and my griet 
 returns. 1 aai thus obliged, by great effort to dissemble
 
 138 LITE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 with my daughter, who by a word — a look even — 
 transports me to those scenes whence she would view 
 my reflections. 
 
 " In the graces of her person, Hortense improves 
 daily ; she dresses with taste ; and certainly without 
 being nearly so beautiful as your sisters, she could 
 hardly fail to please even when they are present. My 
 good aunt passes her life in suffering, without com- 
 plaint, consoling the afflicted, talking to me of you, and 
 making verses. As for me, I beguile the time in wri- 
 ting to you, listening to your praises, or reading the 
 journals where your name occurs in every page. I 
 am ever thinking of you ; now transporting myself to 
 the time when I shall see you every hour, now plunged 
 in sorrow at the thoughts of the space which must 
 elapse before you return ; and when I thus conclude, 
 I again begin. Are these the signs of indifference? 
 I wish for none others on your part ; and if you feel 
 thus for me, I shall not think mvself altogether an 
 object of pity, despite the small slanders which they 
 would fain have me credit respecting a certain fair 
 one, who, they tell me, interests you deeply. Why 
 should I doubt vou ? You assure me I am beloved. I 
 judge of you by my own heart — and I believe you. 
 
 " God knows when or where this letter may reach 
 you : may it restore to you a repose which you ought 
 never to have foregone, and more than ever give you 
 an assurance, that, while I hve, you will be dear to me as 
 on tlu! day ^f our last separation. Farewell, my only
 
 IxEFE OF JOSEPHINE. 139 
 
 friend.' Confide in me — love me, and receive a thou- 
 sand tender caresses." 
 
 It is not certain tliis Ivind expostulation v^^as received 
 by Bonaparte before he fled from the land of his mis- 
 fortunes. It was stated some years since in the pub- 
 lished journal of a Baroness, that Josephine contempla- 
 ted a divorce, and actually consulted M. de Cantaien 
 of the administration, on the subject. Interruption of 
 correspondence — inexcusable coolness — and credited 
 reports of gallantries with the wife of a subordinate 
 officer in Cairo — are the reasons which may be assigned, 
 if such an event was desired by her, whose delicacy 
 and devotion it strikes one, were in themselves an 
 assurance that she would rather peiish clinging to the 
 wreck of her happiness, than make so daring an effort 
 to escape with nothing but life. However this, at the 
 suggestion of those with whom she conferred, the 
 subject was speedily dismissed, if it had been entertained 
 by her, and she strove to beguile the hours in decora- 
 ting her new abode, cultivating flowers, bestowing 
 kindnesses on the peasantry, and seizing every means 
 to promote the pleasure and improvement of her chil- 
 dren. An extract or two from a letter to Eugene 
 gives a beautiful picture of the last occupation, in her 
 allusions to Hortense. 
 
 " It IS impossible to give you an idea even of her 
 amiableness in this respect, nor of half her afl!ectionate 
 contrivances to beguile us of our anxieties. Love her, 
 my son, for she forms my consolation, and is devoted 
 to you. She continues her studies with great success,
 
 140 LIFE OF JOSEPHmB. 
 
 but music, I am inclined to believe, will prove tlie 
 accomplishment in which she is destined to excel. 
 Her agreeable voice, now much improve^d, and the 
 style of her execution, will greatly surprise you. I 
 have just purchased for her a piano, the excellence of 
 which seems to have redoubled her passion for your 
 favorite art — a preference probably not a littte con- 
 tributing to your sister's predilection. 
 
 " If you were here, you would a hundred times a day 
 advise me to take care of the men who offer attentions 
 to Hortense, in a manner sufficiently marked. There 
 are some very urgent in their addresses, who are no 
 favorites of yours, and whom you apprehend she may 
 prefer. Reassure yourself on that point ; she is some- 
 what of a coquette, and enjoys her success by torment- 
 ing her victims ; but her heart is free. I am the 
 confidant of all her thoughts and sentiments ; these are 
 ever as they should be. She knows that henceforth 
 my consent alone will not suffice in the question of 
 marriage, and that my wishes even will be determined 
 by his to whom we owe all. This will guard her 
 against any choice which would not be approved of by 
 Bonaparte, and he will never bestow your sister's hand 
 save on a brother-in-arms, as seems also to be your 
 desire." 
 
 But nothing could shield her devoted form from the 
 blasts of adversity, which beat the more wildly after a 
 flattering pause in their wrath. She was even accused 
 of extravagance, and compelled to meet from the dis- 
 tingue who were unweariedly attentive while the star
 
 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 141 
 
 of Napoleon was in the clear ascendant, cruel contempt 
 Roun as it passed under the wing of a cloud, as if it had 
 fallen from heaven forever. Talleyrand stained his 
 honor as a true gentleman in this particular, by a pub- 
 lic expression of indifference at the mansion of Barras, 
 just before Bonaparte trod again the soil of his adop- 
 tion. The statesman little dreamed that the flying 
 Corsican then on the solitary deep, would step so quick- 
 ly on a shore which would rock to his very foot-fall as 
 to the tramp of an earthquake. 
 
 Gohier, President of the Directory, on the 9th of 
 November, 1799, gave a splendid levee, embracing the 
 noble and the beautiful of the Capital. Josephine was 
 a guest, though more a spectator than participant in 
 the festivity of the brilliant occasion. The gifted being 
 to whom her tides of feeling in their deepest channel, 
 however dark or shining their surface — however black 
 or beaming the skies above — were as obedient as the 
 sea to the changeful moon, was a wanderer among the 
 dead and dying of his unrivalled army, or perhaps gaz- 
 ing in vain upon the wide waters for a friendly bark to 
 bear him away. The ample entertainment went for- 
 ward — the viands disappeared, and the wine-cup be- 
 came the inspiration of wit, and the pledge of affection. 
 But while the converse of excited genius rang out in 
 sparkling repartee, and beauty smiled, suddenly the eyo 
 of Gohier was arrested by a telegraphic line, which 
 checked his gayety, and held the throng in suspense. 
 With a serious air, he repeated the announcement — 
 " Bonaparte landed this morning at Frejus." The
 
 142 LIFE OF J03EPHINB. 
 
 Strange silence of that startled assembly, was no ens 
 marked than when the first peal of a rising storm and 
 its shadows cast before, hushes into stillness the amphi- 
 theatre of nature, which rang with the music and glee 
 of spring-time. 
 
 There was a blending of vague apprehension, and 
 wonder, and hope. The multitude, during his former 
 campaigns, had begun to regard the rapid and almost 
 miraculous exertions of that intellect, embodied in ac- 
 tion that dwarfed all the great of antiquity into com- 
 mon men, with mysterious awe ; and his unexpected 
 appearance on the theatre he seemed to have deserted 
 and lost, sent a wave of surprise and agitation over 
 these rejoicing hearts, and with the morning light over 
 millions more. 
 
 Josephine rose upon hearing the intelligence, and 
 with suppressed emotion whispered an adieu to those 
 about her, and retired. Her design was instantly 
 formed of meeting him on his way to Paris ; not only 
 to hail his return, but efface from his mind a doubt of 
 her fidelity, before it was graven more deeply by the 
 enmity of those who envied her influence, and would 
 rob her of her honors. Accompanied by Hortense, or 
 as is affirmed by some writers, Louis Bonaparte, she 
 hastened with the speed of a courier, toward Lyons. 
 But the General had avoided the direct route she 
 travelled, and passed her of course without the knowl- 
 edge of either. Alarmed, she fiew with all possible 
 speed to the metropolis ; but she was too late — tl e hour 
 of midnight which brought her to their city residence,
 
 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. H3 
 
 was one of desolating sorrow. Napoleon had found hig 
 home a solitude, and the impression, this unaccountable 
 desertion, relieved only by the gathering members of 
 the Bonaparte family, made upon his spirit stained with 
 jealousy, and worn by the sufferings of his sad adven- 
 ture, was fearful, and never forgotten. It is not strange 
 the sobbing wife was sent without recognition to her 
 apartment, to weep away the night m agony. There 
 may be some apology for him in the fact that society 
 in decay had weakened his faith in the morality of the 
 elite, and his thorough knowledge of men rendered him 
 sceptical whenever selt-interest was the stake, with re- 
 gard to apparent innocence, or circumstantial evidence 
 against deeds which his own experience assured him 
 might tarnish the escutcheon of the renowned. His es- 
 timate therefore of human nature was not high, for he 
 found it a pliable thing beneath his moulding hand, and 
 the multitude were his creatures, playing their part 
 in his elevation to disguised royalty ; which like a dis- 
 tant summit robed with cloud, was mistaken for some- 
 thing that they admired, and towards which they were 
 ionpatiently struggling, to find protection and repose. 
 
 He sternly refused to see Josephine, who, with a 
 bosom bleeding, waited the result of her children's elo- 
 quence and tears. Two long, dreary days wore away 
 — the A^rathful deep of a mighty mind was tranquil 
 again — and the gentle words of Hortense, and her 
 swimming eye, with the manly yet touching entreaty 
 of Eugene, restored the wonted tenderness of his better 
 moods. He stole into her room, and found the wife of
 
 144 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 his youth in the attitude of inconsolable grief. Lean- 
 ing upon the table, her face was buried in her hands — • 
 the warm tears were dropping from her delicate fingers 
 upon the letters he had written in the fulness of affec- 
 tion, while convulsive sobs alone disturbed the stillness. 
 He gazed a moment, and with quivering lip, murmured 
 "Josephine !" She looked up with her soul in the ex- 
 pression, and reading in his pale countenance the evi- 
 dence of a milder frame, said sweetly, "mon ami!" — 
 the famihar language of love. He silently extended 
 his hand, and she was once more weclomed to the em- 
 brace and confidence of Napoleon. 
 
 He now lived for the most part in retirement ; di- 
 viding the hours between domestic society, and that 
 profound contemplation with which he always matured 
 his magnificent schemes. He valued, and cheerfully 
 acknowledged the discriminating judgment and obser- 
 vation of Josephine, both during his absence, in Egypt 
 and while enjoying that prelude to the eventful changes 
 which soon after paved his way to a throne. 
 
 He found France retrograding in every respect. 
 The Congress of Rastadt had resulted in the assassina- 
 tion of French plenipotentiaries, and open war. Su- 
 warrow with his battalions had overswept Italy, and 
 taken from him his miniature republics. On nearly all 
 of the national boundaries the foe hung menacingly, 
 glorying over the spoils of victory, and to complete the 
 discord and danger, the Directory, distracted by the 
 conflict of royalty with extreme republicanism, was 
 the centralization of anarchy and imbecility rather
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 14A 
 
 than of power and dignity. There was necessarily al- 
 most universal discontent, and in place of appalling 
 terrorism, poor France turned with disgust from the 
 oj)pressive mockery of a Republic. 
 
 " The sensual and the dark rebel in vain, 
 Slaves by their own compulsion ! in inad game 
 They burst their manacles, nr.d bear the name 
 Ol Freedom, graven on a heavier chatn I"
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WAPOLXOn's DESlGW JOSEPHINe's POLITICAL VIEWS. EUGFNI.— CONViyiAL 
 
 SCENES. THE 1 StH BRUMAIRE. — NAPOLEON FIRST CONSUL. THE RE- 
 SULT. MURAt's MARRIAGE. HIS TREACHERY. JOSEPHINE's MEDITATION. 
 
 life in the tuilleries. josephiine. bonaparte. he orders thk 
 
 improvement of malmaison. — escapes assassination. again crosses 
 
 the alps. battle of marengo. relaxation at malmaison. 
 
 Josephine's benevolence. — conspiracy and the infernal machine, 
 
 marriage of hortense. character of louis bonaparte. pea- 
 
 son and character of hortense. incidents by the way. im- 
 portant events. peace of amiens. gayety of the people. 
 
 home of the consul. renewal of hostilities with england. — 
 
 ACCIDENT. napoleon's VIEW OF DEATH. 
 
 France, as we have seen, was ripe for change. 
 Napoleon was not only conscious of this, but found in 
 the enthusiasm of the nation which hailed his landing 
 at Frejus, where the very laws of quarantine were set 
 aside, and he was borne as the people's idol to the city, 
 and which made his journey to the capital one scene 
 of excitement and willing homage, that the popular 
 feeling was moving towards him, and deliverance ex- 
 pected from his genius and resistless force of char- 
 acter. 
 
 The overthrow of a government justly despised for 
 its intrigues and failures in the fulfilment of pledges to 
 the masses, iand the welfare of the country, so far as at- 
 tainable in connection with his exaltation upon its 
 
 I
 
 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE, 147 
 
 fu ns, was now the purpose of this wonderful man, stih 
 in the maturity of youth. He first aspired to a seat in 
 the Directory, where he could lay his hand upon that 
 unwieldy engine of power, and give it the momentum 
 of his own, in human affairs, omnipotent will, and the 
 direction of his sublimely insatiate ambition. But his 
 age interposed a hopeless barrier, besides the opposi- 
 tion of those in office who hated him for his renown, 
 and trembled at the mention of his name. Instead 
 therefore of supplanting Sigas at the head of the Di- 
 rectory, a reconciliation between these political foes 
 was effected, and Napoleon resolved to use with his 
 cautious policy what he could not openly control. 
 Under the reserve of an unsocial manner, and the 
 secrecy of private life, he concealed his complicated 
 plan of attack on the constitution, and waited with 
 restless ardor for the decisive stroke. 
 
 Josephine did not enter fully into his love of glory, 
 which in its boundlessness was like a fascinating and 
 ungovernable madness, nor even adopt the sentiments 
 of any of the republican factions. She leaned rather 
 towards royalty, whose last representative in the per- 
 son of Louis XVI. and Maria Antoinette, she admired. 
 Contrasting his reign, the corruption of his Court, and 
 the sufferings of his subjects, with the bloodshed, terror, 
 and lawlessness that followed his dethronement, there 
 was on the surface of thino;s more to condemn than 
 approve in the civil war which was waged in the name 
 of liberty. She naturally turned with pleasure to the 
 
 years of tranquillity, and 'n her weariness of tumuk 
 10 G
 
 148 LIFE OF JOSEPHHO!. 
 
 and anarchy, preferred the shadow of a monarchy to 
 the misrule of corrupt freemen. This predilection for 
 the Bourbons was apparent in her effort to rescue the 
 proscribed adherents of the fallen dynasty, and her in- 
 timacies with the noblesse who s-till lingered in France 
 as memorials of an ancient line — the exponents of a 
 vanishing yet venerable and splendid aristocracy. 
 Among these familiar friends, was Madam de Mon- 
 tesson, widow of the Duke d'Orleans, whose sym- 
 pathies were with the exiled members of the King's 
 family altogether ; and Josephine's generous nature 
 was also touched by the greatness of their calamity. 
 In the mean time, Eugene was making fast atonement 
 for his self-denial in the East, by dashing without re- 
 straint into the pleasures of the metropolis, shining in 
 the gay circles, and at military fetes. He was a re- 
 publican as far as was agreeable to Napoleon, to whom 
 he looked for the opportunity of gathering additional 
 laurels, and augmenting his means of sensual enjoy- 
 ment. He was a man of mind and heart, but aspiring, 
 and devoted to the intoxication of convivial excite- 
 ment, whenever an interlude in the battle-march oc- 
 curred. His appearance and manner of employing 
 such leisure, are thus pleasantly described by a writer. 
 " Without being handsome, there was something ex- 
 tremely prepossessing in his frank and manly counte- 
 nance. His stature, though small (not exceeding five 
 fecu four inches,) displayed a form active and well 
 knit, though somewhat deficient in dignity, from a 
 mincing gait — a youthful affectation which, however
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE.' 149 
 
 disappeared with tiie firmness and responsibilities of 
 manhood and high enterprise. At this time, his chief 
 amusement — one, too, not altogether without an objec' 
 — was to give splendid breakfasts to the young officers 
 of his own standing. At these entertainments, some 
 amusing plot, such as is common among young people, 
 was constantly occurring. Of these adventures Eu- 
 gene was in the habit of giving entertaining recitals to 
 his mother, and often to his father-in-law, who laughed 
 very heartily at such displays, one or two of which 
 may, therefore, be mentioned, on the report of an eye- 
 witness. Ventriloquism was, about this time, attract- 
 ing notice in Paris, through the performances of 
 Thiemet, afterward so famous a professor of the art. 
 One morning, when a gay circle of young officers 
 breakfasted with Eugene, first one, then another, heard 
 himself distinctly called out of the room, by the voice 
 of his serving-man, until the whole party had, in turn, 
 made a fruitless expedition down stairs. Each return 
 ed more amazed than another ; and it was finally re- 
 solved to sally forth in a body. Thiemet, who, not 
 personally known, save as a guest, to any of the party, 
 liad all this time continued quietly seated at the table, 
 opening his lips only to eat or drink, functions which 
 he seemed to perform with great address, now rose to 
 assist in the search of the invisible serving-man. No 
 Booner had the party reached the hall, than the calls, 
 all apparently from different quarters, were repeated ; 
 each scampered off in various pursuit of the supposed 
 culprits, crying out, 'Here! here's the rascal!' till, in
 
 150 LITE OF JOSEPHIXE. 
 
 the inextricable confusion, Eugene's loud laugh dis- 
 covered the whole plot. The gi-eater part received il 
 ' as a passably excellent joke ;' but some there were 
 disposed to bestow the chastisement of the innocent 
 valets on the guilty professor. 'Nay, nay, gentlemen,' 
 interposed Eugene, 'my friend Thiemet is not to 
 blame; if you cannot forgive a frolic, the quarrel is 
 mine.' Upon this a second adjournment was made to 
 the breakfast- table, and Thiemet restored good-humor 
 by equally extraordinary, but less offensive, displays of 
 his powers." 
 
 But with Bonaparte, matters were hastening to an 
 issue that would surprise the nation, and astonish the 
 world. The deceptive quietude that reigned in the 
 routine of his unostentatious movements, resembled 
 the hush of the elements when mustering for battle — 
 the pause of the fiery wave that rocks the earth before 
 it shakes dome and tower from their base, marking a 
 new epoch of physical history with the fragments it 
 has laid in the dust. On the very morning of the 18th 
 Brumaire, (Nov. 9th, 1799,) the house of Napoleon 
 was the arena of festivity. The author above quoted, 
 has recorded the singular introduction to events so 
 awakening and abiding in deciding the destinies of 
 Europe. 
 
 " While the meeting of general officers took place 
 in the Rue Chantereine — now Victoire — and Josephine 
 expected the president, Gohier, to breakfast, her son 
 held also one of his entertainments, for which prepara- 
 tions had been made nearly a week before. Thoae in-
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 151 
 
 vited consisted exclusively of young officers, and theii 
 meeting was as gay as usual, but far more numerous 
 Among the guests, one, distinguished for his powers of 
 mimicry, created infinite amusement to his companions, 
 by successful caricatures of the members of the Direct- 
 ory. To exhibit, for instance, the person and demeanor 
 of one, he dressed himself in a table-cloth, draped a la 
 Grecque, stripped his black stock, rolled back his shirt 
 collar, and advanced with many affected graces, lean- 
 ing his left arm on the shoulder of a younger com- 
 panion, and with his right hand stroking his chin 
 ' Barras ! Barras !' shouted his comrades, thus crown- 
 ing his exhibition with loud applause. But the repre- 
 sentation is changed: enter again the young soldier, 
 but scarcely to be recognized, his cravat stufl^ed with 
 a huge roll of paper, his visage chalked into squalid 
 paleness, and elongated to a most rueful length. With 
 all this meagreness in the requisites of an amiable, he 
 makes it appear that he aspires to pass for accomplished, 
 and seizing a chair, after making some awkward cara- 
 coles, as if on horseback, down comes the cavalier with 
 a heavy fall. Shouts of ' Sieyes — the prick-eared abbe,' 
 resounds from all corners of the rooms, and the officer 
 fises to join in the ridicule which he has excited. 
 Sieyes was at this time actually taking lessons at the 
 ridinjT-school in the Luxembourcr! The breakfast was 
 thus an excellent training for the grenadier charge in 
 the hall of the deputies, and Eugene knew well what 
 he was about. After appointing a rendezvous with his
 
 152 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 fouthful associates to join the cortege, he Iiastened to 
 meet his father-in-law." 
 
 During these entertainments in the thronged abode 
 of the conqueror, his Conspirators were busy in the 
 halls of government. According to the plot of Napo- 
 leon and Sieyes, Regnier, deputy from La Meurthe, 
 member of the Council of the Ancients, after harangues 
 had been listened to upon the perils and sufferings of 
 the country, rose and proposed that the sessions of that 
 body be removed to St. Cloud, and that such decree 
 be executed by Bonaparte, conferring, at the same 
 time, on him the command of the troops; "under the 
 shadow of whose protecting arm," added the speaker, 
 "the Councils may proceed to discuss the changes 
 whicn the public interest renders necessary." The 
 motion passed, and a messenger was despatched to the 
 residence of Napoleon. Amid acclamations he received 
 the oath of fidelity from the officers about him, and 
 escorted by them advanced to the bar of the Council 
 of the Ancients. He was the object of universal 
 enthusiasm at the Tuilleries, assuring the populace 
 that " liberty, victory, and peace, would soon reinstate 
 the Republic." He thus addressed Ballot, the Secre- 
 tary of Barras : " What have you done with that 
 France I left you so splendid ? I left you peace, and I 
 find you at war : I left you victory, and I find defeats : 
 I left you the spoils of Italy, and I find everywhere 
 oppression and misery. What have you done with a 
 nundred thousand Frenchmen, whom I knew, all of 
 ihem my companions in glory ? They are dead. Thi»
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 153 
 
 State of things cannot last ; in three years it would lead 
 us to destruction. According to some, we shall all be 
 shortly enemies to the Republic ; we who have pre 
 served it by our efforts and our courage. We have no 
 occasion for better patriots than the brave men who 
 shed their blood in its defence." The Directory, 
 alarmed, issued orders to the Guards, conflicting with 
 those of Napoleon, which were treated with contempt. 
 Thereupon, Gohier and Moulins resigned, A^ho, with 
 Sieyes and Ducos before them brought that conclave 
 to a final dissolution. But ttie danger was with the 
 other two branches of representation. No sooner was 
 the council of Five Hundred opened, than a fierce 
 debate and tumult commenced, especially around the 
 chair in which Lucien Bonaparte presided ; the Con- 
 stitution of the year III. was restored. The com- 
 mander-in-chief saw that a volcano was opening 
 beneath his feet, and hurried to the Council of An- 
 cients, sitting in the gallery of Mars, to receive their 
 co-operation before the uproar in the Orangery reached 
 their chamber. He made a thrilling speech, full of 
 patriotic fire and denunciations of those who cried 
 "outlaw to the Dictator!" The Grenadiers waved 
 their caps, and a re-entrance of the Orangeiy, followed 
 to the door by his officers, was the next act in the 
 grand drama. There his friends were divided, and the 
 vote was called for upon the decree of outlawry of 
 nimself. Then arose cries of "Death to the tyrant!" 
 " Down with the Dictator I" till the days of terrorism 
 seemed to have returned, and the victim ready to be
 
 154 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 offered. Napoleon was disconcerted — it was a new 
 field of contest and threatened death, and required a 
 careful survey before he could act with dignity anc 
 effect. 
 
 The Grenadiers rallied and boie him away. Lu- 
 cien addressed the soldiers in impetuous style, followed 
 by Napoleon, who ordered them to clear the Hall of 
 the Five Hundred. They reached the entrance, and 
 hesitated ; when General Leclerc came up with his 
 band, and shouted, " Grenadiers forward !" The drums 
 beat, and the glittering bayonets swept the representa- 
 tives from their seats ; in a few hours, the Legislative 
 Assemblies were no more, and Bonapar .e was first con- 
 sul of France. On the overthrow of representation had 
 arisen a monarchy essentially, though its features were 
 not recognized by the restless millions, whose imagina- 
 tion invested their master with the mysteriousness of 
 an angelic nature, and the power of a god. Yet was 
 the result a blessing, soon visible in the physical, civil, 
 and moral improvement of the nation. Captives were 
 released — civil war suppressed, and order upon a basis 
 of stability unknown during the entire succession of 
 eight predecessors at the helm of power, seven years 
 had witnessed, again pervaded society. This aspect 
 of things was grateful to Josephine, and still she some- 
 times trembled with apprehension as to the termination 
 of this strange and dizzy ascent to supremacy, mingling 
 with words of congratulation the accents of fear, to 
 check the wild pastime of unconquerable ambition be- 
 fore "it over-leaped itself." About this time occuired 
 
 I
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHmE. 155 
 
 the marriage of Murat, the bearer of despatches from 
 the Campaign of Italy, which first introduced him to 
 the notice of Josephine. She admired his mihtary ac 
 compUshments, and his gallant deportment, but de- 
 Bpised his want of generosity when it cost personal 
 sacrifice, and of all principle, which made his excessive 
 vanity the more offensive. She interested herself in 
 this affair, because pleasing to the parties, and having 
 a tendency to efface entirely from the consul's mind 
 even the recollection of absurd rumors concerning 
 Murat's familiarities with her. 
 
 There is sublimity in the elevation of character 
 which Josephine displayed toward those whose enmity 
 spent its arrows on her gentle heart — a character, that 
 like a silver stream broken on the verge of a precipice 
 into a shower of crushed diamonds, was the most at- 
 tractive in the light of its many virtues, when the wont- 
 ed flow of existence was interrupted by a great calami- 
 ty upon herself or those she cherished, For illustra- 
 tion, we introduce a letter to Bonaparte a few years 
 later, when Murat's treachery was disclosed to the in- 
 dignation of mankind, while it threw a portentous 
 gloom over the prospects of him, from whose fraternal 
 hand ene traitor had received a crown. 
 
 " Sire, — I have this instant learned that your sus- 
 picions are confirmed, and that the King of Naples, dis- 
 regarding the most sacred ties of consanguinity anrl 
 gratitude, has joined the ranks of your enemies. I have 
 unfortunately nothing to say in his defence ; and can 
 tin 1 in my heart no solace for the devouring anxiety
 
 166 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 which yours must feel: what stronger pi oof that my 
 own is without consolation! Still I cannot be silent; 
 there are those around you, who, too ready to aggra- 
 vate the crime of the guilty, will but augment youi 
 sorrow, should their obsequious counsels lead to violent 
 extremes. You know that I never have resisted your 
 will, though I have sometimes had the courage to op- 
 pose your views, and ventured observations to which 
 you rendered justice by changing your plans, and adopt- 
 ing those suggested by a weak woman. Suffer me still 
 to use this privilege. The King of Naples is without 
 excuse. But, sire, do not involve his wife in your ven- 
 geance, by depriving her of an affection to which she 
 has ever attached a great value, and which it would be 
 unjust to take from her, if, as I believe, that unhappy 
 princess is in all things opposed to her husband's crime. 
 Far from overwhelming her under the weight of a re- 
 sentment which it is not probable she merits, address 
 yourself to her heart, that she may employ all imagin- 
 able means to prevent the king from injuring you and 
 dishonoring himself. 
 
 " If things can no longer be remedied, and if you 
 must be constrained henceforth to view as an enemy 
 a brother who owes to you the crown which he is ready 
 to disgrace — ah ! do not repulse the queen, when she 
 will soon have none other save you upon whom she 
 can rely ; for you have often repeated, and history 
 proves by a thousand examples, that traitors never are 
 successful in their treason. The king, whom the 
 hostile powers now treat as an ally, will be sacrificed.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 15Y 
 
 should peace with you be his price — if, contrary to al3 
 appearances, they should prove conquerors, Murat 
 would be equally the victim ; for they would no longer 
 tolerate a King whom they had previously treated as a 
 usurper, but would hurl him from that throne which he 
 now seeks to preserve by means the most blamable 
 and most impolitic, and even by baseness itself. 
 
 " Pity your sister, sire ; she has too much under 
 standing not to have appreciated the fearful futurity 
 which hangs over her. If ever she should be unfor- 
 tunate, receive her again to your affections ; and con- 
 sole yourself for the ingratitude of her husband by the 
 enjoyment of the heartfelt attachment with which 
 your moderation will inspire her. Remember, too, 
 that if from the first impulses even of a just indignation 
 you yield yourself up to the stern pleasure of rendering 
 evil for evil, the consequences will eventually affect 
 your innocent nephews, and so, sooner or later, you 
 must lament a severity which will have cost you 
 many tears. Sire, I plead in your own interest ; re- 
 flect well before finally determining. Consult not 
 those men whose facile temper merely follows all the 
 variations of your own, but those devoted servants who 
 are around your brave and royal brother-in-arms — 
 who never trafficked with their consciences, and who 
 would have preferred even your displeasure to an ad- 
 vice that could compromise honor. Hear madam 
 your mother. Finally, do not punish by your hate 
 until It has been proved that you cannot pardon. 
 "Excuse, sire, what I have written. The hope of
 
 158 LIFE OF josephhste. 
 
 one day beholding you repent a too pronapt condemna- 
 tion has led me, perhaps, to displease you. The con- 
 sciousness of discharging a duty has inspired me with 
 courage on this so painful occasion. You will pardon 
 a zeal, not officious, but sincere, which has induced me 
 thus far to presume to give advice ; and you will say 
 that Josephine has never ceased to be candid with him 
 who of all men is the sincerest lover of that truth 
 which yet he so rarely hears. 
 
 " To-morrow T expect Eugene ; be pleased, sire, to 
 tell him if you forgive me this letter, written with the 
 desire ever dearest to my heart — of seeing you happy. 
 Vengeance inflicted where a sister is concerned, will 
 not conduce to happiness when the bosom, like yours, 
 is disposed to the soft emotions of fraternal love. Be- 
 lieve me ever, and preserve for me the friendship so 
 precious to Josephine." 
 
 While at the Luxembourg, Bonaparte was absorbed 
 with plans for consolidating the new government, and 
 raising money to meet its expenditures. Here Jose- 
 phine saw him daily, and probably enjoyed more domes- 
 tic felicity than at any other period of her life, with 
 Napoleon. But finding this republican residence too 
 small for his court and ambition, he obtained a removal 
 of the Consular domicil to the Tuilleries, although the 
 very centre of kingly associations, and of that hated 
 pomp which the people had trodden in the dust with 
 the blood of their monarch. Everything opposed to 
 the levelling democracy was proposed and carried 
 forward under disguise. The ancient halls of royalty
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 159 
 
 were named tlie Government Palace, and given into 
 the hands of rulers, whose chief wore in place of a 
 crown a conqueror's cockade, and for a sceptre a 
 sword which he grasped with more devotion than 
 ever did a despot the symbol of power. 
 
 The occasion of this transfer was one of great 
 splendor — resembling an English coronation in the 
 ceremony and jubilant festivity of the scene. Tlie 
 Consul's tried and brave companions-in-arms were 
 many of them in the train which dehghted to do him 
 honor. The troops dashed proudly along the streets, 
 the banners were flung out on the breath of departing 
 winter — and the swell of martial music led on the 
 excited cavalcade to the silent apartments made des- 
 olate by the Reign of Terror. Upon their walls was 
 engraved in golden letters, the word Republic — com- 
 pleting the deception which calmed the fears of the 
 masses unconsciously rendering homage to Jupiter, 
 while as they supposed bowing to the goddess of 
 liberty. 
 
 The evening of this memorable day brought the 
 arena of Josephine's glory. The spacious drawing- 
 rooms occupied by her were crowded by eight o'clock 
 with the beauty and chivalry of France. Foreign 
 ambassadors in decorations that were indices of the 
 Courts that they represented, veteran officers, and the 
 remnant of an ancient nobility, all assembled to con 
 gratulate the hero of Egypt and Italy, upon his ac- 
 cession to the guardianship of their beloved France. 
 Beautiful women in rich apparel and with jewelled
 
 ]60 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 brows, slied the light ol" their admiring eyes upon the 
 flashing star, coronet and plume, that were the attrac- 
 tive insignia of greatness in that gay assembly. The 
 horrors of civil war which for ten years had agitated 
 and ravaged the realm were forgotten — the dead 
 slumbered in the covered caves of their hurried burial — 
 the guillotine had ceased to haunt the ear with the 
 ominous echo of its frequent stroke, and the nation's 
 heart beat once more freely beneath the protecting 
 aegis of that single arm, which had hewn down the 
 riotous mob, annihilated armies, then overthrowing a 
 miserable government, in the name of a citizen had 
 taken the reins of supreme dictation over a submissive 
 and delighted people. 
 
 The illusion was successful that met their observa- 
 tion in all this outward parade. The fine talents of 
 untitled heroes, and the splendor that outshone the 
 gaudy machine of Bourbon oppression, pleased ex- 
 ceedingly the multitude, who seemed to be in the as- 
 cendant — while the royalists read with hope in this 
 returning grandeur, the indications of a full restoration 
 of monarchy. 
 
 Guests from every class of citizens, therefore, par- 
 ticipated in this magnificent entertainment, with unu- 
 sual joy. Josephine attended by Talleyrand, the min- 
 ister of foreign afi'airs, entered the saloon greeted with 
 the murmur of universal admiration. Her dress was 
 simple, and her manner, then as always indeed, per- 
 fectly graceful. The white muslin of her apparei like 
 a vestal robe, was both entirely becoming and an
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 161 
 
 emblem of her unstained innocence of action The 
 tresses of her hair fell negligently upon her neck, 
 around which a simple ornament of pearls threw theii 
 lustre, and her features beaming with benignity madft 
 her a charming contrast with the unfortunate wife of 
 Louis, her admired predecessor. She received the 
 presentation of ambassadors with quiet dignity, and 
 passed through the thronged apartments, smiling on 
 the company with the sympathy and affection of an 
 ingenuous spirit beneath the unaffected majesty of a 
 queen. She was now thirty-six, but retained to a re- 
 markable degree the freshness and buoyancy of her 
 youth. Her tasteful and unostentatious attire, and the 
 sparkling sweetness of her conversation, contributed 
 much to the manifold attractions she possessed. 
 
 " Josephine was rather above than below the middle 
 size, her's being exactly that perfection of stature 
 which is neither too tall for the delicacy of feminine 
 proportion, nor so diminutive as to detract from dig- 
 nity. Her person, in its individual forms, exhibited 
 faultless symmetry ; and the whole frame, animated by 
 lightness and elasticity of movement, seemed like 
 something aerial in its perfectly graceful carriage. 
 This harmonious ease of action contributed yet more 
 to the dignified, though still youthful air so remarkable 
 in Josephine's appearance. Her features were small 
 and finely modelled, the curves tending rather to ful- 
 ness, and the p'ofile inclining to Grecian, but without 
 any statue-like coldness of outline. The habitual 
 character of her countenance was a placid sweetness^
 
 102 LIFE or JOSEPHINB. 
 
 within whose influence there were few who would not 
 have felt interested in a being so gentle. Perhaps the 
 first impression might have left a feeling that there 
 wanted energy ; but this could have been for an in- 
 stant only, for the real charm of this mild countenance 
 resided in its power of varied expression, changing 
 with each vicissitude of thought and sentiment. 
 ' Never,' says a very honest admirer, ' did any woman 
 better justify the saying, ' The eyes are the mirror of 
 the soul.' Josephine's were of a deep blue, clear and 
 brilliant, even imposing in their expression, when turn- 
 ed fully upon any one ; but in her usual manner they 
 lay half concealed beneath their long and silky eye- 
 lashes. She had a habit of looking thus with a mild 
 subdued glance upon those whom she loved, throwing 
 into her regard such winning tenderness as might not 
 easily be resisted, and, even in his darkest moods. Na- 
 poleon confessed its tranquillizing power. Realizing 
 exactly the fine description of the old poet, Josephine's 
 
 ' " Long hair was glossy chestnut brown," 
 
 whose sunny richness harmonized delightfully with a 
 clear and transparent complexion, and neck of almost 
 dazzling whiteness. Her eyebrows were a shade 
 darker, arching regularly, and pencilled with extreme 
 delicacy. The perfect modulation of her voice has al- 
 ready been mentioned ; it constituted one of her most 
 pleasing attractions, and rendered her conversation, 
 though not sparkling with wit nor remarkable for 
 strength, but flowing on in easy elegance and perfect
 
 . LIFE OF JOSEPHIlfB. 163 
 
 good-nature, the most captivating that can easily be 
 conceived. On the whole, Josephine, perhaps, might 
 not exactly have pretensions to be what is termed a 
 fine woman, but her's was that style of beauty which 
 awakens in the heart a far deeper sentiment than mere 
 admiration." 
 
 Napoleon, on the occasion described, appeared in 
 plain uniform, decorated only with the tri-colored sash, 
 a simple and beautiful badge worn with no less policy 
 than taste. A glow of satisfaction played upon his pale 
 features — his noble forehead hung like a battlement 
 over the restless orbs whose fire flashed with the ra- 
 pidity of lightning, revealing the changing hue of 
 thought, but not its secret, mighty workings — and 
 upon his countenance, meditation as a mysterious 
 presence was always visible. His figure was rather 
 diminutive, and he stooped in walking carelessly with 
 friends. His hands were symmetrical, of which it is 
 said he was particularly vain. Among the eccenfi'ic- 
 ities of his deportment, which were merely the peculi- 
 arities of genius engaged in profound contemplation, 
 he had a convulsive shrug of his right shoulder, mov- 
 ing at the same instant his mouth in that direction. 
 
 Bonaparte turned away with weariness at times 
 from the cares and pleasures of the Tuilleries, and 
 sought with Josephine the tranquil scenes of Mal- 
 maison. 
 
 The tenth day of the decade, and after the restora- 
 tion of the hebdomadal calendar, every Saturday and 
 
 Sabbath were passed at their charming villa. Hor- 
 
 11
 
 164 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 tense had from the first acquaintance a great antipathy 
 toward Napoleon — a vague fear of him haunted her 
 continually, which was only conquered during this fa- 
 miliar intercourse subsequent to the consulship, and 
 rather from respect to her mother than because she 
 admired the wonderful man. Such was his prefer- 
 ence for this retirement, that he often returned to the 
 palace with evident emotion — uttering an expression 
 of recoil from the duties of his official station Bona 
 parte was capable of absorbing attachment, and social 
 enjoyment, but his ambition permitted no obstacle to 
 lie in his way — a battalion of brave soldiers, or a single 
 loving heart, offered no barrier to success ; he would 
 sooner drain a goblet of tears he made to flow, than 
 swerve from a purpose involving his glory. This con- 
 flict of powers on the war-plain of the human soul, is 
 discernible in every phase of his history. And 
 naturally awakened apprehension of secret enemies, 
 and the assassin's stroke, which invaded even the 
 peace of his private abode. He ordered the remodel- 
 ling and embellishment of Malmaison, which intro- 
 duced suspicious workmen upon the grounds, shaking 
 his consciousness of security, and investing his cher- 
 ished seclusion with gloomy presentiments ; those pro- 
 phetic shadows of the future that always had force 
 upon the mind of Napoleon. 
 
 Josephine observed the appearance of those builders 
 whose dress and expression indicated treachery, and 
 ordered the utmost vigilance in regard to their move- 
 ments. When the preparations were finished, and the
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 165 
 
 Consul again entered his apartments, he found a snuff- 
 box on his writing-table, placed there evidently to at- 
 tract attention. Its similarity to those he used, de- 
 ceived him for a moment, and he thought perhaps his 
 valet had put the box there, where it was frequently 
 laid. But a suspicion flashed upon him, and the con- 
 tents were examined, disclosing a subtle and active 
 poison, designed to destroy the illustrious slave to 
 habit. The porter of this mansion added a guard of 
 Newfoundland dogs, and caution marked all the ar- 
 rangements of the republican residence, giving it the 
 air of a feudal castle whose lord was in jeopardy every 
 hour from invisible foes. So it happens frequently 
 that the scarred veteran of numberless battles, will 
 tremble with alarm when danger comes in calmer mo- 
 ments — and quail before the stealthy, certain approach 
 of death. Courage which appeared sublime while rose 
 the stirring notes of 
 
 o 
 
 " Death's music, and the roar of combat," 
 
 leaves the hero in tears in the hour of despondency 
 and gloom, which contemplation upon life's mystery 
 and the realm lying beyond awaken, or fears of a fu- 
 ture retribution fling upon the spirit. 
 
 The spring of 1800 wore away — Napoleon saw 
 everything complete in the convenience and beauty 
 of Malmaison. The heavy debts Josephine accumu- 
 lated in purchasing the estate and furniture while he 
 was in Egypt, were urged by the creditors, and it be- 
 «^ame necessary to broach the subject to the Consul.
 
 166 LITE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 He was at first indignant, but immediately ordered 
 payment, and soon exhibited his usual composure 
 Josephine dissembled in regard to the amount, fearing 
 his displeasure, reporting 600,000 francs instead of 
 1,200,000, the sum due, but which, by the interposition 
 of Talleyrand, was reduced to that moiety. Bona- 
 parte's leisure was filled up with family parties, the 
 entertainment of particular friends, and evening walks 
 with Bourrienne. Then came the correspondence 
 with England — unsuccessful negotiations for peace, 
 and preparations for re-crossing the Alps with his 
 splendid army. 
 
 On the 4th of May he left Malmaison, and embra- 
 cing Josephine upon his departure, bade her adieu with 
 these words : " Courage, my good Josephine ! I shall 
 not forget thee, nor will my absence be long." Two 
 days after he was reviewing the vanguard of the Army 
 of Reserve at Lausanne, consisting of six tried regi- 
 ments of his best troops under Lannes. Immediately 
 orders were given for the whole force, led by Victor, 
 Murat, Monnier, and other brave commanders, amount- 
 ing to 36,000 men, to move forward to St. Pierre, a 
 hamlet at the foot of St. Bernard. From this village 
 to St. Remi, over that gigantic crest of the Alps, Great 
 St. Bernard, the route is environed with difficulties 
 apparently insurmountable, and which frown upon the 
 daring adventurer with hopeless terror. A survey of 
 the fearful ascent resulted in the decision of a bare 
 possibility of success; upon which Napoleon said con- 
 fidently, " Let us forward then!" The mighty caval-
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 16" 
 
 cade went steadily up the rugged heights — over preci- 
 pices well-nigh perpendicular, dragging the heavy 
 artillery upon the trunks of trees alter them, while 
 martial music was poured in thrilling echoes on the 
 ear of the mountain solitude, and the occasional inter- 
 lude of a charge was beaten, to revive the courage of 
 the struggling host. The eagle left his eyry to look on 
 a scene that his flashing eye had never witnessed be- 
 fore, and sent down to the dark defiles the cry of 
 alarm ; while the wild goat paused in his flight to 
 watch the tortuous advance of the vast Hydra which 
 hung upon the snow-clad declivity, from its base to its 
 cloud- covered brow. The Consul descended the glit- 
 tering glaciers in a sledge — on the 2d of June entered 
 Milan amid the shouts of the populace, who supposed 
 he was sleeping beneath the waters of the Red Sea — 
 and on the 14th of June he was waiting for the enemy 
 on the plain of Marengo. It would be a digression to 
 describe the memorable battle in which the legions of 
 Austria were scattered ; 6000 grenadiers who gloried 
 m their invincible onsets, routed with terrific slaughter, 
 and which decided the fate of Italy by restoring what 
 France had lost during Napoleon's adventures abroad. 
 Conditions of peace were concluded, and the Consul 
 hastened towards Paris. At Lyons, and Dijon, a 
 storm of enthusiasm followed him — young women in 
 groups flung flowers in his path — and on the 2(1 of 
 July, he re-entered Paris amid the deafening applause 
 of the people. 
 
 Josephine had passed the interval at Malmaison
 
 1 
 168 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 quietly multiplying its external attractions, arranging 
 a sort of private menagerie of animals sent her by 
 Bonaparte, or through his conquests, and as tokens of 
 gratitude for her own philanthropy, from friends she 
 had never seen, in distant countries. She indulged 
 also in the fine and healthful pastime of riding on 
 horseback, in company with Hortense. 
 
 Upon one of these excursions, Hortense's steed took 
 fright, and wheeling suddenly around, ran at full speed. 
 She attempted to alight that she might relieve her 
 mother from alarm, but was entangled in the folds of 
 her riding habit, and drawn some distance upon the 
 ground. The fair and excellent equestrian was speed- 
 ily rescued from danger, and suffered only slight 
 bruises, which may have been lamented as blemishes 
 upon her beauty, in spite of the mirth that rang out in 
 her laughter upon regaining the saddle. But the most 
 delightful entertainment to Josephine, was the perusal 
 of the conqueror's letters from the Alpine defiles and 
 the plains beyond. These bore not alone tidings of 
 victory, but, w^hat is more precious to a woman's hearl, 
 the assurance that nothing effaced her image from his 
 memory, or quenched the incense-flame of love burn- 
 ing with increasing intensity upon her hidden altar of 
 devotion to him. 
 
 For nearly four months following the armistice which 
 was concluded on the 15th of June, Napoleon had lit- 
 tle to engage his attention that prevented frequent 
 visits to Malmaison. By this time the nation had re- 
 covered from its paroxysms of republicanism, so called,
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB, 169 
 
 and settled back to order and decency of manners 
 while refinement began to blend with the amenities of 
 social and domestic life. No one was more capable or 
 willing to improve the desirable medium between the 
 extravagance of a dissolute aristocracy, and the coarse 
 equality of the levelling democracy that rose on the 
 overthrow of the former, than Josephine. She re- 
 ceived courteously and unostentatiously the many 
 visitors that frequented her mansion, embracing tne 
 most distinguished and cultivated persons of the realm. 
 Bonaparte appeared happy in the bosom of his family, 
 surrounded by a band of ardent friends, and worshipped 
 by the multitude, ready to shout at the sound of his 
 salutation, as did the admirers of Herod, "It is the 
 voice of a god !" 
 
 He mingled familiarly in amusements invented to 
 lend an agreeable variety to the pleasures of the villa, 
 and delight the young people of his adoption. Some- 
 times a mimic theatre exhibited a comedy or tragedy 
 ■ — then a game of " prisoners" covered the lawn with a 
 scene of excitement, pleasant to the actors as it was 
 diverting to spectators. Josephine felt besides the in- 
 terest common to all, a mother's pride and joy in the 
 decorous sports of a son and blooming daughter, dearer 
 to her than existence. She anticipated every want, 
 and gave eclat to each brilliant achievement in the in- 
 nocent pastimes that filled with sounds of mirth the 
 gi'oves of her peaceful domain, and made the moonlit 
 landscape a fairy land. It was all she desired to have 
 — the sceptre of the universe could add nothing to this
 
 170 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 fruition of her earthly hopes. The following is a de- 
 scription of one of these games : — 
 
 " Bonaparte and Josephine, Eugene, Hortense, Caro. 
 line Bonaparte, Rapp, Lauriston, Duroc, Isabey, with 
 Bourrienne, and a few other confidential retainers, di- 
 vided into two camps, as they were termed ; and, when 
 nothing pressed, the sport often continued for hours. 
 The best runners were Eugene and his sister ; but 
 Bonaparte in the selection of partisans always chose 
 Josephine, never suffering her to be in any camp but 
 his own. When by chance she happened to be taken 
 prisoner, he always seemed uneasy till she was released, 
 making all exertions for that purpose, though a bad 
 runner himself, often coming down in mid career with 
 a heavy fall on the grass. Up again, however, he start- 
 ed, but usually so convulsed with laughter that he could 
 not possibly move, and the affair generally ended in his 
 captivity. When placed in durance, or when Jose- 
 phine had been taken, he kept constantly calling out to 
 his party, ' A rescue ! a rescue !' clapping his hands, 
 shouting to encourage the runners, and in short, ex- 
 hibiting all the ardor of a boy at play. When we find 
 the conqueror at Marengo, the restorer of France, thus 
 yielding to the kindly promptings of harmless mirth in 
 the bosom of his family, we almost forget his real 
 character." 
 
 But as Napoleon had the stern duties of state tc 
 occupy the hours chiefly, and enlist his unslumbering 
 energies, so Josephine never forgot her higher obliga- 
 tions to the suffering who needed her interposition, or
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, IVI 
 
 the poor who asked for alms. Especially did she give 
 the whole weighi of her influence to the aid of those 
 exiles from their country and families, who were driven 
 by the waves of revolution to foreign shores. When- 
 ever there was hope of restoration, her efforts were 
 unwearied to attain the object— the only reward desir- 
 ed, was the rapture of the meeting, when the father 
 crossed the threshold of the sanctuary from which he 
 had been rudely torn. But sometimes she was denied 
 even this — the ancestral halls of the returning captives 
 in many instances were in the possession of strangers, 
 and her benevolence was farther engaged in securing 
 a home for the friendless. 
 
 Josephine's active sympathy for the afflicted, and 
 her deep acquaintance with the human heart, are dis- 
 played aflectingly in an incident connected with the 
 Decrest family, who were restored to their country by 
 her mediation. A nephew of the marquis, who was 
 a young officer of some distinction, was killed at the 
 national festival celebrated soon after the formation of 
 the consulate by the accidental explosion of a rocket. 
 He was an only son, and his father gave himself up to 
 hopeless grief. Upon the following day. Madam Mon- 
 tesson, the friend of Josephine, and a relative of Decrest, 
 invited the bereaved family to her house. But nothing 
 could relieve the ray less gloom of a father's mourning ; 
 he was unmoved by the accents of condolence, or en- 
 treaties of loved ones, who feared that a fixed insanity 
 or sudden death would be the result of his wild sor- 
 row. 
 
 H
 
 172 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 \ 
 
 Josephine entered the apartment, and gazed a mo- 
 ment on the scene of anguish, and silently prepared to 
 oreak the spell of despair that darkened every mo- 
 ment upon the spirit of the chief mourner. Taking his 
 eldest daughter by the hand, she led the weeping child 
 to his knee, then raised the youngest, a smiling infant, 
 in her arms, while she knelt in the eloquence of a 
 grieving angel before him. He started, looked half un- 
 consciously on the group, then his eye brightened in 
 the midst of rising tears, his lips quivered, and in an- 
 other instant he wept in their embrace. The fountain 
 of parental affection was unsealed again, and invoking 
 a blessing on his deliverer, he rose to life from the very 
 shadow of death. 
 
 Toward the close of the year 1800, conspiracies 
 thickened around the First Consul. Among the most 
 threatening, were that of Ceracchi, on the part of the 
 revolutionary mob, and the 3d Nivose, by the royal- 
 ists. The former was matured by one Harrel, Arena, 
 Topino-Lebrun, and Demerville, and the time of ac- 
 tion was appointed upon an evening when the Consul 
 designed to visit the opera. Harrel betrayed his ac- 
 complices, but the disclosure was not known to them 
 till their arrangements were completed, and Napoleon 
 was seated with Duroc at the opera ; when they were 
 arrested in the lobby and hurried to prison. This 
 treacherous conspirator was rewarded with the appoint- 
 ment of commandant of Vincennes, which post he held 
 when Duke d'Eegliien fell by the assassin's thrust in 
 that prison. This plot occurred the first of October.
 
 LITE OF JOSEPHINB. 1*?* 
 
 About three months afterward that of the 3d Nivose, 
 a more deeply laid and fearful conspiracy, was formed 
 — whose actors invented and built that engine of death, 
 memorable as the infernal machine. The 3d Nivose 
 was the 21st December, on the evening of which the 
 performance of Haydn's splendid Oratorio of the 
 Creation was to take place. Bonaparte had mentioned 
 his intention of attending the Concert with his family. 
 He rode in company with Lannes, Berthier, and Lau- 
 riston, while General Rapp in another carriage escorted 
 Josephine and her children. Upon reaching the middle 
 of the street St. Nicaise, a narrow way leading from 
 the Tuilleries, a terrible explosion blew twenty persons 
 into the air, wounded sixty more, and thiew two or 
 three dwellings from their foundation, burying the dead 
 beneath their fragments. 
 
 The following is General Rapp's own account of the . 
 entire scene and the destructive agency employed by 
 the Jacobins, as the Consul believed : — 
 
 " The affair of the infernal machine has never been 
 properly understood by the jmblic. The police had 
 intimated to Napoleon, that an attempt would be made 
 against his life, and cautioned him not to go out. 
 Madam Bonaparte, Mademoiselle Beauharnais, Madam 
 Murat, Lannes, Bessieres, the aid-de-camp on duty, 
 and Lieutenant Lebrun, now Duke of Placenza, were 
 all assembled in the saloon, while the First Consul was 
 writing in his closet. 
 
 " Haydn's Oratorio was to be performed that even- 
 ing : the ladies were anxious to hear the music, and
 
 174 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 
 
 we also expressed a wish to that effect. The escort 
 picquet was ordered out ; and Lannes requested Napo- 
 leon would join the party. He consented ; his carriage 
 was ready, and he took along with him Bessieres and 
 the aid-de-camp on duty. I was directed to attend 
 the ladies. Josephine had received a magnificent 
 shawl from Constantinople, and she that evening wore 
 it for the first time. ' Allow me to observe, Madam,' 
 said I, ' that your shawl is not thrown on with your 
 usual elegance.' She good-humoredly begged that I 
 would fold it after the fashion of the Egyptian ladies. 
 While I was engaged in this operation, we heard 
 Napoleon depart. ' Come, sister,' said Madam Murat, 
 who was impatient to get to the theatre, ' Bonaparte is 
 going.' We stepped into the carriage • the First Con- 
 sul's equipage had already reached the middle of the 
 Place Carrousel. We drove after it ; but we had 
 scarcely entered the Place, when the machine exploded. 
 Napoleon escaped by a singular chance. Saint-Re- 
 gent, or his French servant, had stationed himself in 
 the middle of the Rue Nicaise. A grenadier of the 
 escort, supposing he was really what he appeared to 
 be, a water-carrier, gave him a few blows with the flat 
 of his sabre, and drove him off. The cart was turned 
 around, and the machine exploded between the car- 
 riages of Napoleon and Josephine. The ladies shrieked 
 on hearing the report ; the carriage windows were 
 broken, and Mademoiselle Beauharnais received a 
 slight hurt on her hand. I alighted, and crossed the 
 Rue Nicaise, which was strewed with the bodies of
 
 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 1V5 
 
 those who had been thrown down, and the fragments 
 of the walls that had been shattered by the explosion. 
 Neither the Consul nor any individual of his suite sus- 
 tained any serious injury. When I entered the theatre, 
 Napoleon was seated in his box, calm and composed, 
 and looking at the audience through his opera-glass. 
 Fouche was beside him. * Josephine,' said he, as soon 
 as he observed me. She entered at that moment, and 
 he did not finish his question, * The rascals,' said he, 
 very coolly, ' wanted to blow me up. Bring me a book 
 of the Oratorio.' " 
 
 Again Josephine's destiny turned on apparently an 
 unimportant event. The delay occasioned by her 
 pleasantry about a beautiful shawl, doubtless saved her 
 from the unseen ruin, in which so many perished. 
 Another letter from her to Fouche, minister of police, 
 after the execution of the leaders in the diabolical de- 
 sign, and sentence of one hundred and thirty more of 
 the suspected to transportation for life, again exhibits 
 her greatness of soul and gushing tenderness for the 
 suffering, whether made by their own guilt or that of 
 another. 
 
 " Citizen Minister, — While I yet tremble at the 
 frightful event which has just occurred, I am disquieted 
 and distressed, through fear of the punishment neces- 
 sarily to be inflicted on the guilty, who belong, it is 
 said, to families with whom I once lived in habits of 
 intercourse. I shall be solicited by mothers, sisters, 
 and disconsolate wives ; and my heart will be broken.
 
 176 LIFE OF josEPnnrE. 
 
 through my inability to obtain all the mercy for which 
 I could plead. 
 
 " I know that the clemency of the First Consul is 
 great, his attachment to me extreme ; but the crime ia 
 too dreadful, that terrible examples should not be 
 necessary. The chief of the government has not been 
 alone exposed ; and it is that which will render him 
 severe — inflexible. I conjure you, therefore, citizen 
 minister, to do all that lies in your power to prevent 
 inquiries being pushed too far. Do not detect all those 
 persons who may have been accomplices in these 
 odious transactions. Let not France, so long over- 
 whelmed in consternation by public executions, groan 
 anew beneath such inflictions. It is ever better to 
 endeavor to soothe the public mind, than to exasperate 
 men by fresh terrors. In short, when the ringleaders 
 in this abominable attempt shall have been secured, let 
 severity give place to pity for inferior agents, seduced, 
 as they may have been, by dangerous falsehoods, or 
 exaggerated opinions. 
 
 " When just invested with supreme power, the First 
 Consul, as seems to me, ought rather to gain hearts 
 than be exhibited as ruling slaves. Soften by your 
 counsels whatever may be too violent in his just re- 
 sentment. Punish — alas ! that you must certainly do 
 — but pardon still more. Be also the support of those 
 unfortunate men, who, by frank avowal, or repentance 
 shall expiate a portion of their crime. 
 
 " Having myself narrowly escaped perishing in the 
 Revolution, you must regard as quite natural my inter
 
 MFE OF JOSEPHINE. 11 'i 
 
 ference in behalf of those who can be saved witiioui 
 involving in new danger the life of my husband, pre- 
 cious to me and to France. On this account, do, I 
 entreat you, make a wide distinction between the au- 
 thors of the crime, and those who, through weakness 
 or fear, have consented to take a part therein. As a 
 woman, a wife, and a mother, I must feel the heart- 
 rendings of those that will apply to me. Act, citizen 
 minister, in such a manner, that the number of these 
 may be lessened. This will spare me much grief 
 Never will 1 turn away from the supplications of mis- 
 fortune ; but, in the present instance, you can do in- 
 finitely more than I, and will, on this account, excuse 
 my importunity. Rely on my gratitude and esteem." 
 Soon after this bold attempt to destroy the Consul, 
 Hortense was married to his brother Louis. It was 
 one of the many instances of an unfortunate union, in 
 the consummation of which interested friends were the 
 responsible agents. Hortense loved Duroc, an ambi- 
 lious marshal of thirty — the first choice of Louis is not 
 known. The ceremony was solemnized January 2d, 
 1802, when she was eighteen, and Louis Bonaparto 
 twenty-four. He was good-looking, and amiable in 
 his youth ; but disease fastened upon his frame, and in 
 both of these respects wrought sad changes. He re- 
 sembled, it was thought, the Queen of Naples, his sister- 
 in the expression of his face, when her countenance 
 was in repose. Caring less for power, and more for 
 ease, than Napoleon, he scarcely thanked him for the 
 throne of Holland, whose damp and ungenial ata>o.s-
 
 178 LFFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 » 
 
 phere made havoc with a system accustomed to the 
 bland air, and lovely sky of Italy. When setting out 
 for that country, he said to the Consul, in regard to 
 certain commands — " I will do what I like. Let me 
 act freely, or let me remain here. I will not go to 
 govern a country where I shall be known only by 
 disaster." 
 
 Hortense was an interesting woman — gifted with a 
 clear intellect which had received constant culture — • 
 graceful and accomplished, she was admired and be- 
 loved. " She was not exactly beautiful ; for the con- 
 formation of her mouth and her teeth which rather 
 projected, took away from the regularity of a counte- 
 nance otherwise very pleasing in all its sweetness and 
 benignity of expression. Her eyes, like her mother's, 
 were blue, her complexion clear, and her hair of a 
 charming blond. In stature she did not exceed the 
 middle size ; but her person was beautifully formed." 
 It is not singular that Josephine urged this marriage, 
 and omitted nothing that might secure the object. 
 She disliked the coldness of Duroc, and the absence 
 of all distinction excepting as conferred by Napoleon ; 
 and what was of vastly more importance, she knew 
 the Consul loved Louis, and the alliance would create 
 strength in the very bosom of secret foes. She was 
 hated by the Bonaparte family generally, and in this 
 event she anticipated a new source of hope and power 
 against her detractors. But all these considerations 
 are scarcely sufficient to give plausibility to so serious 
 a violation of the very law and impulses of our nature. 
 
 I
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 17S 
 
 Neither, when married, cherished affection for each 
 othe-r — their mutual kindness was rather the civihty of 
 respect, than the expression of attachment. Upon the 
 bridal occasion, seven hundred invitations were issued, 
 and the saloons of the Tuilleries were thronged with 
 guests from the most brilliant ranks of society. Am- 
 bassadors were looking on, or smiling gallantly on the 
 queenly forms with which they were encircled, and all 
 were intoxicated with pleasure but the bride. Arrayed 
 gorgeously, sparkling with diamonds and crowned 
 with flowers, she strove vainly to hide the heavy sad- 
 ness upon her heart. To every observant eye, that 
 central star was under a fearful eclipse — the world of 
 thought was dark and desolate. She shone on others 
 with a mockery of light, that made the gloom within 
 the deeper. Fair victim I like an Eastern sacrifice to 
 the grim idol, she stood before the altar an offering to 
 the god of ambition. A purer motive is sought for 
 than either which has been supposed, in the desire of 
 Josephine to repel the slander that had obtained to 
 some extent concerning Bonaparte's dishonorable love 
 for Hortense. This malignant calumny might have 
 affected that noble mother, and entered into her esti- 
 mate of results. But doubtless Josephine, who certainly 
 admired Louis more than Duroc in almost every poini 
 of character, believed that the mutual dislike which 
 arose chiefly from previous attachments would dis- 
 appear in the intimacies of domestic life. In the 
 following letter she refers to the detraction, and the 
 
 want of devotion to each other visible in the wedded pair 
 12 R*
 
 180 LIFE OP JOSEPHlNTt. 
 
 JOSEPHINE TO HORTENSE. 
 
 "You have ill understood me, my child; there is 
 nothing equivocal in my word, as there cannot exist an 
 uncandid sentiment in my heart. How could you 
 conceive that I participate in some ridiculous, or per- 
 haps, malicious opinions ? No ! you do not think that 
 I believe you to be my rival. We, indeed, both reign 
 in the same bosom, though by very different yet equally, 
 sacred rights ; and they who in the affection which my 
 husband manifests for you, have pretended to discover 
 other sentiments than those of a parent and a friend, 
 know not his soul. He is a mind too elevated above 
 the vulgar ever to be accessible to the passions. That 
 of glory, if you will, engrosses him too entirely for our 
 repose ; but, at least glory inspires nothing vile. Such, 
 as touching him, is my profession of faith. I make the 
 confession to you in all sincerity, in order to allay your 
 inquietudes. When I recommended to you to love, or 
 at least, not to repulse Louis, I spoke to you in my 
 character of an experienced wife, an attentive mother, 
 and tender friend, and in this threefold relation do I 
 now embrace you." 
 
 A mother's expostulations were unavailing — the cup 
 of sorrow taken at the hymeneal altar was pressed to 
 her lips partly by her own hand, and death only 
 removed the poisoned chalice. There is touching 
 melancholy in such a fate ; a bright, loving maiden, 
 whose girlhood was an ordeal of trial seldom endured
 
 LITE OF JOSEPniNB. 181 
 
 by any human sufferer, just as life began to put on ita 
 radiant smile, and beckon her toward the luminous 
 future ; her sky was overcast, and she trod a pathway 
 strewn with withered hopes and wet with her tears. 
 
 Allusion has been made to Josephine's expectation 
 of a speedy oblivion of whatever threatened the do- 
 mestic happiness of her daughter ; this appears mora 
 fully in a note to her daughter after the birth of a son. 
 
 " What I learned eight days ago gave me the greatest 
 pain ; what I observe to-day confirms and augments 
 my sorrow. Why show to Louis this repugnance ? 
 Instead of rendering him more ungracious still by 
 caprice, by inequality of character, why do you not 
 rather make efforts to surmount your indifference ? 
 But, you will say, he is not amiable ! All that is 
 relative. If not in your eyes, he may appear so to 
 others ; and all women do not view him through the 
 medium of dislike. As for myself, who am here 
 altogether disinterested, I imagine I behold him as he 
 is — more loving, doubtless, than lovable ; but this is a 
 great and rare quality : generous, beneficent, feeling, 
 and above all, an excellent father — if you so willed, he 
 would prove a good husband ! His melancholy, his 
 love of study and retirement, injure him in your 
 estimation. For these, I ask you, is he to blame ? Is 
 he oblicred to conform his nature to circumstances ? 
 Who could have predicted to him his fortune ? But, 
 according to you, he has not even the courage to bear 
 that fortune ? This I believe to be an error ; but he 
 certainly wants the strength. With his ascetic in-
 
 [82 LIFE OF JOSEPniNE. 
 
 clinations, his invincible desire of retirement and study 
 he finds himself misplaced in the elevated rank to 
 which he has attained. You desire that he should 
 imitate his brother ; give him first of all, the same 
 temperament. You have not failed to remark, that 
 almost our entire existence depends upon our health, 
 and that upon our digestion. Let poor Louis digest 
 better, and you would find him more amiable. But such 
 as he is, that can be no reason for abandoning him, or 
 making him feel the unbecoming sentiment with which 
 he inspires you. Do you, whom I have seen so kind, 
 continue to be so at the moment when it is precisely 
 more than ever necessary. Take pity on a man who 
 has to lament that he possesses what would constitute 
 another's happiness, and before condemning him think 
 of others, who, like him, have groaned beneath the 
 burden of their greatness, and bathed with their tears 
 that diadem which they believed had never been 
 destined for their brow." 
 
 Duroc married a Spanish heiress, unattractive both 
 in person and temper. He was evidently controlled 
 in his choice by the fortune it secured, and lived as 
 wretchedly as he deserved — " a gilded slave" — a self- 
 ish, disappointed, and miserable man, when away from 
 the " glory and the guilt of war." 
 
 So does greatness fail to confer happiness. In the 
 instances here given, how utterly incompetent was 
 earth to bestow the boon for which the soul is ever 
 struggling — contentment — how often a troubled brain
 
 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 183 
 
 throbs beneath a coronet, and a heart breaks silently 
 beneath a jewelled robe ! 
 
 Napoleon now improved the interval of peace, in 
 tranquillizing and establishing firmly the Cis-alpine Re- 
 public. Whether in securing the selection of himself 
 for President of the Italian commonwealth he was gov- 
 erned altogether by his aspirations for power, or under 
 the impression that he alone could consolidate and 
 guard what he had formed, is a theme of opposite opin- 
 ions. Doubtless there was a blending of motives in 
 the design. Bonaparte had no confidence in the 
 masses, and unbounded self-reliance ; besides, his am- 
 bition was never chastened by a sense of religious ob- 
 ligation, but inflamed by universal applause attending 
 success which seemed miraculous. How could it be 
 otherwise than that he should be possessed with the 
 idea, he is said to have expressed to Josephine in the 
 palace of the Tuilleries ? " Behold a palace without 
 nobles ; in time I intend to render it worthy of his pal- 
 ace, who is yet to become the master and arbiter of 
 the world." The meeting of deputies was held at Ly- 
 ons, in January, 1802 ; and on the 26th of that month, 
 he received the title of " President of the Cis-alpine 
 Republic." 
 
 Here he met the wreck of his valiant army of the 
 East. The surviving officers of those regiments, thin- 
 ned more by fatal disease than the enemy's bullets, 
 gathered once more around their leader. Greetings 
 were exchanged, and tears fell from cheeks furrowed 
 with age and toil, while the pavement beneath, seamed
 
 [y4 LIFE OF JOSEPHHSTE. 
 
 to tremble to the shock of their deadly onset upon tn« 
 gallant Mamelukes ; and the mighty pyramids like gi- 
 gantic sentinels, rose upon their vision, as when Na- 
 poleon exclaimed, just before the resistless charge, 
 ♦' Soldiers, from the summit of yonder pyramids forty 
 ages behold you !" 
 
 Bonaparte returned to Paris, his soaring genius in 
 dulging a transient repose upon the height in his path- 
 way of greatness, he had just gained by a single stride, 
 and gazed with prophetic eye along the upward track 
 to an eminence whose solitary grandeur would bewil- 
 der the hero of common mould. 
 
 This additional honor was followed by a renewal of 
 those magnificent entertainments which succeeded his 
 Consular coronation. Josephine was in the full en- 
 joyment of domestic peace — interrupted only by the 
 parade of court, and solicitude for the safety of Na- 
 poleon and the happiness of her children. Malmaison 
 became her residence for weeks together, where hei 
 pleasures were multiplied, and made more intense by 
 the absence of ceremony and the crowd of parasites 
 that haunt the halls of royalt^^ There were often 
 amusing applications for aid by those who had been 
 in some way associated with the " little Corsican," in 
 former days. Among these was his writing mastei 
 while at Brienne. Josephine was in the cabinet when 
 the poor professor, in thread-bare apparel, entered, 
 After an awkward pause, with an effort that called 
 forth all his courage, he announced himself to tne 
 Consul. With a frown and an excited air, Bonaparte
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 185 
 
 exclaimed, " And a proper penman you made of me ! 
 Ask my wife there." Josephine with a laugh made a 
 pleasant allusion to the delightful letters she had re 
 ceived, and the matter passed off in a glee ; while the 
 order for a pension during life was dropped into the 
 hand of the wondering visitor. 
 
 As spring came on with its freshening landscape, 
 its gentle south wind, and its laughing sky, the Consul, 
 accompanied with Josephine, made a tour through 
 Normandy and the adjacent provinces. Her last visit 
 to that part of France was made with the chivalrous 
 Beauharnais, and the years since that excursion, had 
 gone full of events that gave to life a sublime and trag- 
 ical interest. With deep and conflicting emotions, 
 her thoughts attended memory to the silent strand of 
 the past — upon whose sands were the wrecks of for- 
 tune, blasted hopes, and the fading footsteps of the 
 loved and departed. But her bounding spirit could 
 not long be desolate or sad. There were bright hours 
 in this romantic travel, and bursts of enthusiasm from 
 the people wherever they were recognized, that lent a 
 charm to the tour, continued for more than two weeks 
 through a country picturesque and peaceful ; contrast- 
 ing delightfully with the exciting scenes of the few 
 months before. 
 
 Not long after their return, an incident which oc- 
 curred, illustrates finely that coolness for which Duroc 
 was distinguished, a trait Bonaparte admired and 
 praised. The First Consul had removed his residence 
 to St Cloud, and furnished the palace in splendid styie
 
 186 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 One night, fire communicating through a flue into the 
 saloon, from an overheated stove, set the grand old 
 structure in flames. An officer awakened Duroc, who 
 saw the conflagration, and ordering perfect silence, 
 arranged a band of soldiers into the line of a fire com- 
 pany, running to the nearest water. Leaping into the 
 reservoir, his men followed, and the buckets passed with 
 no other sound than the rustle of hands rapidly along 
 the chain of men, till the ascending column of flame 
 wavered and fell ; within three hours all was quiet and 
 safe again. The inmates of the edifice were not dis- 
 turbed, and Josephine entered her gorgeous drawing- 
 room in the morning to gaze with astonishment on the 
 blackened and flooded ruins. 
 
 Events of decisive importance in the history of 
 France and the career of Napoleon, now rapidly fol- 
 lowed each other. The concordate re-established the 
 church ; the addition of ten years to the consulship, 
 and the creation of the Legion of Honor, upon the very 
 ruins of institutions aristocratic in their character, 
 were successive steps in the progress of the nation 
 towards monarchy, and of Bonaparte to its crown and 
 sceptre The opening of the sanctuaries for religious 
 worship was wholly a stroke of policy in the First Con- 
 sul. It was a measure repulsive to his army, but he 
 knew his influence too well in that quarter to shrink 
 from enlisiing an auxiliary, which had proved to be a 
 wall of fire around the despotic sovereigns of Europe. 
 He attended mass at Notre Dame, with the devout air 
 of a monk, conciliating his colleague Cambaceres, by
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 18l 
 
 appointing his brother to the See of Rouen, and dis 
 pensing similar emoluments where moral considera 
 tions had no influence, and infidelity poured contempt 
 upon the "superstitious mania." Josephine, though 
 the religious element was not marked in her character, 
 entered into this measure with zeal, conscious of its 
 value as a means of benevolence, and of bringing back 
 the exiled to their homes, while the impoverished 
 priesthood, scattered and scorned, would also regain 
 their privileges, and permanency succeed the fluctua- 
 tions in Church and State. 
 
 But none of the changes wrought by the fearless and 
 indomitable spirit of Napoleon, conferred upon him 
 more strength in his pre-eminence, than the ratifica- 
 tion of peace with England, by the treaty of Amiens, 
 signed April 25th, virtually conceding to him the gov- 
 ernment of Republican France. It introduced the 
 English ambassadors to his Court, and other distin- 
 guished persons of the British realm. The impression 
 Josephine made on these social occasions, was men- 
 tioned by her noble guests in after years with enthusi- 
 astic pleasure. Mr. Fox, especially, was much de- 
 lighted, as he was in turn admired for his simplicity of 
 manner, and his resplendent talents. In the evening 
 parties at Malmaison, he' was always a guest, convers 
 ing freely with Napoleon, or walking through the 
 Botanical gardens with Josephine, where his taste was 
 particularly gratified, and its suggestions sought by the 
 smiling May Queen of the gay parterre, leaning upon 
 his arm. So far did the Consul rely upon the ambas-
 
 188 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 sad3r's friendship, that he evidently anticipated in suL 
 sequent hostilities, the sympathy of the party of which 
 Mr, Fox was the leader — a mistake he quickly dis- 
 covered when threatened invasion appealed to the loy- 
 alty of the nation — aroused the Lion in his sea-girt lair. 
 France was again tranquil ; and while the fields be- 
 gan to yield their increase, the wine-dresser to prune 
 his vineyard, and the hum of active millions went up 
 from peaceful cities, Paris was the vortex of dissipa- 
 tion for the assembled aristocracy, representing half a 
 continent of kingdoms. Masked balls, private parties, 
 gaming and theatres, formed the variety in this dizzy 
 whirl of exciting pleasures. The popular mind, cured 
 of its democratic madness, was delirious with charac 
 teristic frivolity, which wealthy foreigners caught like 
 a congenial epidemic, and cherished with a more law- 
 less indulgence than example offered. The gaming 
 houses were embellished richly, and thronged con- 
 tinually. Fortunes exchanged hands in a moment of 
 time; the m2llio7iaire became a beggar, and the penni- 
 less won his pile of guineas at a single throw. Beau- 
 tiful women leaned over the tables heaped with mon- 
 ey, and while dark eyes flashed with unnatural ex- 
 citement, the color came and went upon those fair 
 faces, where love alone should have written his namo 
 
 "Upoa the marble brow, 
 And lingered in their curls of jet," 
 
 till morn'ng threw its gray light upon walls beaded 
 with the dew of the^ languid and heated air.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniNB. 189 
 
 The Salon des Etrangers was a favorite resort of 
 these prodigals of all that is valuable in life, or peculiar 
 to man as an heir of immortality. Napoleon seldom 
 attended any of these convivial scenes, and never en- 
 gaged in play. In fact, he was rather a model of tem- 
 perance in the ordinary gratification of appetite, and 
 his habits were regular and correct. Josephine had a 
 relish for light amusements when not carried to excess, 
 and was often present at least as spectator, in the 
 nightly entertainments of the shining throng whose 
 resources and energies seemed inexhaustible. Madam 
 Tallien likewise attended, and Josephine embraced 
 such occasions for interviews with a friend she could 
 not forget, though compelled by the Consul to treat 
 her cavalierly in his presence. The reasons for his 
 cool treatment of this lady are not fully understood. 
 The ostensible one, was her doubtful morality in her 
 matrimonial affairs ; which gains force from his ear- 
 nest en.leavor to reform the licentious manners of the 
 fashionable world, even in regard to dress. He may 
 have felt a little irritation in recollecting her influence 
 upon his destiny, while he would arrogate to himself 
 the sole honor of his unrivalled greatness ; but this 
 couln have been only slight if indulged at all, so long 
 as the homage of mankind was the grateful incense his 
 majestic mind had won. It is related by Memes, that 
 Beaumarchais overheard the following conversati on 
 at a party, between Josephine and Madam Tallien, 
 which throws light on the subject. 
 
 " ' I declare, mv dear Theresina,' said the former,
 
 190 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 ' that I have dune all friendship could dictate, but in 
 vain. No later than this morning, I made a new 
 effort. Bonaparte would hear of nothing. I cannot 
 comprehend what can have prejudiced him so strongly 
 against you. You are the only woman whose name 
 he has effaced from the list of my particular friends ; 
 and from fear he should manifest his displeasure di- 
 rectly against us, have I now come hither alone with 
 my son. At this moment they believe me sound asleep 
 in my bed in the chateau, (Tuilleries,) but I determined 
 on coming to see, to warn, and to console you ; above 
 all, to justify myself ' Josephine,' replied the other 
 lady, ' I have never doubted either the goodness of 
 your heart or the sincerity of your affection. Heaven 
 is my witness, that the loss of your friendship would 
 be to me much more painful than any dread of Bona- 
 parte. In these difficult times I have maintained a 
 conduct that might, perhaps, render my visits an 
 honor ; but I will never importune you without his 
 consent. He was not Consul when Tallien followed 
 him into Egypt — when I received you both into my 
 house — when I shared with you' — here a burst of tears 
 interrupted the speaker's words. ' Calm yourself,' re- 
 plied Josephine; 'be calm, my dear Theresina ! let 
 the storm pass. I am paving the way for a reconcilia- 
 tion ; but we must not irritate him more. You know 
 that he does not love Ouvrard, and it is said he often 
 sees you.' ' What, then ! because he governs France, 
 does he hope to tyrannize over our hearths? must we 
 sacrifice to him our private friendships ?' At these
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 191 
 
 words some one knocked at the door ; it was Beau 
 harnais. 'Madam,' said he, 'you have been now more 
 than an hour absent ; the council of ministers is per- 
 haps over ; what will the First Consul say should he 
 not find you on his return ? ' The two ladies slowly 
 descended the stairs, still conversing in earnest whis- 
 per, followed by Eugene." 
 
 The suffering of a sensitive spirit is seldom disclosed 
 to the multitude, unless its magnitude renders conceal- 
 ment impossible. Josephine's anguish was more fre- 
 quent and intense than is supposed by her admirers. 
 While the outward display of rank, if it changed its 
 aspect, but assumed like the chameleon, a gayer color- 
 ing for the one that vanished, the interior life of this 
 faithful wife was filled with the darkest shades of sad- 
 ness, and her heart wrung with the throes of agony. 
 A cloud of apprehension, indeed, hung perpetually upon 
 the horizon of her brightest prospects ; it was like a 
 fragment of the tempest's ebon-folds left to foreshadow 
 another desolating storm, sweeping down upon the 
 fabric of her happiness. 
 
 In May, 1802, Bonaparte was appointed First Con- 
 sul for life, upon which the purpose of forming a new 
 dynasty became the central object of his thoughts. 
 This was fully matured in August, by an edict authori- 
 zing him to appoint a successor by testamentary deed. 
 The last vestige of republicanism was gone — and it 
 was whispered that Josephine would be banished also 
 from the palace by divorce, to prepare the way for an 
 heir to the consulate. Lucien almost broke her hea'-t
 
 192 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 by suggesting that if she did not have a son, the Con- 
 sul must secure by another this first link in the chain 
 of hereditary succession from the Corsican family. 
 Bourrienne relates a domestic incident which occurred 
 soon afterward, disclosing her intense anxiety on this 
 subject. 
 
 " I remember that, one day, after the publication of 
 the parallel of Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte, Jose- 
 phine having entered our cabinet without being an- 
 nounced, which she sometimes did, when from the good- 
 humor exhibited at breakfast, she reckoned upon its 
 continuance, approached Bonaparte softly, seated her- 
 self on his knee, passed her hand gently through his 
 hair, and over his face, and, thinking the moment fa- 
 vorable, said to him, in a burst of tenderness, ' I en- 
 treat of you, Bonaparte, do not make yourself a king! 
 It is that Lucien who urges you to it ; do not listen to 
 him.' Bonaparte replied, without anger, ar.d even 
 smiling as he pronounced the last words, ' You are 
 mad, my poor Josephine. It is your old dowagers of 
 the Faubourg Saint-Germain, your Rochefoucaulds, who 
 tell you all these fables ! * * * Come now, you 
 interrupt me — leave me alone.' What Bonaparte said 
 that day good-naturedly to his wife, I have often heard 
 him declare seriously. I have been present at five or 
 six altercations on the subject. That there existed, 
 too, an enmity connected with this questif n between 
 the family of Beauharnais and the family of Bonaparte, 
 cannot be denied." 
 
 Josephine's fears were farther excited by a new or
 
 TTPE 01" JOSEPHTNl!. 
 
 193 
 
 der of things in the palace. iSmong the stately for- 
 malities introduced, was the occupation by the Consul 
 of a separate bed-chamber, in a part of the mansion 
 most remote from the apartments of his wife. Until 
 this arrangement they had lived together, with no 
 other withdrawal from each other's society than that 
 incident to the humblest station. Josephine passed 
 sleepless nights, and bathed her pillow with tears. She 
 would rather die than be thrust from the arms of him, 
 upon whom she lavished her " wealth of love" — her 
 pride of character, her affections, would all be crushed 
 by the blow. To a few intimate friends she confided 
 the story of her secret forebodings and grief, while she 
 assumed in Napoleon's presence, that cheerfulness 
 which irradiated her sweet face with smiles, and made 
 her voice musical as the aeolian harp. 
 
 The infant son of Hortense diverted the attention of 
 Bonaparte, and he now cherished the design of adopt- 
 ing him as the heir-apparent to his grandeur and glory. 
 This circumstance, with continued evidences of affec- 
 tion, revived the hopes of Josephine, and she again 
 dismissed her fears. 
 
 A few months of tranquillity were passed at St. 
 Cloud, during which Josephine was active in her efforts 
 for the dethroned Bourbons. She enlisted the sym- 
 pathy of others whenever available, and watched the 
 varying moods of the Consul with reference to the ad- 
 vancement of her cherished design of their re-invest- 
 ment with royalty. Her earliest associations were in 
 that direction, and she had learned, as we have seen, in
 
 594 LIFE OF JOSEPHrNE. 
 
 adversity no less than in prosperity, to feel identified 
 with them, and to desire their restoration. Besides, 
 she contemplated Napoleon's elevation to a throne with 
 a shrinking of heart both natural and painful. Though 
 the summit was dazzling while the heavens were clear, 
 she had been taught by history, and read in the events 
 of preceding years the startling truth, that the blasts 
 sweep the most fearfully there, and the cloud of rebel- 
 lion at any time may enfold it, sending forth the light- 
 ning to rend and desolate the aerie of grandeur. But 
 negotiations, carried on with the weight of her influ- 
 ence always urging every plausible reason for favor 
 toward the fallen family, were at length closed amid 
 the rising tumult of war. The English had shamefully 
 violated their treaty within a few months after its rati- 
 fication at Amiens, and in. the spring of 1803, hostilities 
 were renewed. Napoleon evidently did not wish at 
 this juncture to enter the battle-field of nations — he was 
 unprepared for it, in addition to motives drawn from 
 the transition state of France in her internal improve- 
 ments, and his unsettled policy for the future. His 
 message to the Senate was a dignified expression of 
 his unwillingness to muster his legions for slaughter. 
 But with the necessity came the wonder-working 
 energy of his genius. Naked soldiers were clothed — 
 conscriptions filled the ranks with men — horses and 
 money were suddenly abundant, as if created by the 
 touch of the Arabian magician, or the volition of his 
 own will. He made a tour through the departments, 
 Josephine accompanying him and receiving everv-
 
 LIFE OF josia^nmB. 39^ 
 
 where, with the Consul, the tumultuous applause of the 
 people. Civic display, deafening acclamations, splendid 
 presents, and wreaths of gorgeous flowers, made theii 
 progress a scene of joyful homage the proudest king 
 might vainly desire. At Boulogne, she saw the gather- 
 ed regiments of a Kingdom, still styled the Republic. 
 They stretched along the coast in four distinct camps 
 presenting from the heights a wall of threatening bat 
 teries, beneath whose shadow the British fleet dotted 
 the ocean and haughtily watched the foe. 
 
 The port was guarded by a flotilla stretching across 
 its entrance, numbering two hundred gun-boats which 
 together carried fifteen hundred cannon ; and added to 
 this protection, was a massive iron chain running from 
 fort to fort along the mouth of the harbors, upon whose 
 waters besides the vessels mentioned, floated seventeen 
 hundred smaller craft for landing the army. Two hun- 
 dred thousand soldiers waited for the command to put 
 this naval force in motion, and hasten to open its more 
 than two thousand pieces of ordnance upon the enemies 
 of France. Never before had Josephine beheld so 
 much of the terrible might wielded by Napoleon. The 
 salutes which greeted him and were answered by the 
 hostile thunder of English guns, she felt to be only a 
 faint echo of what that vast machinery of death could 
 do, when its united roar following the iron hail, shook 
 the field. of conflict, or went booming over a tide red 
 with the blood of falling ranks of brave men as evei 
 trod the deck in battle. 
 
 It has been doubted whether after all Bonaparte in- 
 13 1
 
 196 LITE OF JOSEPHINTE. 
 
 tended an invasion of England — deemed it possible to 
 seek and subdue the enemy upon British soil. Bour- 
 rienne, to prove that it was a manoeuvre, similar to the 
 one which he made when about embarking for Egypt, 
 narrates the following interview with the Consul : — 
 
 " Bonaparte came into the grand saloon where I 
 av^aited him, and addressing me in the most good- 
 humored way, inquired, after having made a few tri- 
 fling observations, 'What do they say of my prepara- 
 tions for the descent upon England ?' ' General,' I 
 replied, ' there is a great difference of opinion on the 
 subject. Every one speaks as he would wish it. Su- 
 chet, for instance, who comes to see me very often, 
 does not doubt but that it will take place, and hopes 
 to give you on that occasion a fresh proof of his grat- 
 itude and fidelity,' 'But Suchet tells me that you do 
 not believe it.' ' That is true, I certainly do not.' 
 ' Why ?' ' Because you told me at Antwerp, five 
 years ago, that you would not risk France on the cast 
 of a die — that it was too hazardous — and nothing has 
 changed since that time to render it more probable.' 
 ' You are right ; those who believe in a descent are 
 blockheads. They do not see the affair in its true 
 light. I can doubtless land with one hundred thousand 
 men. A great battle will be fought, which I shall 
 gain ; but I must calculate upon thirty thousand men 
 killed, wounded, or taken prisoners. If I march on 
 London, a second battle will be fought; I shall sup- 
 pose myself again victorious ; but what shall I do in 
 London with an army reduced three fourths, and with
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINSl, 1^1 
 
 out a hope of reinforcements ? It would be madness. 
 Until our navy acquires superiority, it would be a per- 
 ilous project. The great assemblage of troops in the 
 north has another object. My government must be 
 the first, or it must fall.' Bonaparte then evidently 
 wished to deceive with respect to his intentions, and 
 he did so. He wished it to be believed that he in- 
 tended a descent upon England, merely to fix the at- 
 tention of Europe in that direction. It was at Dunkirk 
 that he caused all the various plans for improving the 
 ports to be discussed, and on this occasion he spoke a 
 great deal on his ulterior views respecting England, 
 which had the effect of deceiving the ablest around 
 him." 
 
 But it is clear that the writer himself was deceived 
 — the astonishing scheme was laid, and had not its 
 execution been defeated, he would have rocked to its 
 base the throne of George, or left the flower of his 
 kingdom around that ancient seat of power. The 
 nation favored enthusiastically the expedition, and 
 withheld nothing that would secure it. Josephine, it 
 is said, was deeply moved by a little incident illustrat- 
 ing this popular ardor, which took place in a small vil- 
 lage near Boulogne. A deputation waited on Napo- 
 leon, and one of the number thus addressed him : — 
 
 " General, we are, here, twenty fathers of families, 
 who present to you twenty gallant youths, to be now 
 and always under your orders. Accept of them, gen- 
 eral ; they are able to do good service when you reach 
 England As for ourselves, we have another duty to
 
 198 LIFE OF JOSEPUINB. 
 
 discharge ; our hands shall labor the soil, that bread 
 may not be wanting to the brave men destined to 
 crush England." 
 
 The encampments of Boulogne were the scene ol 
 varied amusements, and many rash adventures. Ga- 
 ming, with its dissipation and quarrels, was indulged 
 without restraint — and duels were fought. It was 
 here that the combat between two hundred soldiers of 
 the infantry and line, and the same number of grena- 
 diers of the guard, occurred. Bonaparte's praise of 
 the former, repeated by the people in snatches of inju- 
 dicious rhyme composed by those he flattered, as they 
 loitered at evening around the camp, was the original 
 cause of the quarrel. This sword fight commenced 
 just after day-dawn, and for an hour the slaughter 
 went on like a gladiatorial strife, when a regiment of 
 cavalry under General Hilaire, reached the ground and 
 arrested the desperate game, Bonaparte reproved and 
 humbled the offenders by a brief address, and by pub- 
 lication of the very trifles that incensed those against 
 whom their detraction was aimed. Several pleasant 
 stories are told respecting the gayeties of this prelude 
 to warfare which wrote on the " dead list" the names 
 of many gallant forms that danced in the mirth of 
 " wine and wassail," till the " noon of night." The 
 First Consul himself contributed to the merriment by 
 sometimes attending the soirees in disguise — and after 
 enjoying the familiarities of the pastime, would retire 
 and surprise the fair entertainer with a note of thanks 
 nver the signature, Bonaparte.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 199 
 
 The return of Napoleon and Josephine to tlie capi- 
 tal, was distinguished by the same extravagant exhibi 
 tions of affection that marked his route before. Ah 
 that the inhabitants could do to make it a brilliant 
 pageant — the triumphal march of a mysterious being, 
 at the same time, hero, monarch, and citizen, was lav- 
 ished freely upon him. Escaping threatened assassi- 
 nation by the way, he soon reposed again in the palace 
 of St. Cloud,. 
 
 One day he rode with Josephine and Cambaceres 
 in the park after three span of noble bays, presented 
 10 him at Antwerp. The notion seized him of driving 
 them himself for experiment ; and taking the reins, he 
 mounted the coachman's seat. The horses were in- 
 stantly aware that a hand unused to their government, 
 guided the bit, and lifting their heads, they snuffed the 
 air of freedom, and dashed away at their own lightning 
 speed. In spite of Cambaceres' cry of " Stop ! Stop !" 
 and Caesar's shout as the carriage approached the gate- 
 way of the avenue, " To the left ! to the left !" the 
 coach struck the heavy pillars like a ship the rock, 
 overturning it and bringing the bays to a sudden halt. 
 Josephine and the Second Consul escaped from the 
 wreck but slightly injured, and Bonaparte, thrown sev- 
 eral rods, was taken to his apartment insensible. After 
 recovery and mutual repartee, he alluded with a seri- 
 ous air to the nearness of death in this accident ; then 
 folding his arms in thoughtful mood, said to Josephine, 
 with a hurried tone, " But what is death ? It is merely 
 a sleep without dreams !" And yet he was sad in the
 
 200 LITE OF JOSEPHENB. 
 
 momentary contemplation of a slumber that would dis- 
 pel forever, a dream more splendid than any mortal 
 beaide had ever known — a spell that made the wide 
 earth his theatre of glory, and poured down the long 
 future the music of his name. He evidently attached 
 no value to life as probation for an endless state — nor 
 did he think deeply upon a destiny beyond that hori- 
 zon whose circle touched the cradle and the grave. 
 The want of early religious culture, and consequently 
 he dullness or perversion of his moral sensibiUties, 
 together with a quenchless thirst for distinction, ren- 
 dered him wholly forgetful that it requires two worlds 
 to complete the career of man, and make out his tit e 
 to immortality !
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 JOeiPHIVK AND THE BOURBON CONSPIRATORS. DUKE o'ENGHrEN. HIS 
 
 DEATH. — Josephine's grief and her sympathy for the conspira- 
 tors. — Bonaparte's movements. — uis ambition. — views of the sen- 
 ate. BONAPARTE BECOMES EMPEROR OF FRANCE. — OATH ADMINISTEREB 
 
 to the legion of honor. emotions of josephine. royal court. 
 
 excursion to boulogne. — the princess of baden. incidents. 
 
 Josephine's forebodings. — religious marriage of Josephine. — the 
 coronation. 
 
 We have seen Josephine emerge from comparative 
 obscurity, and rise step by step twoard the summit of 
 earthly grandeur; each successive stage of advance- 
 ment seeming designed as well as fitted to develop and 
 display those exquisitely feminine charms, which nature 
 had so prodigally lavished upon her. Placed by the 
 astonishing fortunes of her husband in ever-shifting 
 and untried social positions, where the utmost purity 
 and refinement of nature, with the most delicate tact 
 and grace of manner, were necessary to give to her 
 station, and that of her husband, dignity and respecta- 
 bility, and even to secure the continued possession of 
 acquired advantages, her intuitive sense of propriety 
 seems never to have been at fault; while her sunny 
 good nature and the tenderness of her sympathies, 
 gained the hearts of all about her. These tender 
 sympathies were now to be called into exercise toward
 
 202 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 an unfortunate class hitherto unknown : namely, the 
 victims of her husband's tyranny. Bonaparte, the 
 soldier of fortune, by his genius and energy restoring 
 something like order to the distracted councils of his 
 adopted country, rising by the superiority of his talent 
 and character, from height to height of power, until the 
 name only of sovereignty was wanting to his ambi- 
 tion — has commanded our admiration ; for hitherto he 
 had in form at least respected the rights and liberties 
 of the people, and was yet unstained with crime. But 
 now that success had left him little to aspire to, he 
 began, like common and vulgar tyrants, to seek to 
 secure his dominion by sweeping from his path what- 
 ever might endanger it, even should it cost the sacrifice 
 of innocent blood. 
 
 Several friends of the Bourbon family, among whom 
 were Georges, the Polignacs, Pichegru, Moreau, and 
 others of less celebrity, were about this time suspected 
 of a conspiracy to restore that dynasty, and place a 
 Bourbon on the throne. 
 
 They held frequent meetings in Paris, to consult as 
 to the bias of public sentiment, the expediency of 
 revolution, &c., and at length seem to have been con- 
 vinced of the impracticableness of their schemes, and 
 to have been about quietly to depart from Paris, when 
 they were suddenly arrested by the police, (who up to 
 this time seem to have watched and connived at their 
 proceedings,) and were thrown into prison to awnit 
 their trial. In the mean time there resided in the 
 Duchy of Baden, on the frontier of France, a young
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 203 
 
 prime of the Bourbon family, the Duke d'Enghien, 
 a grandson of the Prince De Conde, a soldier, who, 
 aher fighting many years in the continental wars, was 
 living on a pension allowed him by the British govern 
 ment. On pretence that he was privy to the designs 
 of the conspirators in Paris, and intended to profit by 
 them when matured, he was seized by night and 
 hurried to the citadel of Strasburg, where he remained 
 until orders could be received from Paris, then carried 
 to Vincennes, and after the mockery of trial, was shot 
 by a file of soldiers, and buried in the ditch surround- 
 ing the fortress. The whole procedure was so illegal, 
 so sanguinary, so uncalled for, that it astonished 
 Europe ; and as it is an instructive lesson, as to the 
 effects of a lawless ambition, we quote a passage. 
 
 " This sanguinary scene took place at the Castle ot 
 Vincennes. It was General Ordener, commandant of 
 the horse grenadiers of the guard, who received orders 
 from the minister at war to proceed to the Rhine, to 
 give instructions to the chiefs of the gendarmerie of 
 New Brissac, which was placed at his disposal. This 
 general sent a detachment of gendarmerie to Etten- 
 hiem, where the Duke d'Enghien was "arrested on the 
 15th of March, 1804. He was immediately conducted 
 to the citadel of Strasburg, where he remained until 
 the 18th, to give time for orders being received from 
 Paris. These orders were given rapidly, and promptly 
 executed, for the carriage which conveyed the unfor- 
 tunate prince arrived at the barrier at eleven o'clock 
 on the morning of the 20th. It remained there for five 
 
 I*
 
 204 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 hours, and then departed by the exterior boulevarde on 
 the road to Vincennes, where it arrived at night. 
 Every scene of this horrible affair took place during 
 the night — the sun did not even shine upon its tragic 
 close. The soldiers had orders to proceed to Vincennes 
 during the night ; it was at night that the fatal gates 
 were closed upon the prince — at night the council 
 assembled to try him, or rather to condemn him with- 
 out trial. When the clock struck six on the morning 
 of the 21st of March, the order was given to fire, and 
 the prince ceased to live. Here let me be permitted 
 to make a reflection. When the dreadful intelligence 
 of the death of the Duke d'Enghien reached Paris, it 
 excited a feeling of consternation which recalled the 
 recollection of the days of terror. Ah ! if Bonaparte 
 could have seen the gloom which pervaded the capital, 
 and compared it with the joy which was exhibited on 
 the day when he returned victorious from the field of 
 Marengo, he would have considered that he had tar- 
 nished his glory with a stain which nothing could ever 
 efface." 
 
 In the examination in the council chamber, many 
 interrogatories were put to him respecting his family, 
 his employments, his acquaintance with Pichegru and 
 others of the conspirators, and nothing in his answers 
 tended in the least to implicate him in any plan of 
 ambition or scheme o*^' treachery. On the contrary 
 everything showed him to be ingenuous, noble, and 
 unsuspecting. He earnestly entreated an interview 
 with the First Consul, and much blame has attached to
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 20t> 
 
 Savary, the commander of the fortress, fcr not delay- 
 ing his execution. This event filled all minds with 
 horror. 
 
 Chateaubriand, who was then high in favor with 
 Napoleon, and had just been appointed minister pleni- 
 potentiary to the Vallais, instantly resigned his appoint- 
 ment on hearing of the Duke's death. This was a 
 strong rebuke to Bonaparte, for as Bourrienne re- 
 marks, " it said plainly, ' You have committed a crime, 
 and I will not serve a government which is stained 
 with the blood of a Bourbon !' " In England, Bona- 
 parte was constantly styled in some of the leading 
 journals, " the assassin of the Duke d'Enghien." But 
 no heart felt the blow more acutely than that of Jose- 
 phine. She had from some cause feared this step on 
 the part of her husband, and had earnestly endeavored 
 to dissuade him from his purpose. On the fatal morn- 
 ing of the 21st of March, when Napoleon's favorite 
 attendant came into his room, he found him alone, pale 
 and haggard, and complaining of having passed a 
 dreadful night. He rose, but before he had finished his 
 toilet, Josephine rushed into the room from her own 
 distant apartments, with her countenance bathed in 
 tears, and every personal care neglected, crying, " The 
 Duke d'Enghien is dead ! oh my friend, what hast thou 
 done ?" and threw herself on his bosom. Napoleon is 
 said to have shown extraordinary emotion, and to have 
 exclaimed, " The wretches ! they have been too hasty !" 
 He then supported Josephine along the corridor to her 
 own chamber, seeking to impart to her that consolation
 
 206 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 which he vainly sought for himself. Her grief was al 
 least unattended by remorse. We will add a narrative 
 related by Madam Decrest, of Josephine's own account 
 of her inability to prevent the sad catastrophe. 
 
 " The Emperor was cruelly counselled. Of himself 
 he never would have conceived the idea of such a de- 
 sign. Once resolved, no power on earth could prevent 
 its execution, so firm was his determination in all 
 things, and so great the dread he entertained of being 
 taxed with irresolution. But I am persuaded that 
 often has he lamented over a too prompt obedience on 
 the part of others. There are facts which I dare not 
 disclose, lest I should give up to infamy the real authors 
 of the death of the Duke d'Enghien. History will 
 speak and the truth be known. Finally, General 
 Moreau proved the innocent cause of that fatal resolu- 
 tion. Napoleon and he were conversing about the 
 Bourbons, when the former asked if there was a soldier 
 in the family ? ' Yes,' replied the general, ' they are 
 all brave ! The duke d'Enghien is besides an excel- 
 lent officer, and much loved by the soldiery. He is a 
 worthy scion of the house of Conde.' 'Is he am* 
 bitious V 'As to that I cannot answer; but from hia 
 manner of fighting he appears to aspire to a glory 
 which cannot long be satisfied with foreign service.' 
 'This eulogium,' added the empress, 'disquieted Na- 
 poleon, and several times he reverted to the subject. 
 In order to calm these ai:)preheusions, a crime was pro- 
 posed to him. l^ever can I cease to think with abhor-
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 207 
 
 fence of those who urged him to it. They have provea 
 his worst enemies' " 
 
 One affecting incident in this bloody tragedy, proves 
 the appreciation by all who knew her, of the tender- 
 ness and sympathy of Josephine's nature. The young 
 Duke at the time of his arrest, was tenderly and affec- 
 tionately attached to a young lady, to enjoy whose so- 
 ciety he had taken up his residence in the town where 
 she lived. When he found that he had but a few mo- 
 ments to live, he placed his picture and a lock of his 
 hair in the hands of a messenger to be conveyed to 
 Josephine ; that through her it might reach the object 
 of his affections. 
 
 The conspirators, as they were termed, had theii 
 trial during the May and June following the Duke 
 d'Enghien's death, with the exception of Pichegru, 
 who was found dead in his prison. The trial seems to 
 have proved that assassination had never been con- 
 templated;, and that the design was mainly to ascer- 
 tain the true state of public feeling, which had been 
 represented by some factious intriguers as favorable to 
 the Bourbons. The prisoners were all young, and their 
 situation created universal sympathy. Still, Bona- 
 • parte, as if having like Macbeth, resolved on the death 
 of all whose lives might be dangerous to his future 
 throne, sanctioned the decree of the special tribunal 
 which condemned to death twenty of these unfortunate 
 men ; a decree which filled Paris, and indeed all 
 France, with mourning. Much effort was made by the 
 prisoners and their friends to obtain from Bonaparte a
 
 208 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 repeal of the sentence, which was successful in respect 
 to six of them. The others were executed As will 
 readily be supposed, no one was more zealous and ar- 
 dent in endeavors to procure their pardon than Jose- 
 phine. She had protested to a friend that the death of 
 the Duke d'Enghien " embittered every moment of her 
 life ;" and now she was to have the anguish of seeing 
 twenty families, many of them among the noblest in 
 the land, thrown into the deepest affliction by the exe- 
 cution of this barbarous sentence. It was to her, too, 
 that all appeals were made by the heart-broken peti- 
 tioners ; and in the presence of friends, she touchingly 
 lamented her inability to answer all of them. 
 
 While Napoleon was thus awing the disaffected by 
 his summary proceedings against suspected traitors, he 
 way not neglecting a more effectual means of strength- 
 ening his government, in making it popular with the 
 people. France, at his accession to power, was almost 
 in the condition of a country that has been overrun 
 and pillaged by a foreign army : Bonaparte bent all the 
 energies of his wonderful intellect to her restoration 
 to prosperity. Public improvements, from the most 
 minute to the most gigantic, were projected and exe- 
 cuted under his own supervision in every part of his 
 kingdom ; while the celerity of his own movements, 
 and the system of espionage by which he watched the 
 movements of those who were employed in his service 
 seemed to give him something like omnipresence. 
 Conscious of, and perhaps even over-estimating his ex- 
 traordinary powers, flushed with the success that had
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINll. 209 
 
 hitherto attended him in every enterprise he had uit 
 dertaken, he ah^eady began to conceive himself " the 
 Man of Destiny," w^hose office on earth was to over- 
 throw the existing governments of Europe, perhaps of 
 the world, and to form on their ruins one mighty em- 
 pire of which himself should be the centre and the 
 ruler. As he could not but admit, however, that 
 though he might seem to be a "god," "yet he must die 
 like men, and fall like one of the princes," it was with 
 him also a most important object to secure a successor 
 to whom he might bequeath this vast inheritance of 
 power and responsibility. To pave the way for the 
 accomplishment of these designs, he had long aspired 
 to make himself Emperor of France, with the right of 
 the hereditary succession in his own family. Yet with 
 consummate tact that distinguished him, he chose to 
 keep himself in the background, and not to receive this 
 new dignity, till it should seem to be forced upon him 
 by the urgent entreaties of the senate and the people. 
 Constantly influencing the opinions of the senate by 
 secret agencies, he found in that body the most com- 
 plete subserviency to his wishes, while in the name 
 of Liberty, Equality, and the Republic, he was about 
 to assume a power more absolute than had been enjoy- 
 ed by any sovereign since Charlemagne. The senate, 
 while fervent in their congratulations to Bonaparte on 
 his escape from conspiracy, or as they termed it, from 
 the daggers of England, entreated him to "consolidate 
 his work," meaning that he should make himself Em 
 peror, and establish hereditary succession. The agents
 
 210 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 
 
 of government throughout France, had long been so. 
 liciting the First Consul to grant for the people what the 
 people did not want ; in short, everything was ripe for 
 the change of the republic into an empire. On the 
 18th of May therefore. Napoleon was named Emperor, 
 and the Bonapartean dynasty established. At the 
 same time, suddenly, as if by the aid of magic, the 
 ancient order of things, the distinctions of rank, titles, 
 decorations, &c., were restored. 
 
 On Sunday, the 15th of July, the Emperor appeared 
 for the first time before the Parisians surrounded by 
 all the pomp of royalty. On that day the Emperor 
 and Empress, attended by a magnificent cavalcade, 
 repaired to the church of the " Invalides," where they 
 were received by the clergy, who went through certain 
 religious ceremonies, when, after some flattering ad- 
 dresses, Bonaparte rose, and said in a firm voice, 
 " Commanders, officers, legionaries, citizens, soldiers ! 
 swear upon your honor to devote yourselves to the 
 service of the empire, to the preservation of the integ- 
 rity of the French territory, to the defence of the Em- 
 peror, of the laws of the republic, and of the property 
 which they have made sacred — in short, swear to 
 concur with all your might in maintaining liberty and 
 equality, which are the bases of all our institutions 
 Do you swear ?" 
 
 " Each member of the Legion of Honor exclainied 
 ' / swear ;' adding, ' Vive Vempereur !' with an en- 
 thusiasm it is impossible to describe, and in which all 
 present joined."
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 211 
 
 Josephine had now verified in her experience the 
 prediction of the sibyl in her native island ; she was 
 Queen, nay, Empress of France ! But was she happy ^ 
 Read an interesting letter addressed by her to lier 
 husband during his temporary absence from home, and 
 see with what mournful foreboding she contemplated 
 an event which had raised her to the summit of earthly 
 glory : 
 
 "My Friend, — For the tenth time, perhaps, have 
 I perused your letter, and must confess that the 
 amazement into which it threw me subsides only to 
 give place to sorrow and apprehension. You persist, 
 then, in the resolution to re-establish the throne of 
 France, and yet not to restore those who were deposed 
 by the Revolution, but to seat yourself thereon ? What 
 power, you ask — what grandeur — and above all what 
 advantage in this design ! And for my part, I venture 
 to reply. What obstacles present themselves to its 
 success ! how great the sacrifices which must be made 
 before its accomplishment can be secured ! how far 
 beyond calculation the consequences should it be rea- 
 lized ! But let us admit that your purpose does succeed, 
 will your views terminate with the founding of a new 
 empire ? Will not your power, ojiposed, as to a cer- 
 tainty it must be, by the neighboring states, draw you 
 into a war with them ? This will probably end in 
 their ruin Will not their neighbors, beholding these 
 effects, combine in turn for your destruction ? While 
 abroad such is the state of things, at home how numer- 
 ous the envious and discontented ! — how many plots to 
 
 14
 
 212 LITE OP JOSEPHINE. 
 
 disconcert, and conspiracies to punisli ! Kings will 
 despise you as an upstart, the people will hate you as a 
 usurper, your equals as a tyrant ; none will compre- 
 hend the utility of your elevation ; all will assign it to 
 ambition or to pride. Doubtless, there will not be 
 wanting slaves who will cringe to your power, until, 
 backed by another which they esteem a more formida- 
 ble influence, they will seek to elevate themselves on 
 youi ruin. Fortunate, also, beyond hope, if steel — if 
 poison ! — a wife, a friend, dare not give pause to alarmed 
 imagination on images so dreadful. This brings me to 
 myself, a subject about which my concern would be 
 small indeed if I only were interested. But, with the 
 throne, will there not likewise arise the desire of new 
 alliances ? Will you not consider it necessary, by 
 new family ties, to provide for the more effectual 
 security of that throne ? Oh ! whatever such connec- 
 tions might be, could they prove like those formed at 
 first in propriety, and which affections the most tender 
 have since consecrated ! I stop at this perspective, 
 which fear — must I say love ? — traces in an appalling 
 futurity. You have alarmed me by your ambitious 
 flight ; restore my confidence by your return to modera- 
 tion." 
 
 A friend calling upon her about this time, and find- 
 ing her in a garden, saluted her by the title of " Your 
 majesty." " Ah !" she replied, with a tone and manner 
 that went to his heart, " I entreat that you will suffer 
 me, at least here, to forget that I am an Empress." 
 All chroniclers agree, that while in public she was
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 215 
 
 receiving congratulations and adulation from all classes 
 with a grace and benignity that charmed all around 
 her, her heart was ill at ease ; constantly fearing that 
 Napoleon would sacrifice to ambition and selfish policy 
 her whole domestic peace and happiness. Besides, the 
 etiquette of a court which was attempted to be rigidly 
 maintained around her, was irksome in the extreme to 
 one whose natural ease and grace never needed the 
 curb of formal rules. She is said to have written : 
 " The nearer my husband approached the highest step 
 to which fortune sometimes elevates men, the dimmer 
 became my last gleam of happiness. 'Tis true I 
 enjoyed a magnificent existence. My court was com- 
 posed of persons of great name, of ladies of the first 
 rank, who all solicited the honor of being presented to 
 me. But I could no longer dispose of my time. I was 
 constrained to submit at all times to the rigorous 
 usages of etiquette, and the Emperor directed that it 
 should be as severe as it anciently had been at the 
 chateau of Versailles. He was receiving from every 
 part of France congratulations upon his advent to the 
 throne ; while I myself sighed in contemplating the 
 immense power he had acquired. The more I saw 
 him loaded with the gifts of fortune, the more I feared 
 his fall." 
 
 The determination of Bonaparte to form a court 
 uriMke that of his predecessors in the outward morality 
 at least of its members, was honorable to him, and 
 approved by Josephine, excepting his extreme views 
 on the subject. He beheld in the dissoluteness of the
 
 214 LIFE OF JOSETHIlSrE. 
 
 nobility and courtiers of former reigns the slow progress 
 of a social disease, which more than any other cause 
 brought on the convulsions in state, that shook down 
 the political edifice, amid the groans and slaughter of 
 millions. But his impetuous spirit erred in excessive 
 caution which excluded those the Empress and even 
 himself in better moods, would have favored with 
 appointments among the royal retinue. This will be 
 seen in Josephine's letter to Mada m Girardine, formerly 
 Duchess d'Aiguillen, who was a fellow captive with 
 her, and it will be recollected aided kindly Madam 
 Beauharnais. 
 
 " My dear Friend, — I am most afflicted — and far 
 indeed from beholding my wishes fulfilled, as ancient 
 friends may suppose, who will doubtless believe, that 
 if I do not see them it is because I have forgotten the 
 past. Alas ! no ; on the contrary, I remember it but 
 too well, and my thoughts dwell upon it more than I 
 would ; for the more I think upon what they did for me, 
 the greater is my sorrow at being unable to do now 
 what my heart dictates. The Empress of France is 
 but the first slave in the empire, and cannot acquit the 
 debts of Madam de Beauharnais ! This constitutes the 
 torture of my life and will explain why you do not oc- 
 cupy a place near me ; why I do not see Madam Tal- ^ 
 lien ; in fine, why several ladies, formerly our confi- 
 dential friends, would be strangers to me were not my 
 memory faithful. The emperor, indignant at the total 
 disregard of morality, and alarmed at the progress it 
 might still make, is resolved that the example of a life
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniNK. 215 
 
 of regularity and of religion shall be given in the palace 
 where he commands. Desirous of strengthening more 
 and more the church re-established by himself, and un- 
 able to change the laws appointed by her observances, 
 his intention is at least to keep at a distance from his 
 court all those who may have profited by the possibili- 
 ty of divorce. This he has promised to the pope ; and 
 hitherto has kept his word. Hence the cause of his re- 
 fusing the favor I asked of having you with me. The 
 refusal has occasioned me unspeakable regret ; but he 
 is too absolute to leave even the hope of seeing him re- 
 tract. I am thus constrained to renounce the pleasure 
 which I had promised myself of being constantly with 
 you, studying to make you forget the sovereign in the 
 friend. Pity my lot in being too public a personage to 
 follow my own inclination, and cherish for me a friend- 
 ship, the remembrance of which gives me now as much 
 pleasure as its reality afforded consolation in prison. 
 Often do I regret that small, dark, and dismal chamber 
 which we shared together, for there at least I could 
 pour out my whole heart — and was sincerely beloved 
 in return." 
 
 In speaking of the etiquette of the court of Napoleon, 
 it is proper to say, that if the Emperor and Empress 
 conformed to it with a grace which gave it dignity, this 
 "Was by no means the case with the " new" men and 
 women on whom had been conferred posts of honor in 
 the establishment. Much awkwardness was doubtless 
 displayed, and many blunders committed by these 
 '■'■parvenus," as they were termed by those aristocrats
 
 216 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 and other members of the ancient regime, to whom the 
 manners of a court were familiar. Napoleon, who if 
 he might be said to /ear anything, feared ridicule ; and 
 who seemed to regard it as essential to his prosperity 
 to conciliate the favor of the ancient noblesse, called as 
 many of that class as possible around him ; and insisted 
 on their punctilious observance of all the rules which 
 had guided the conduct of the nobility of " the old 
 school." An instance is related, probably with some 
 exaggeration, when in the first progress made by their 
 imperial majesties, a drawing-room was to be held in 
 one of the cities on the Rhenish frontier : — 
 
 " The important affair of presentation occupied of 
 course the thoughts of every one who had any claim 
 to that honor. One of the ladies aspirants to this dis- 
 tinction, knowing a friend who had been presented, 
 wrote for instructions, and received the following : 
 * You make three courtesies ; one on entering the sa- 
 loon, one in the middle, and a third a few paces farther 
 on, en pirouette'* This last proved a complete mys- 
 tery, and had nearly turned all the respectable heads in 
 Cologne, the scene of expected operations. A con- 
 sultation was called, the letter communicated, and 
 deep deliberation ensued. Many of the ladies were 
 old — en pirouette ! — very difficult; some of Geiman 
 blood, were tall — en pirouette ! — very awkward ; some 
 were young — en pirouette I — might tumble — very bad 
 that ; some were short — en pirouette ! — looked squat, 
 and they drew themselves up; in fine, all found the 
 
 * En pirouette — whirling on the point of the toes.
 
 LITE OF JOSEPniNK. 
 
 217 
 
 reverence en pirouette to be a very questionable 
 experiment. At length, a member of the divan pro- 
 posed the alternative, that since resigning the honor 
 was not even to be thought of, they should prepare by 
 exercise and practice, for duly appearing in the court 
 circular. No sooner said than done ; the decision 
 gave universal satisfaction. The conclave broke up 
 and for the next fifteen days, in all the drawing-rooms 
 of the venerable city of Cologne, from morning till 
 night, the ladies were twirling away like so many 
 spinning-tops or dancing dervishes. Nothing was 
 talked of during the same space but these evolutions ; 
 how many circumgirations one could make and yet 
 keep her feet ; how many falls another had got, or how 
 gracefully a third performed. Happily, on the evening 
 when the court did actually arrive, and consequently 
 on that preceding the ceremonial, which had given rise 
 to all this activity, the original propounder of the 
 motion bethought her of calling upon one of the Em- 
 press' ladies for still more precise instructions. The 
 redoubted pirouette was now found to have been mis- 
 understood, implying simply a gentle inclination, in 
 rising, towards the personages of the court ; and Jose- 
 phine had the satisfaction of being amused by the 
 recital in private, and thus escaped the mortification of 
 beholding her visitors of the morrow transferred into 
 so many rotary machines." 
 
 For Josephine, " the etiquette of which at first she 
 chiefly complained, was that which compelled her to 
 remain seated while she received those who had re-
 
 218 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 cently been her equals, or even her super ors in rank." 
 But if obliged to assume this semblance of superiority 
 she quickly removed all the coldness and formality it 
 might have occasioned, by her friendly warmth of 
 manner toward her old acquaintance. Even her hum- 
 ble domestics found her always interested in whatever 
 related to their health or comfort, or their establishment 
 in life. She would sometimes even submit to be 
 annoyed by intrusion and importunity, rather than 
 wound the feelings of those who applied to her. 
 
 With all her native gracefulness of manner — she 
 plainly felt more embarrassment in the observance of 
 imperial forms than Napoleon. She once remarked 
 upon this subject, " Most truly do I regard the Empe 
 ror as a man who has no equal. In camps, at the 
 council-board, they find him extraordinary, but in the 
 interior of his palace he ever appeared to me still more 
 remarkable." 
 
 Bonaparte, in selecting his marshals, planning a de- 
 cisive battle, and in the ordering of his court, exhibited 
 the same profound knowledge of human nature, and 
 sublime confidence in his own unaided powers, what- 
 ever the emergency that demanded their action. He 
 looked for qualities not titles, in those he called about 
 him to carry forward measures that came from the 
 crucible of his intense thought, bearing alone his " im- 
 age and superscription ;" and despised pomp except 
 when indispensable in the centralization and support 
 of his regal authority. Josephine understood this 
 phase of his character perfectly, and thus spoke of it
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 219 
 
 in the charity and admiration of a noble wife. " Lan- 
 nes, who enjoyed full license of speech, made mockery 
 of what he termed ' the hypocrisies of political wor- 
 ship ;' but, estimating such things at their real value, 
 the Emperor regards them under relations more ele- 
 vated, and conceives that, in the eyes of the people, 
 they conduce to restore to power the majesty and 
 ascendency which so many years of anarchy had de- 
 stroyed. He grants, in truth, that their principal 
 influence springs from the personal qualities of those 
 invested with the supreme rule ; but he maintains, 
 that, without equalling or superseding these qualities, 
 ceremonial institutions may supply their place with 
 advantage. In supporting such a system, Napoleon 
 shows himself at least very disinterested, for who can 
 stand less in need of appliances to impose upon men 
 than one who seems born to govern ? In proof of his 
 argument, he adduces the example of a crowd of 
 princes who have reigned, so to speak, rather seated 
 or lying than standing upright, but whose couch, 
 guarded by the barriers of etiquette, has been respect- 
 ed like a sanctuary." 
 
 The Empress, while thus moving amid the splendor 
 of her exaltation, continued to embrace gladly every 
 opportunity of alleviating the sorrow of those who had 
 suffered in the revolutionary struggles of the nation. 
 A note addressed to Madam de Montesson, (mother- 
 in-law of Louis Philippe, Napoleon's successor in maj- 
 esty and dethronement,) upon receiving an elegant gift 
 from her, accompanied with beautiful specimens of
 
 220 LITE or JOSEPniNE. 
 
 embroidery wrought by Madam la Tour and her daugh- 
 ter, as an expression of gratitude for the Empress' in- 
 terposition in behalf of their relatives, the Polignacs, 
 IS another turn to the kaleidescope of her manifold 
 virtues. 
 
 " Being prevented from offering in person my good 
 wishes on this day, I console myself in the assurance 
 that you give me credit for their sincerity. I send 
 you two vases, which will recall me to your remem- 
 brance, though the flowers upon them are far from 
 being so beautiful as those painted by your hand upon 
 my charming table of white marble. I value it as 
 everything deserves to be valued that comes from you, 
 and request you again to accept my thanks. Marshal 
 Berthier tells me he dines with you to-day. He loves 
 you ; and on that account have I commissioned him 
 to repeat, in my name, how much I regret not being 
 able to follow my own inclination, which would quite 
 naturally lead me to Romainville, to join your family 
 and numerous friends, at the head of whom I have the 
 presumption to place myself, though I can but so rarely 
 enjoy my share of the pleasure which they derive from 
 a conversation agreeable to all, instructive and useful 
 *o most. 
 
 " The poor woman whom you recommended to me, 
 is satisfied with a small appointment for her son. It 
 will afford time for something better. Be assured, I 
 will not forget them. Present my thanks to the lac'ies 
 of your circle, for the beautiful works I received from 
 them. It is decided, that every one who apy»roaches 
 
 I
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPUINE. 221 
 
 you shall possess some perfection. Why, then, am 1 
 so far distant ? Adieu, dear mamma. Love me, and 
 let me ever have your advice : for it is very difficult 
 to fill the place which I occupy to the satisfaction of 
 all — and that is what I wish." 
 
 Josephine has been accused of extravagance. In- 
 deed, it cannot be doubted that her expenses seemed 
 extremely lavish to her husband, who would at any 
 time " rather expend a million francs, than see a thou- 
 sand wasted." But though we must own that her fa- 
 cile nature made her too ready to purchase of those 
 who were constantly pressing upon her the most costly 
 articles, with the most cogent reasons for her buying 
 them ; still, a record of her expenses, had she kept one, 
 would probably show, that much of her property was 
 bestowed in charity. Her heart melted at a tale of 
 suffering, nor could the frequent impositions practised 
 upon her, make her hand less ready to bestow its 
 bounty. She herself said, in answering a charge of 
 extravagance conveyed to her from her husband by a 
 friend : " When I have money, Bourrienne, you know 
 how I employ it. I give it principally to the unfortu- 
 nate who solicit my assistance, and to the poor emi- 
 grants. But I will try to be more economical in fu- 
 ture. Tell the Emperor so, if you see him again. 
 But is it not my duty to bestow as much charity as I 
 can ?" 
 
 Soon after Bonaparte was declared Emperor, and 
 before his coronation, he determined to visit Boulogne, 
 and distribute among the army there assembled the
 
 222 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 decorations of the Legion of Honor. It was arranged 
 tliat the Empress should leave her home on the same 
 day, and meet him in Belgium. Josephine, as was 
 usual when she journeyed without her husband, was 
 attended by several ladies and gentlemen of the court; 
 and every circumstance of the journey, the routes, the 
 stopping places, the addresses to the authorities, &c., 
 were unalterably determined upon beforehand by Na- 
 poleon, and set down in a manuscript volume of in- 
 structions. To these Josephine rigidly adhered, con- 
 stantly silencing any suggestion of change, with the 
 expression, " He has said it, and it must be right." 
 Never was the amiability and sweetness of her dispo- 
 sition more conspicuous than on these journeys. Every 
 opportunity of showing attention to the tastes and feel- 
 ings of her attendants, was embraced with readiness, 
 and with an unostentatious simplicity, that won their 
 hearts. Sometimes her good nature was excessive, 
 and exposed her to vexation from the pretension of 
 some whom concession always renders exacting 
 When travelling, Josephine would often breakfast in 
 some delightful spot, under the shade of a tree, over- 
 looking a fine country. On these occasions, if any 
 worthy persons struggling with poverty, or any objects 
 of charity came under her notice, they were sure to 
 be munificently provided for. 
 
 Her grace and tact were conspicuous in receiving 
 and replying to congratulatory addresses from the au- 
 thorities in the cities or towns through which she 
 passed. Her self-possession never forsook her, and hei 
 
 I
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 223 
 
 words were treasured by her hearers, like those of the 
 fairy in the fable, whose speech was jewels and pearls. 
 Napoleon in the mean time enjoyed a military dis- 
 play which was to him one of the proudest occasions 
 in his career of glory. In the vicinity of Camps Bou- 
 logne and Montreuil, eighty thousand men under Mar- 
 ghal Soult, were assembled upon an extended plain, to 
 attend the distribution of the Legion of Honor. In 
 the centre of this circular champaign, was a hill, from 
 whose base the ground rose w^ith a gentle slope, form- 
 ing a gi'and natural amphitheatre for the imposing 
 ceremony. On this elevation stood Napoleon, en- 
 circled by his splendid staff, while around the dazzling 
 pageant, the magnificent host spread away in diverg- 
 ing lines, like " so many rays" from the central orb. 
 The Emperor surveyed the scene a few moments with 
 a glowing eye and smile of triumph, then rose, and 
 from that emerald throne beneath an azure dome, with 
 a loud voice uttered again the oath administered at 
 the Hospital of Invalides but a short time before. It 
 was followed by a burst of enthusiasm that filled the 
 very heavens with acclamations, until the idol of that 
 worship, might have fancied that even the solemn 
 ocean slumbering in the distance was waiting his com- 
 mand. Indeed, so it seemed soon after to those ardent 
 devotees of genius when a storm which had suddenly 
 arisen and threatened the destruction of the flotilla 
 lying outof harbor, just as he reached the coast, ceased 
 to rage, and beneath a brightening sky, the vessels sail- 
 ed safely Into port. Napoleon returned to the camp,
 
 224 MFB OF JOSEPHHSTH. 
 
 and the entire plain became the theatre of pastimes 
 and rejc icings. When evening darkened the landscape 
 rockets went up in a constant blaze, and columns of 
 light made an illumination which was visible from the 
 British side of the strait. While the Emperor was de- 
 li o-hted with these exciting demonstrations of loyalty, 
 Josephine was more quietly receiving the homage of 
 the people. She had reached Aix la Chapelle, and dis- 
 pensing with all unnecessary etiquette, lived in her 
 miniature court, and frequented the baths. One eve- 
 ning she observed that her ladies were destitute of en 
 tertainment and inclined to ennui. Her generous 
 spirit immediately resolved on some new adventure. 
 She proposed a visit to a model of Paris, of which she 
 had just heard, remarkable both for its resemblance to 
 the original, and its beauty. The chevalier M. d'Har- 
 ville was about summoning the cortege with the impe- 
 rial carriages, when Josephine insisted on walking to 
 the hall of exhibition. He protested against a liberty 
 which bordered on indecorum, but in vain. Scarcely 
 were the group in progress, before the news spread, 
 and the illuminated streets were thronged with the 
 populace, so that with difficulty she pressed through 
 the dense crowd, and finally arrived at her saloon, fol- 
 lowed by the applause of the multitude. This natural- 
 ness of character, which was proof against adulation 
 and honors, was no less admirable than rare. 
 
 At Aix la Chapelle she was joined by her husband 
 He did not conceal the fact that he had been made 
 acpuainted with all the circumstances of the Empress
 
 LIFE Ot' JOSEPHINE. 225 
 
 and her attendants, nor his suspicions which evei 
 thronged him like an army of grim spectres. Jose^ 
 phine's very kindnesses were turned into weapons of 
 calumny by secret enemies. An aged officer unaccus- 
 tomed to court, was presented, and immediately seated 
 himself upon the same sofa with the Empress. She 
 was unwilling to mortify or wound the heart of the old 
 soldier, and he was permitted to withdraw at leisure 
 It was reported to Bonaparte that she had submitted 
 to such a familiarity on the part of General Lorges^ 
 the commandant at Aix la Chapelle, who was a young 
 and handsome man; this of course prepared him for 
 a domestic storm, so far as his unaided will could 
 create one. As usual in such affairs, Josephine quiet- 
 ly gave the facts, and left them to take silent effect 
 upon him, and calm his passions. Conscious inno- 
 cence sustained her, although a frown from Napoleon. 
 fell like the bolt and the gloom of the thunder-cloud 
 upon her sensitive nature. But these difficulties 
 passed, followed by a succession of brilliant displays 
 of popular feeling. The princes of the Rhenish Con- 
 tederation crowded around the new Sovereign of 
 France, to render their homage, and for hours together 
 a cavalcade of loyal citizens would emulate each other 
 m expressions of transport over the enthronement of 
 their republican king. An incident is related of their 
 entrance into Mayence, en route to Paris, that brings 
 the imperial travellers in strong contrast, and discloses 
 the cruelty of Bonaparte to Josephine, when his pride 
 was wounded, or his anger kindled.
 
 226 LIFE OF JOSEPHIISTE. 
 
 " A '; Coblentz Napoleon and Josephine again sepa- 
 rated, the former to reach Mayenne by a new road 
 which he had caused to be constructed along the 
 banks of the Rhine, the latter to ascend the river by 
 water. The voyage should have terminated by eleven 
 o'clock of the second day, but the two yachts which 
 carried the Empress and her suite encountered a 
 severe storm near Bingen, where they put up for the 
 night, and on starting next day some confusion arose 
 in the relays stationed to drag the flotilla against the 
 stream. This, with Josephine's indisposition, caused a 
 delay of four hours, and she arrived at Mayence only 
 at three o'clock. This was precisely the hour which 
 the Emperor had appointed for his own entree, ana 
 the inhabitants were thus reduced to choose between 
 whom they would attend. The Empress obtained 
 'the most sweet voices;' and while the ramparts and 
 quays overlooking the Rhine, crowded with an eager 
 population, resounded with acclamations of ' Long live 
 the Empress !' her lord was left to traverse empty 
 streets, where the houses, shut up and deserted, sent 
 forth not a single voice to say ' God bless him !' In 
 this guise his carriage arrived in the court of the 
 palace, at the same instant Josephine appeared at 
 the opposite entrance, surrounded by the authorities, 
 and accompanied seemingly by all of man, woman and 
 child, contained in Mayence. This was beyond en- 
 durance — at least beyond Napoleon's ; so giving one 
 short, pettish nod, he turned on his heel and shut him 
 self up in his apartment. The court was informed
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 22? 
 
 that the Emperor and Empress would d'ne alone 
 Seven, the usual hour — eight — nine o'clock passed 
 and no invitation to the v^^onder-struck courtiers to re- 
 join the circle in the drawing-room. At length the 
 summons arrived ; but, on entering, they found no- 
 oody. A few minutes after they beheld Napoleon 
 leave Josephine's apartments and retire to his own, 
 favoring them with his usual curt salutation of ill-hu- 
 mor as he crossed the saloon. The first lady of honC'T 
 then entered to Josephine. She was in tears, and ex 
 tremely unwell. She had endured for hours a scene 
 of violence and outrage, Bonaparte accusing her of 
 having intentionally retarded her arrival in order to 
 interfere with his entrance, reproaching her with a 
 systematic design of captivating the suffrages of the 
 public." 
 
 At the latter place she met the young Princess ot 
 Baden, a lady recommended by Talleyrand to Bona- 
 parte, as a suitable partner of his throne when he should 
 for reasons of state policy, divorce his faithful Jose- 
 phine, Her surprise and gratification were extreme, 
 to find this person, who had been represented as a mo- 
 del of beauty and grace, the perfect contrast of herself 
 in both these respects ; nor was her satisfaction dimin- 
 ished that Napoleon himself seemed struck with thia 
 contrast. Her apprehensions from this quarter were 
 therefore quieted, alas, how soon to be revived in an- 
 other, and to be but too fearfully realized ! 
 
 A story is related of the two Princesses of Baden, 
 
 which shows that however deficient they may huvo 
 15 J*
 
 228 LIFE OF JOSETniNE. 
 
 been in elegance, they were not wanting in a certaJii 
 cleverness. Having waited on the Empress to accom- 
 pany her to the opera, she perceived they had come 
 without shawls ; and as the evening was cold, she 
 good-naturedly put one of her own around each of 
 them. This courtesy they acknowledged the next 
 morning in a complimentary billet ; assuring her ma- 
 jesty they would keep the shawls as a memorial of her. 
 Of course there was nothing for it but to accede with 
 as good grace as possible ; rather a difficult task, as 
 the shawls were white cashmere !* 
 
 During the stay at Mayence, Josephine was again 
 comparatively happy. There were bright mornings 
 when neither military nor civic duties demanded the 
 attention of Napoleon ; and the family group went out 
 upon the gi-een banks of the Rhine, or a peaceful 
 island sleeping on its bosom, and after breakfasting be- 
 neath ihe shade of the foliage, walked along the mar- 
 gin of the dashing waters — whose murmur with the 
 music of birds, was more grateful to the Empress than 
 the salute of artillery, or the acclamations of the ex- 
 cited and fickle multitude. The peasantry often looked 
 with silent wonder upon a scene so novel and splendid. 
 To their eye the rural banquet of that royal household, 
 was a spectacle of bewildering magnificence, more 
 like a gloiious vision, than the common life of mortals 
 Sometimes these humble spectators were objects of 
 chanty, and arrested the attention of Bonaparte or 
 
 * A cashmere shawl was at that time worth, in France, nearly «a 
 much as a small estate.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 229 
 
 Josephine. Observing a poor woman on one occasion 
 beholding them with a sad interest, he sent for her 
 and inquired " If she had ever dreamed she was rich ?" 
 With hesitation she answered, " I have thought the 
 person who possessed five hundred florins, (about fifty 
 pounds,) would be the richest in the world." " Her 
 dream is a little too dear," Napoleon remarked, " but 
 it matters not — we must realize it." The sum was 
 collected and paid to the dreamer, who gazed with 
 amazement and rapture at a pile of gold which was all 
 her ambition had in fancy ever grasped. Not long 
 afterward, the Empress was taking a morning walk 
 around the island, when she encountered a woman in 
 the garb of extreme poverty, sitting upon the ground, 
 and nursing a babe. Josephine took the infant in her 
 arms, and kindly caressing it, dropped a tear upon its 
 cheek ; an expression of sympathy, but doubtless also 
 of painful regret that she was still unblest in her gran- 
 deur, with the very gift without which, she knew a 
 fearful uncertainty hung over her prospective happi- 
 ness. The innocent child looked up and smiled upon 
 the loving face shaded with conflicting emotions, and 
 tossed its little arms toward the musing and grieving 
 Empress. Dropping a purse of a hundred francs into 
 the mother's hand, she turned away, followed by the 
 blessing of a humble and grateful subject. The even- 
 ings were passed in conversation or light amusement. 
 As before stated, upon the authority of Josephine, Bon- 
 aparte, when pleased and interested, conversed with 
 great fluency and power. He not unfrequently intro-
 
 •JWO LIFE OF JOSEPHIKE. 
 
 dnced sculpture, music or painting, and dis jussed with 
 freedom the great masters in art. He was acquainted 
 with metaphysics, and engaged in animated argument 
 with Cambaceres, who had studied Kant and admired 
 his system, upon ethical questions, or disputed points 
 in mental science. But love was the most common 
 topic ; and we are assured that he could expatiate upon 
 that theme with eloquence and dramatic effect not un- 
 worthy of his model in this department, the celebrated 
 Talma. His appreciation of female character, how- 
 ever, as has been seen, was small — his early experience 
 and subsequent observation, added to his poor opinion 
 of the masses, and his unbounded self-esteem, gave to 
 woman a rank entirely below her true position when 
 elevated by culture, and ennobled by religious princi- 
 ple. Keclining carelessly on a sofa, like all contem- 
 plative minds, he was particularly fond of talking or 
 Bitting quietly at the hour of twilight, and as darkness 
 deepened about him, his intellect gathered strength, 
 and some of his finest thoughts were uttered. Much 
 lias been said concerning his brief repose, and miracu- 
 lous endurance of wakefulness and exhausting activity. 
 Upon this subject, a member of the travelling party 
 has sensibly written : " One thing I had formerly re- 
 marked, but more particularly during the present 
 journey, namely, the mistake under which the world 
 labored respecting Napoleon. The vulgar belief is, that 
 he almost never sleeps, and works constantly ; but I 
 see that if he rise early to inspect his regiments he 
 takes good care to make up for it at night. Yester-
 
 LIKE OF JOSSPUINE. 231 
 
 day, for instance, he got on horseback exactly at fwei 
 for a review, but in the evening he retired at nii.e, and 
 Josephine told us he had gone to bed. As to his im- 
 moaerate use of coffee, again, in order to keep off sleep 
 — he takes one cup after breakfast, and another after 
 dinner. But it is ever thus with the public : when an 
 individual, placed in fortunate circumstances, is en- 
 abled to accomplish great things, mankind instantly 
 convert these into marvels, and place them to the ac- 
 count of genius." 
 
 This journey, though attended with some slight mor- 
 tifications, was always spoken of by Josephine, as one 
 of the most delightful of her life. It seemed to ban- 
 ish from her mind for a time the sadness occasioned 
 by her hopeless exertions in behalf of many of the vic- 
 tims of an alleged conspiracy ; while Napoleon's kind- 
 ness encouraged the transitory hope that her dark 
 forebodings mischt never be realized. 
 
 Napoleon was now at the summit of power in 
 France, but it was his desire to go through the impo- 
 sing ceremony of a public coronation. No bishop in 
 the empire was, however, competent to the task ; the 
 Pope of Rome, Christ's vicar upon earth, must be 
 called from the Vatican to Paris, to assist in the splen- 
 did pageant. The audacious summons was complied 
 with ; the venerable Pius VII. was received by the 
 Emperor and his court at Fontainebleau, conducted 
 with every mark of respect to the Tuilleries, and en- 
 tertained there for many months, with the honors due 
 to his exalted station. The Empress especially seems
 
 232 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 fioiri his arrival, to have felt for him the sincerest re. 
 gard and veneration ; and a letter which she ad- 
 dressed to him previous to her coronation, gives a 
 pleasing proof of her humility and desire to be guided 
 aright in the new rank to which Providence had 
 raised her. 
 
 THE EMPRESS TO HIS HOLINESS PIUS VII. 
 
 " Whatever experience of human change the know] 
 edge of our religion may have taught, your holiness 
 will view, doubtless not without astonishment, an ob- 
 scure woman ready to receive from your hands the 
 first among the crowns of Europe. In an event so far 
 beyond the ordinary course, she recognizes and blesses 
 the work of the Almighty, without daring to inquire 
 into his purposes. But, holy father, I should be still 
 ungrateful, even while I magnified the power of God, 
 if I poured not out tny soul into the paternal bosom of 
 him who has been chosen to represent his providence 
 — if I confided not to you my secret thoughts. The 
 first and chief of these is the conviction of my own 
 weakness and incapacity. Of myself I can do noth- 
 ing, or, to speak more correctly, the little I can do is 
 derived solely from the extraordinary man with whom 
 my lot is cast. This falling back upon myself, by 
 which I am sometimes cast down, serves, upon more 
 mature reflection, to encourage me. I say in my own 
 heart, is not the arm which causes the earth to trem- 
 ble, amply suflicient to sustain me ? But how many
 
 LIFTS. OF JOSEPniNB. 23S 
 
 are the difficulties which surround the station to which 
 that arm has raised me ! I do not speak of the cor- 
 ruption which, in the midst of greatness, has tainted 
 the purest minds ; I can rely upon my own, so far as 
 in this respect not to fear elevation. But from a 
 height whence all other dignities must appear mean, 
 how shall I distinguish real poverty? Ah! truly do I 
 feel that, in becoming Empress of the French, I ought 
 also to become to them as a mother : at the same time^ 
 what would it avail to bear them in my heart, if 1 
 proved my affection for them only by tny intentions ? 
 Deeds are what people have a right to demand from 
 those who govern them ; and your holiness, who so 
 well replies to the respectful love of your subjects by 
 continual acts of justice and benevolence, more than 
 any other sovereign, is qualified to instruct me by ex- 
 ample in the efficacy of this doctrine. Oh, then, holy 
 father! may you, with the sacred unctions poured 
 upon my head, not only awaken me to the truth of 
 those precepts which my heart acknowledges, but also 
 confirm the resolution of applying them to practice !" 
 
 It cannot be denied that the Pope was under obliga- 
 tions to Bonaparte, for his exertions in behalf of the 
 re-establishment of the Romish religion, which, during 
 the reign of terror, had been well-nigh superseded in 
 France, by the most impious infidelity and atheism. 
 The Emperor now further testified his respect for re- 
 ligion, by causing his marriage, which had only been a 
 legal ceremony performed by a magistrate, to be con-
 
 m LIFE OF JOSEPHHra. 
 
 secraled by a nuptial benediction from Cardinal Fesch, 
 in the private chapel of the Tuilleries. 
 
 The coronation surpassed in magnificence all that 
 had ever preceded it. The dress of the Empress was 
 in itself elegant, and arranged whh that taste in which 
 she excelled all the ladies of her time — the effect must 
 have been unequalled. A drapery of white satin, em- 
 broidered on the skirt with gold, and on the breast 
 with diamonds; a mantle of the richest crimson velvet 
 lined with ermine, and satin embroidered with gold ; a 
 girdle of gold so pure as to be quite elastic, and set 
 with large diamonds, formed her dress ; and on her 
 head she wore a splendid diadem of pearls and dia- 
 monds, the workmanship of which had employed the 
 first artists of the capital. How her thoughts must 
 have reverted to her first marriage, when, as she used 
 to relate with great simplicity, she carried the few 
 trinkets given her by Beauharnais, for some days in 
 her pocket to exhibit to admiring acquaintances. 
 
 Bonaparte's dress was quite as gorgeous, and must 
 liave reminded him that he had indeed assumed the 
 weight of empire, for the mantle alone is said to have 
 weighed eighty pounds. Indeed, he was by no means 
 elated with this display of finery, but submitted to it as 
 part of the system of personal aggrandizement, to 
 which he adhered at whatever sacrifice of comfort. 
 We can readily imagine that the hardy soldier must 
 have been much less at his ease, in his white silk 
 stockings, and white buskins laced and embroidered 
 with gold, that when shortly afterward he appeared on
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 235 
 
 the plain of Marengo, on the anniversary of his great 
 victory there, in the identical cap and cloak pierced 
 with bullet holes which he had worn in that battle, and 
 there, surrounded by thirty thousand of his troops, dis- 
 tributed the decorations of the Legion of Honor. 
 
 The imperial carriage, panelled with mirror, and 
 drawn by eight horses like the ancient regal coaches 
 of the empire, attended by horsemen to the number of 
 ten thousand, and double lines of infantry a mile and a 
 naif in length, and gazed at by four hundred thousand 
 spectators, proceeded to the church of Notre Dame, 
 which had been magnificently embellished for the 
 occasion. The incessant thunder of artillery rolled 
 over that tumultuous sea of humanity, whose shouts 
 rose in one loud acclamation. While the grand pro- 
 cession was slowly moving forward, the clouds which 
 had hung darkly over the city suddenly parted, and the 
 clear sunlight fell upon the gay uniform, golden trap- 
 pings, and burnished arms, till the reflection was a 
 blended brightness that gave the finishing halo of glory 
 to this regal march. Arriving at the archiepiscopal 
 palace, the cortege paused, while beneath a high arch 
 way from which floated the banners of the Legion of 
 Honor, the royal group entered the cathedral, where a 
 throne was prepared for the most influential and re- 
 markable sovereign of Europe. It was placed opposite 
 the principal entrance on a platform, whose elevation 
 was reached by twenty-two semi-circular steps richly 
 carpeted and gleaming with golden bees. Here were 
 standing the high officers of the realm in solemn state.
 
 230 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 The drapery of the throne was crimson velvet, under 
 a canopy of which appeared Napoleon and Josephine^ 
 attended by his brothers, and the members of the 
 imperial family. Four hours were consumed in the 
 religious services by a choir of three hundred, and 
 martial airs from a band whose number was still 
 greater, filling the wide arches of that temple with a 
 tide of harmony such as never before was poured over 
 a silent throng within its consecrated walls. At length 
 the Emperor arose, and taking the diadem of wrought 
 gold, calmly placed it upon his brow. Resolved to 
 impress the people from the commencement of his 
 reign, that he ruled in his own right, Pius was not 
 permitted to touch the bauble that made him King- 
 his own hand alone was laid upon it. Then raising 
 the crown designed for Josephine to his head, he passed 
 it to her own. Josephine, always natural, and there- 
 fore always interesting, as with folded arms she kneeled 
 gracefully before him, then rising, fixed upon him a 
 look of tenderness and gratitude, while tears fell from 
 her eyes. The Bible was laid upon the throne ; Napo- 
 leon placed his hand upon it, and in a voice which was 
 distinctly heard throughout the immense edifice, pro- 
 nounced the customary oaths of office. A simultane- 
 ous shout broke from all the vast assembly, which wag 
 echoed by the crowds without ; while the thunders of 
 artillery proclaimed to more distant places that Bona- 
 parte was Emperor of France.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FRANCE AND JOSEPHINE AT THIS PERIOD OF HISTORY. REJOICINGS OK 
 
 THE PEOPLE. IMPORTANT EVEPTTS. TOUR TO MILAN. NAPOLEON VISITS 
 
 BRIENNE. ■WITH JOSEPHINE CROSSES THE ALPS. PLAIN OF MARENGO. 
 
 THE CORONATION AT MILAN. SOJOURN THERE. NEWS OF PROBABLE 
 
 HOSTILITIES. JOSEPHINE AT GENOA. THE RAPID TRAVEL TO PARIS. 
 
 PREPARATIONS FOR WAR. — JOSEPHINE REGENT OF FRANCE. LETTER 
 
 TO OAMBACERES. NAPOLEOn's VICTORIES. ARRIVAL OF A COURIER. 
 
 MARRIAGE OF EUGENE. JOSEPHINe's LETTER UPON THE EXPECTED 
 
 MARRIAGE OF HER NIECE STEPHANIE DE BEAUHARNAIS. THE ROYAL 
 
 FAMILY. DOMESTIC ARRANGEMENTS. BONAPARTE's HABITS AND ILLNESS. 
 
 HUNTING EXCURSIONS. HATRED OF BONAPARTe's RELATIVES TOWARDS 
 
 JOSEPHINE. HER KINDNESS IN RETURN. NAPOLEON's MOVEMENTS. 
 
 There is that stirring interest in the position of 
 France immediately after the restoration of monarchy, 
 and also of Josephine, which belongs to the consumma- 
 tion of a long series of events — a point of observation 
 from which we can look back and mark intelligently 
 the deep and decisive causes lying below the agitations 
 that revolutionized governments, and changed the as 
 pect of the world. We gaze not only upon the past as 
 from an illumined height, but almost prophetically read 
 the future in the same broad light. In the very capital 
 where four years before the blind Polyphemus, of a 
 horrid democracy, had declared with ghastly trmmph 
 and bacchanal shouts, "Royalty is abolished forever!" 
 the joyous salutation rang over assembled thousands
 
 238 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 and a throne of imposing grandeur, " Long live the 
 Emperor !" Within the temple-courts where altar and 
 cross were demolished, and "There is no God," was 
 unblushingly uttered amid the vilest blasphemies, the 
 venerable Pope reverently stood, and pronounced the 
 benediction of Heaven ; while the Bible was solemnly 
 recognized as the hope and guardian of the nation, 
 upon the ear of one who so recently was a captive 
 rembling in sight of the crimson guillotine, fell the 
 swelling acclamation, "God bless the Empress!" 
 
 Through the manifold phases of revolutionary com- 
 motion, France had become tranquil again under a 
 sceptre ; and Josephine, after the strangest contrasts in 
 condition — the smile of fortune and the midnight 
 gloom of unutterable sorrow, was more than queen 
 of a proud and prosperous kingdom. Although op- 
 pression and famine exasperated the people of France, 
 until revolution was as inevitable, as the eruption of a 
 volcano when its sea of fire is lashed into billows, they 
 were wholly incapable of self-government : inconstant 
 in native character, unenlightened in regard to the 
 basis of a true republic, and wanting well nigh univer- 
 sally the religious element of strength, they could do 
 no more than trample in the dust the symbols of 
 power, raze from its foundation the civil fabric, and 
 fling the reins of authority upon the necks of a lawless 
 mob. Therefore after the wild pastime was over, and 
 exhaustion succeeding the terrific convulsions, created 
 the necessity of a protector, they were ready to cry 
 with the enthusiasm of men who had at last reached
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 239 > 
 
 the goal of their hopes and bloody struggles, " God 
 save the King!" 
 
 For weeks after the coronation, which took place 
 December 2d, 1804. Paris was the centre of jubilant 
 festivity. The authorities of the city at a fete given 
 by them in the apartments selected for Josephine in 
 the Hotel de Ville, presented her with a full toilet ser- 
 vice of massive gold, and other expressions of loyalty 
 and personal regard. The same evening, as if the 
 popular joy vaulted to the very heavens, a magnificent 
 balloon, in which was a constellation of lamps, and 
 around which was an iron net-work forming a gigan- 
 tic crown, was cut from its fastenings, and rose direct- 
 ly above the capital, then slowly sailing southward, 
 this imperial globe of light became a vanishing star, 
 disappearing from the straining vision of the multi- 
 tudes, whose voices made " the welkin ring." The 
 shining machine traversed half of the continent, and 
 crossing the Alps more rapidly than the conqueror had 
 ever done, whose glory it heralded, fell after a circuit 
 of nine hundred miles in fifteen days, into Lake Brac- 
 ciano, to the astonishment and alarm of the peasantry 
 and fishermen, who witnessed its descent from the 
 peaceful sky to the bosom of the waters. 
 
 The day after the coronation, two great events in 
 the annals of Europe, and consequently of the new 
 dynasty, had transpired; — the treaty concluded be- 
 tween England and Sweden, and the declaration of 
 war by Spain with the former power. England in her 
 irritatioh toward France, without the shadow of a
 
 240 LIPE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 valid reason, claimed the right of searching four 
 Spanish frigates on their way from Mexico to Cadiz ; 
 the demand was repulsed, and a battle was the result 
 followed by proclamation of war. In the message to 
 the Legislative Assembly communicated in person at 
 its openmg towards the close of the year, Bonaparte 
 Alluded to this affair, in language that created a sensa- 
 tion throughout Europe : " It would have afforded me 
 pleasure, on this solemn occasion, to have seen peace 
 reign throughout the world ; but the political principles 
 of our enemies — their recent conduct towards Spain, 
 sufficiently show the difficulty of fulfilling that wish 
 I have no desire to aggrandize the territory of France, 
 but to maintain her integrity. I have no ambition to 
 exercise a greater influence over the rest of Europe, 
 but I will not lose any of that which I have acquired 
 No state will be incorporated with the empire, but 1 
 will not sacrifice my rights nor the ties which connect 
 us with the states which I have created." Napoleon 
 therefore again contemplated soon entering the field 
 with his hitherto invincible army. Josephine foresaw 
 the probability of another general warfare, and as ever, 
 shrank with horror she dare not express, from the pros- 
 pect. Unutterable sufferings and the hazard of all 
 the hero had won, was the painful picture before her 
 thought. 
 
 Bonaparte now resolved to strengthen his reign by 
 re-moulding his Cis-alpine republic into an appendage 
 of the Empire, as the Kingdom of Italy. In April, ac- 
 companied by Josephine, he set out for Milan to se-
 
 LIFE OF josephint;. 241 
 
 cure the crown of Lombardy. At Fontainebleau, the 
 Emperor lefi Josephine for Brienne, which he had not 
 visited since he left the mihtary school, to revive early 
 associations amid scenes made familiar by the pastimes 
 of boyhood. It had the magical effect on his feelings 
 every one has known who, after a long absence from 
 the home of childhood, has gone back with the mem- 
 ory of eventful years contrasting with its quiet pleas- 
 ures and delightful dreams. Memes thus pleasantly 
 records some of the reported incidents of that ex- 
 cursion. 
 
 " After passing the night in the chateau de Brienne, 
 he got up early in the morning to visit La Rothiere, 
 formerly a holyday haunt, and the cottage of dame 
 Marguerite, a woman who lived in the forest, and at 
 whose abode the collegians, in their rambles, were 
 wont to be supplied with eggs, cakes, and milk. On 
 such occasions each paid his share, and the good dame 
 had not, it seems, forgotten, that regular payment 
 njight be depended on when young Napoleon was of 
 the party. The Emperor had inquired about the old 
 woman over night, and heard, with equal surprise and 
 pleasure, that she still lived. Galloping almost alone 
 through the valleys of the forest, he alighted at a little 
 distance, and entered the cottage. ' Good morning, 
 dame Marguerite ; so you have no curiosity to see the 
 Emperor?' 'Yes, indeed, good master, I am very 
 anxious to see him, and here is a basketful of fresh 
 eggs I am to carry to the chateau, and then I will try 
 
 to get a sight of the Emueror ; I shall easily know 
 
 K
 
 242 LIFE OF JOSEPHESTE. 
 
 him, for I have seen him often before now, when he 
 came to taste my milk ; he was not Emperor then, but 
 o' my troth, he knew how to manage his comrades , 
 my milk, eggs, cakes, and broken plates, were sure to 
 be paid for when he was present; he began by paying 
 his own score, and saw that every one else paid.' * So, 
 dame Marguerite,' replied the Emperor with a smile, 
 ' you have not then forgotten Bonaparte ?' ' Nay, 
 nay, my good master, people don't soon forget a young 
 man of his stamp ; we all remember that he was cau- 
 tious, serious, and sometimes even melancholy, but al- 
 ways good to the poor. I am no great witch, but 
 could have told that he would have made his way.' 
 ' He has done pretty well, has he not ?' asked Napo- 
 leon, laughing. ' O' my troth, master, that he has,' 
 said the old woman, to whom Napoleon, during this 
 short dialogue, had approached quite close, but keep- 
 ing his back to the door, and consequently to the prin- 
 cipal light. Turning now suddenly round, the light 
 streamed full upon his countenance — the good dame 
 started, blessed herself, and seemed striving to collect 
 her reminiscences of the past. To help her memory, 
 Napoleon rubbing his hands, and assuming the tones 
 and manners of his youth, called out, ' So. ho ! dame 
 Marguerite, some milk and fresh eggs ; we are all 
 dying of hunger.' The old woman, not quite assured, 
 began to examine the emperor very attentively. ' Ah, 
 dame Marguerite,' said the latter, ' time has changed 
 us both ; and you perceive it would not have been so 
 easy as you just now thought to recognize the Em-
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 243 
 
 peror; but you find we are old acquaintances.' The 
 poor creature dropped upon her knees — Napoleon 
 raised her with an expression of the utmost kindness, 
 Baying, ' Of a truth, my good mother, I am as hungry 
 as a student — have you nothing to give me ?' Eggs 
 and milk were got ready. Napoleon helping himself, for 
 joy had almost put the old woman beside herself. 
 Having thus made a hearty repast, the Emperor rose 
 to depart, and giving his ancient hostess a purse of 
 gold, said, * You know, dame Marguerite, I like every- 
 body to pay their score. Adieu, I will not forget you.' " 
 Rejoining the Empress, they resumed their tour to 
 Lyons, and shared the sumptuous hospitality of Cardi- 
 nal Fesch. It was decided to cross the Alps by Mont 
 Cenis, and for the adventure two elegant sedans were 
 forwarded from Turin. There was no grand high- 
 way, as soon afterward, bridging the chasms, and the 
 traveller, like the wild goat, had often to climb the per- 
 ilous steep in a path untrodden before. Josephine 
 avoided the beautiful conveyance ordered expressly 
 for her, and preferred, whenever possible, to advance 
 by her elastic step, to walk beside Napoleon, breathe 
 the bracing air, and behold with kindling eye the sea 
 of glittering summits, the gorges and their foaming tor- 
 rents, and the ice-fields stretching away in cold and 
 majestic desolation. That passage was a novel and 
 sublime spectacle. The sovereign of an empire, with 
 nis charming queen, toiling up the heights over which 
 ne had led conquering armies — his thoughts busy with 
 
 those mighty scenes-— /iers wandering over the wast© 
 16 K
 
 244 LIFE OF JOSEPHINi:. 
 
 of wonders, and above them through eternity, of which 
 the solemn peaks seemed silent yet eloquent witnesses 
 From Turin the tourists' next place of rendezvous 
 was Alessandria, near the plain of Marengo ; and he 
 could not resist the inducement to stand once more 
 upon that field which had rocked to one of the world's 
 decisive battles, and sent his name hke a spell-word 
 around the globe. He ordered from Paris the old uni- 
 form and hat which he had worn on the day of con- 
 flict amid the smoke of the terrible struggle, and then, 
 while in fancy he saw again the meeting battalions, as 
 when he wrung from the outnumbering foe victories 
 that astonished the heroes of every realm, he reviewed 
 with imperial dignity the national troops in Italy. 
 Reaching Milan, the ancient crown was brought from 
 seclusion, and the dust in which it had been entombed 
 removed from the neglected symbol of royalty. In the 
 grand Cathedral of the city, the second in magnificence 
 to St. Peter's, another coronation was had. Napoleon 
 receiving the crown from the archbishop's hand, and 
 placing it, as before, upon his own head. 
 
 He repeated, during the ceremony, in Italian, these 
 words — " God has given it — woe to the gainsayer ;" 
 raising the iron circlet also to the brow of Josephine. 
 The assemblage of nobility and beauty dispersed ; Na- 
 poleon calmly received their display of loyalty, and the 
 gay Milanese again, with wonted hilarity, thronged the 
 market-place and busy streets of the capital. Next 
 came the public formalities of appointing Eugene Vice- 
 roy of the new kingdom. The occasion was brilliant
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. *^i* 
 
 and imposing — especially gratifying to hi& noble mother, 
 who was a deeply interested spectator of the scene. So 
 the succeeding weeks, like those after the festivities at 
 Paris, were crowded with demonstrations of gladness, 
 that made the whole period one gala-day of rejoicing 
 and social dissipation. 
 
 There is a charming little island in the Olona, to 
 which the royal pair often resorted to escape the ex- 
 citement of these unceasing pleasures ; and while the 
 confused murmur of the distant city died away in the 
 tranquillity of nature, would sit down to a morning re- 
 past, and then stroll over the green esplanade, whose 
 border was laved by the niirro/ tide. In one of these 
 promenades they encountered a poor woman who had 
 just left her miserable cabin, and gazed with surprise 
 upon the strangers Bonaparte paused, and kindly ad- 
 dressed her : — 
 
 " How do you live, my good woman ? are you mar- 
 ried ? how many children have you ?' ' Sir, I am very 
 poor, and have three children, whom we have difficulty 
 in bringing up, for my husband, who is a day-laborer, 
 has not always work.' 'Well, how much would make 
 you perfectly happy ?' asked Napoleon. ' Ah ! sir, a 
 great deal of money.' ' Well, but once more, how 
 much would you wish ?' ' Oh, sir, at least twenty 
 louis, (about 16/.) but what prospect is there of our 
 having twenty louis ?' The Emperor ordered 3000 
 francs (125/.) in gold to be given her. The rouleaus 
 being opened, and the contents poured into her lap, at 
 the sight of such a quantity of gold, the poor woman
 
 ft 46 LIFE OF JOSEPHrSTE. 
 
 nearly fainted away. ' Ah ! sir,' said she, ' ah ! madam, 
 it is a great deal too much — and yet you do not look 
 as if you could sport with the feelings of a miserable 
 woman.' Josephine reassured her, saying, in the gen- 
 tlest accents, ' You can now rent a piece of ground, 
 purchase a flock of goats, and I hope, he will be able 
 to bring up your children comfortably.' " 
 
 At Milan the first intimations of threatening dissat- 
 isfaction, on the part of Austria and Russia, reached 
 the Emperor. Although he continued his tour through 
 the peninsula, so ricji in picturesque scenery and his- 
 toric recollections — in everything that awakens thought 
 and kindles the imagination — his mind was occupied 
 with coming events, whose foreshadowing he beheld 
 in the blackening horizon of the north. Arriving at 
 Genoa, t\\e tidings of a coalition were confirmed, based 
 in part at least, it was apparent, upon the coronation 
 in Milan. To Josephine the brief stay in the " City 
 of palaces," was more attractive than any transient 
 residence during their travel had been The citizens 
 were polite and attentive — the air delightful as the sea- 
 breeze of her native island — and the charming bay, made 
 more beautiful by floating gardens of orange-trees and 
 flowers, constructed expressly for her amusement. It 
 was a pause in their hurried progress, which refreshed 
 her languid frame, and soothed like a lovely vision her 
 weary heart. The departure was impetuous, for the 
 eagle eye of Napoleon was on the tokens of a hasten- 
 ing tempest, and he caught in fancy the thunders of 
 its terrible shock. The imperial carriage glided like a
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 2i1 
 
 spirit along the highway, and the lash fell with increas- 
 ing rapidity upon the foaming steeds. When for a 
 moment there was a halt to change the horses, water 
 was dashed on the smoking axle, and again the wheels 
 revolved, till they seemed self-moving, while their low 
 hum only broke the silence, except the occasional shout 
 of Napoleon, " On ! On ! we do not move !" 
 
 Reaching Paris, he remained a few days, and then 
 passed on with the same lightning speed to Boulogne, 
 to rally his forces for the Rhenish boundary, and the 
 campaign of Austerlitz. He issued orders to the com- 
 manders of the Army of Invasion, to be ready, upon 
 the first hostile movement by Austria, to advance 
 against her. His vast arrangements went forward 
 with usual precision and haste — the army went wild 
 with enthusiasm in view of the campaign ; and the 
 marvellous activity of their leader made him their won 
 der and their idol. Twenty thousand carriages con 
 veyed the battalions, as if by a magical flight, from 
 Boulogne to the beautiful Rhine, upon whose green 
 banks a hecatomb of youthful soldiers, who had impa- 
 tiently waited for the conflict, were trodden in gore 
 beneath the iron hoof Napoleon returned to Paris to 
 complete his preparation for taking command of the 
 French Army. On the 24th of September, 1805, he 
 left the capital with Josephine, who, attending him td 
 Strasburg, was there compelled to part from him, and 
 hasten to the palace, to enter upon her duties as regent 
 of the empire in Bonaparte's absence. Cambaceres, 
 archchancellor, was selected to be her adviser and aid,
 
 248 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 to whom she addressed a letter, which discloses her in- 
 tense solicitude, her clear judgment, and sterling sense, 
 that, in connection with her extreme tenderness and 
 unaffected modesty, form a character we admire with 
 new devotion at every view, like the artist's affection 
 for a faultless form some master has chiselled. 
 
 JOSEPHINE TO CAMBACERES. 
 
 " Sir, — To-morrow, as you know, in absence of the 
 Emperor, I am to give audience to the Senate and the 
 different authorities. In a conjuncture of such mo- 
 ment, two things are needful — to inform you of my in- 
 tentions, and to receive your advice. In this my ne- 
 cessity, to whom can I more properly apply than to the 
 distinguished personage who possesses the Emperor's 
 entire confidence, and whom France regards, with 
 reason, as his worthy representative ! 
 
 " The various addresses have been communicated 
 to me, and I send you an outline of the terms in which, 
 I conceive, I ought to reply. 
 
 " I remind the Senate, that as fathers of their coun- 
 try, and conservators of her institutions, to them be- 
 longs the sole duty of maintaining a balance between 
 the different powers of the state, not permitting them- 
 selves to encroach upon any one. To the legislative 
 body, I say that their functions are to judge and to pass 
 laws, particularly those relating to taxation, without 
 meddling m the march of government, which such in- 
 terference would impede. I call to the remembrance
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 249 
 
 of the council of state, that for them has been reserved 
 the important duty of preparing, by previous discussion, 
 good internal law^s, and a durable legislation. To the 
 ministers I state, that they form neither a corporation 
 nor even a legislative commission — neither the admin- 
 istration nor the government ; but that, under the title 
 of superior agents of the government, and first com- 
 missioners of its chief, they execute and cause to be 
 executed, orders which are the immediate consequences 
 of legislative determinations. To the clergy I ex- 
 plain, that they form a portion of the state, w^hile the 
 state never is, and never can be transferred to them ; 
 that their sole and exclusive province is the conscience, 
 upon which they are to act so as to form citizens to the 
 country, soldiers for the territory, subjects for the sove- 
 reign, and virtuous ft^thers of families. To the magis- 
 tracy I say, that applying without interpreting the laws, 
 in unity of views, and identity of jurisprudence, they 
 are to seize with sagacity the spirit of the law, recon- 
 ciling the happiness of the governed with the respect 
 due to governors. To the savans I acknowledge, that 
 the gentle empire of the arts, of science, and literature 
 tempers whatever might be too austere in arms, which 
 yet, in a season of transition and trial, are indispensable. 
 The manufacturers and merchants are reminded, that 
 they should have but two thoughts, which at bottom 
 are one and the same, the prosperity of our own pro- 
 ductisns, and the ruin of those of England. Finally, to 
 the agriculturalists it is stated, that the treasures of 
 France are buried in the soil, and that by the plough
 
 250 LIFE OF JOSEPniNE. 
 
 share and the spade they are thence to be extracted 
 To the heroes of either service I have nothing to say — 
 this palace is filled with their exploits ; and from under 
 a canopy of standards, conquered by their valor, and 
 consecrated by their blood, do I speak. 
 
 " Let me know speedily, and with perfect frankness 
 whether I am worthy thus to address the august assem- 
 bly of my hearers." 
 
 Scarcely had Josephine thus shown herself equal to 
 her responsible station, before Napoleon was in the 
 midst of battle. On the 7th of October, he had cross- 
 ed the Danube in face of the enemy, and turned the 
 living tide of men from his triumphal path — on the 8th, 
 Murat fought the fierce battle of Wertingen, taking 
 two thousand Austrian prisoners ; on the 9th, the de- 
 leated army retreated from Guntzburg, pursued by the 
 victorious French to the gates of Augsburg which they 
 entered, and proceeding to Munich, it was also in their 
 possession on the 12th. On the 14th, occurred the 
 battle of Memingem, when six thousand Austrians sur- 
 rendered to Marshal Soult, and Ney wrung, with un- 
 rivalled valor, Elchingen from the hand of the enemy ; 
 and on the 17th, the grand consummation in the capit- 
 ulation of Ulm, crowed the ten days' work with glory, 
 the world had never known hitherto in the annals of 
 conquest. 
 
 This was followed by the splendid victory of Aus- 
 terlitz, on the anniversary of the coronation, which de- 
 cided the struggle, opening to the French the gates of 
 the Austrian capital. As we gave the summary of
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPH FNT:. 251 
 
 Napoleon's first campaign, inscribed on the flag he sent 
 to the Directory, we add the eloquent and artful address 
 he made to the army after they had vanquished the 
 enemy, containing an outline of what he had accom- 
 plished. 
 
 " Soldiers of the Grand Army, — In fifteen days 
 we have finished our campaign. What we proposed 
 to do has been done. We have chased the Austrian 
 troops from Bavaria, and restored our ally to the sove- 
 reigron of his dominions. 
 
 " That army, which with so much presumption and 
 imprudence marched upon our frontiers, is annihilated, 
 
 "But what does this signify to England? She has 
 gained her object. We are no longer at Boulogne, and 
 her subsidies will not be the less great. 
 
 " Of a hundred thousand men who composed that 
 army, sixty thousand are prisoners ; but they will sup- 
 p y our conscripts in the labor of husbandry. 
 
 " Two hundred pieces of cannon, ninety flags, and 
 all their generals, are in our power. Not more than 
 fifteen thousand men have escaped. 
 
 " Soldiers ! I announce to you a great battle ; but 
 thanks to the ill-devised combinations of the enemy, 1 
 was able to secure the desired result without any dan- 
 ger ; and, what is unexampled in the history of nations, 
 these results have been gained at the loss of scarcely 
 filieen hundred men, killed and wounded. 
 
 " Soldiers ! this success is due to your entire confi- 
 dence in your Emperor, to your patience in suooorting
 
 252 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 fatigue and privations of every kind, and to your re. 
 markable intrepidity. 
 
 " But we will not stop here. You are impatient to 
 commence a second campaign. 
 
 " The Russian army, which the gold of England 
 nas brought from the extremity of the world, we have 
 to serve in the same manner. 
 
 " In the conflict in which we are now to be engaged, 
 the honor of the French infantry is especially con- 
 cerned. We shall then see decided, for the second 
 time, that question which has already been decided in 
 Switzerland and Holland ; namely, whether the French 
 infantry is the first or second in Europe ? 
 
 " There are no generals amongst them, in contend- 
 ing against whom I can acquire any glory. All I wish 
 is to obtain the victory with the least possible blood- 
 shed. My soldiers are my children." 
 
 In the mean time all was suspense at St. Cloud. 
 December was vanishing, and no news reached the 
 Empress from the army, till looks only betrayed the 
 increasing alarm none ventured longer to breathe in 
 words of fear. One evening Josephine was sitting in 
 the saloon with the circle who usually gathered there, 
 putting on a witching mockery of her wonted smile, 
 while in every heart sad forebodings made each en- 
 deavor to awaken mirth, a fruitless struggle. Stillness 
 stole upon that brilliant circle, and a gloomy anticipa- 
 tion of disastrous tidings absorbed all other feeling 
 Suddenly there arose wild shouts of gladness, and a 
 gallant Mameluke dashed into the court, his panting
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHLNB. 263 
 
 steed falling in death beneath the brave rider. The 
 sound of bells and the loud crack of the whip had 
 reached the ear of Josephine. She flew to the win- 
 dow to hail the courier from the Danube — " Victory ! 
 Austerlitz !" passed from lip to lip beneath the case- 
 ment, while tears were her response of joy that could 
 find no other language. 
 
 She immediately descended to the vestibule, at- 
 tended by her ladies, and received from the hand of 
 the Mameluke, who came from the field of victory, a 
 distance of one hundred and fifty miles, in twelve 
 hours, a note written by Napoleon at the moment his 
 valiant army won the terrific day, and the triumphant 
 shout was heard along the advancing lines. In the 
 light of flambeaux borne by the attendants, she read 
 the brief message with that tide of emotion which 
 rushes over the spirit when transport succeeds de- 
 spair ; then taking from her finger a diamond ring of 
 great value, gave it to the chivalrous courier. The 
 news spread — the people were frantic with enthusiasm, 
 and ready in their loyalty to deify the conqueror, as in 
 their atheistical frenzy they once did reason. To Jo- 
 sephine the results were grateful as a loving mother. 
 Eugene was in consequence of these triumphs to marry 
 the Princess of Bavaria — the first royal alliance in the 
 family of the Emperor. Josephine was informed that 
 the nuptials would occur in Munich in January, (180«,) 
 and her presence was required. She made haste to 
 join those dearer to her than laurels of glory, and be- 
 hold the bride of the Viceroy of Italy. It was purely
 
 254 MFE OF JOSEPHTHO:. 
 
 a political marriage, and as such young Eeauliarnaifl 
 recoiled from the paternal decree. But he found in 
 the Princess Augusta all he could desire or love, and 
 tlieir mutual devotion became deep and enduring ; a 
 source of pleasure to Josephine, through a life of sin- 
 gular and changeful interest. The maternal charac- 
 ter of this remarkable woman is most attractive, and 
 always above reproach. Without the discipline of 
 moral cultivation in its highest form — surrounded by 
 society hollow in principle and deceptive in action — 
 flattered and honored, she was still an affectionate, 
 judicious, and faithful mother. Her children were 
 indeed " her crown," and she was happy in their 
 prosperity, when every other joy was crushed, 
 
 Kapoleon returned from Germany, and in his train 
 followed a swarm of German princes to the court of 
 France. Fetes and parties were the order of the day ; 
 the slain were forgotten, except in homes left des- 
 olate, and the name of Napoleon was the theme of 
 eulogy in the market and mansion — by the noble who 
 anticipated honor, and the peasant who toiled only for 
 his bread. Among the royal guests was the Prince of 
 Baden, the intended husband of Stephanie de Beau- 
 harnais, who had been made princess but recently, 
 and was a niece of Josephine. A communication ad- 
 dressed to an old friend, in reference to the affair, il 
 lustrates the pure and elevated sentiments that were 
 cherished in all the relations of life : —
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPnmE. 265 
 
 JOSEPHINE TO THE COMTESSE GIRARDIN. 
 
 ' ^T DEAR Friend, — I send you a set of jewels, 
 wlu(;h will serve to prove that I do not cease to think 
 of yoi'.. The moment Foncier (jeweller to the Em- 
 press) brought them, the charming appearance they 
 would have on your beautiful neck occurred to me, 
 and I eagerly made the purchase. Accept, then, this 
 pledge ")f an attachment which you cannot doubt, on 
 recalli> g your own affection for me when I was utterly 
 destitufe, but of which, from that very circumstance, 
 it will be pleasing to receive a new remembrance. 
 
 " I am truly satisfied with the rank which I occupy, 
 only when it procures me the pleasure of obtaining 
 some favor for my friends of old. Your situation, for- 
 tunately, deprives me of the happiness of being able to 
 serve you, since all your wishes are fulfilled. I cannot 
 console myself for my want of power to be serviceable, 
 save by often seeking occasions of being at least agree- 
 able. These my heart will instruct me how to divine. 
 
 " My charming Stephanie, now adopted by the Em- 
 peror, is very soon to espouse a German prince. His 
 name must be still a mystery : so soon as I have per- 
 mission to communicate it, you shall be the first to 
 learn the secret. You know my tenderness for my 
 niece, and can therefore conceive the happiness which 
 I experience in venturing to anticipate hers. Her 
 character, little disposed to ambition, malces her re- 
 gard this match with a degree of pain, because it re-
 
 256 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 move^ her from me and her family ; yet a while, and 
 she will forget everything in the truest of all the joys 
 of this world, that of seeing the happiness of others 
 depending upon her. You will remember, my dear, 
 we found means of tasting such enjoyment even in 
 prison, by sharing with the wretched captives what 
 we receivei from our friends! There wants, indeed 
 only the will to oblige ; the means are always in our 
 power ; and Stephanie especially is worthy of often 
 meeting with the opportunity. 
 
 " Meantime we are very busy with all those futilities 
 necessary to an intended. I am delighted with every- 
 thing the emperor does for my favorite. She is, I 
 know, less overjoyed than I, from the causes already 
 mentioned, and finds only one consolation, in being 
 able, on quitting France, to take with her some early 
 friends, a privilege which is to be granted. If, then, 
 your protegee desires an agreeable situation, I believe 
 I can procure one near Stephanie's person, which wiU 
 be preferable to one in my service. 
 
 " I must leave you, dear friend, for Forcier. There 
 are duties to which we must sacrifice even friendship. 
 You will therefore pardon my breaking off abruptly for 
 a purpose of this importance. For your sake I have 
 vanquished my sloth, not wishing to employ the pen of 
 my good Deschamps (private secretary.) Between 
 friends such as we two, a third party is to me always a 
 restraint. Are you not of the same opinion ? Adieu, 
 my friend. Empress or in prison, be assured no one 
 loves you as does Josephine.'
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 257 
 
 While these festive scenes were passing, and the 
 Parisians holding jubilee, Napoleon was not idle — un- 
 like Hannibal, he never paused for voluptuous ease 
 upon a height of glory, nor for an instant relaxed hiv 
 vigilance and untiring activity. Having created King, 
 doms and appointed Kings, over the wide region of 
 conquest, he determined to environ his throne with a 
 new line of Princes, and bestow principalities upon the 
 members of his own household. Murat became Grand 
 Duke of Cleves and Berg — Cambaceres Duke of 
 Parma — his sister Pauline, who had married Prince 
 Borghese, was created Duchess of Guastalla; Louis 
 and Hortense held the throne of Holland. Josephine 
 rejoiced with trembling at this rapid approximation 
 towards the fruition of her most radiant hopes — the 
 fulfilment of dreams more gorgeous than ever haunted 
 the brain of the Abyssinian Prince in his garden of 
 manifold delights. In her society, gathering about him 
 and concentrating all the elements of permanent power, 
 and carrying on negotiations for peace with surround- 
 ing powers. Napoleon occupied the spring and summer 
 of 1806. Prussia was resolved on war, and the ultima- 
 tum of her Cabinet, amounting to a haughty challenge 
 was applying the torch to the magazine of restless 
 Europe. Bonaparte was enraged, and in September 
 was again on the banks of the Rhine. The following 
 month France and Prussia were in the field, and on the 
 14th were fought the great battles of Austerdadt and 
 Jena. These were followed by a series of victories 
 scarcely less marvellous and splendid than those of ^
 
 258 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 preceding year, till over annihilated armies of the 
 world's noblest soldiers, Napoleon marched like the 
 very angel of death to the foe. It was during this 
 campaign that he performed the generous deed of 
 pardoning Prince Hatzfield, whose intercepted letters 
 from Berlin proved him to be a spy ; an act that 
 touched deeply the heart of Josephine, and endeared 
 the man she loved with an idolatry death alone could 
 destroy. The court-martial had assembled to try the 
 Prince, and evidently the formalities of examination, 
 sentence, and execution would succeed each other 
 without hesitation. Through the influence of Duroc 
 at this juncture, Madam Hatzfield was introduced into 
 the apartment of the Emperor. The interview is 
 given in Napoleon's own language, quoted from a letter 
 to the Empress, in which she alludes to something he 
 had written unfavorable to her sex. 
 
 " I have received your letter, in which it seems you 
 reproach me for speaking ill of woman. True it is 
 that, above all things, I dislike female intriguers. 1 
 have been used to kind, gentle and conciliatory women. 
 Them I love, and if they have spoiled me, it is not my 
 fault, but yours. However, you will see that I have 
 acted indulgently towards one sensible and deserving 
 woman. I allude to Madam Hatzfield. When ] 
 showed her her husband's letter, she burst into tears, 
 and in a tone of the most exquisite grief and candor, 
 exclaimed, 'It is indeed his writing!' This was too 
 much, it went to my heart, and I said, ' Well, Madam, 
 throw the letter into the fire, and then I shall have no
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 259 
 
 proof ag'dinst your husband.' She burned tlie letter, 
 and was restored to happiness. Her husband is now 
 sate ; two hours later, and he would have been lost.^ 
 You see, therefore, that I like women who are feminine 
 simple and amiable, for they alone resemble you 
 November 6th, 180G, 9 o'clock, p. m." 
 
 A glimpse of the interior of St. Cloud while these 
 years of alternate conflict and peace were vanishing 
 and Josephine living amid the enthusiastic homage of 
 the nation, unstained and undazzled by greatness, will 
 possess an interest different in kind, from the genera] 
 surface-view, but pleasing, because it affords a closer 
 observation of character, which is the only test of one's 
 real condition. The Emperor, as mentioned before, 
 had separate apartments in the palace, occasionally 
 passing the night with Josephine, when much of the 
 time was spent in conversation. The order given his 
 attendant was, to enter the apartment at seven o'clock 
 in the morning ; of which service, the faithful Constant 
 has made his own simple report : — 
 
 " The Emperor commonly asked for tea or an infu- 
 sion of orange flowers, and rose immediately after 
 The Empress would say with a smile, ' Will you rise 
 so soon ? — Remain a little longer.' ' Well, if I do, you 
 will not sleep, will you ?' was his majesty's usual reply ; 
 then he would roll her up in the coverlet, laughing, 
 and tickling her on the cheeks and neck. In the 
 course of a few minutes the Empress rose also, and 
 putting on a loose rohe du matin, either read the jour 
 
 nal while the Emperor dressed, or retired by a private 
 
 17
 
 260 LIFE OF JOSEPHINK. 
 
 access to her own apartments, but never without 
 addressing some kind and condescending words to 
 myself." 
 
 Josephine's hour of rising was nine o'clock, and af- 
 ter devoting an hour to the toilet, entered the recep- 
 tion-rcom of petitioners, for her interposition, or the 
 royal tavor. With all the annoyances attending this 
 ceremony, it was to her second to none in interest ; for 
 her sympathies must have an object, or she was un- 
 happy. If she erred in judgment, when bestowing 
 influence or money upon those who presented their 
 claims, it was the mistake of a feeling, generous 
 spirit — surrounded by intriguing courtiers, and often 
 wholly dependent upon the applicant's honesty for a 
 truthful narrative, she may have scattered too lav- 
 ishingly her wealth, and aided a villain now and then, 
 but she had the secret consciousness of oftener doing 
 good to the unfortunate, and won admiration by a 
 fault of which only a magnanimous mind could have 
 been guilty. Among the various notes addressed to 
 men of rank in behalf of others, a laconic and ex- 
 pressive one in reference to a worthy youth, sent to 
 Fouche, is quoted : — 
 
 " My Lord Duke, — I will that the young Dutetre 
 be placed in some way or other, while I am Empress ; 
 you would very speedily forget him should I cease to 
 reign. I salute you." 
 
 Josephine was eminently a philanthropist — never 
 forgetting the common nature and wants of our race ; 
 the insignificance of distinctions wholly factitious,
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPUINE. 261 
 
 v\-hich she had learned might rise or disappear at the 
 touch of fortune ; nor was she unmindful of the level- 
 ling stroke of death that hurries all to a tribunal of 
 final adjudication. 
 
 After these morning duties were discharged, came 
 the hour of breakfast, which was eleven o'clock. Na- 
 poleon ate with haste, as though time at the table was 
 so much wasted — and eating a necessary evil. He 
 seldom gave more than seven or eight minutes to a 
 meal, sipping for the finale a cup of coffee. He fre- 
 quently ate alone, especially when urgent business de- 
 manded protracted attention. In his absence, Jose- 
 phine had a social repast like those enjoyed during the 
 Consulate. With the ladies of the Court, she would 
 sit down with her beaming face and musical voice, and 
 make the occasion a cheerful interlude to the stately 
 routine of business, and more exciting pleasures. 
 After a little recreation, or a walk, she retired to her 
 own apartments, and till late in the afternoon, was en- 
 gaged with her circle, conversing familiarly, or read 
 ing, except when devoted to her favorite work, em- 
 broidery, in which she excelled ; leaving in the palaces 
 she occupied upon their costly furniture her handi- 
 work for the admiration and reproof of those women 
 of rank, who curl the lip with afTected dignity and con- 
 tempt at the vulgar necessity of labor. Josephine was 
 everywhere a model — the same symmetrical character 
 in prison or in the temple of coronation — strolling 
 carelessly upon the lawn of Malmaison, or through the 
 saloons of St Cloud — listening to the acclamations of
 
 £62 LIFE OF JOSEPHi:SE. 
 
 the million, or to the story of affliction in a peasant's 
 hovel. 
 
 Her industry and her gentleness are developed at- 
 tractively in a common note of direction to her Fern, ■ 
 me-de-chairibre. 
 
 " My Deab Miss Atjbeet — I beg you will call in at 
 Bennais's in returning, and inquire whether the frames 
 which I ordered of him are ready ; my ladies remain 
 with folded arms, and I myself have nothing at all to 
 do. At the same time take in your way the Pere de 
 Famille, and purchase on my account a complete as- 
 sortment of worsteds, with some dozens of English 
 needles. Here is a lot of commissions for you all at 
 once ; not to forget them, think of me. I am quite 
 sure you will acquit yourself well, and return quickly." 
 
 Josephine's intellectual cultivation and literary taste 
 were, as already intimated, of a high order. Though 
 her imagination was strong and soaring, which, with 
 an exceedingly sensitive temperament, made her liable 
 to the sentimentality and dreaming that form the ro- 
 mantic character; she perused works of the most 
 practical kind, and became familiar with the imperish- 
 able records of genius in every department of reading 
 Her private court was indeed a literary association — • 
 the members alternately appointed to read aloud, 
 pausing occasionally for comment or discussion upon 
 interesting or difficult passages of the author. But a 
 iew of the poisonous ephemera, novels, were allowed 
 in the royal library, and only those of moral tone and 
 purest style. Napoleon himself was sternly opposed
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniNB. 263 
 
 tyi the worthless and exciting fiction, which has of late 
 increased so rapidly in all countries. If he chanced in 
 his walk through the palace to find a book of this sort 
 in the hands of an attendant or lying on a table, he 
 consigned it without mercy to the flames, and gave 
 tne offender a lecture upon his prodigality of time, and 
 vicious indulgence. When he was in good spirits, he 
 would often interrupt the entertainment of the fair 
 group in their morning sociable, by joining the party, 
 and with pleasant raillery and flashes of wit, enhance 
 their pleasures ; especially that of Josephine, who was 
 always delighted when by the side of Napoleon. And 
 when he desired her presence in the cabinet on any 
 private aflfair, a gentle tap at her door was the signal, 
 which introduced her joyfully to his room. Sometimes 
 an interview was protracted in the evening, till the 
 " noon of night," and on her return she would find a 
 silent company of " sleeping beauties." 
 
 She rode out in the afternoon usually unaccom- 
 panied by the Emperor, stopping whenever an appeal 
 to benevolence met her eye, and never permitting the 
 meanest animal to suffer if her interposition could pre- 
 vent it. Her taste in matters of dress was refined, 
 and generally pleasing to Bonaparte. It was his cus- 
 tom, when making her evening toilet to be present 
 both to while away a leisure hour and act as umpire in 
 regard to the apparel most becoming. In his charac- 
 teristic impulsiveness and impatience, he would scat 
 ter the contents of boxes, throw into confusion the en- 
 tire wardrobe, and handle jewelry as if they were peb.
 
 264 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Lies, until tne women were monuments of amazement, 
 and Josephine archly smiling on the wreck of robes, 
 ribbons and diamonds. He never failed to exhibit hia 
 displeasure when she appeared in a dress he happened 
 not to fancy ; and on one occasion it is said, when she 
 entered his cabinet in a robe of blue and silver tissue. 
 he threw an inkstand upon the beautiful costume, and 
 the Empress retired to cast aside the ruined attire, for 
 another trial to suit her lord's capricious taste. In 
 trifles like this Josephine's tranquillity was scarcely 
 ruffled, but when her fidelity was doubted, or her love 
 unreturned, she drooped like a smitten flower, and her 
 bosom was torn with a tempest of sorrow. The de- 
 scription of the formalities at dinner, and Bonaparte's 
 habits and illness is added from the pen of another. 
 
 " At six o'clock dinner was served ; but, unless on 
 very particular occasions. Napoleon forgot, and delay- 
 ed it indefinitely. Hence, in the annals of the impe- 
 rial table, dinners at nine, and even at ten o'clock, are 
 not unfrequent. Their majesties always dined together 
 ■ — alone, or with a few invited guests, members of the 
 imperial family or of the ministry. Invitations were 
 delivered by the grand master of the ceremonies, who 
 informed the grand marshal of the necessary arrange- 
 ments, and in what manner the guests should sit ; the 
 grand marshal, again, received his orders directly from 
 the Sovereign. When their majesties dined en grand 
 convert, their tables were placed under a canopy on a 
 platform, elevated ore step, and with two arm-chairs, 
 one on the right for the Emperor, the other on the left
 
 LIFE OF JOSKPniNE. 265 
 
 for Josephine, the former wearing a hat with plumes, 
 and his consort a diadem. Their majesties were in- 
 formed by the grand marshal when the preparations 
 were completed, and entered the room in the following 
 order : — Pages, assistant master of the ceremonies, 
 prefects of the palace, first prefect and a master of the 
 ceremonies, the grand marshal and grand master of the 
 ceremonies ; the Empress, attended by her first equerry 
 and first chamberlain ; the Emperor, colonel-general 
 of the guard, grand chamberlain and grand equerry ; the 
 grand almoner, who blessed the meat, and retired, leav- 
 ing their majesties to a solitary board, unless when 
 guests of kingly rank were present, or humbler ones sat 
 down there by invitation. The pages performed the 
 most subordinate, and the stewards the menial part of 
 the service at the imperial table ; but the immediate 
 wants of their majesties were ministered to by the 
 grand marshal (Duroc, Duke de Friuli,) first chamber- 
 lain (Comte de Beaumont,) the first equerry (Comte de 
 Harville,) and the chamberlains (all noblemen) in turn. 
 The other tables were served by the stewards and at- 
 tendants in livery. But when the repast was in pri- 
 vate, it took place in a small interior dining-room, with- 
 out any etiquette, generally some of the members of 
 the court, and especially the grand marshal, sitting 
 down with their majesties. On these occasions, much 
 more frequent than the dinners of ceremony, favorite 
 attendants, named by Napoleon, waited at table. 
 
 " Napoleon always ate hastily, rarely remaining 
 above ten minutes at table : so that those who knew
 
 266 I'lFE OF JOSEPniNE. 
 
 him well took care to be prepared beforehand. Th« 
 Viceroy claims the merit of this invention. ' Nay, 
 Eugene, you have not had time to dine,' said Napoleon, 
 seeing him rise from table with himself ' Pardon me,' 
 replied the prince, ' I dined in advance.' ' A pru- 
 dent foresight,' said the Emperor, laughing. On Na- 
 poleon rising in this hurried manner, Josephine made a 
 sign to those who dined with them to remain, but fol- 
 lowed herself into a small saloon. Here a page brought 
 the ingredients in utensils of silver gilt, upon a gold 
 tray ; and the Empress poured out and sugared a small 
 cup of coffee, tasted, by sipping a few drops, then pre- 
 sented it to the Emperor. These precautions she .'ook 
 because at first, in his moments of absence, he some- 
 times drank it cold, or without or with too much sugar, 
 and sometimes two cups in succession ; any of which 
 irregularities made him ill, and hence, probably, the 
 stories of his immoderate use of this beverage. This 
 custom of eating so precipitately both induced sloven 
 ly habits and frequently caused sickness. Napoleon 
 not only dispensed with the use of his knife and fork 
 as respected his own plate, but also helped himself with 
 his fingers from the dishes nearest him, and dipped his 
 bread in the sauce. In the attacks of indigestion, 
 which were often very severe, and attended with 
 vomiting, nothing could exceed the anxious tenderness 
 of Josephine ; for Napoleon supported the sickness with 
 scarcely a degree of composure. 
 
 "On the first symptoms of the malady, he flu/ig him- 
 self at full length on the carpet of his bed-room, and
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 267 
 
 Josephine was instantly by his side. Slie rested his 
 head on her knees, stroking his temples, and applying 
 frictions of eau de Cologne to his breast, consoling and 
 encouraging him in the best way she could. A few 
 cups of tea seldom failed to remove the acute pain ; 
 but he remained for a length of time feeble and ex- 
 hausted, when Josephine, in her most touching accents, 
 would say, ' Now you are better, will you lie down a 
 little ? I will remain with Constant by your bedside.' 
 These attacks and the manner of treatment have prob- 
 ably given rise to the idea that Napoleon was subject 
 to epileptic fits. One of the longest and most severe 
 indispositions of this kind occurred during the excur 
 sion to Mayence, and in the night. Josephine, in pei 
 feet darkness, for the chamber light had been extin 
 guished, and not wishing to awake any one, assured 
 that nobody but herself would be tolerated in the apart- 
 ment, threw some part of her dress about her, and 
 groped her way to the chamber of the aid-de-camp on 
 duty, from whom, astonished as he felt at such a visit; 
 she obtained a light, and continued alone to watch over 
 and apply remedies to her husband. Next day both 
 appeared languid and fatigued. How selfish and un 
 grateful a being must Napoleon have been, when on 
 the very same excursion, he, with his own hand, almost 
 dragged Josephine from bed to attend a ball, while 
 suffering under one of those nervous headaches which 
 frequently caused her absolute torture. The first lady 
 of honor. Madam de Rochefoucauld, witnessed tliia 
 
 barbarity, which she mentioned with tears Josephine 
 
 L
 
 268 LITE OF JOSEPH rXE. 
 
 appeared at the ball and reception with her usual kind- 
 ness and grace, remained the requisite time, but almost 
 fainted on returning to her apartments, yet without 
 uttering a single murmur of complaint." 
 
 The sadness of this last picture is relieved by an- 
 other drawn from life at St. Cloud. When intervals 
 of repose from the cares of the empire occurred, Napo- 
 leon accompanied by Josephine made short excursions 
 into the country ; visiting Rambouillet and Fontaine- 
 bleau, favorite places of resort to him, and memorable 
 for many events of interest in his remarkable history 
 These rides into the beautiful region adjacent to the 
 palace, were crowded with enjoyment to the heart of 
 the Empress, who from the days of girlish glee on the 
 green slopes of Martinique, had loved the sublimity, 
 the music, and freedom of nature. The chase was at 
 such times an amusement inseparable from nobility 
 and Bonaparte engaged in the exercise rather on that 
 account than because it was a source of pleasure. But 
 perhaps, Josephine never appeared more queenly than 
 upon this adventure. With her attendants, she rode in 
 an open caleche, her elegant riding habit falling in folds 
 at her feet, a round hat crowning her head, and Lie 
 white feathers dancing in the morning air; while a 
 glow of excitement gave to her superb countenance, a 
 fine and luminous expression Bonaparte admired ex- 
 ceedingly. The picnic which followed, was had be- 
 neath the shade of forest trees, the oratorio of birds, 
 and sallies of mirth completing the accompaniments of 
 the nomadic repast. After a hot pursuit, a panting
 
 LIFE OF josephint:. '26C 
 
 stag, with antlers thrown back, and pleading look, 
 sought refuge beneath the carriage of the Empress. 
 She interceded for the trembling fugitive, and his life 
 was spared, with the ornament of a silver collar attach 
 ed to his neck, as the signet-ring of her protection foi 
 the future. The wild protege bounded over the slopes 
 and lay down in the glades, unharmed till his illustrious 
 preserver was no longer able to save him from the 
 hunter's aim, but needed herself sympathy in the slow 
 murder of her heart and frame. 
 
 Josephine's correspondence, which filled up moments 
 of leisure, was elevating in sentiment, and marked bj 
 that vivacity peculiar to her active mind. At the pe- 
 riod which has been embraced in the sketch of domes- 
 tic scenes, she used her influence to make reconcilia- 
 tion among the members of her husband's family, who, 
 in taking possession of thrones and emoluments, often 
 came in collision ; returning, in all her intercourse, 
 kindness for the enmity she received as constantly 
 from them. Madam Murat was an ambitious and 
 rather imperious woman, inclined to usurp authority by 
 virtue of her relationship to Napoleon. A letter from 
 the Empress on the subject, delineates the character 
 of both the distinguished ladies. 
 
 " You are not, my sister, an ordinary woman ; and 
 therefore I write to you after a fashion very diflerent 
 from that which I would employ with a common-place 
 character. I tell you frankly, and without reserve, 
 that I am dissatisfied with you. How you actually 
 torture the poor Murat ' you make him shed tears !
 
 2Y0 LITE OF JOSEPniNB. 
 
 With so many means Oi pleasing, why do jou ever 
 prefer to command? Your husband obeys through 
 fear, when he ought to yield to persuasion alone. By 
 thus usurping a part which does not belong to us, you 
 convert a brave man into a timid slave, and yourself 
 into an exacting tyrant. This brings shame to him, 
 and cannot be an honor to you. Our glory — the glory 
 of woman — lies in submission ; and if it be permitted 
 us to reign, our empire rests on gentleness and good- 
 ness. Your husband, already so great in the opinion 
 of the world, through his valor and exploits, feels as if 
 he beheld all his laurels brought to the dust on appear- 
 ing in your presence. You take a pride in humbling 
 them before your pretensions ; and the title of being 
 the sister of a hero is, with you, reason for believing 
 yourself a heroine. Believe me, my sister, that char- 
 acter, with the qualities which it supposes, becomes us 
 not. Let us joy modestly in the glory of our spouses, 
 and place ours in softening their manners, and leading 
 the world to pardon their deeds. Let us merit this 
 praise, that the nation, while it applauds the bravery 
 of our husbands, may also commend the gentleness 
 bestowed by Providence on their wives to temper that 
 bravery." 
 
 She also wrote to the Emperor's mother, to secure, 
 if possible, her aid in healing the discords rife in the 
 ascendant dynasty, and restore the harmony which 
 vanished with the spreading glory of him, to whose 
 affection alone his relatives owed their rank. Had it 
 not been for natural ties, Bonaparte, in his contempt
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniNB. 271 
 
 ®f their quarrels, would have swept them from his 
 path, and gone to the common mass for successors to 
 their honors. The communication mentioned was as 
 follows : — 
 
 "Madam and most honored Mother, — Employ the 
 ascendency which your experience, dignity, virtues, 
 and the love of the Emperor give, in order to restore 
 to his family that internal peace now banished from it. 
 I fear to intrude in these domestic dissensions, from 
 the apprehension lest calumny should accuse me of in- 
 flaming them by such interference. It belongs to you, 
 madam, to bring back calm ; and for this purpose, it is 
 only necessary to say that you are informed of these 
 discords. Your prudence will have commenced the 
 work by pointing out the evil, and will speedily dis- 
 cover the remedy. I name no person, but your saga- 
 city will divine all concerned. You are not a stranger 
 to human passion ; and vice, which has never ap- 
 proached you, will discover itself in those who are 
 dear to you, through the very interest which you take 
 in their welfare. You will not be long in remarking 
 the progress of ambition, perhaps that of cupidity, in 
 more than one mind, ingenuous till now, but which the 
 favors of fortune begin to corrupt. You will view 
 with apprehension the constantly increasing ravages 
 of luxury, and, with still more pain, the want of feeling 
 that follows in its train. I do not, however, insist upon 
 this accusation, because, perhaps, it has less foundation 
 than the rest, and because it is not impossible I may 
 have taken for hardness of heart what was only intox-
 
 272 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 ication )f spirit. Be this, however, as it may, the efTecl 
 is the same, manifested as this haughtiness is by vanit}-, 
 insolence, and harsh refusals, producing deplorable im- 
 pressions upon those who witness these outrages. Men 
 are not slow to sharpen the memory of those who seem 
 disposed to forget their origin ; and the sole means of 
 inducing others to pardon our good fortune, is to enjoy 
 it with moderation, sharing its gifts with those who 
 have been le.^s favored." 
 
 Turning from the incidents in the daily life of the 
 imperial household, we find the years were full of stir- 
 rir.g events to the political world. A continent was 
 all astir — with marching armies — the making and 
 breaking of treaties — intrigues and plots of assassina- 
 tion. A new order of nobility was founded, and the 
 ancient university rebuilt upon a foundation in harmony 
 with the despotic views of a sovereign whose opinions 
 were strangely modified by the successive strides he 
 made in the path of his solitary grandeur. 
 
 This universal unrest, was a condition of things 
 congenial to Bonaparte, to whom the pleasure of re- 
 tirement and love itself, " was a song piped at the in- 
 tervals of the dance" — and, " as his favorite poet Os- 
 sian, loved best to tune his lyre to the noise of the 
 roaring tempest. Napoleon, in like manner, required 
 political storms and opposing elements to display his 
 wonderful abilities." His astonishing successes awed 
 the nations, and expanded the horizon of his ambition, 
 until he could gaze upon no object that cast a shadow 
 of uncertainty on the boundless prospect without irri-
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHESTE. 273 
 
 lation, and hold communion with none but himself 
 A new leaf is soon turned in the destiny of empires, of 
 Napoleon, and of the guardian angel who had hung 
 with delight over his path of glory, and with tearg 
 over his coucli of suffering — shrinking only from tlia 
 frown of displeasure or accents of reproach.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A WBW PHASE IN JOSEPHINe's DESTINY. NAPOLEON'S LOVE. — HIS DKUKI 
 
 FOB A SUCCESSOR. RUMOR THAT THE PRINCE ROYAL OF HOLLAND 18 
 
 TO BE THE HEm-APPARENT. CHARACTER OF THE YOUNG PRINCE. 
 
 HIS AFFECTION FOR BONAPARTE. ALTERNATE HOPE AND FEAR. TH*. 
 
 PRINCE DIES. — Josephine's grief. — napoleon's return from tilsit 
 
 treatment of the EMPRESS. JOURNEY TO ITALY. SCENES AT THE 
 
 capital. NAPOLEON. JOSEPHINE's DIARY. SPANISH AFFAIRS. INCI- 
 DENTS OF THE JOURNEY. THE EMPEROR MEETS ALEXANDER. RESULTS. 
 
 JOSEPHINE. RETURN TO PARIS. BONAPARTE's DESIGNS. PREPARA 
 
 TIONS FOR A DIVORCE.— 'lECREE OF THE COUNCIL. CONSUMMATION. 
 
 Astronomers to'i us of a star which once shone 
 out in the he'ive':is with almost unrivalled brilliancy. 
 It took its place in the firmament suddenly and un 
 heralded, where it blazed with a glory which was not 
 only the admiration and wonder of the common ob- 
 server, but which struck with astonishment men who 
 had grown old in tracing the glories of the universe. 
 Whence came so suddenly forth " this bright peculiar 
 star ?" what its meaning and mission, were questions 
 upon which philosophers, at once, began to busy them- 
 selves. In the midst of their efforts, the object upon 
 which they had mused and marvelled began to fade 
 away. As men were looking upon it and wondering 
 at its brightness, its lustre began to pale before their 
 eyes. Night after night as they gazed up into the
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHTNE. 275 
 
 heavens, they saw its glory vanishing as it gradually 
 withdrew from the place where it had been enthroned 
 as queen among the stars, till a sadness and an awe 
 fell upon the beholder, when he caught the last beam 
 which it sent down to earth, as it passed away from 
 the sight of man forever. 
 
 We have frequently thought of this wonderful star 
 as we have been tracing the singular history of her, 
 who, like that orb, blazed forth so suddenly and shone 
 so brightly upon the visions of men, and who, also, 
 like it, was destined to have her glory fade, and be 
 consigned to obscurity as surprising as had been hei 
 elevation to splendor and renown. 
 
 Hitherto we have seen Josephine constantly rising 
 in her position in life. Every step was an ascending 
 one, and every station which she occupied seemed to 
 receive from her a dignity equal to that which it con- 
 ferred. As she sat upon the throne of France, or 
 moved with queenly grace through the halls of the 
 Tuilleries, or manifested her intelligence and gentle- 
 ness to those who were privileged with her society, 
 none could fail to see that she was fully worthy to 
 share the rank and heart of that strange man who 
 called her his own. That Napoleon was proud of 
 Josephine, and that he loved her, we may not doubt. 
 Himself of plebeian origin, he had no reason to value 
 her the less because she was not of patrician rank. 
 Napoleon made distinctions, and allowed neither his 
 feelings nor his purposes to be controlled by any 
 which societv had raised. The dignity which the 
 18 L*
 
 276 LIFE OF JOSEPniNB. 
 
 Archduchess Maria Louisa brought with her, failed 
 to ehcit from Napoleon's heart the admiration or the 
 love which he had formerly lavished upon Josephine 
 He looked upon Josephine as a woman, and valued 
 her as such, independently of any station which she 
 might have previously held in society. As his Em- 
 press, receiving the homage of his court to her rare 
 elegance of person and manners, he doubtless admired 
 her, but it was the heart of Josephine which he loved. 
 Hers was a warmth of affection, rarely combined with 
 so much culture and strength of intellect, and contrary 
 to the opinion of some, we are constrained to believe 
 that it was this which enabled her to exercise over the 
 Emperor so controlling a power. It was a rare thing 
 for Napoleon to be loved. His people and courtiers 
 admired, and some almost reverenced him : his ene- 
 mies feared full as much as they hated him ; his sol- 
 diers would court the shock of battle — would brave 
 dangers and death — would endure privation and hard- 
 ship, and suffering and toil, in the passion of their de- 
 votion to him ; but Napoleon well knew, that amid all 
 the hosts who fawned before him, or would meet death 
 in his service, few indeed there were who poured out 
 upon him the rich wealth of a loving, trusting heart 
 The affection of Josephine was thus especially gratify- 
 ing to his stern nature. Knowing that she loved him 
 fondly, truly, devotedly, and perceiving in her, as he 
 did, all those qualities of person and intellect which 
 could command his admiration, it was impossible for 
 r.im to fail in having a corresponding affection for hei
 
 LFFE OF JOSEPHDfE. 2V? 
 
 in return. We have the best evidence that Napoleon 
 not only admired, but loved his beautiful wife, and the 
 tale is a singular and sad one, which we are compelled 
 to relate, how his heart grew cold toward Jos( phine, 
 as he gathered in and centered once more upon him- 
 self, the affection which only one being besides himself 
 had ever shared. It adds a fresh coloring to the ambi- 
 tion and self-love of that wonderful man, who could 
 stride with equal ease over a heart which he had bro- 
 ken, and a throne which he had crushed. 
 
 The coolness with which the Emperor now began 
 to regard Josephine, was of slow growth. It was im- 
 possible that he should at once break away from all 
 the chains which her affection had thrown over his 
 heart. But self-love was, with Napoleon, a passion 
 far stronger than his love for Josephine. His own 
 genius had raised him to greatness ; his own power 
 and wondrous energy had made all Europe stand in 
 awe before him, and borne him to an elevation where 
 he could toy with crowns and sceptres as the baubles 
 of a child. His gigantic spirit had risen to eminence 
 by its own might, and unaided, had it swept away old 
 dynasties which crowded in his path, and made gray 
 monarchies to totter till thoj fell at his feet. Josephine 
 occupied a portion of his heart ; the remainder was 
 filled only with himself. Standing, as he did, upon the 
 pinnacle of his greatness, and surveying the whole ex- 
 tent of his power, there were frequent moments of bit- 
 ter mortification when he felt that none of his schemes 
 were immoital, that all this vast edifice, reared bv his
 
 2 78 LIFE OF JOSEPHIXB. 
 
 hand, was to crumble away at his death. Had he off 
 spring to whom he could transmit it, and thus perpetu- 
 ate his name and sovereignty, his aspirations would 
 have been unchecked. It was a wound which his pride 
 keenly felt, that when he should pass away from the 
 earth, he could leave no child to sway his sceptre, and 
 send onward to distant generations the echo of his 
 fame. It was long before he would allow this to influ- 
 ence his feelings towards Josephine. He loved her 
 and it was a struggle to tear away the affections which 
 he had really and fondly bestowed ; but where was 
 the earthly object which could stand in the way of his 
 hopes ? 
 
 The Empress saw the gathering storm. Dark foie- 
 bodings tortured her heart. She marked the cold look 
 the averted eye, and with her natural quickness of per- 
 ception, at once divined the cause. But it was not 
 possible for her to look quietly on and see the blighting 
 change, without making at least one effort to regain his 
 waning love. To be queen of his heart was richer to 
 her a thousand-fold, than to wear the diadem of France 
 upon her brow. She could see the throne crumble be- 
 neath her, and could bear to have the admiring mur- 
 murs of the courtly throng who pressed around her, 
 exchanged for taunts and scorn ; but she coulcf not feel 
 without a pang that she was looked upon carelessly by 
 him, around whom clustered all the warmest, fondest 
 feelings of her heart. 
 
 For a time, Josephine believed that she still retained 
 her hold upon his affections. She had reason to think
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 279 
 
 that Napoleon would be content to make the Prince 
 Royal of Holland his successor. The report was 
 widely circulated that this was the Emperor's inten- 
 tion, and there is now every reason to believe thai 
 such was his plan. The child belonged to the impe- 
 rial family, He was the eldest son of Hortense, and 
 his father was the favorite brother of Napoleon. He 
 bore his uncle's name, and even in his childish sports 
 gave evidence that he possessed, in no small degree, 
 his uncle's character. The Emperor would relax his 
 sternness, and unbend himself from the cares of state 
 and perplexities of war, to take the young Napoleon 
 upon his knee, and listen to his prattle of the revolu- 
 tions he would guide when he became a man. Though, 
 but a child, his firmness of character seemed unyield- 
 ing, even to the severest tests to which Napoleon at 
 times took pleasure in subjecting it. A smile would 
 spread over the Emperor's calm features as he saw his 
 nephew come forth unsubdued from every trial to 
 which he had submitted him. One day a domestic 
 had allowed 4iim to partake freely of a fruit which ha(f 
 been forbidden him, on account of the indispositior 
 which uniformly attended the indulgence. In the ill 
 ness which ensued, Hortense endeavored to learn the 
 name of the servant who had disobeyed her com- 
 mands in giving him the luxury. The young Prince 
 raised himself in the bed, while an untamed fire sat in 
 his bright eye, as he said — " I promised that I would 
 not tell, and I will die before I break my promise." 
 This firmness, joined to a passion which he seemed to
 
 280 LITE OF JOSKPHmB. 
 
 Jiave for military exploits, especially endeared him t<" 
 the heart of his uncle. He would buckle around him 
 the Emperor's sword-belt, and donning his plumed 
 chapeau, would act the general in the saloons of the 
 Tuilleries or at Fontainebleau, with infinite glee, Hi3 
 affection for Napoleon was stronger than for any other 
 object. Neither Josephine nor his parents, could have 
 any rivalry in the unbounded love with which he re- 
 garded his uncle. The playthings which Napoleon 
 gave him, were valued higher than the richer presents 
 which he had received from any other source. Bona- 
 parte was first in all his affections. His morning sal- 
 utations must be given first to him alone ; his first in- 
 quiries were respecting him ; his first efforts were to 
 please him. A smile from that countenance, which 
 had looked death from so many battle-fields, was rap- 
 ture to his boyish heart. 
 
 These traits, and the fact that he was in the direct 
 imperial line, determined Napoleon to make him his 
 heir. It was the court talk at Paris and the Hague. 
 Nobles of the realm paid their devoirs to the young 
 Prince as their future lord. Marshals of the Empire 
 were wont to gaze curiously at him, and wonder whether 
 he would ever plan a battle which should place a na- 
 tion in his grasp. Intriguing politicians began to scheme 
 how they might best secure his favor, and crafty cour- 
 tiers already strove to gain a permanent place in his 
 regards. All this was well known to Napoleon, and il 
 cannot be supposed that he had given no reason for it. 
 He noticed, and seemed pleased with the attentions
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 281 
 
 which his young nephew received. The report, which 
 came to his ears again and again, that he had intimated 
 his intention of adopting the Prince, was never contra- 
 dicted. That such was his plan is not at all improba- 
 ble. The King of Holland was then in the highest 
 favor with his brother ; the Queen was the only daugh- 
 ter of Josephine, and as such, endeared to the Empe- 
 ror by a thousand ties. The young Prince was not 
 only a favorite, but Napoleon would have preferred 
 such a succession, rather than to obtain another by 
 breaking the heart of Josephine. The Empress saw 
 all this with gratitude and hope. She was a woman 
 of great shrewdness, and her efforts had been chiefly 
 instrumental in bringing about a state of things so fa- 
 vorable. She understood perfectly the precise place 
 which she occupied in her husband's affections. She 
 knew that he loved her, but she also knew that her 
 hold upon his heart was one that would be broken 
 whenever it should lie in the way of his ambition. 
 Her keen penetration instantly detected the cause, tho 
 first time his alienation towards her was manifested. 
 She had feared that an ungrateful desire for a succes- 
 sor would eventually modify his feeling towards her, 
 and the remedy for this may have been devised by 
 lierself. Certainly she used every effort to strengthen 
 the affection between the Emperor and his nephew, 
 confident that if she succeeded in this, her influence 
 over Napoleon would still be undiminished. 
 
 Her expectations were not in vain. The cloud 
 rolled from the Emperor's brow as he saw with cer-
 
 282 LIFE OF JOSEPHnO!. 
 
 tainly how he might still retain Josephine, and the 
 imperial line of descent remain unbroken. His appar- 
 ent aversion vanished. His former love returned and 
 sunny days once more beamed radiantly upon Jose- 
 phine. The full fountain of her affection flowed forth 
 freely, and Napoleon forgot at times that he was an 
 Emperor, and remembered only that he was a man. 
 The genial feelings now cherished towards his wife, 
 open a brighter view of his character than we could 
 otherwise obtain. Though blended with the sterner 
 emotions which always ruled him, they show that his 
 iron nature was not altogether unyielding. They are 
 like a gleam of sunshine resting upon the bosom of the 
 thunder-cloud, lighting up the dark birthplace of the 
 tempest, and making it smile with its own celestial 
 beauty. 
 
 These were bright hours in the life of Josephine, but 
 darker days were soon to fling their shadows on her 
 path. A blow, so unlooked for that she had hardly 
 dreamed that it were possible, fell at length upon her, 
 breaking the spell that bound her spirit, and blotting 
 every ray from the firmament of hope. In the spring 
 of 1807, the young prince died. An illness so sudden 
 that it had proved fatal before the court physicians who 
 had been summoned at once from Paris could reach 
 him, closed his life of promise. Josephine was then at 
 St. Cloud, and the courier who first brought her tidings 
 of the sickness of the prince, was followed in a few 
 hours by another bearing the news of his death. The 
 bolt was a terrible one — under no other affliction had
 
 LITE OF .TOSEPniNE. 
 
 283 
 
 her sorrow appeared so great. Day after clay she shut 
 herself up in her apartments, weeping bitterly and 
 " refusing to be comforted." Her own affection for 
 her grandson doubtless contributed to her grief, but its 
 chief source was the fact that the strongest tie which 
 bound her to the Emperor was now riven. She well 
 knew his desires ; she understood fully his nature, and 
 familiar with the unbounded sweep of his purposes, she 
 might rationally tremble for the result. Broken with 
 grief, her heart quailed with fear as she attempted to 
 lift the veil which separated her from a future all gloom 
 and sadness to her thought. 
 
 Napoleon -was conducting the Prussian campaign 
 when the news reached him of his nephew's death. It 
 gave him unfeigned sorrow, for his love and ambition 
 were wounded, and his plans for the succession of his 
 crown were of course frustrated at once " To whom 
 shall I leave all this," was the constantly recurring 
 expression of his emotion as he viewed his daily increas- 
 ing power ; and the design was now formed with per- 
 fect calmness and deliberation to abandon Josephine 
 and seek for himself a new Empress from one of the 
 reigning houses of Europe. This was what the heart 
 of Josephine feared. She would have given worlds to 
 have been with him, but many leagues intervened 
 between St. Cloud and Tilsit. Rumors of Napoleon's 
 movements which were constantly coming to the Em- 
 press's ears only served to harass her, and increase her 
 anxiety. It was said that he had renewed an acquain- 
 tance with a beautiful Polish lady to whom he wa?
 
 284 LrFE OF josEPniisrE. 
 
 formerly attached,* and exaggerated accounts of an 
 interview whicii he was said to have held with the 
 Queen of Prussia, were carried to Josephine. But 
 above all, the news which produced the liveliest emo 
 tions and awakened the keenest solicitude in her breast, 
 was the vague report, more terrible on account of its 
 vagueness, that Napoleon had made direct overtures to 
 the Emperor Alexander, for an alliance by marriage 
 with the imperial family of Russia. Josephine could 
 not believe, and yet she dared not discredit the story. 
 Separated for the time from her immediate influence, 
 she felt that he might interpose a hopeless barrier 
 should he once decide that she stood in the way of his 
 stupendous designs. 
 
 On the 27th of July of this year. Napoleon rejoined 
 the Empress at St. Cloud. He was flushed with the 
 glories of a most brilliant campaign, and his arms had 
 been everywhere successful. He had conquered at 
 Preussich-Eylau and at Friedland, and was master of 
 Dantzic and Koningsberg. He had humbled the pride 
 of the King of Prussia by wresting from him some of 
 his fairest possessions. He had at length brought the 
 Emperor of Russia into an alliance upon the most 
 favorable terms, and had succeeded in making a treaty 
 of peace at Tilsit, in which he received every con- 
 cession while he made none. By it the Rhenish con- 
 federacy was sustained ; his two brothers Joseph and 
 Louis were acknowledged Kings of Naples and Holland, 
 and Westphalia was avowed to be at his disposal. His 
 
 ' * This lady afterwards visited Napoleon at Elba.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 285 
 
 claim was undisputed to the whole of the Prussian 
 provinces between the Elbe and the Rhine. The 
 Hanoverian states, the territories belonging to the 
 Duchy of Brunswick, the Landgrave of Hesse CasseL 
 together with the Ionian Islands, were all his own. In 
 addition to all this, by the treaty of peace, the previous 
 encroachments of the French in various portions of 
 Europe were sanctioned and confirmed. Flushed with 
 these victories and acquisitions, Napoleon was prepared 
 to meet Josephine with an enthusiastic show of cor- 
 diality. No want of affection was manifested either 
 on his part or her own. She received the most con- 
 stant attentions from him, and for a time seemed never 
 to imagine that the joy which he apparently felt in hei 
 presence, might be partly the results of the triumphs, 
 which he had lately achieved. 
 
 For a few months Napoleon gave himself up to the 
 enjoyment of her society at St. Cloud, and Fontaine- 
 bleau ; months of almost perfect happiness to his de- 
 voted wife. She saw only the bright side of the pic- 
 ture, and in the joy of the present moment forgot all 
 that she had previously supposed or heard. But there 
 were others, who at this time saw Napoleon in a dif- 
 ferent light. When removed from Josephine's pres- 
 ence, he lost that ease and quiet which he had in her 
 society, and displayed an impatience with his present 
 condition, and restlessness that did not pass unob- 
 served He would sit for hours conversing with the 
 Empress, but when she had left him, he could not re- 
 main calm for a moment. At such times, he would
 
 286 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE; 
 
 frequently take to tlie chase and pursue it witli a per- 
 fect frenzy of passion. Was he in this way endeavor- 
 ing to escape from a dark design which was troubling 
 his thoughts, and resting with a heavy weight upon 
 his spirit ? Such were the surmises of his attendants, 
 and it was even whispered that he had mentioned to 
 another his purpose to obtain a divorce from his wife ; 
 but these reports were not carried to the ears of Jose- 
 phine. K this was his purpose, there was evidently 
 an effort, in which he perfectly succeeded, to keep 
 the knowledge of it from her, whom of all others it 
 most concerned. Her usual penetration appears for 
 a time to have left her, and she lived on, joyous and 
 unconcerned, careless of the future ; as a flower opens 
 its petals and smiles in the g^ad sunshine, unconscious 
 that the storm is near which shall lay it low, and 
 scatter its leaves to the winds of heaven. 
 
 Such was the state of things for three months.* In 
 November, Napoleon suddenly signified to Josephine 
 his intention of proceeding to Italy, and bade her to 
 be ready to accompany him in a few hours. His os- 
 tensible reason was to secure the Grand Duchy of 
 Tuscany for his sister Eliza, and to confirm by hia 
 presence the treaty of Presburg, which had annexed 
 Venice and the other Italian provinces to the kingdom 
 of Italy. But his main object was doubtless different 
 from either of these. The conclusion is irresistible 
 that his determination to divorce Josephine, was fixed 
 
 * It was during this time that the Emperor framed the celebrated 
 Code Napoleou.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 287 
 
 soon after the death of the prince royal of Holland, 
 and that his present journey to Italy, was mainly for 
 the purpose of sounding Eugene upon this point. 
 
 The viceroy with his attendants came out to meet 
 him as he approached Milan; "Dismount, dismount," 
 cried Napoleon to Eugene — " come seat yourself with 
 me, and let us enter your capital together." The 
 viceroy did as desired, and the imperial carriage bear- 
 ing Napoleon, Josephine, and Eugene, entered the 
 gates of the city. The Emperor signified to Eugene 
 his approbation of all that he had done, and loaded 
 him with favors. He saw that it was highly impor- 
 tant that, in the steps which he had determined to take 
 in reference to Josephine, Eugene should be complai- 
 sant, and it was doubtless in reference to this, that the 
 famous Milan decree was promulgated, by which in 
 default of his own lawful male heirs. Napoleon adopted 
 Eugene as his son, and made him heir to the " iron 
 crown" of Italy. Satisfying himself that Eugene felt 
 the obligations under which he was laid, and hoping in 
 his after measures, to be able to deal with him success- 
 fully, Napoleon left Milan, and after a hasty tour 
 through the other Italian provinces, returned with 
 Josephine to Paris. 
 
 The winter which succeeded this journey, was one 
 of the gayest which Paris had known since the days 
 of Louis XIV. The city was crowded with gay 
 nobles and demoiselles from all parts of the empire. 
 Foreign ambassadors from every quarter of the world 
 were present, and vied with each other in the splendoi
 
 288 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 of their entertainments. The Emperor and Empress 
 held their court at St. Cloud, with unrivalled magnifi- 
 cence. Several marriages of high diplomatic im- 
 portance were celebrated, all tending to swell the tide 
 of gayety which was flowing in every part of the cap- 
 ital. The Duke of Arberg, one of the princes of the 
 Rhenish Confederacy, led to the altar Mademoiselle de 
 Tascher, a niece of the Empress. Soon after were 
 celebrated the nuptials of the Prince Hohenzollern 
 with a niece of Murat, and speedily following, the 
 Marshal Berthier was wedded to a princess of the 
 royal house of Bavaria. Napoleon contrary to his 
 usual custom mingled in all these festivities, displaying 
 an appearance of unwonted gayety ; and even con- 
 sented repeatedly to wear a disguise, and appear 
 among the dancers at the masked balls. Josephine, 
 however, began to penetrate the secret delusion and 
 fathom his plans, notwithstanding his efforts to conceal 
 them from her knowledge. In all his attentions to her- 
 self ; in all his gayeties ; in all the honors which he 
 had lavished upon her son, she began to read her own 
 dark destiny. It was a terrible thought which forced 
 itself upon her mind, that Napoleon's present appear- 
 ance was only a guise, thrown over his own real feel- 
 ings ; that the smile of his countenance with which he 
 was wont to greet her, was designed to cover the 
 frown which lay upon his heart. 
 
 In public, no one read her own secret feelings. The 
 heart which was ready to break seemed light and joy- 
 ous as that of a child. She was playing a part as well
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 289 
 
 as Napoleon, though none knew it then but herself. 
 With a resolute effort to hide her sorrow, she engaged 
 in all the festivities of the season, danced and played, 
 the gayest of the gay crowd which thronged the cap- 
 ital ; receiving with becoming grace all the attentions 
 which the Emperor continued to bestow upon her ; 
 while all the time her soul was burdened, by the double 
 anguish of slighted love, and wounded pride. The dis- 
 position of Josephine was naturally light and joyous. 
 She was inclined by nature to and a brighter view in 
 every picture of life, and it was doubtless this which 
 supported her so well under the knowledge she pos- 
 sessed of Napoleon's intentions towards her. Hei 
 hopefulness, also, led her at times fondly to trust that 
 the storm would retire, while reason persuaded her 
 that the Emperor would not allow her happiness to 
 thwart the plan which she knew he cherished. What 
 was she in comparison with him ? What was her poor 
 human heart worth, and what availed the treasure of 
 its affection to him, who made them subordinate to a 
 throne, and the inscription of his name on its columns ? 
 Bleeding aflections, blasted hopes, and tears, never 
 bowed the will of Napoleon. Josephine perfectly un- 
 derstood that such trifles in his path, would be swept 
 away like chaff before the resistless march of the 
 
 whirlwind. 
 
 Let not Napoleon, however, be misunderstood. As 
 
 we have said before, he loved Josephine, and this. 
 
 probably, with a stronger affection than he ever gave 
 
 to any other object. But he would not let one of the
 
 290 LITE or JOSEPHINE. 
 
 purposes or plans which he had formed go unaccom- 
 ished, though the world were to perish. "All, or 
 nothing," was his motto when a boy in Corsica, and it 
 was one feeling of his heart when he became a man. 
 No plan which he made was a trivial one with him, 
 for it affected himself Everything, in his estimation, 
 should be subservient to him, and everything over 
 which he had the control was made so. With this 
 view, we can easily see that his love for Josephine 
 would not endure for a moment, if it conflicted with 
 any of his designs for self-aggrandizement. The Em- 
 press understood it, and knowing that one of Jiis cher- 
 ished schemes was for the perpetuity of his empire, she 
 now clearlv saw that her own sacrifice was inevitable. 
 The Prince of Holland had died ; the viceroy, Eugene, 
 though adopted by Napoleon, Josephine knew could 
 never be the successor to the empire. Upon no living 
 member of his own family, would the Emperor fix his 
 choice, and there was thus left no alternative to his 
 seeking a wife who might bring him up an heir to the 
 throne. 
 
 It is not at all unnatural, that Napoleon should have 
 so strong a desire for posterity. Aside from political 
 motives, and inordinate self-love, such a desire belongs 
 to every man. It is in a certain degree the outgoing 
 of every one's natural affection. The owner of a sin 
 gle hut, or of a petty farm, is unhappy if he have 
 
 " No son of his succeeding," 
 to whom he can leave his solitary estate. No one
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 291 
 
 quits the world without desiring that there should be 
 some link to connect him still to it ; that there remain 
 behind him some stream of influence which has risen 
 in himself, and which, when he is gone, shall flow on 
 and move mankind. It is a wish natural to universal 
 humanity, and there are few to which men cling with 
 such sincere attachment. It belonged to Napoleon in 
 common with his race, and was stronger in him than 
 in any other man, because his power was more exten- 
 sive, and his influence vaster ; it was a desire com- 
 mensurate with his own greatness, which grew with 
 every victory, and strengthened with every increase 
 of his power, winding itself more and more closely 
 about his heart with every step taken in his ascending 
 career ; and which accompanied every thought of 
 glory, and held a power over him only equalled by 
 that which he himself swayed so tremendously over 
 the minds of other men. 
 
 Napoleon, however, gave Josephine no direct inti- 
 mation of his intentions, but continued to treat her 
 with all the cordiality which he had ever manifested. 
 The winter passed as we have described, a scene of 
 uninten'upted gayety. The Emperor had, however 
 found time to plan a great movement upon Spain 
 which in the spring he began to carry into execution. 
 Napoleon had long been bent upon having the Span- 
 ish throne, and by the treaty of Tilsit, the Emperor 
 of Russia had covenanted not to interfere with any of 
 his designs in this respect, and the field was now open. 
 
 Spain had broken her treaty with France, and thus 
 11) M
 
 292 LIFE OF JOSEPH IlSi:. 
 
 afforded Napoleon all the pretext which he needed, to 
 commence operations against her. His design v/as 
 fixed, that the Pyrenees should no longer separate 
 ihese two independent monarchies ; that the house of 
 Braganza, as well as that of Bourbon, should be demol- 
 ished, and that of Bonaparte built upon the ruins of 
 them both. 
 
 Partly to make arrangements for this, he left St. 
 Cloud early in April, accompanied by Josephine. The 
 design of his journey, as well as the fact that he con- 
 templated it, were all unknown to the Empress, till a 
 few hours previously to their departure. Fontaine- 
 bleau was to be their first stopping-place after having 
 left St. Cloud, and the following hasty note, written by 
 Josephine to the Countess de la Rochefoucauld, her 
 lady of honor at Fontainebleau, illustrates the sudden- 
 ness with which she was frequently compelled to meet 
 the behests of the Emperor. 
 
 " We set out at four this morning,* and will be with 
 vou to breakfast at ten. I hasten to expedite this bil- 
 let, that you may not be taken by surprise. You know 
 the Emperor's activity and inflexible resolution ; both 
 seem to increase with events. But an hour ago I was 
 completely ignorant of this departure. We were at 
 cards. ' Be ready, madam,' said he to me, ' to get into 
 vour carriage at midnight.' ' But,' answered I, ' it is 
 now past nine.' * It is so,' said he, ' you must require 
 some time for your toilet ; let us start at two.' ' Where 
 are you going, if you please ?' ' To Bayonne.' ' What 
 
 * It was the 5th of April.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 29? 
 
 SO far ! and my pensioners, I must regulate their af- 
 fairs.' * I cannot, madam, refuse you one hour for the 
 unfortunate ; take another to write to your friends — ■ 
 you will not forget Madam de la Rochefoucauld.' 
 Good night, my dear friend. I am just falling asleep 
 —they will carry me thus to the carriage, and I shall 
 not awaken till with you, to bid you good morning and 
 embrace you with all my heart." 
 
 The journey thus announced proved an eventful 
 one to Josephine as well as to Napoleon. We cannot 
 better relate it than by inserting the hasty notes which 
 she penned during its progress. It was the last tour 
 of importance which she ever made with Napoleon. 
 
 " This evening we leave St. Cloud, in order to visit 
 the whole of the western coast of France. I shall 
 trace a few notes in pencil. 
 
 " At Etampes* we were stopped by a number of 
 young people of both sexes, who presented us, some 
 with cherries, other with roses. The Emperor, in 
 passing through their village, sent for the mayor and 
 the curate. The former, a merry peasant, began to 
 banter his compatriots on the nature of their presents, 
 'Certainly,' said the Emperor, ' however beautiful theirs 
 may be, an ear of corn and a bunch of grapes would 
 have been more rare.' ' Here are three of each sort,' 
 replied the rural magistrate ; ' and confess, sir, that in 
 
 * "Etampes is the first town in the Orleannais proceeding from 
 Paris to Bordeaux. The p.ossage is interesting, as an example of 
 Napoleon s manner with his subjects ; but how are we to expl lin corn 
 mil grapes in A j ril ? Was this one of his contrivances ?" — Metnes.
 
 294 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 
 
 April, it is good farming.' ' Nature has been bountiful 
 to your canton,' observed the Emperor, presenting the 
 offering to me. ' Accept it, madam ; and forget not 
 those whom Providence deigns to keep in mind.' 
 ' Providence,' said the curate, * always blesses the in- 
 dustrious ; for they fulfil the most important of his 
 laws.' * Here,' remarked the Emperor, making a sign 
 for the postilions to proceed, * here are men who unite 
 flowers and fruits, the useful v/ith the agreeable. They 
 deserve to succeed.' 
 
 " Orleans. — The national guard was under arms, 
 and the authorities in full attendance ; but from the 
 knitting of his brows, I saw that the Emperor was not 
 pleased. ' It is painful for me,' were his words, to 
 have to repay with severity these expressions of joy. 
 But I have no reproaches to make to the people ; I 
 address myself to the authorities. You perform the 
 functions improperly, or you do not perform them at 
 all. How have the sums been employed which I 
 granted for the canal ? How comes it, that on the 
 roll of sales two thousand arpents of common, as 
 divided in 1805 and 1806, are totally suppressed? I 
 require restitution. The national domains have been 
 below par, and the purchases more difficult during the 
 last eighteen months — the date of your entering upon 
 office, Mr. Prefect. Whence are these things? I am 
 not ignorant that here there exists two opinions, as 
 directly opposed to the goverment as they are to each 
 other. I have no desire that opinions should be sub 
 jects of persecution ; but if they break out into deeds
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 295 
 
 Rnd these deeds be crimes — no pity!' The storm 
 passed, the Emperor assumed a less severe tone, and 
 talked familiarly with the bishop and civil functionaries, 
 not excepting even the prefect. But his observations 
 were just. It is but too certain, that in these depart- 
 ments of the Loire the jacobins and emigrants have in 
 turn been protected. 
 
 " Bordeaux. — Here exist two dispositions perfect!) 
 distinct, and that in a reverse sense from those which 
 prevail throughout almost the whole of France. There 
 the people love the revolution, and the privileged classes 
 alone oppose its progress, or rather retard its results. 
 These results are strong and liberal institutions, which 
 time, that wears out all others, will, on the contrary, 
 tend to consolidate. In order to found these institu 
 tions upon the ruins of party, there required a con- 
 queror who was also a legislator, and that legislator 
 continuing to be a conqueror. All must unite in the 
 regeneration of a state. To chain down faction, by 
 converting its passions into common interests, is but 
 little — nothing more, at most, than half the work — if to 
 these neighboring interests be not attached. Before 
 we can be master at home, at once happy and glorious 
 there, we must neither be under apprehensions from 
 each other, nor dread the process of erecting a wall of 
 partition. But how is this to be accomphshed ? First 
 by reducmg all to submission, and then by extending 
 to each a friendly hand, which may secure without 
 humbling. This is the Emperor's doctrine, which he 
 has applied to Fiance, which France has devotedly
 
 296 LIPE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 accepted ; readily comprehending that a pei iod of 
 transition, of trial, of reparation, could not be an era of 
 enjoyment. ' To-day,' has the Emperor often said to 
 me, ' to-day we sow in tears and in blood ; hereafter 
 we shall reap glory and liberty.' This is exactly what 
 mercantile selfishness prevents them from understand- 
 ing at Bordeaux, Altogether opposed to the rest of 
 the empire, the body of the people here oppose the new 
 institutions, they perceive only the temporary obstacle 
 which these institutions present, not to commerce, but 
 to their own particular commerce. What to them 
 imports the good of to-morrow ? It is the profit of to- 
 day they want. Some facts have confirmed these ob- 
 servations. While we were on our way to the theatre 
 the vivas of the crowd were rare, but within the house 
 the applause was general and continued. The coup 
 d'asil of the port is magnificent ; all the ships were 
 Lung with flags and fired minute guns, to which the 
 forts replied. The whole of the animated, and, despite 
 its discontent, joyous population, the variety of sounds, 
 songs, movements, and costumes, presented a delight- 
 ful sight. We were particularly struck on seeing a 
 southern dance executed by three hundred young per- 
 sons of both sexes, in small brown jackets, blue panta- 
 loons, red sashes, straw hats turned up with ribands 
 and flowers, who, guided by various instruments, and 
 each with castanets or a tambourine, darted forwards, 
 united, turned, and leaped with equal rapidity and 
 elegance. 
 
 '' Bayonne. — About two leagues from this city the
 
 LIFE OF JOSErPHINE. 29\ 
 
 Emperor was presented with a spectacle worthy of 
 him. On the declivity of a mountain gently scoopeci 
 out in difierent parts of its descent, is pitched one of 
 those camps which the foresight of the country has 
 provided for its defenders. It is composed of seven 
 handsome barracks, different in form and aspect, each 
 isolated, surrounded with an orchard in full bearing, a 
 well-stocked poultry yard, and at different distances, a 
 gi'eater or less quantity of arable land, where a diversity 
 of soil yields a variety of produce. One side of the 
 mountain is wild, but picturesque, with rocks and 
 plants ; the other seems covered with rich tapestry, so 
 varied and numerous are the plots of richly- cultivated 
 ground. The summit is clothed with an ever- verdant 
 forest ; and down the centre, in a deep channel, flows 
 a limpid stream, refreshing and fertilizing the whole 
 scene. On this spot the veterans who occupy it gave 
 a fete to the Emperor, which was at once military and 
 rural. The wives, daughters, and little children of 
 these brave men formed the most pleasing, as they 
 were themselves the noblest, ornament of the festival. 
 Amid piles of arms were seen beautiful shrubs covered 
 with flowers, while the echoes of the mountain resound- 
 ed to the bleating of flocks and the warlike strains of 
 a soldiery intoxicated on thus receiving their chief 
 The Emperor raised this enthusiasm to the highest 
 pitch by sitting down at a table at once quite military 
 and perfectly pastoral, and drinking with these brave 
 fellows all of whom had risked their lives in his ser- 
 vice. Toasts were given to all that does honor to the
 
 298 LIFE OF JOSEPniXE. 
 
 French name — 'to our native land ;' 'to glory ;' ' to 
 liberty.' I dare not mention the attentions of which 
 I was the object; thej touched me deeply ; for I re- 
 garded them as proofs of that veneration which 
 France has vowed to the Emperor. 
 
 " At Bayonne an important personage waited the 
 Emperor's arrival, namely, Don Pedro de las Torres, 
 private envoy of Don Juan Escoiquitz, preceptor of 
 the Prince of Asturias. As a consequence of the 
 events of Aranjuez, this latter has been proclaimed 
 under the title of Ferdinand YIL; but the old King 
 Charles, from whom fear had extorted an abdication, 
 now protests against that act. The new monarch pre- 
 tends that his father, led by the queen, who is in turn 
 the puppet of the Prince of Peace, never has had, and 
 never can have a will of his own. Meanwhile, the 
 nation, taking the alarm, is divided between two heads. 
 If one party reproach Charles with being wholly devo- 
 ted to the will of Manuel Godoy, the other imputes to 
 Ferdinand that of acknowledging no principles of ac- 
 tion save those dictated to him by Don Juan Escoi- 
 quitz. The first, haughty and impertinent, as are all 
 favorites, keeps his master in bondage and the peo- 
 ple in humiliation ; the second, honey -tongued and 
 wheedling, at once deceives the nation and enslaves 
 his pupil. Both have caused, and still cause the mis- 
 fortunes of Spain. 
 
 " What in truth can be more deplorable than the 
 respective situation of the governors and gorerned \ 
 The former are without confidence, the latter without
 
 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 29& 
 
 attachment. Amid these two factions, which may wel 
 be termed parricidal, a third has secretly sprung up, 
 which calculates upon, perhaps encourages their mis- 
 understanding, in order to favor the triumph of liberty. 
 Jlut is ignorant and superstitious Spain prepared to re- 
 ceive this blessing? With her haughty nobles, and 
 bigoted priesthood, her slothful population, how can 
 she execute an enterprise which supposes the love 
 of equality, the practice of toleration, and an heroic 
 activity ? 
 
 " These are things which the Emperor will have to 
 consider. He is appealed to by all parties as mediator : 
 he arrives among them without knowledge of them, 
 and, as a man, feels perfect impartiality. His enlight- 
 ened policy will take counsel of necessity ; and in this 
 great quarrel, of which he is constituted umpire, will 
 reconcile what is due to the interests of France with 
 what is demanded for the safety of Spain. 
 
 " This same Don Pedro de las Torres has not been 
 Bent without his errand. Don Juan, his patron, knew 
 that he possessed, some leagues from Bayonne, an ex- 
 tensive farm, on which are bred numerous flocks of 
 merinoes. Thither, under a plausible pretext, we were 
 conducted to-day. After a feast of really rustic mag 
 nificence, we made the tour of the possession on foot 
 At the bottom of a verdant dell, surrounded on all sides 
 by rocks covered with moss and flowers, all of a sud- 
 den a picturesque cot appeared lightly suspended on a 
 projecting point of rock, while round it were feeding 
 
 between seven and eight hundred sheep of the most 
 M*
 
 300 LTPE OF JOSEPniTO:. 
 
 beautiful breed. We could not restrain a cry of ad 
 miration; and upon the Emperor addressing him in 
 some compliments, Don Pedro declared that these 
 flocks belonged of right to me. ' The king, my master,' 
 added he, ' knows the Empress's taste for rural occupa 
 tions ; and as this species of sheep is little known in 
 France, and will constitute the principal ornament, and 
 consequently wealth of a farm, he entreats her not to 
 deprive herself of an offering at once so useful and so 
 agreeable.' ' Don Pedro,' replied the Emperor, with a 
 tone of severity, ' the Empress cannot accept the pres- 
 ent save from the hands of the king, and your master 
 is not yet one. Wait, before making your offering, un- 
 til your own nation and I have decided.' The remain- 
 der of the visit was very ceremonious." 
 
 At Bayonne, also, they met the Prince of Asturias, 
 who had been induced to cross the Bidassoa in the 
 vain hope of being recognized by Napoleon as king of 
 Spain. Such, however, were not at all the Emperor's 
 plans ; his own designs upon Spain would admit of no 
 such course. He promptly told Ferdinand that he 
 must relinquish the throne. Finding him less tractable 
 than he had anticipated. Napoleon ordered Murat at 
 Madrid to send over Charles IV. and the Queen to 
 Bayonne. The feuds in their own family, and in the 
 Spanish government, were such that they instantly 
 obeyed, and meeting Napoleon they threw themselves 
 at once and entirely upon his protection. The efforts 
 of Charles and the Emperor were now brought to bear 
 upon Ferdinand, lo induce him to resign his claims to
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniNE. 301 
 
 the succession of the Spanish crown. Charles himself 
 had previously abdicated the throne in favor of Fer- 
 dinand, but this act had been unrecognized by Napo. 
 leon, and it was now regarded as void. On the 5th 
 of May, Charles renewed his abdication, but at thia 
 time giving his crown to Napoleon. On the 12th of 
 the same month, Ferdinand was brought to a renun 
 elation of all his claims, thus surrendering to Napo- 
 leon the full title to the inheritance of Arragon and 
 Castile. 
 
 The struggles by which he was afterwards compelled 
 to maintain this possession belong to Napoleon's rather 
 than to Josephine's history. But in the manceuvrings 
 which were carried on at Bayonne and by which they 
 were gained, Josephine acted her full part. Her bril- 
 liant conversation and the charms of her person won 
 the favor of the Spanish King. Her rare elegance and 
 grace captivated the heart of the Spanish Queen ; 
 while her remarkable insight into character, and the 
 readiness with which she detected motives, assisted 
 Napoleon much in influencing Charles and Ferdinand. 
 The issue was doubtless owing mainly to the finesse 
 of the Emperor, but the adroitness of Josephine exert- 
 ed no feeble influence in bringing matters to a success- 
 ful termination. Josephine had an apprehension of the 
 result to which all these things might lead, which Na- 
 poleon seems never to have entertained. In anticipa- 
 ting the consequences of any great undertaking, her 
 opmion, if it diflfered from his, was very likely to be the 
 safer one. It was at least so in the present case. The
 
 302 LIFE OF JOSErniNE. 
 
 Emperor never believed that his plans could fail. As 
 Josephine once said of him, and none could speak from 
 a better knowledge — " Napoleon is persuaded that he 
 « to subjugate all the nations of the earth. He cher* 
 slies such a confidence in his star, that should he be 
 abandoned to-morrow by his family and allies, a wan« 
 derer and proscribed, he would support life, convinced 
 that he should yet triumph over all obstacles, and ac- 
 complish his destiny by realizing his mighty designs." 
 This confidence, if it enabled him to realize some of 
 his plans, certainly prevented him from seeing the 
 difficulties which would attend the accomplishment of 
 others. Josephine, calm and unbiased, looked at every 
 possible danger and formed an opinion in reference to 
 t, in many cases, far more accurately than Napoleon. 
 In the present instance, had he taken her advice he 
 would have pursued a different, and, as the result 
 showed, a wiser course. His compact with Charles 
 and Ferdinand, and the campaign which grew out of 
 it, were the first steps to his overthrow. 
 
 Leaving Bayonne on the 21st of July, the imperial 
 pair continued their journey, visiting Pau, Tarbes, Tou- 
 louse, Montauban, Bordeaux, La Vendee, and Nantes. 
 Everywhere they were received with the greatest fa- 
 vor. Public addresses, congratulating him upon his 
 success, and applauding his benevolent deeds, met the 
 Emperor in every city. Citizens flocked to meet him, 
 crowding in his path, and hailing him as the liberator 
 and savior of their country. Old men tottered forth 
 to catch one look at the wonderful Corsican, wno strode
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPnnfE. 303 
 
 80 rapidly to eminence, and having seen him, went 
 again to their homes, contented now to die. Little 
 children, who had been hushed to stillness by the story 
 of his battles, cried to behold him, and were seen in 
 their nurses' arms in every street through which he 
 passed. His whole course was like a triumphal pro 
 cession ; and he perfectly understood how to avail him- 
 self of it, and make it turn to his future advantage 
 He manifested an affability and interest in the affairs 
 of the common people which delighted them ; and 
 when he returned to Paris, he knew that he could rely 
 on the entire devotion to his cause, of every province 
 through which he had journeyed. 
 
 Josephme evidently seemed to have enjoyed this 
 tour. She was pleased with the affection with which 
 the Emperor was received, for her whole heart was 
 still his own, and delighted with everything which 
 could minister to his pleasure or success. Still, she 
 returned to Paris more fullv convinced than ever that 
 the Emperor's intentions were, when a convenient 
 time should come, to set her aside and place the dia- 
 dem which she wore, upon another brow. 
 
 It is singular, that this same journey, which opened 
 to Josephine more fully Napoleon's plans concerning 
 herself, also shed a stronger light upon the difficulty 
 of carrying these plans into execution. The proofs of 
 the Empress's goodness and attachment were displayed 
 to him at every step of the way, and he had never seen 
 them so fully before, because they had never before 
 contrasted so beautifully with his own dark designs.
 
 S04 LIFE or JOSEPHINE!. 
 
 Without a murmur she had left St. Cloud at nis Did- 
 ding, and had endured with cheerfulness the change 
 from the ease of a palace to the inconvenience of a 
 journey, long and hastily provided for, finding hourly 
 satisfaction in the thought that she was gratifying him. 
 She had cherished him under all the weariness of the 
 journey, and made him feel that every joy was sweetei 
 because it was witnessed by her. She had added in 
 this tour another chain around his heart, which he felt 
 it would be difficult to break when he put her away. 
 And he remembered his lowly fortunes when he won 
 his bride, and the assistance she had rendered in bring- 
 ing him to his present renown. He thought of his ab- 
 sence in Egypt, of his trials and apprehensions there, 
 and then he reflected that every fear had been dis- 
 pelled, and every obstacle in the way of his success 
 removed before his return, chiefly by the efforts which 
 Josephine had put forth in his behalf He recollected 
 her sacrifices for him, and how many personal com- 
 forts she had freely given up to advance his interests. 
 The vision of Josephine as Empress also rose before 
 him. He thought of her talents and taste ; he remem- 
 bered the grace and dignity with which she was wont 
 to play her part in the imperial pageant. He heard 
 over and again the murmur of admiration which was 
 always called forth at her approach. All these he 
 could not slight, none of them could he forget, yet 
 though the difficulties in the vay of his separation 
 from her were thus increased by the excursion to Ba- 
 yonne, his purposes for taking such a step had ne v^er
 
 LIFE OF JOSETHIKnE. 305 
 
 Deen stronger than when he entered the capital on 
 their return. The history of Bonaparte is pie-emi 
 nently that of one in whose path difficulties only ap- 
 peared to fan the flame and increase the strength of 
 the desire, which they seemed to oppose. 
 
 The Emperor and Josephine reached St. Cloud 
 early in August. The Emperor's birthday was cele- 
 brated a few days afterwards* with unusual rejoicings. 
 The acquisition of Spain to the Great Empire, which 
 was supposed to have been accomplished by the meas- 
 ures taken at Bayonne, gave Bonaparte greater favor 
 than ever in the eyes of the people. Unconscious of 
 the struggle which was yet to ensue, they looked only 
 at the outward appearance of the picture, and believed 
 that the great idea for which Louis XIV. had labored, 
 was now realized by the force of Napoleon's mightier 
 genius. Triumphal arches were erected in honor of 
 him, and the streets through which he passed were 
 strewed with flowers. Every bell in Paris rung out 
 its acclamations in honor of the great hero, whose suc- 
 cess no obstacle could check — whose fame no rival 
 that the world had produced, could now eclipse. Upon 
 the cause of all these rejoicings, Josephine looked with 
 distrust. She saw that the acquisition of Spain to the 
 French empire was only a nominal one, and though 
 she could not foresee that the lives of a million of 
 Frenchmen were yet to be sacrificed in order to main- 
 tain it, she did anticipate fearful results. Our task 
 being mainly with Josephine, we might leave all far- 
 
 * Napoleon was boru August 15th, 1769.
 
 308 LIFE OF JOSEPHmB. 
 
 ther allusions to Spanish affairs, since her in:mediate 
 connection with them ceased upon her return to the 
 capital. To show, however, that she had ground for 
 the fears which she cherished, we cannot forbear quot- 
 ing in this connection from the language of Napoleon 
 himself, made years afterwards, when the hand of ad- 
 versity had hurled him from his eminence, and forced 
 him to look calmly back upon the varied scenes of his 
 wonderful destiny. He thus spoke at St. Helena : — 
 
 " It was that unhappy war in Spain which ruined 
 me. The results have irrevocably proved that I was 
 in the wrong. There were serious faults in the exe- 
 cution. One of the greatest was that of having at- 
 tached so much importance to the dethronement of 
 the Bourbons. Charles the IV. was worn out. I 
 might have given a liberal constitution to the Spanish 
 nation, and charged Ferdinand with its execution. If 
 he had put it forth in good faith, Spain would have 
 prospered, and put itself in harmony with our new 
 constitutions ; if he had failed in the performance of 
 his engagements, he would have met with his dismis- 
 sal from the Spaniards themselves. ' Yci are about 
 to undertake,' said Escoiquiz to me, ' on' of the labors 
 of Hercules, where, if you please, no'.hing but child's 
 play is to be encountered.' The unfortunate war in 
 Spain proved a real wound, the first cause of the mis- 
 fortunes of France. If I could have foreseen that that 
 affair would have caused me so much vexation and 
 chagrin, I would never have engaged in it. But after 
 Uie first steps were taken in the affair, it was impossi-
 
 LIFE OF JOSETHINE. 307 
 
 ble for me to recede. When I saw those imhccillei 
 quarrelling and trying to dethrone each other, 
 thought I might as well take advantage of it to dispos- 
 sess an inimical family ; but I was not the contriver 
 of their disputes. Had I known at the first that the 
 transaction would have given me so much trouble, 1 
 would never have attempted it." 
 
 1 Josephine was now again to be alone. Matters of 
 state demanded Napoleon's absence from Paris, and 
 in this journey he chose to leave the Empress at St. 
 Cloud. On the 21st of September, he set out to meet 
 the Emperor of Russia at Erfurth, ostensibly to renew 
 the treaty of amity to which they had sworn at Tilsit, 
 It was a matter of the highest importance to Bona- 
 parte, that Alexander should for the present keep the 
 peace which now existed between Russia and France. 
 His troubles were already such that the influence of 
 Alexander might have made the scale preponderate 
 fearfully against him. The affairs in Spain had al- 
 ready begun to assume a new and threatening appear- 
 ance. Austria was evidently looking only for a favor- 
 able opportunity to take up arms against France. 
 Prussia was desirous to throw off* the yoke which 
 Napoleon had imposed upon her ; the Burschenschafts 
 were laboring zealously and eflfectually for the libera- 
 tion of Germany, and Holland was ready to take up 
 hostilities at a moment's warning. All this Napoleon 
 knew, and gave all his efforts to dispel the blackening 
 cloud before it should burst in a resistless storm upon 
 his head. 20
 
 308 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 lie reached Erfurth on the 27th of September, and 
 found Alexander as tractable as at the r former inter- 
 view at Tilsit. The Czar himself had ambitious de- 
 signs, and wished the assurance that his French ally 
 would not interfere with his attempts upon Turkey, 
 Sweden and Finland. Napoleon was very ready to 
 promise this, upon the condition that his own transac- 
 tions in Spain should be ratified, and that he should be 
 unmolested in his farther attempts to increase his 
 power. These matters being settled. Napoleon had 
 another scheme which in his view was full as impor- 
 tant as the first. He renewed to Alexander the pro- 
 posals which he had formerly hinted at Tilsit, for a 
 matrimonial alliance with the imperial family of Rus- 
 sia. He intended to enter on such negotiations when 
 he left Paris, and if this was not the chief design of his 
 journey, it was at least bis chief reason for making it 
 alone. His mind was now fully bent upon a divorce, 
 and a new marriage, and the house of Russia seemed 
 at the present time to offer him the most eligible con- 
 nection. Alexander saw the embarrassment which 
 would ensue should such an alliance be consummated, 
 and when a direct overture was made to him for the 
 hand of one of the Russian Archduchesses, he declined 
 the proposal, and evaded the real difficulty by alleging 
 that the difference in their systems of religion offered 
 an insurmountable obstacle in the way of Napoleon's 
 desires. Napoleon, of course, penetrated this flimsy 
 pretext at a glance, and left Erfurth highly indignant, 
 though he manifested no outward signs of displeasure.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniNE. 309 
 
 It was of the first importance, that he should keep up 
 friendly relations with Russia, and he therefore pocket- 
 ed an indignity, which under more favorable circum- 
 stances he would have terribly revenged. 
 
 Josephine heard of all these transactions at St. 
 Cloud, though Napoleon had not as yet communicated 
 to her a word upon a subject which so deeply affected 
 the hopes and happiness of her life. Her nride en- 
 abled her to conceal from her attendants the agitation 
 of her spirit, but there were moments of bitter anguish 
 when she was alone, and could commune unobserved 
 with the secrets of her own heart. Vague rumors of 
 the proposals which Napoleon had made to Alexander, 
 had floated to the palace and were commented upon 
 by the maids of honor, who wondered that the step of 
 the Empress could be light, and her smile so gay, when 
 they knew that her heart was breaking under the bur- 
 den of sorrow. Josephine appeared cheerful and even 
 mirthful. Her daily walks were made, and her char- 
 ities distributed with the gentleness and generosity 
 which had always characterized her. Her favorite 
 swan was not for a day unvisited ; her pet gazelle wag 
 never denied a fond caress. She had a smile and a 
 kind word for every one; and whether doing the hon 
 ors of the imperial court, or attending to the wants of 
 some poor pensioner upon her bounty — whether amid 
 her maids of honor or with the nobles of the empire, in 
 all that outward circumstances could indicate, she was 
 the same blithesome being as before. However dark 
 were her prospects, she still hoped on, and determined
 
 310 LIFE OF JOSEPHIKE. 
 
 to labor on, knowing that the sunshine will at last 
 melt down the iceberg whose glittering front has for 
 centuries stood in cold defiance of its beams. When 
 Napoleon returned to St. Cloud, she received him 
 with her usual cordiality. Both she and the Emperor 
 had cherished suspicion, and repeatedly manifested this 
 disposition to each other; but Josephine, though she 
 had more reason to indulge the sentiment than ever 
 before, felt that the present was no time for its exhibi- 
 tion. Napoleon, also apprehensive of giving Josephine 
 premature indication of his views, was unusually af- 
 fable and attentive. Thus a few weeks vanished, 
 each feeling, but neither disclosing, constraint in the 
 other's society ; till Napoleon having opened the meet- 
 ing of the Legislative Body, at Paris, with great pomp, 
 left Josephine at St. Cloud on the 27th of October, and 
 hastened to clear up his already darkening prospects 
 in Spain. 
 
 Josephine earnestly desired to accompany him in 
 this expedition. She knew its difficulties and perils, 
 and was willing to brave them in the hope of allevi- 
 ating them, but especially from the desire of exerting 
 the spell of her constant influence over the heart of 
 Napoleon. Her request was denied, firmly, but with 
 apparent kindness. The Emperor represented to her 
 the annoyances to which she would be constantly sub- 
 jected, and pleaded the need which she had of repose. 
 She assured him that she could bear the trials, and 
 needed no rest ; that she should be happier amid the 
 privations of the camp, and the tumults of war, by his
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniNB. 311 
 
 Side, than alone, with all the pleasures of the imperial 
 palace at her command. Napoleon was deeply touch- 
 ed with this exhibition of Josephine's love, yet per- 
 sisted in his refusal ; for his resolution once taken was 
 never reversed, and Josephine bade him farewell on 
 the 27th of October, then retired to her chamber to 
 weep, in secret, tears more bitter than any previous 
 agony had made to flow. 
 
 In the campaign upon which he now entered. Na- 
 poleon found enough to occupy his attention, without 
 proceeding farther with his plans for the divorce of 
 Josephine. All Spain was alive with hostility. In 
 every quarter of the land, from Navarre to Andalusia, 
 from Catalonia to Gallicia, the voice of opposition was 
 swelling loud against him. The notes of freedom were 
 echoed from every mountain and valley, hamlet and 
 city, in tones which would have blanched the cheek 
 and shaken the heroism of any ordinary invader. 
 The Spanish armies, though driven from the plains, 
 were still unconquered. The Alpine nests of Asturias ; 
 the inaccessible retreats of Gallicia ; the rugged ranges 
 which swept between the Duero and the Guadal- 
 quivir ; every mountain fastness, from the Pyreneea 
 to the Sierra Nevada, swarmed with sturdy and in- 
 vincible defenders. Ferdinand VII. had been pro- 
 claimed sovereign at Madrid, and King Joseph, whom 
 Napoleon had crowned, had been driven from the cap- 
 ital. Toledo had risen in insurrection, and kindled a 
 flame of patriotic resentment against France, which 
 spiead like a conflagration throughout the Peninsula
 
 312 Lii!fi OF JOSEPHENE. 
 
 As though by a simultaneous impulse, the citizens of 
 almost every town in Spain were ridding themselves 
 of the French residents by a terrible butchery. In 
 Cadiz and Seville, in Carthagena and Valencia, the 
 streets were red with the flow of blood. The French 
 armies had, also, met with untold disasters. After 
 their first victory,* the tide of battle had everywhere 
 turned against them. Duhesme had been forced to 
 shut himself up in Barcelona by the brave Catalonian 
 mountaineers ; Moncey, who had attempted the siege 
 of Valencia, had been beaten back from its walls with 
 slaughter and disgrace ; Dupont had been driven suc- 
 cessively from Jaen, and Baylen, to Menjibar, and had 
 at last been forced to surrender himself and his men as 
 prisoners, upon the most humiliating terms. Lefebvre 
 had found the indomitable zeal of the Spaniards proof 
 against all his attempts upon Saragossa, and had at last 
 abruptly abandoned the siege. The spirit which had 
 in days of old lived in the upxonquerable defenders of 
 Numantia and Saguntum, seemed everywhere to be 
 breathed again into the breasts of their heroic de- 
 scendants. As if the efforts and successes of the 
 Spaniards were not enough to intimidate the French 
 invaders, a source of fresh anxiety at this time ap- 
 peared in another quarter. A heavy English force 
 had landed in the Peninsula, and was now moving for- 
 ward with rapid march towards the scene of conflict. 
 The advance guard of the English army had already 
 
 * At Riosecca. This battle was fought on the 14th of July, and 
 eBtled in the total overthrow of the united Spanish army.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 313 
 
 crossed the Guadarrama mountains, when Napoleon 
 came down in the midst of the French host, which lay 
 encamped at Vittoria. His eye glanced over the 
 whole state of things in a moment, and saw that not an 
 instant was to be lost. His plan of operations was im- 
 mediately laid, and, with the energy which his pres- 
 ence never failed to inspire, was carried into execution 
 at once. The immense host, which, in anticipation of 
 nis arrival, he had collected at Vittoria, was instantly 
 put in motion. Marshals Victor and Lefebvre, with 
 forty thousand men, were commanded to march upon 
 the Spanish troops who were waiting for a junc- 
 tion with the ap})roaching English army, in Biscay. 
 Soult was ordered to put to rout Count de Belvidere 
 m Estremadura, while Napoleon himself, taking the 
 main strength of his army, hastened with the rapidity 
 and resistlessness of an avalanche against the whole 
 left wing of the Spanish host, as it lay stretched from 
 Bilboa to Burgos. Everywhere, he was successful. 
 The Spanish armies melted away like dew before him, 
 and the fate of all those upon the Ebro was finally 
 sealed, almost before the English forces had heard that 
 Napoleon had arrived in Spain. Following up his 
 successes, the Emperor marched at once upon Madrid, 
 which he entered upon the 4th of December, after a 
 stern but ineffectual resistance. Leaving the capital 
 as soon as he had established his authority there, and 
 collecting his forces, he hurled himself vvith resistless 
 energy upon the British army, which, under the com- 
 mand of Sir John Moore, had already retieated to
 
 314 LIFE or JOSEPHINB. 
 
 Corunna. The battle of Corunna took place on the 
 16th of January, 1809, resulting in the complete dis 
 comfiture of the English, and the acknowledgment, 
 for the time, of Napoleon's supremacy over Spain. 
 Flushed with his victories, and unable to foresee the 
 subsequent disasters for which they opened the way 
 the Emperor left the command of the French battalions 
 in the Peninsula to his brother Joseph, and then hastily 
 departed for Paris. He reached St. Cloud on the 23d 
 of January, having achieved the most astonishing re- 
 sults in a campaign of but little over two months' dura- 
 tion. In Bonaparte's whole course he was constantly 
 crowding into a moment, events which it would have 
 taken other men a lifetime to have brought about. He 
 moved over the earth, as a meteor flashes across the 
 sky, surprising and startling men by the suddenness 
 and splendor of his caieer. 
 
 But little of the time which Napoleon now spent at 
 he palace was devoted to Josephine's society ; fresh 
 cares were crowding upon him. News that the war 
 in Spain was, after all, still undecided, reached his ears, 
 while indications that Austria was designing war upon 
 France, were becoming distinct and authentic. The 
 Empress was more neglected, and the counsel which 
 Napoleon had heretofore frequently asked in reference 
 to his plans, was now rarely sought. This was un- 
 aoticed by all but Josephine, and the rumors of a 
 divorce were less common than formerly. To others, 
 Napoleon appeared uniformly kind towards her, and in 
 their daily intercourse at St. Cloud, or in their occa-
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHDra. 315 
 
 sional excursions together to the parks of Rambouillet, 
 his cherished purpose was not anticipated by the ordi- 
 nary observer. He was struggling to keep from Jose- 
 phine the knowledge of his designs, while she was en- 
 deavoring, as constantly, to keep him ignorant of the 
 fact that she fathomed them all. While this double 
 game was played, neither could be happy, but Jose- 
 phine was contmually seeking his society, hoping, 
 though against hope, that she might break, for once, the 
 iron determination of Napoleon. 
 
 It was almost morning, of the 12th of April, that a 
 courier came dashing to the palace gates, demanding 
 mstant audience of the Emperor. Bonaparte, who 
 was still up, tore open the despatches which the cou- 
 rier laid before him, and read with a flashing eye the 
 tidings that Austria had broken the treaty of peace, 
 and that Prince Charles was already marching his 
 legions against the French in Bavaria. As usual, his 
 course was decided instantly ; and hastily proceeding 
 to the apartments of the Empress, who had already re- 
 tired, he broke her slumbers, and bade her be ready in 
 two hours to accompany him to the borders of Ger- 
 many. Said he, " You have played the part of Em- 
 press long enough ; you must now again become the 
 wife of a general. I eave immediately ; you will go 
 with me to Strasburg." This was the first intimation 
 which Josephine had received that it was the Emperor's 
 intention that she should accompany him on his con- 
 templated Austrian campaign. As ever, however, she 
 unhesitatinglv obeyed the summons. She was too 
 
 N
 
 316 LITE OF JOSKPHESTE. 
 
 familiar with the suddenness of Napoleon's plans to be 
 taken with surprise by any new movement, and was 
 consequently never wholly unprepared for an unex- 
 pected journey. Before three o'clock they set off 
 from St Cloud. Both were in good spirits. Napoleon 
 had a presentiment that he should conquer the Aus- 
 trians, and Josephine, after having been denied her re- 
 quest to accompany the Empei'or to Spain, hailed this 
 privilege as a mark of returning favor. The idea that 
 he could be defeated seems never to have entered Na- 
 poleon's mind, and he appeared to regard the Austrian 
 outbreak, as only a new opportunity of adding to his 
 po^'er. His destiny, as he fancied, was leading him 
 on another stride in the pathway to greatness. He 
 was therefore in the best possible humor, and his 
 suavity and attentions brought back to Josephine the 
 glad memories of other days. 
 
 Their route to Strasburg lay through Champagne 
 and Lorraine, embracing some of the finest regions in 
 France. The valleys of the Marne and Meuse, en- 
 chanted the travellers with their lovely scenery and 
 agricultural wealth. Napoleon was well pleased to see 
 the marks of thrift and industry displayed on every 
 hand, for he could expect from these fresh supplies for 
 his coffers and conscript rolls. A pleasing incdent in 
 this journey illustrates the character of both. On leav- 
 ing one of the villages in Lorraine, Josephine called his 
 attention to an old woman who was kneeling on the 
 steps of the chapel, bathed in tears. Her grief touched 
 <he heart of the Empress, who sent for her, and bade
 
 LITE OF JOSEPniNK 31 V 
 
 her tell the cause of her sadness. Said she, " My khid 
 friends, my poor grandson Joseph has been included in 
 the conscription, and for nine days have I come here 
 regularly to make my neuvaine that he might draw a 
 good lot ; and that which he has drawn bears the num- 
 ber 4. Thus I lose not only my grandson, but my 
 prayers also. Nor is this all ; my eldest son's daughter 
 is about to marry one of our neighbors, named Michael ; 
 and Michael now refuses to marry her, on account of 
 Joseph, her brother, being in the conscription. Should 
 my son conclude to procure a substitute for poor 
 Joseph, why, then adieu to Julie's dowry, for he would 
 give her nothing ; and that dowry is to be six hundred 
 francs in cash." "Very good, take that," said the 
 Emperor — sending her a bank note. " You will find a 
 thousand to supply his place for that amount. I want 
 soldiers, and for that purpose I encourage marriages." 
 Josephine was also so much interested in the story, that 
 when she arrived at Strasburg, she sent Julie a rich 
 bridal present. This incident illustrates the kindness 
 which was always active in the Empress, and which 
 was not a stranger to Napoleon's heart. 
 
 At Strasburg, on the confines of France and Ger- 
 many, Bonaparte left Josephine and hurried on to 
 Frankfort, and the scene of action. The faithful Em- 
 press would have joyfully accompanied him on his 
 way, but refusing his assent, she was left behind to 
 watch the progress of the campaign, the event of which 
 was to have so decisive an influence upon her owu 
 happiness.
 
 318 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 In addition to the ladies of her court who attended 
 her at Strasburg, Hortense and her children, the Queen 
 of Westphalia, and the Princess Stephanie contributed 
 by their presence to remove the gloom of her separa- 
 tion. In the society of these, she passed a few pleasant 
 weeks at Strasburg, when a messenger from Paris 
 summoned her thither as regent of the Empire again, 
 during Bonaparte's absence. She returned to St. 
 Cloud, and amid scenes of former enjoyment dreaded 
 each day more deeply the fatal blow, which from the 
 progress of affairs in Austria, she perceived was inevi- 
 table, and which was to sever the strongest ties forever. 
 
 To understand more fully the denouement of Jose- 
 phine's strange destiny, we must now recur to Napo- 
 leon in his present campaign. Like those of previous 
 dates, this was a series of brilliant successes. He 
 found upon his arrival in the camp that his army was 
 in disorder, and that the important plans, which he 
 had left an incompetent Marshal* to carry out, had 
 been only partially put in execution. His forces had 
 been scattered in various directions, under the misera- 
 ble pretext of keeping in check several trifling divisions 
 of the Austrian host, while Prince Charles with the 
 main body of his force was already occupying the 
 field. On the 17th of April, he arrived in the French 
 camp at Donauworth, and instantly began his work, 
 unfatigued by the journey, or undismayed by the pros- 
 pects before him. As rapidly as possible he collected 
 nis scattered soldiers, and took up his line of march for 
 
 * Bertliier.
 
 LIFE OP JOSEPHnTB. 319 
 
 Vienna. At Abensberg, at Eckmuhl, and at Ratisbon, 
 the Austrians, who attempted in great strength to 
 block up his path, were totally routed, and Prince 
 Charles was forced to cross the Danube with the rem- 
 nant of his army, thus leaving Napoleon an unobstruct- 
 ed way to the capital. He continued his course as 
 rapidly as he commenced it, and after a short struggle, 
 on the 12th of May, his armies entered and took 
 possession of Vienna. The tidings of these successes 
 Vt/ere borne to Josephine, and received by her with 
 gratitude ; but a new scene in the drama was soon to 
 appear. The imperial family of Austria, with one 
 exception, had hastily left the capital, to save them- 
 selves from the hands of the conqueror. The Arch- 
 duchess, Maria Louisa, daughter of the Emperor Fran- 
 cis II., alone remained, and met with becoming dignity 
 the possessor of her father's throne, at Schoenbrunn * 
 It is possible that Napoleon, when refused a matri- 
 monial alliance with Russia, had determined to seek 
 such a connection with Austria ; it is, at least, certain, 
 that this was in contemplation when he entered upon 
 his present campaign. When the Archduchess was 
 presented, his choice was made, and with his natural 
 impetuosity, he at once paid his court and addresses to 
 her. The haughty daughter of the Csesars heard his 
 offers calmly, but refused to compromise her dignity in 
 the slightest degree. She told him it was no time then 
 
 * This chateau was built by Maria Tlieresa, in 1754, and ia distant 
 only a mile from Vienna. Maria Louisa prcforred it to all the palacea 
 of her fatlier.
 
 820 LIFE OF JOSKPHTNE. 
 
 to listen to his vows, and demanded protection foi 
 herself, and safety for her fugitive family. Napoleon 
 left her, resolved that the war should not cease till the 
 Emperor of Austria was forced to surrender to him 
 this beautiful prize. 
 
 All this was borne to Josephine upon the wings of 
 the wind. Her private couriers told her of the youth 
 and charms of the Archduchess, and exaggerated the 
 influence which they were exerting over Bonaparte. 
 Then followed the bulletin of battle. The tide of war 
 was again swelling to its flood, and the heart of the 
 devoted Empress forgot its jealousy in the apprehen- 
 sion for a husband's safety. Now his star was in the 
 ascendant — then it seemed to sink, and again it rose 
 in glory, and blazed with a brighter splendor than be- 
 fore. Napoleon was triumphant — the campaign w^as 
 ended — a treaty of peace had been signed — and the 
 conqueror of another empire was again on his return 
 to France. 
 
 Austria was completely humbled, but yet the terms 
 upon which peace was made, were so favorable to her 
 that all Europe was ai tonished. Napoleon was not 
 accustomed to show undue liberality when matters of 
 this kind were at his entire disposal, but in the present 
 instance, he had allowed Austria to retain nine millions 
 of square miles of her territory, while he only took for 
 France a few small provinces,* and had given her 
 
 * These were Trieste, the districts of Carniola, Friuli, the circle 
 of Villach, and small parts of Croatia, and Dalitatia, embracing about 
 two hundred thousand square miles.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPnilTE. 32 \ 
 
 peace, upon conditions which still left her, next tc 
 France and Russia, the most formidable power upon 
 the continent. It was said at the time, and with great 
 probability, that the reason for these remarkable con- 
 cessions lay in the contemplated matrimonial alliance 
 between Bonaparte and the house of Hapsburg ; though 
 the statement that his marriage was one of th-^ secret 
 articles in the treaty of peace, was afterwards denied 
 by Napoleon. 
 
 On the 16th of October, Bonaparte left Schcenbrunn; 
 at Munich, he stopped and despatched a courier to the 
 Empress at St. Cloud, apprising her that he should 
 arrive at Fontainebleau on the 27th, and directing the 
 court to proceed thither to receive him. So rapid, 
 however, was his progress, that he reached Fontaine- 
 bleau at ten o'clock on the morning of the 2Gth, and of 
 course found no preparations made for his reception. 
 This threw him into a rage, though he could not have 
 forgotten that his arrival was a day earlier than he had 
 fixed, and cursing their tardiness, ordered a courier to 
 gallop immediately to St. Cloud, and announce to the 
 Empress his arrival. Fontainebleau is forty miles 
 distant, and it was one o'clock before Josephine re- 
 ceived the intelligence. Aware of the Emperor's 
 disposition, she set off hastily, with a feeling of dismay, 
 fearing he might charge the consequences of his own 
 haste upon her. 
 
 Towards evening, Josephine arrived ; Bonaparte 
 was writing in his library, and when an attendant 
 tola him the Empress had come, he took no notice of
 
 322 LIFE OF JOSEPHINX 
 
 the announcement. It was the first time he haJ failed 
 to welcome her after absence, and not only Josephine, 
 but all, marked so strange a mood. Inquiring after 
 him, the Empress ran to the library, threw open the 
 doors, and, unheralded, stepped forward to greet him. 
 At her first salutation, the Emperor raised his eyes, 
 and without rising from his seat, gave her a look that 
 was like the touch of death. " Ah ! so you are come, 
 madam," said he. " 'Tis well ; I was just about to set 
 out for St. Cloud." Josephine attempted to answer, 
 but her emotions choked her, and she burst into tears. 
 Was this the reception which was to requite her love, 
 her fears for his safety, her efforts for his success ? 
 As she stood sobbing there, Napoleon's heart smote 
 him, and rising, he apologized for his rudeness. "For- 
 give me," he said, tenderly embracing her — " I own 
 I was wrong. Let us be friends again." Josephine 
 was ready for a reconciliation, but she could not at 
 once dry her tea/s. Retiring to dress, they flowed 
 afresh, and for several moments she freely indulged 
 them. What meant his coldness, and then his return- 
 ing favor ? Was his kindness real, or did he show it 
 only to give her a false hope, as the boa is said to 
 loosen its folds and look brightly in the eye of its vic- 
 tim, as a prelude to the last struggle? 
 
 When Josephine and the Emperor again met, it was 
 with mutual smiles, and apparent cordiality. Each 
 seemed to have forgotten the previous misunderstand- 
 ing, and mainly desirous of treating the other with 
 affection. It was not many days, however, before the
 
 LIFK OF JOSEPHINE. 32S 
 
 attendants saw tokens of alienation. The manners of 
 tiie Emperor towards Josephine, assumed a formality^ 
 and those of the Empress towards him, betrayed an 
 unusual constraint. It was evident that something 
 had ruffled the tide of their domestic happiness. Their 
 lime was spent mostly at Fontainebleau, interspersed 
 with occasional visits to the capital. When at Paris, 
 everything appeared in its accustomed way, and Jose- 
 phine was ever glad of a pretext which called them 
 there, for at the palace life was irksome and full of 
 disquiet. Napoleon had told her that she stood in the 
 way of his prosperity, that he needed not only an heir, 
 but that to render his power stable, he must seek an 
 alliance with one of the great reigning houses of Eu- 
 rope, that she lay as ever near his heart, but bade her 
 ask herself the question, if it would be a pleasing re- 
 flection, that the great empire to whose formation she 
 had essentially contributed, was to crumble away at 
 his death. " What a glorious sacrifice," he would say, 
 "you can make, not only to myself but to our empire." 
 Josephine would answer sometimes by tears, then by 
 Bupplications, and again by arguments, to which even 
 Napoleon could not reply. She would appeal by turns 
 to his generosity, to his former love, and to his super- 
 stition. She would talk to him of that mysterious in- 
 fluence which had bound them together, and against 
 which he might not rashly sin. " See there," said 
 she to him, one starlight evening, as they sat alone at 
 a window of the palace, — " Bonaparte, behold that 
 
 bright star; it is mine! and remember, to mine, not t« 
 21 N*
 
 324 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 thine, has sovereignty been promised. Separate, then, 
 our fates, and your star fades !" 
 
 Nothing, however, could swerve the Emperor from 
 his purpose, and Josephine saw from day to day, thai 
 her influence over him was declining. It was a hu- 
 miliating thought to her, that her attendants noticed 
 this, and even her waiting- ma ids had already begun 
 to regard her in the light of a repudiated wife. " In 
 what self-constraint," said she, "did I pass the period 
 during which, though no longer his wife, I was obliged 
 to appear so to all eyes ! Ah ! what looks were those 
 which the courtiers suffered to fall upon me." The 
 private passage-way between her apartments and the 
 Emperor's had been closed by his orders, and the free 
 and joyous intercourse which they had frequently held 
 together seemed past forever. A dark shadow rested 
 over the path of Josephine, and she moved slowly for- 
 ward into its ever deepening obscurity, groping for 
 light ami-d the chaos of happiness which once was 
 hers. The language of her thoughts was, as our Eng- 
 lish poet expressed it, 
 
 " Like the lUy, 
 That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd, 
 I'll hang my head, and perish." 
 
 Bonaparte endeavored to act his part without be- 
 traying his emotion, but it was in vain. The strong 
 man who had smiled in the face of danger and death, 
 trembled as he drew near the closing scenes of this 
 strange drama. Some have represented him as ap- 
 pearing to act a comedy, and pass with perfect calm-
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINK. 324 
 
 ness through the ordeal ; but this is only an out-jide 
 view of the picture. It was no farce that made Napo- 
 leon Bonaparte weep in his chamber, while his whole 
 frame shook with the emotions which were wildly 
 struggling in his breast. But the iron hand of destiny 
 was upon him, destiny which had impelled him on in 
 the career of glory, and still pointed to a brighter emi- 
 nence beyond — and he could not resist it. He looked 
 before him, out the abyss which was already yawning 
 at his feet was covered, and like a bed of flowers, upon 
 which his star shone undimmed. The die was cast, 
 his resolution was irrevocably taken, and though, while 
 he should carry it into action, clouds might gather 
 upon his sky, they would roll away, leaving his path 
 the clearer and brighter, in contrast with a transient 
 eclipse. 
 
 It was the last day of November, that he formally 
 announced his purpose's to Josephine. He had previ- 
 ously urged her to consent to the divorce, but had 
 never before positively told her that she must cease to 
 be his wife. Upon this day, dinner had been served 
 as usual, to which the Emperor and Empress sat 
 down. Josephine had been weeping all the morning, 
 and to conceal the tears which were still falling, she 
 appeared at the dinner-table, wearing a head-dresa 
 which completely shaded the upper part of her face. 
 The dinner was one merely of form. The vianda 
 were brought on and removed, but neither Josephine 
 nor Bonaparte tasted the luxuries or uttered a word 
 Once or twice their eyes met, but were instanth
 
 826 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 averted, each fearing to read the look which revealed 
 the spirit's struggle. Josephine saw tnat her sun-light 
 had passed away, and felt that the storm would quickly 
 spend its wrath upon her. 
 
 The dinner ceremony concluded, the Emperor rose, 
 and Josephine followed him mechanically into the ad- 
 pining saloon. Napoleon ordered all the attendants 
 to retire, and for a few moments they were alone, and 
 both were silent. Josephine instinctively apprehended 
 her fate, but as she watched the changing expression 
 of Bonaparte's countenance, and read through these 
 the struggles of his soul, a single ray of hope darted 
 athwart the gloom. Would he, could he cast her 
 away ? But all hope fled as she saw his features set- 
 tle into a look of stern resolve, and her spirit sank 
 within her, for she knew that her hour had come. 
 Approaching her with trembling steps, the Emperor 
 gazed at her for a moment, then took her hand and 
 laid it upon his heart, as he said — "Josephine! my 
 good Josephine, you know how I have loved you ; it 
 is to you, to you alone, that I owe the few moments 
 of happiness I have known in the world. Josephine, 
 my destiny is more powerful than my will ; my dear- 
 est affections must vield to the interests of France." 
 "Say no more," said the Empress; "I expected this, 
 I understand and feel for you, but the stroke is not the 
 less mortal." Josephine stopped ; she tried to say 
 more, but the appalling vision of her doom choked her 
 utterance. She endeavored to command her feelings, 
 but they were too strong to be restrained, and sobbing
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHIKTE. 327 
 
 out, " Oh, no, you cannot surely do it ! — you would not 
 kill me ?" — she sunk upon the floor, overcome with the 
 weight of her calamity. Napoleon, alarmed for her 
 safety, threw open the doors of the saloon and called 
 for help. The court physician was instantly sum- 
 moned, and committing the hapless Empress to his 
 care, the author of her misery shut himself up in his 
 cabinet, with feelings known only to Him, whose Om- 
 niscient eye " searches the hearts of the children of 
 men." 
 
 Josephine remained in her swoon for three hours. 
 Again and again, the Emperor came to inquire after 
 her, and would hang over her couch with an expres- 
 sion of the deepest anxiety. Corvisart, the physician, 
 and Hortense, watched eagerly for tokens of returning 
 animation; but when the Empress opened her eyes 
 again in consciousness, it was with a look so full of 
 sadness, that those who stood around, almost wished 
 that she could then bury her sorrows in the forgetful - 
 ness of death. 
 
 " I cannot describe," she afterwards writes, " the 
 horror of my condition during that night! Even the 
 interests which he affected to take in my sufferings, 
 seemed to me additional cruelty. Oh, mon Dieu ! 
 how justly had I reason to dread becoming an Em- 
 press !" When she recovered, she made no effort to 
 change Napoleon's resolution, but simply expressed to 
 him her acquiescence. A day or two afterwards she 
 wrote the following letter to the Emperor, which, as U
 
 828 LIFE or JOSEPHINB. 
 
 illustrates her peculiar feelings in relation to tliia 
 event, we have inserted : 
 
 " My presentiments are realized. You have pro- 
 nounced the word which separates us ; the rest is only 
 a formality. Such is the reward — I will not say of so 
 many sacrifices, (they were sweet, because made for 
 you,) — but of an attachment unbounded on my part, 
 and of the most solemn oaths on yours. But the state, 
 whose interests you put forward as a motive, will, it is 
 said, indemnify me, by justifying you ! These inter- 
 ests, however, upon which you feign to immolate me, 
 are but a pretext ; your ill-dissembled ambition, as it 
 has been, so it will ever continue, the guide of your 
 life — a guide which has led you to victories and to a 
 throne, and which now urges you to disasters and to 
 ruin. 
 
 "You speak of an alliance to contract — of an heir to 
 be given to your empire — of a dynasty to be founded! 
 But with whom do you contract that alliance ? With 
 the natural enemy of France — that insidious house of 
 Austria — which detests our country from feeling, sys- 
 tem, and necessity. Do you suppose that the hatred 
 so many proofs of which have been manifested, espe- 
 cially during the last fifty years, has not been trans- 
 ferred from the kingdom to the empire ; and that the 
 descendants of Maria Theresa, that able sovereign, 
 who purchased from Madam Pompadour the fatal 
 treaty of 1756, mentioned by yourself only with hor- 
 ror ; think you, I ask, that her posterity, while they 
 inherit her power, are not animated also by her spirit?
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHTNB. 829 
 
 I do nothing more than repeat what I have heard from 
 you a thousand times ; but then your ambition Hmited 
 itself to humbling a power which now you propose to 
 elevate. Believe me, so long as you shall be master 
 of Europe, Austria will be submissive to you; but 
 never know reverse ! 
 
 " As to the want of an heir, must a mother appear 
 to you prejudiced in speaking of a son ? Can I — ought 
 I to be silent respecting him who constitutes my whole 
 joy, and on whom once centered all your hopes ? The 
 adoption of Eugene was, then, a political falsehood? 
 But there is one reality, at least ; the talents and vir- 
 tues of my Eugene are no illusion. How many times 
 have you pronounced their eulogium ! What do I say ? 
 Have you not deemed them worthy the possession of a 
 throne as a recompense, and often said they deserved 
 more ? Alas ! France has repeated the same ; but 
 what to you are the wishes of France ? 
 
 " I do not here speak of the person destined to suc- 
 ceed me, nor do you expect that I should mention her. 
 Whatever I might say on the subject would be liable 
 to suspicion. But c ne thing you will never suspect — 
 the vow which I form for your happiness. May that 
 felicity at least recompense me for my sorrows. Ah ! 
 great it will be if proportionate to them !" 
 
 The Empress was not a woman that yielded to 
 despair, though to appear cheerful, or even calm, at 
 this time, cost her a struggle that shook the throne of 
 reason. But she was Empress still, and while her 
 moments of solitude were consumed in weeping and
 
 330 LIFE OF JOSEPHIISTE. 
 
 unavailing regret, she lost none of her dignity or ease 
 when subjected to the curious gaze of the officers of 
 the court, or the ladies who had a more immediate ac- 
 cess to her person. She even went to Paris, and pre- 
 sided at some of the splendid fetes given in honor of 
 Napoleon's late victories ; but in all her movements, 
 no one detected a step less light, an air less gay, a mien 
 less commanding, than had distinguished her in the 
 palmiest days of her imperial happiness. Hortense 
 was at Fontainebleau when Napoleon made his an- 
 nouncement to the Empress, and Eugene left Italy and 
 hastened to cheer his mother by his presence, as soon 
 as the first tidings of her calamity reached him. Both 
 of her children desired immediately to withdraw from 
 farther association with Napoleon. Eugene tendered 
 his resignation as viceroy of Italy, and asked to be ex- 
 cused from future service. Said he, " The son of her 
 who is no longer Empress, cannot remain viceroy. I 
 will follow my mother into her retreat. She must now 
 find her consolation in her children." Napoleon was 
 much affected at this declaration, and urged Eugene 
 not to relinquish hastily his honors. He told him that 
 it was necessity, and not inclination, which urged the 
 sacrifice of Josephine ; that he still loved her, and lav- 
 ished the same affections upon her children as before. 
 " Should you leave me," said he, " and should I have a 
 son, who w^ould watch over the child when I am ab- 
 sent? If I die, who will prove to him a father? who 
 will bring him up ? who is to make a man of him ?' 
 Josephine also heroically pleaded Napoleon's request.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 331 
 
 "The Emperor," said she to Eugene, "is your bene- 
 factor, your more than father, to whom you are in- 
 debted for everything, and, therefore, owe a boundless 
 obedience." History hardly shows a stronger instance 
 of self-denying devotion than that which the Empress 
 exhibited during the whole of these scenes. She be- 
 came willinsr to sacrifice all her interests — to leave the 
 1 ® 
 
 'proudest throne the world could then boast, and lay 
 
 her crown at his feet who had bestowed it upon her ; 
 to see all her hopes wither, and mourn over the be- 
 reavement of her tenderest affections — willing to give 
 up everything could she advance the glory of Napo- 
 leon. This was the goal of her changeful existence. 
 The trial, though severe, was met and sustained. With 
 heroic fortitude she looked into the gulf before her, and 
 with calmness stepped forward to meet her fate. True, 
 there were moments when the heart would rise, when 
 the fountains of sorrow would overflow ; but she strug- 
 gled resolutely against these emotions, and before the 
 day of separation arrived, she could talk of the event 
 with Eugene and Hortense with, apparently, perfect 
 composure. 
 
 That " fatal day" was not to be averted. It came, 
 and notwithstanding her previous fortitude, the blow 
 fell with a crushing weight upon her soul. A stupor, 
 as though death were fastening his arrow in her heart, 
 came over her. She was the gay and lovely Josephine 
 no longer. She lost the self-control which she had 
 with so much conflict gained, and was again a weak, 
 broken-hearted woman, helpless and cotnfortless ; a
 
 332 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 vine reaching forth in ^ain its tendrils for the sup- 
 port whence it was rudely torn. 
 
 The 15th of December had been announced as the 
 day for the intended separation. Napoleon had caused 
 to assemble at the Tuilleries the different members of 
 his own family, the Arch-chancellor of France, and all 
 the high officers of state who composed the imperial 
 council. It was a magnificent assembly, but each 
 countenance wore a shade of gloom, as if some terrible 
 blow were impending over the dearest prospects of 
 every heart. Napoleon first addressed them and told 
 them the object of his calling them together. "The 
 political interests of my monarchy," said he, " the 
 wishes of my people, which have constantly guided my 
 actions, require that I should leave behind me, to heirs 
 of my love for my people, the throne on which Provi- 
 dence has placed me. For many years I have lost all 
 hopes of having children by my beloved spouse, the 
 Empress Josephine ; this it is which induces me to 
 sacrifice the sweetest afiections of my heart, to con- 
 sider only the good of my subjects and desire a disso- 
 lution of our marriage. Arrived at the age of forty 
 years, I may indulge a reasonable hope of living long 
 enough to rear, in the spirit of my own thoughts and 
 disposition, the children with which it may please 
 Providence to bless me. God knows what such a de- 
 termination has cost my heart ! but there is no sacri- 
 fice which is above my courage when it is proved to 
 be for the best interests of France. Far from having 
 any cause of complaint, I have nothing to say but in
 
 I 
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE, 333 
 
 praise of the attachment and tenderness of my beloved 
 wife. She has embellished fifteen years of my life — 
 the remembrance of them will be forever engraven on 
 my heart ; she was crowned by my hand : she shall 
 retain alwavs that rank and the title of Empress : but, 
 above all let her never doubt my feelings or regard me 
 but as her best and dearest friend." 
 
 The sweet but faltering tones of Josephine's voice 
 struck a chord of sympathy in every heart, as she thus, 
 with great dignity, replied — " I respond to all the senti- 
 ments of the Emperor, in consenting to the dissolution 
 of a marriage, which henceforth is an obstacle to the 
 happiness of France, by depriving it of the blessing of 
 being one day governed by the descendants of that 
 great man, evidently raised up by Providence to efface 
 the evils of a terrible revolution, and restore the altar, 
 the throne, and social order. But his marriage will in 
 no respect change the sentiments of my heart ; the 
 Emperor will ever find in me his truest friend. I know 
 what this act, commanded by policy and exalted inter- 
 ests, has cost his heart ; but we both glory in the sacri- 
 fices which we make to the good of the country. I 
 feel elevated in giving the greatest proof of attachment 
 and devotion that was ever given upon earth." When 
 she had finished, the Empress was assisted out of the 
 apartment, but the exercises of the day, from which 
 she was drinking such draughts of bitterness, were not 
 yet brought to a close. Again had the imperial family 
 and chief nobles of the realm assembled, all in grand 
 costume, to witness the final consummation. A decree
 
 834 LIFE OF JOSEPniKB. 
 
 of the Senate had been obtained, proclaiming the 
 divorce and all that was now necessary, was that it 
 receive the signatures and seals of the parties to be 
 separated. Napoleon wore a hat whose sweeping 
 plumes mostly concealed his face, but an observer 
 could still read in his countenance traces of deep emo- 
 tion. He stood with his arms crossed upon his breast, 
 motionless and speechless. A writing apparatus of 
 gold lay upon a small table in the midst of the apart- 
 ment, and before it an arm-chair was placed, waiting 
 the entrance of the Empress. The door opened and 
 Josephine, leaning on the arm of Hortense, came slowly 
 forward. For a moment she gave an involuntary shud- 
 der, and paused while her lustrous eye ran over the 
 face of every one present, as though she had now for 
 the first time gained a full apprehension of her doom. 
 
 " She stood, as stands the stricken deer 
 Check'd midway in the fearful chase. 
 When bursts upon his eye and ear 
 The gaunt, gray robber baying near 
 Between it and its resting-place — 
 Wlaile still behind, with yell and blow, 
 Sweeps, like a storm, the coming foSi" 
 
 It was, however, but for a moment, and proceeding 
 forward she seated herself in the chair at the table, and 
 listened to the decree of the council which completed 
 the separation between herself and the object of her 
 warmest affections. The decree was as follows : — 
 
 " Art. I. The marriage contracted between the Em-
 
 I 
 
 X 
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 33& 
 
 peror Napoleon and the Empress Josephine, is dis- 
 solved. 
 
 Art. II. The Empress Josephine shall preserve the 
 title and rank of Empress Queen Crowned. 
 
 Art. III. Her allowance is fixed at an annual pay- 
 ment out of the public treasury. 
 
 Art. IV. Whatever provision the Emperor shall 
 make in favor of the Empress Josephine out of the 
 funds belonging to the civil list, shall be obligatory 
 upon his successors. 
 
 Art. V. The present Senatus consultum shall be 
 transmitted by a message to her imperial and royal 
 majesty." 
 
 Josephine listened to this decree, but the warm tears 
 fell like rain from her quivering lids. Rising from her 
 chair, she pronounced the oath of acceptance with a 
 tremulous voice, and then ovei'come with emotions, 
 sank again into her seat. Count Regnaud de St. Jean 
 d'Angely placed the pen in her hand, with which she 
 signed the fatal decree. The deed was done, but oh, 
 with what a heaving heart did that martyr lay down 
 the pen, and look up to catch one glance of love from 
 the stern countenance, which, pale and motionless as 
 that of a statue, was turned full upon her. With one 
 convulsive sob she rose, and leaning again upon the 
 arm of Hortense, left the apartment no longei the wife 
 of Bonaparte. 
 
 Eugene, who had been an agonized spectator of the 
 whole scene, followed her closely, but his emotions were 
 too strong for his sensitive nature to endure. He had
 
 836 LIFE OF JOSEPHESTE. 
 
 hardly left the saloon before he fainted and fell, com 
 pletely overcome by his anguisn. 
 
 Josephine shut herself up in her apartment, where 
 the sorrow of her soul could be unseen by human eye 
 She had nerved herself for the issue, had for days beer 
 steeling her heart to composure, but when the blow 
 fell, she bowed like a reed before the tempest. It was 
 in vain that she assumed tranquillity, the tide of feeling 
 swept its barriers. At night she sought a last inter- 
 view with Napoleon. He had retired to rest when, 
 with eyes swollen and red from weeping, Josephine 
 entered the apartment. She threw open the door but 
 stopped, as she saw the Emperor, doubtful whether to 
 advance or retire. A throng of emotions — delicacy, 
 love — the consciousness that she had no longer any 
 right there, and an unwillingness to leave without an 
 adieu, struggled in her breast. Napoleon, dismissing 
 his servant in waiting, rose and clasped the Empress 
 in his arms, and for a few moments they were locked 
 in each other's embrace, silently mingling their tears 
 together. Josephine remained with him an hour, and 
 then parted from the man who had won and broken 
 her heart. Her sobs told what a weight of sorrow still 
 rested upon her spirit as she left the apartment, but 
 the bitterness of death had passed. 
 
 And another trial was in store for her. The next 
 morning she was to leave the Tuilleries, and bid adieu 
 to scenes sacred to the memory of happiest years. At 
 eleven o'clock an officer of the guard entered her room, 
 and told her that he had orders to conduct her to Mai
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 83Y 
 
 maison. Silently she prepared to obey the summons 
 but paused to weep again, when she thought of what 
 she had sacrificed and what she was to leave. To add 
 to her sadness, the whole household, who were tenderly 
 attached to her, assembled together on the stairs and 
 in the vestibule through which she was to pass, anxious 
 to catch one last look at their martyr mistress, " who 
 carried with her into exile the hearts of all that had 
 enjoyed the happiness of access to her presence." 
 The expressions of their grief as they met her ears, 
 were too much for the heart of Josephine. She would 
 have stopped and taken them each by the hand, but 
 she knew if she had hesitated now, a delirium of grief 
 would lay her a helpless victim at their feet. She 
 leaned upon one of her ladies, and moved on with 
 mournful step, more tremulously and wearily than the 
 unfortunate, but faithful Beauharnais, had trod the 
 floor of the guillotine. A carriage stood at the gates, 
 an officer assisted her up the steps, and pausing to take 
 a farewell gaze at the scenes of past greatness and de- 
 parted happiness, she veiled a face whose two-fold ex- 
 pression of resignation and sorrow, made it indescriba- 
 bly touching and lovely ; and was borne away forever 
 fiom the palace consecrated oy ner presence, to ine 
 empire of virtue and afiection
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IOSIPHINE's RKTIEEMENT and sorrow. HER RESIDENCE AT MALMAISOSI 
 
 AND NAVARRE. MARIA LOUISA. NATIONAL JOT AT THE BIRTH OF 
 
 TOUNG NAPOLEON. CONGRATULATIONS OF JOSEPHINE. INCIDENTS OF 
 
 LIFE AT NAVARRE. BONAPARTe's CAMPAIGN TO RUSSIA. HIS DISAS- 
 TERS.— THE FIDELITY OF JOSEPHINE. LETTERS. NAPOLEON ABDICATES 
 
 THE THRONE. — JOSEPHINE RECEIVES THE HOMAGE AND SYMPATHY OF 
 
 THE GREAT. HER LAST ILLNESS AND DKATH.^ — FUNERAL. SUMMARY 
 
 OF HER CHARACTER. 
 
 Josephine returned to Malmaison, the mansion 
 which twelve years before she entered as the bride of 
 Napoleon, and where she had passed the happiest 
 hours of life, now heart-broken and desolate. She 
 struggled vainly to calm the agitation of her unof- 
 fending spirit, that forced the tears like rain from her 
 swollen eyes, and to hide the agony written in unmis- 
 takable lines upon her meek and mournful face. 
 Though past middle age, she was still youthful in ap- 
 pearance, and seemed the very angel of sorrow, smil- 
 ing through the grief and gloom of her great calamity ; 
 the more distressed, because others were sad on hei 
 account. Every object that she looked upon remind- 
 ed her of the varied past, her present humiliation, and 
 A joyless future. Her favorite walks were no more 
 taken for refreshment or pleasure, but became the 
 houi's of weeping, while every apartment of that villa.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 339 
 
 chosen and embellished by her taste, presented to her 
 eye some trace of the man whose ambition crushed 
 her, or gave back to her imagination an eclio of his 
 familiar voice. It was not simply that her divorce was 
 unjust, and her pride wounded by so rudely taking 
 from her brow a crown she had not sought, but hei 
 affections were torn from their object and bleeding-^ 
 she was spurned from a heart that had won her own; 
 and loved deeply in turn — and all to gratify an in- 
 satiate thirst for power and permanent fame. None 
 but those who have striven to conceal the throes of 
 anguish which almost brought tears of blood, can 
 sympathize with this uncomplaining sufferer during 
 the months that succeeded her separation from Na- 
 poleon. 
 
 Still her residence was the resort of the distingue, 
 and often presented scenes of gayety similar to those 
 of the royal palace. The drawing-rooms were ele- 
 gantly furnished, and the furniture adorned with em- 
 broidery wrought by Josephine and the ladies of her 
 court, in previous years. The apartment Bonaparte 
 had occupied v/as untouched from the time he left it, 
 excepting the dusting by her own hand. She kept the 
 key and guarded its contents sacredly as the relics of 
 a consecrated temple. The volume of history lay 
 where he closed it, with a leaf turned down to the 
 place of perusal — a pen was beside it, and a map of 
 the world which he used to spread before him ana 
 mark out his course of conquest, and show his con- 
 clave of confidential friends the comprehensive plans 
 22 O
 
 340 LIPE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 of actiOiT he had designed. His camp-bed, arms laid 
 aside, and apparel thrown off carelessly where he 
 changed it, were undisturbed. No intruder entered 
 this silent room, which to Josephine was a haunted 
 spot — where she could give unchecked indulgence to 
 her bitter woe, and sit in a wild reverie, unbroken by 
 the curious gaze or words of condolence. 
 
 Her personal arrangements at this time were all 
 becoming and simple. The only costly piece of fur- 
 niture she added to her own chamber was the splen- 
 did toilet service, made of gold, which she left behind 
 her in the palace, but which Napoleon sent to her, 
 with other valuable articles she refused to take as pri- 
 vate property. The Empress desired now an unos- 
 tentatious life — an exterior worthy of her rank, yet 
 within this a quiet and secluded home in harmony 
 with her subdued and wounded spirit. A letter ad- 
 dressed to her superintendent, displays her taste and 
 refinement of feeling. 
 
 " Profit by my absence, dear F , and make 
 
 haste to dismantle the pavilion of the acacias, and to 
 transfer my boudoir into that of the orangery. 1 
 should wish the first apartment of the suite, and which 
 serves for an ante-room, to be painted light green, 
 with a border of lilacs. In the centre of the panels 
 you will place my fine engravings from Esther, and 
 under each of these a portrait of the distinguished 
 generals of the Revolutions. In the centre of the 
 apartment there must be a large flower-stand con- 
 stantly filled with fresh flowers in their season, and in
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 341 
 
 each angle a bust of a French philosopher. I partic- 
 ularly mention that of Rousseau, which place between 
 the two windows, so that the vines and foliage may 
 play around his head. This will be a natural crown, 
 worthy of the author of Emile. As to my private 
 cabinet, let it be colored light blue, with a border of 
 ranuncuius and polyanthus. Ten large engravings 
 from the Gallery of the Musee, and twenty medallions, 
 will fill up the panels. Let the casements be painted 
 white and green, with double fillets gilded. My piano, 
 a green sofa, and two chaises longues, with corre- 
 sponding covers, a secretaire, a small bureau, and a 
 large toilet-glass, are articles you will not forget. In 
 the centre, place a large table always covered with 
 freshly gathered flowers ; and upon the mantle-shelf a 
 simple pendule, two alabaster vases, and double- 
 branched girandoles. Unite elegance to variety ; but 
 no study, no profusion. Nothing is more opposed to 
 good taste. In short, I confide to you the care of ren- 
 dering this cherished spot an agreeable retreat, where 
 I may meditate — sleep, it may be — but oftenest read ; 
 which says sufficient to remind you of three hundred 
 volumes of my small edition." 
 
 Many persons of rank from St. Cloud frequented 
 this abode of elegance, because they knew it gratified 
 Napoleon, whose affection still clung to Josephine. 
 From nine o'clock till midnight, all the phases of life 
 at court were witnessed here, while savans were not 
 only regular guests, but in the circle of the Empress' 
 warmest friends. The pencil and lyre were scarcely
 
 842 LIFE OF JOSEPUINB. 
 
 ever absent from her apartments, while Canova, then 
 in his glory, adorned tlie galleries with the creations 
 of his genius, or by his presence enhanced the pleasm-e 
 of conversation in the saloons. 
 
 Several months were spent in this manner at Mal- 
 •naison, her sadness unbroken, however brilliant the 
 Bocial aspect; when a change of residence brought 
 diversion to her thoughts, and in proportion to this 
 effect, a relief to her mental gloom. The chosen spot 
 was Navarre, once a kingly palace, and celebrated 
 for its extensive and beautiful park, its winding and 
 crystal streams, transparent lakes, and fairy lawns. 
 The chateau was in the bosom of the forest of Evreux, 
 whose grand old trees locked their arms around it, and 
 whose shadowy aisles ran in diverging lines into the 
 solemn twilight. But the Revolution had not spared 
 this magnificent seat ; it was a splendid wreck. Tan- 
 gled shrubbery had usurped the mounds where flowers 
 had bloomed, the streams were filled with fallen 
 branches, and the lakes stagnant with mouldering 
 v^egetation. To restore the departed grandeur and 
 beauty was Josephine's new employment, which was 
 a double source of delight, in furnishing entertainment 
 to herself, and a means of benevolence in the labors 
 of the poor peasantry. Bonaparte gave her a million 
 of francs, or forty-one thousand pounds sterling, on 
 her retirement, as part of her allowance, which she 
 devoted entirely to this object. Soon the wildernesa 
 of decay " blossomed as the rose ;" the waters sparkled 
 and murmured along their channels, and slumbered
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 843 
 
 in their boundaries fringed with foUage — the sunny 
 slopes were gay with flowers, and the wide fields alive 
 with the laborers, who were grateful for toil, if it pur- 
 chased bread. In the centre of this miniature king- 
 dom, the ex-Empress lived more secluded than before, 
 and consequently more in unison with her taste. 
 There was less parade, and fewer guests, but more 
 freedom and greater intimacy of friendship. A quota- 
 tion is subjoined, which gives with a minuteness sim- 
 ilar to a former description, the order of domestic 
 affairs. 
 
 " At ten o'clock breakfast was served ; and it was 
 the duty of the ladies and chamberlains in attendance 
 to be in the saloon to receive her majesty, who was 
 exact to a minute in all such arrangements. ' I have 
 never,' she used to say, ' kept any one waiting for me, 
 half a minute, when to be punctual depended on my- 
 self Punctuality is true politeness, especially in the 
 great.' From the saloon the Empress immediately 
 passed into the breakfast-room, followed by her court, 
 according to their rank ; naming herself those who 
 were to sit on her right and left. Roth at breakfast 
 and dinner the repast consisted of one course only, 
 everything except the dessert being placed on the 
 table at once. The Empress had five attendants be- 
 hind her chair, and those who sat down with her, one 
 each. Seven officials of different ranks performed the 
 ordinary service of the table. After breakfast, which 
 was never prolonged beyond three quarters of an hour 
 the Empress, with her ladies, retired to a long room
 
 344 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 named the gallery, adorned with pictures and statues, 
 and commanding a beautiful prospect, where they 
 continued to employ themselves in various elegant oi 
 useful works, while the chamberlain in attendance 
 read aloud to the party. At two, when the weather 
 permitted, the ladies rode out in three open carriages, 
 each with four horses, Madam d'Arberg, lady of honor, 
 one of the ladies in waiting, and a distinguished visitor 
 always accompanied the Empress. In this manner 
 passed two houi's in examining improvements, and 
 freely conversing with every one who desired any- 
 thing, when the party returned, and all had the dis- 
 posal of their time till six o'clock, the hour of dinner. 
 This repast concluded, the evening, till eleven, was 
 dedicated to relaxation, the Empress playing at back- 
 gammon, piquet, or casino with the personages of her 
 household, or guests whom she named for that honor, 
 or conversing generally with the whole circle. 
 
 " The younger ladies, whether members of the house- 
 hold or visitors, of whom there were always several, 
 often many, whose education Josephine thus' comple- 
 ted by retaining them near her person, usually ad- 
 journed to a small saloon ofl' the drawing-room, where 
 a harp and a piano invited either to music or the dance 
 under the control of some experienced matron. Some- 
 times, however, this slight restraint was forgotten, and 
 the noise of the juvenile party somewhat incommoded 
 their seniors in the grand apartment. On these occa 
 sions, Hie lady of honor, who had the charge of the 
 whole establishment, and was, moreover, a strict dis-
 
 LIPE OF JOSEPHINB. 845 
 
 ciplinarian, vvould hint the necessity of repressing the 
 riot ; but Josephine always opposed this. ' Suffer, my 
 dear Madam d'Arberg,' she would say, ' both them and 
 us to enjoy, while we may, that delightful innocency of 
 mirth which comes from the heart and goes to the 
 heart.' At eleven, tea was served, and the visitors 
 retired ; but the Empress generally remained for an 
 hour longer, conversing with her ladies. ' These con 
 versations,' says one who frequently bore a part in 
 them, ' afforded the best means of judging of the 
 strength of her understanding, and the goodness of hei 
 heart. She loved to give herself up, without reserve, 
 to the pleasure of this confidential intercourse, bul 
 would sometimes check herself in the midst of an in- 
 teresting recital, observing, ' I know that everything I 
 say is reported to the Emperor, a circumstance ex- 
 tremely disagreeable, not in itself so much, as in the 
 consequent restraint which it imposes.' Napoleon, in 
 fact, had intelligence within a few hours of everything 
 which was done or said at Malmaison and Navarre. 
 I know not that the member of our circle who thus 
 played the spy was ever suspected, but certain it is, 
 such an official existed. On this subject, we may 
 remark, that the same system prevailed at St. Cloud 
 and the Tuilleries ; but what was most singular, besides 
 the regular police, established by Napoleon and Jose- 
 phine for mutual surveillance, some one member of the 
 court had gratuitously assumed the office of secret 
 reporter. Within a few hours the Emperor or Em. 
 press received information of whatever had occurred
 
 346 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 of a peculiar nature in the conduct of eitlier, which the 
 one might be deemed desirous of concealing from ine 
 other. These communications came by the ordinary 
 letter office attached to the palaces, were evidently by 
 the same hand, and yet the writer remained unde- 
 tected." 
 
 Yet Josephine felt net a thrill of joy amid all this 
 change, unless upon receiving words of love from 
 Napoleon, or at the gladness of others — the words of 
 inspiration were deeply her experience : " Every heart 
 knows its own bitterness !" There is nothing more 
 sad in life's changes, than the suffering of the innocent 
 for- the guilty ; the unuttered grief of a bosom another 
 has robbed of hope — the slow death of one who has a 
 wounded spirit. But such are the woes that make the 
 pastime of half the world. The millionaire rides in a 
 gilded chariot bought with the gains that made tears 
 falb like rain — the man with a little brief authority 
 walks unmoved upon the prostrate form of another 
 whom he fears or hates — and in a thousand homes, 
 woman is a secluded martyr to the vice and caprice of 
 a heartless ruffian. 
 
 To Josephine, this view of earth, after the completed 
 work of desolation, which banished her from St. Cloud, 
 became naturally the habitual one, as expressed in a 
 letter to Bonaparte : 
 
 <' Sire, — I received, this morning, the welcome note 
 which was written on the eve of your departure for 
 St. Cloud, and hasten to reply to its tender and affec- 
 tionate contents. These indeed, do not in themselves
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 347 
 
 surprise me ; but only as being received so early a« 
 fifteen days alter my establishment here ; so perfectly 
 assured was I that your attachment would search out 
 the means of consoling me under a separation neces- 
 sary to the tranquillity of both. The thought that youi 
 care follows me into my retreat renders it almost 
 agreeable. 
 
 " After having known all the sweets of a love that is 
 shared, and all the suffering of one that is so no longer ; 
 after having exhausted all the pleasures that supreme 
 power can confer, and the happiness of beholding the 
 man whom I loved, enthusiastically admired, is there 
 aught else, save repose, to be desired ? What illusiona 
 can now remain for me ? All such vanished when it 
 became necessary to renounce you. Thus, the only 
 ties which yet bind me to life are my sentiments for 
 you, attachment for my children, the possibility of 
 being able still to do some good, and above all, the 
 assurance that you are happy. Do not, then, condole 
 with me on my being here, distant from a court, which 
 you appear to think I regret. Surrounded by those 
 who are attached to me, free to follow my taste for the 
 arts, I find myself better at Navarre than anywhere 
 else ; for I enjoy more completely the society of the 
 former, and form a thousand projects which may prove 
 useful to the latter, and will embellish the scenes I 
 owe to your bounty. There is nmch to be done here, 
 for all around are discovered the traces of destruction ; 
 these I would efface, that there may exist no memorial 
 
 uf tliose horrible inflictions which your genius has 
 
 O*
 
 348 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 taught the nation ahnost to forget. In repairing what 
 ever these ruffians of revolution labored to annihilate, 
 I shall diffiise comfort around me ; and the benedictions 
 of the poor will afford me infinitely more pleasure than 
 the feigned adulations of courtiers. 
 
 " I have already told you what I think of the func- 
 tionaries in this department, but have not spoken suffi- 
 ciently of the respectable bishop (M. Bourlier.) Every 
 day I learn some new trait, which causes me still more 
 highly to esteem the man who unites the most en- 
 lightened benevolence with the most amiable dis- 
 positions. He shall be intrusted with distributing my 
 alms-deeds in Evreux ; and as he visits the indigent 
 himself, I shall be assured that my charities are proper- 
 ly bestowed. 
 
 "I cannot sufficiently thank you, sire, for the liberty 
 you have permitted me of choosing the members of my 
 household, all of whom contribute to the pleasure of a 
 delightful society. One circumstance alone gives m& 
 pain, namely, the etiquette of costume, which becomes 
 a little tiresome in the country. You fear that there 
 may be something wanting to the rank I have pre- 
 served, should a slight infraction be allowed in the 
 toilet of these gentlemen ; but I believe you are wrong 
 in thinking they would, for one minute, forget the re- 
 spect due to the woman who was your companion. 
 Their respect for yourself, joined to the sincere attach 
 ment they bear to me (which I cannot doubt,) secures 
 me against the danger of being obliged to recall what 
 t is your wish they should remember. My most hon-
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 348 
 
 orable title is derived, not from having been crowned, 
 but assuredly from having been chosen by you — none 
 other is of value — that alone suffices for my immor- 
 tality. 
 
 " I expect Eugene. I doubly long to see him ; foi 
 he will doubtless bring me a new pledge of your re- 
 membrance ; and I can question him at my ease of a 
 thousand things concerning which I desire to be in- 
 formed, but cannot inqun'e of you ; things, too, of 
 which you ought still less to speak to me. My daugh- 
 ter will come also, but later, her health not permitting 
 her to travel at this season. I beseech you, sire, to 
 recommend that she take care of herself; and insist 
 since I am to remain here, that she do everything pos- 
 sible to spare me the insupportable anxiety I feel under 
 any increase of hcB ill health. The weakness in her 
 chest alarms me beyond all expression. I desire Cor 
 visart to write me his opinion without reserve. 
 
 "My circle is at this time somewhat more numerous 
 than usual, there being several visitors, besides many 
 of the inhabitants of Evreux and the environs, whom I 
 see of course. I am pleased with their manners, and 
 with their admiration of you, a particular in which, as 
 you know, I am not easily satisfied ; in short, I find 
 myself perfectly at home in the midst of my forest, and 
 entreat you, sire, no longer to fancy to yourself that 
 there is no liv-ng at a distance from court. Besides 
 you, there is nothing there I regret, since I shall have 
 my children with me soon, and already enjoy the so- 
 siety of the small number of friends who remained
 
 350 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 faithful to me. Do not forget your friend ; tell her 
 sometimes that you preserve for her an attachment 
 which constitutes the felicity of her life ; often repeat 
 to her that you are happy, and be assured that for her 
 the future will thus be peaceful, as the past has been 
 stormy — and often sad." 
 
 While these scenes were passing in the mansion of 
 Josephine, the Emperor held councils at Paris to de- 
 termine the most advantageous matrimonial alliance 
 for his realm. Austria gained the honor of furnishing 
 the second wife of Napoleon. Count Lauriston and 
 Prince Neufchatel were sent to demand the hand of 
 Maria Louisa, of the Austrian monarch. The mar- 
 riage ceremony was celebrated according to the de- 
 finite arrangements of Bonaparte, March, 1810. That 
 it is a weakness when a great mind is unable to de- 
 scend to minute and common things, was illustrated by 
 contrast in this affair, planned and directed in all its 
 details by the same genius that scaled the Alps, and 
 gave sceptres to trembling kings. The season passed, 
 and Napoleon rejoiced in the prospect of an heir to his 
 diadem and name. After a visit he made during this 
 period at Navarre, Josephine remarked to a friend : — ■ 
 
 " You cannot conceive, my friend, all the torments 
 I have endured since that fatal day : I cannot think 
 how I survived it. You can form no conception of 
 the misery it is to me to see everywhere description 
 of fetes. And the first time he came to see me after 
 his marriage, oh ! what a meeting was that ! what tears 
 I shed ! The days on which he comes are days of
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 361 
 
 torture to me, for he has no delicacv. How cruel of 
 him to speak to me about his expected heir! you may 
 suppose how distressing all this is to me. Better far 
 to be exiled a thousand leafjues from hence ! How- 
 ever, some few friends still continue faithful to me, 
 and that is now my only consolation ''n the few mo- 
 ments I am able to admit of it." 
 
 And yet this amiable, grieving exile, was among the 
 first to express her interest on the father's account, 
 when the birth of the King of Rome was announced. 
 This event occurred March 26th, 1811, after imminent 
 danger in regard to the fate of both the queen and her 
 son. It was during this crisis, Napoleon, with the 
 calm accents of complete self-command, said to Du- 
 bois, the attending physician, " Treat my wife as you 
 would a shop-keeper's in the Rue St. Denis." And 
 when the question arose which should be sacrificed, if 
 one must die, mother or child, he exclaimed, " Save 
 my wife ! the rest affects me little." It is difficult 
 after all, to estimate the motive in the direction to Du- 
 bois. For love to Maria Louisa alone, could not have 
 governed him ; greater affection had been violated to 
 obtain the gift he was likely to lose — but doubtless he 
 preferred the probability of another heir to the death 
 of a queen and the difficult care of a motherless in- 
 fant 
 
 The joy which succeeded the intensely painful sus- 
 pense of the people, when the thunder of cannon her 
 aided the presence of a prince in the palace of St. 
 Cloud, was a wild burst of enthusiasm, that svvepl
 
 352 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Storm-like orer an empire whose population was fift}- 
 seven millions. Unconscious heir of prospective 
 glory ! — the object of national idolatry, the treasure 
 of a monarch whose wealth was kingdoms, and the 
 occasion of solicitude to the sovereigns of half the 
 world ! 
 
 Josephine's household were at a magnificent enter- 
 tainment given by the prefect, when the tidings came 
 to him, whose office required his aid in extending the 
 public jubilee. The guests dispersed, and among those 
 who returned to the saloon of Josephine, where she 
 was alone with the Princess d'Arberg, was Madam De- 
 crest, who touchingly said — " I confess that my bound- 
 less affection for Josephine caused me violent sorrow, 
 when I thought that she who occupied her place was 
 now completely happy. Knowing as yet but imper- 
 fectly the grandeur of soul which characterized the 
 Empress, her entire denial of self, and absolute devo- 
 tion to the happiness of the Emperor, I imagined there 
 must still remain in her so much of the woman as 
 would excite bitter regret at not having been the moth- 
 er of a son so ardently desired. I judged like a friv- 
 olous bemg of the gay world, who had never known 
 cares beyond those of a ball. 
 
 " On arriving at the palace, where the first comers 
 had spread the news, I learned how to appreciate one 
 who had so long been the cherished companion, often 
 the counsellor, and always the true friend of Napoleon. 
 1 beheld every face beaming with joy, and Josephine's 
 more radiant than any, for all but reflected her satisfac
 
 LITE OF josErnrsTE. 35tt 
 
 tioN No sooner had the party from the carriage en- 
 tered the saloon, than she eagerly enquired what de- 
 tails we had learned. ' I do regret,' she continued to 
 repeat, ' being so far from Paris ; at Malmaison I could 
 have had information every iialf hour ! I greatly re- 
 joice that the painful sacrifice which I made for Franca 
 is likely to be useful, and that her future destiny is now 
 secure. How happy the Emperor must be ! One thing 
 alone makes me sad ; namely, not having been informed 
 of that happiness by himself: but then he has so many 
 orders to give, so many congratulations to receive. 
 Young ladies, we must do here as elsewhere ; there 
 must be a fete to solemnize the accomplishment of so 
 many vows. I will give you a ball. And, as the sa- 
 loons are small, I will have the hall of the guards floored 
 above the marble ; for the whole city of Evreux must 
 come to rejoice with us : I can never have too many 
 people on this occasion. Make your preparations ; get 
 ready some of my jewels ; I must not, in the present 
 case, continue to receive my visitors in a honvet de 
 nuit. As for you, gentlemen, I require, for this once, 
 your grand costume.' Her majesty's pleasant counte- 
 nance was, if possible, more than usually open and 
 frank in its expression while she spoke, and never, in 
 my opinion, did she show herself more worthy of the 
 Mgh fortunes she had enjoyed." 
 
 Napoleon was too much absorbed with the consmn- 
 "viation of his ardent wishes, to think for a time of h.s 
 repudiated wife, who tempered the torture of regret 
 with sincere rejoicing, on the fruition of his most daz
 
 354 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 zling hopes. Upon important occasions, he usually 
 sent a special messenger to Navarre to inform Jose- 
 phine of passing events; but her intelligence of the 
 royal birth had come only through the prefect, and dem- 
 onstrations of gladness that filled the heavens with 
 the continual roar of artillery, and spread music and 
 dancing over the land. She was grieved by this neg- 
 lect, and addressed a note to the Emperor, which 
 shows a confidence in his regard, and a magnanimity 
 of soul, that none can contemplate without the admi- 
 ration and interest of a personal esteem. 
 
 "Navarre, March 20-21, 1811. 
 
 " Sire, — Amid the numerous felicitations which you 
 receive from every corner of Europe, from all the cities 
 of France, and from each regiment of your army, can 
 the feeble voice of a woman reach your ear, and will 
 you deign to listen to her who so often consoled your 
 Borrows and sweetened your pains, now that she speaks 
 to you only of that happiness in which all your wishes 
 are fulfilled? Having ceased to be your wife, dare I 
 felicitate you on becoming a father ? Yes, sire, with- 
 out hesitation, for my soul renders justice to yours, in 
 like manner as you know mine ; I can conceive every 
 emotion you must experience, as you divine all that ] 
 feel at this moment ; and, though separated, we aie 
 united by that sympathy which survives all events. 
 
 " I should have desired to learn the birth of the King 
 of Rome from yourself, and not from the sound of the 
 cannon of Evreux, or the courier of the prefect ; 1
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniNB. 35? 
 
 know, however, that in preference to all, your first at- 
 tentions are due to the public authorities of the state, 
 to the foreign ministers, to your family, and especially 
 to the fortunate Princess who has realized your dearest 
 hopes. She cannot be more tenderly devoted to you 
 than I ; but she has been enabled to contribute more 
 towards your happiness, by securing that of France. 
 She has then a right to your first feelings, to all 3'our 
 cares ; and I, who was but your companion in times 
 of difficulty — I cannot ask more than a place in your 
 affection, far removed from that occupied by the Em- 
 press Maria Louisa. Not till you have ceased to watch 
 by her bed, not till you are weary of embracing your 
 son, will you take the pen to converse with your best 
 friend. I will wait. 
 
 " Meanwhile, it is not possible for me to delay tell- 
 ing you, that more than any one in the world do I re- 
 joice in your joy ; and you doubt not my sincerity, 
 when I here say, that, far from feeling affliction at a 
 sacrifice necessary to the repose of all, I congratulate 
 myself on having made it, since I now suffer alone. 
 But I am wrong — I do not suffer, while you are happy ; 
 and have but one regret, in not having yet done enough 
 to prove to you how dear you were to me. I have no 
 account of the health of the Empress ; I dare to depend 
 upon you, sire, so far as to hope that I shall have cir- 
 cumstantial details of the great event which assures 
 the perpetuity of the name you have so nobly illus- 
 trated. Eugene and Hortense will write me, impart- 
 'ng their own satisfaction ; but it is from you that 1
 
 356 UFE OF JOSEPniNK. ♦ 
 
 desire to know if your child be well — if he resemble 
 you — if I shall one day be permitted to see him ; in 
 short, I expect f7'om you unlimited confidence, and 
 upon such I have some claims, in consideration, sire, 
 of the boundless attachment I shall cherish for you 
 while life rema,ins." 
 
 The next day Eugene arrived and gave his mother 
 the particulars she desired ; and at eleven o'clock the 
 same evening, a page was formally announced bearing 
 a message direct from St. Cloud to Josephine. She 
 had not forgotten the youthful member of her former 
 court, and with native kindness relieved his embarrass- 
 ment while searching for the note he had too carefully 
 concealed about his person, by inquiring familiarly 
 after his friends and his own success. But the instant 
 her hand felt the precious billet, she vanished to her 
 private apartment, and for half an hour sprinkled the 
 blotted sheet with tears. Eugene had followed her 
 and when they returned, gave evidence that Josephine 
 had not wept alone. The scene upon rejoining the 
 company, is thus described by a friend. 
 
 " We dared not question the Empress ; but observ- 
 ing our curiosity, she had the condescension to gratify 
 us with a sight of the letter ; it consisted of about ten 
 or twelve lines, traced on one page, and was, as usual, 
 covered with blots. I do not exactly remember the 
 commencement, but the conclusion was, word for 
 word, — ' This infant in concert with our Eugene, will 
 constitute my happiness and that of France.' ' Is it 
 possible,' remarked the Empress, ' to be more amiable ?
 
 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 357 
 
 or could anything be better calculated to soothe what- 
 ever might be painful in my thoughts at this moment, 
 did I not so sinceroly love the Emperor? This uni- 
 ting of my son with his own is indeed worthy of him, 
 who, when he wills, is the most delightful of men. 
 This it is which has so much moved me,' Callinor, 
 then, for the messenger, Josephine said, 'For the Em- 
 peror and for yourself — giving the page a letter, and 
 a small morocco case, containing a diamond brooch, 
 value five thousand francs (two hundred guineas.) 
 This, indeed, was the present intended for the messen- 
 ger, should the child be a girl, and one of twelve 
 thousand francs for a boy ; but, with her usual good 
 taste, she made this alteration, fearing the people 
 might talk rather of her munificence than satisfac- 
 tion. Exactly in the same style of splendid propri- 
 ety was given the entertainment which she had 
 promised to her little court." 
 
 So disinterested was this sorrowful spirit, that she 
 sought a friendly intercourse and correspondence with 
 Maria Louisa. Though Bonaparte favored cordially 
 the proposal, the Queen was a stranger to that eleva- 
 tion of sentiment which suggested it, and jealous of 
 associations involving her unrivalled sovereignty of 
 the Emperor's heart, if not of the realm he ruled 
 We are, at every new disclosure of the principles of 
 action that animated the heroine of this history, in 
 duced to pause and wonder, while we eulogize the un- 
 paralleled nobility of nature, at the symmetry and spot- 
 less purity of a character matured under influences
 
 558 
 
 LITE OF JOSEPUINB. 
 
 generally corrupt, at least inadequate to the sublime 
 development she exhibited. This reflection was awak 
 ened here by the perusal of a letter to the Queen on 
 the subject of more intimacy in social life. - 
 
 " Madam, — While you were only the second spouse 
 of the Emperor, I deemed it becoming to maintain 
 silence towards your majesty; that reserve, I think, 
 may be laid aside, now that you are become the 
 mother of an heir to the empire. You might have 
 had some difficulty in crediting the sincerity of her 
 whom, perhaps, you regarded as a rival ; you will 
 give faith to the felicitations of a French woman, for 
 you have bestowed a son upon France. Your amia- 
 bleness and sweetness of disposition have gained you 
 the heart of the Emperor; your benevolence merits 
 the blessings of the unfortunate, the birth of a son 
 claims the benedictions of all France How amiable 
 a people — how feeling — how deserving of admiration 
 are the French ! To use an expression which paints 
 them exactly — ' they love to love !' Oh ! how delight- 
 ful, then, to be loved by them ! It is upon this faciUty 
 and, at the same time, steadiness of affection, that the 
 partisans of their ancient kings have so long rested 
 their expectations ; and here their trust is not without 
 reason. Whatever may happen, the name of Henry 
 IV., for instance, will always be reverenced. It must 
 be confessed, however, that the Revolution, without 
 corrupting the heart, has greatly extended the intelli- 
 gence, and rendered the spirits of men more exacting 
 Under our kings, they were satisfied with repose — now
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 359 
 
 tliey demand glory. These, madam, are the two bless- 
 ings, the foretaste of which you have been called to 
 give to France. She will enjoy them in perfection 
 under your son, if to the manly virtues of his sire he 
 join those of his august mother, by which they may 
 be tempered." 
 
 In this generous endeavor she was unsuccessful, 
 although by the kindness of Napoleon permitted fre- 
 quently to see his son. These visits were unknown 
 to Maria Louisa, and were made at a royal pavilion 
 near Paris, in the presence of the Emperor, and Madam 
 Montesquieu, governess of the child. Josephine, du- 
 ring the interviews, could seldom restrain her emo- 
 tions. With Bonaparte by her side, and the innocent 
 boy for whose sake she was repudiated, in her arms, 
 it is not strange that she showered upon his fair fore- 
 head the dew of feeling too deep for utterance. Her 
 smile of affection upon the father and child, would 
 break through her grief, like the bow of summer amid 
 the sobbings of the passing storm. In uncomplaining 
 resignation, she caressed the baby-king, and clasped 
 him to her bosom as though he were her own, till Na- 
 poleon would brush away a tear from his own calm 
 face, and gaze for a moment with former tenderness 
 on the lovely being, whose countenance, so radiant 
 with expression, made the '-'burial places of memory 
 give up their dead," and glowed like living fire on hia 
 conscience. At length such occasions more seldom 
 recurred, until from the difficulty cf concealment, they 
 ceased entirely. It was removing a source of melan-
 
 360 LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 choly joy from Josephine, closing the parted clouds of 
 a tempest again above her drooping head, and leav- 
 ing her only the rays of comfort that pierced the dark- 
 ness, when a note or verbal message from the Empe- 
 ror reached Navarre. 
 
 In a letter written about this time, she alludes to 
 the privileges she had enjoyed, and the necessity of 
 its sacrifice. 
 
 "Assuredly, sire, it was not mere curiosity which 
 led me to desire to meet the King of Kome ; I wished 
 to examine his countenance — to hear the sound of his 
 voice, so like your own — to behold you caress a son on 
 whom centre so many hopes — and to repay him the 
 tenderness which you lavished on my own Eugene. 
 When you recall how dearly you loved mine, you will 
 not be surprised at my affection for the son of another, 
 since he is yours likewise, nor deem either false or ex- 
 aggerated, sentiments which you have so fully expe- 
 rienced in your own heart. The moment I saw you 
 enter, leading the young Kapoleon in your hand, was 
 unquestionably one of the happiest of my life. It 
 effaced for a time the recollection of all that had pre- 
 ceded ; for never have I received from you a more 
 touching mark of affection. It is more : it is one of 
 esteem — of sincere attachment. Still, I am perfectly 
 sensible, sire, that those meetings which afford me so 
 much pleasure cannot be frequently renewed ; and I 
 must not so far intrude on your compliance as to put 
 Lt often under contribution. Let this sacrifice to your
 
 LIPB OF JOSEPHINE. 361 
 
 domestic tranquillity be one proof more of my desire 
 to see you happy." 
 
 An interesting story is told of the two Empresses in 
 connection with the King of Rome, which, whether 
 strictly authentic or not, illustrates their character 
 Redoute, a distinguished artist, and frequent visitor 
 at the saloons of Navarre, was one morning on his way 
 to the chateau with paintings of flowers, when he be- 
 held in the garden of the Tuilleries a hurrying multi- 
 tude, and heard the shouts of " The King of Rome ! 
 The Empress !" By the side of Maria Louisa, was a 
 miniature carriage drawn by four snow-white goats. 
 He paused to gaze on the novel scene, when his eye fell 
 upon a pale young mother near him, whose tears from 
 their sunken orbs dropped freely on the rosy cheeks 
 of her child. He caught these broken accents of grief : — ■ 
 
 " My poor little one ! — my darling ! you have no 
 carriage, my angel ; no playthings — no toys of any 
 kind. For him abundance, pleasure, every joy of his 
 age, for thee, desolation, suffering, poverty, hunger! 
 .What is he that he should be happier than you, dar- 
 ling ? Both of you born the same day, the same hour ! 
 I as young as his mother, and loving you as fondly as 
 she loves him. But you have now no father, my poor 
 babe ; you have no father !" 
 
 The artist forgot the rushing crowd, and the pageant 
 they were pursuing, and kindly addressed the poor 
 woman. 
 
 " Madam, why do you not make known yowr situ- 
 ation to the Empress ?"
 
 362 UFB OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 " To what purpose, sir ? Small compassion have 
 the great ones of this world." 
 
 " But why not make the attempt ? " 
 
 " I have done so, sir, already. I wrote to the Em- 
 press, and told her that my son was born the same day 
 the same hour with the King of Rome. I told her 
 alas ! tnat he has no father, that my strength is faiUng 
 that we are utterly destitute. But the Empress has 
 not deigned to answer." 
 
 " You will have an answer, rest assured. Perhaps 
 the memorial has not been yet placed before her maj- 
 esty. Give me your address, I beg of you ?" 
 
 Upon meeting Josephine, who was surprised at the 
 delay in his appointed call, he apologized with a rela- 
 tion of these incidents by the way. She replied — 
 
 " I see the great artist, as always happens, has a feel- 
 ing heart. If Napoleon did but know the destitution 
 of this child, born the same day, the same hour with his 
 son ! Be with me to-morrow morning at nine o'clock; 
 we will together visit this poor creature." 
 
 At the time appointed, Redoute and Josephine were 
 threading a narrow and dismal alley, leading to the 
 widow's abode, a miserable garret in the fifth story of 
 a dark old structure. Ascending the damp stair-way, 
 the painter soon introduced his fair companion to the 
 ghastly wreck of a lovely woman, and her laughing 
 boy. Josephine caressing the unconscious orphan, 
 learned from the mother, the mournful history of her 
 bereavement and poverty. Then rising, she placed in 
 the hand of the child a purse, and with the tremulous 
 
 1
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. S63 
 
 tones of deep feeling, assured the widow thai brightei 
 days were before her — and promising a physician, and 
 also a removal on the morrow to a cheerful dwelling. 
 A.t this moment the door opened, and a lady elegantly 
 attired, entered with an escort, and calmly surveyea 
 the apart Tient, as though her presence were a miracle 
 of benevolent condescension. It was Maria Louisa, 
 who had with unwonted interest in the poor, answered 
 at her leisure the appeal of the sufferer. She did not 
 recognize her rival in the love of the Emperor, having 
 carefully avoided intercourse with her ; while Redoute 
 was studying with an artist's earnestness and observant 
 eye, the faces of each — the one expressing the pride of 
 rank and consciousness of power, the other the sweet- 
 ness of benignity itself, excepting a shadow of disdain 
 for the display of greatness, that passed over her sad 
 yet radiant features. When the Empress disclosed the 
 design of her visit, Josephine spoke — " Your intention 
 is most laudable, doubtless, madam, but you are rather 
 late ; the young mother and the child are under my 
 protection." Maria haughtily replied, " I have some 
 reason to believe that my pati'onage will be a little 
 more advantageous." After a spirited conversation in 
 which the artist and chamberlain joined to defend the 
 illustrious philanthropists, Josephine withdrew. For 
 W3 years she protected and maintained the widow and 
 'ler son — and when both she and that mother were 
 dead, the homeless Charles, deserted by relatives, be- 
 came the protege of the struggling and gifted Redoute. 
 
 Na|)oleon when in exile, said of his wives, that he 
 
 P
 
 So 4 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 had been much attached to them both — adding, " The 
 one was the votary of art and the graces ; the other 
 was all innocence and simple nature ; and each, he ob- 
 served, had a very high degree of merit. The first, in 
 no moment of her life, ever assumed a position or at 
 titude that was not pleasing or captivating ; it was im- 
 possible to take her by surprise, or to make her feel the 
 least inconvenience. She employed every resource of 
 art to heighten natural attractions, but with such in 
 genuity as to render every trace of allurement imper 
 ceptible. The other, on the contrary, never suspected 
 that anything was to be gained by mnocent artifice. 
 The one was always somewhat short of the truth of 
 nature ; the other was altogether frank and open, and 
 was a stranger to subterfuge. The first never asked 
 her husband for anything, but she was in debt to every 
 one ; the second freely asked whenever she wanted, 
 which, however, very seldom happened, and she never 
 thought of receiving anything without immediately 
 paying for it. Both were amiable and gentle in dis- 
 position, and strongly attached to their husband." 
 
 Josephine's benevolence never shone more purely 
 than at Navarre. Her income was 125,000/. a year, 
 of which four or five thousand were devoted to chari • 
 table uses. The suffering were relieved — the home- 
 less found refuge — and we have seen how the widow 
 and the fatherless were visited in their affliction. In 
 addition to this, she avoided at all times a tone of voice 
 or a look, which might fling a shadow upon the path of 
 the humblest pilgrim to the goal of mortality. When
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 386 
 
 needful to rebuke an attendant for delinquency, it was 
 simply by silence — withholding any expression of 
 favor, which never failed to restore the offender peni- 
 tently to duty. If a member of her court was sick, 
 she was the first to enter the chamber, and as often as 
 the strength of returning health would allow, appointed 
 the meetings of her little circle in the apartment of the 
 invalid, to cheer with their entertainment the heart 
 weary of confinement. She received and deserved 
 the title of "the excellent Josephine," exhibiting in the 
 minutest details of daily hfe, the same gentleness, and 
 magnanimity, on great occasions displayed more stri- 
 kingly to the multitude. She thus writes to a friend in 
 relation to her joining the group, whose attachment 
 lent a charm to existence, which misfortune had so 
 bereft of its clustering delights. 
 
 '* You will find with me the gentlest and most 
 agreeable society. Some of my ladies are kind and 
 gajd; they have not always been happy, and will 
 therefore sympathize in your melancholy without for- 
 cing you to be gay ; others will beguile you of your 
 sorrows by the charms of their wit ; and with the 
 gentlemen of my court you may converse on those 
 acquirements which you have cultivated with pleasure 
 and success. Some young persons in whom I am 
 interested will study along with your amiable daughter ; 
 she will increase their knowledge by communicating 
 her own, and will receive in return lessons in music 
 and accomplishments not otherwise accessible in th« 
 chateau of her deceased father Thus, manv advan
 
 366 LIFE OF JOSEPHINB. 
 
 tages concur to decide you to come and live with me ; 
 and I venture to believe that your affection will reckon 
 among these inducements the certainty of thus con- 
 tributing to render my retreat more pleasing. Hitherto, 
 i have been surrounded by all imaginable proofs of 
 regard. I have received visits from the whole of 
 Napoleon's court. It is known that he desires I should 
 always be treated as Empress ; and besides, people 
 wish to see with their own eyes how I support my 
 new situation. When they shall have been able to say 
 several times before Napoleon that ttiey have been at 
 Malmaison, and shall have fully examined my counte- 
 nance, and criticized my manners, they will cease to 
 come eight leagues to visit a person who can no longer 
 do anything for them, and I shall be left alone with 
 my true friends, of whom / will that you augment the 
 number. These words / will have escaped me ; it is 
 the consequence of a habit which I shall correct ; bu*. 
 one of my habits I shall never resign — that of loving 
 you faithfully. Come, and believe in the attachment 
 of Josephine." 
 
 ■ Tlie continued confidence that I^apoleon reposed in 
 Josephine, and her devotion in return, present hia 
 character in a sublime aspect, however intense oui 
 indio-nation at the deed of separation. He would have 
 torn his own frame with instruments of torture if 
 France and glory required it — and none but himself 
 knew the agonies of remorse that brought hours of 
 wakefulness to his couch — and the bitter memories 
 that sometimes thronged his spirit in moments of sob
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 367 
 
 tude. The gentle Josephine felt that he must suffer 
 thus, and wept over it, scarcely less frequently than 
 over the hopes he had sternly trodden in the dust. 
 The mutual regard referred to, is finely expressed in a 
 letter written in reply to a note of inquiry after hei 
 health, during a slight illness. 
 
 " Sire, — The indisposition which has given yon 
 some uneasiness on my account has left no bad effects, 
 and I am almost tempted to bless the dispensation, as 
 the cause of my receiving a billet, which proves you 
 continue always to cherish the same interest in my 
 well-being. This certainty of your attachment will 
 contribute to re-establish a health which is already 
 better. What you say respecting your family disputes 
 afflicts nixi so much the more that I cannot, as formerly, 
 endeavor to reconcile them. I have laid down as a 
 Jaw never to meddle with what concerns your sisters ; 
 and I believe, if I were to fail in this self-imposed rule 
 of conduct, my representations would be ill received. 
 I have never been loved by these personages, who 
 interest me deeply, since your happiness depends in 
 part upon their conduct. Envy an.d jealousy, unfor- 
 tunately, were the sentiments I inspired ; and now that 
 I am deprived of a power, the cause of their umbrage, 
 resentment still remains at having been so Ions: obliged 
 to conceal their jealousy. I believe you exaggerate 
 their faults towards you, a necessary consequence of 
 the affection you bear them. They love you sincerely, 
 but not with that exaltation of sentiment you require 
 *n every thir.g; and they feel not, therefore, the chagrin
 
 868 IJFB OF JOSEPHINB, 
 
 they may cause you. The Queen of Naples, for in- 
 stance, was forced, not only to receive the Princess of 
 Wales, while travelling through her states, but to observe 
 all the honors due to that title. You would have 
 blamed her had she acted otherwise ; for her royal 
 highness was unfortunate — a claim more urgent than 
 3ven illustrious birth. Why, then, impute it as a crime 
 to have received an afflicted woman, accused, perhaps, 
 through injustice and calumny ? Separated from a 
 husband and from a child who loved her, had she not 
 whereof to complain ? and why, then, deny her the sad 
 consolation of an honorable hospitality ? Be assured, 
 therefore, that in all this there was nothing of political 
 contrivance, no intention to brave you. Your sister 
 of Naples may be ambitious, but she overflows with 
 tenderness for you, and is too proud of the title of your 
 sister ever to do anything which might render her un- 
 worthy thereof. As to the Princess Pauline, she is a 
 pretty child, whom all of us have taken a pleasure in 
 spoiling ; we need not, then, be surprised or offended at 
 her absurdities. With her, indulgence always succeeds 
 better than a severity, which we are forced to lay 
 aside whenever we look upon her ravishing beauty. 
 Do not chide her, then ; recall her ge^Lj, and she will 
 reform. Joseph is obliged to manage the Spaniards, a 
 circumstance which fully explains the kind of opposi-* 
 tion in which you are often placed. Time will bring 
 back union between you, by consolidating a power 
 opposed by many obstacles in this its commencement. 
 When you are better satisfied with your family, do not
 
 lilFE OF JOSEPUIKE. 86S 
 
 fail to inform me ; none, sire, can more rejoice in the 
 good understanding that ought to prevail there. Adieu. 
 Calm your head — allow your heart to act ; there I hold 
 a place which I desire to maintain, and will eternally 
 merit, ty an affection without limits." 
 
 These annals of private intercourse bring the life 
 of Josephine to 1812, a year of mighty events to Eu- 
 rope and Napoleon. Determined to avenge the in- 
 juries of Russia, and extend his conquests, he put his 
 affairs in order for an enterprise which attracted the 
 attention of the civilized woi'ld. Disasters were oc- 
 curring in Spain — and Wellington was on his way to 
 Madrid ; but these were now the pastime of war, and 
 almost forgotten in the hurry of preparation for a 
 campaign which filled the timid with alarm, and made 
 heroes pause in astonishment before the gigantic plan 
 of a single confident and majestic mind. Defeated in 
 the design of forming an alliance with Turkey and 
 Sweden, the only powers of Europe not in some way 
 bound to his throne, he was yet undismayed, the only 
 calm spirit that surveyed the vast and perilous field of 
 conflict, spreading from the Niemen to the summits of 
 eternal snow. Before jiis departure for Russia, he 
 visited Josephine. She received him cordially, and 
 w'th her nice sense of propriety, gave him a seat in 
 the garden, where the courtiers could see, but not hear 
 them during the long and earnest conversation that 
 followed. She spoke of his campaign with deei. con- 
 cern, and would have persuaded him to abandon an 
 expedition so fraught with danger. She said " Yow
 
 370 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 are playing for your crown, for the existence of your 
 dynasty and the Uves of my children." 
 
 But the conqueror kissing her hand, entered his 
 carriage, and was again in the tide of preparation 
 which bore men and munitions of war toward the 
 plains blackened by the legions of his foe. Maria 
 Louisa accompanied him to Dresden to see her father^ 
 while he hastened to the banks of the Niemen. The 
 mighty host marched forward, passed the Dnieper, 
 gained the heights of Smolensk, and over silent re- 
 doubts, entered upon a pavement of ghastly corpses, 
 the evacuated aijd ruined city. Never was there a 
 more heroic and desolate march than that of the 
 French battalions towards the throne of the Autocrat. 
 Under the walls of Moscow a fierce struggle covered 
 the ground with the dead, and as victory sent the 
 shout of the living along the lines, the fog which had 
 wrapped the city rolled away, and the sun poured his 
 glory on the domes of the doomed meti'opolis. Napo- 
 leon exclaimed, " Soldiers, 'tis the sun of Austerlitz!" 
 — and pressed on to the prize. Even then he might 
 have seen the flame of Russia's offering for rescue 
 ana the lurid sign of his own terrible calamity. 
 
 That awful conflagration swept away the hopes of 
 an army, leaving the brave legions unsheltered amid 
 the rigors of a northern winter. Every heart quailed 
 at the prospect, but that of the unconquerable Napo- 
 leon. Rumors had spread in Paris that he was slain; 
 and the fanatic Mallet conceived the project of over- 
 throwing the Emx)ire and restoring in some shape the
 
 LIFE OF JOSETHINB. S7l 
 
 Republic. The stroke was given tne very day Bona 
 paite turned his bacK on the smoking ruins of Mos 
 cow, and arriving at Smolensk, received intelligence 
 of the treason. Though the conspiracy was a signal 
 failure, and the insane leader with fourteen associates 
 were executed, the Emperor was in a rage, and ex 
 claimed to General Rapp : — 
 
 " Is it come to this, then — is my power so insecure 
 as to be endangered by a single individual, and he a 
 prisoner ? It would seem that my crown sits but 
 loosely on my head, if, in my own capital, the bold 
 stroke of three adventurers can shake it. Rapp, mis- 
 fortune never comes alone; this is an appropriate 
 finish to what is passing here. I cannot be every- 
 where, but I must go back to Paris ; my presence 
 there is indispensable to reanimate public opinion. I 
 must have men and money ; great successes and great 
 victories will repair all ; I must set off." 
 
 Giving the command of his thinned and disheart- 
 ened ranks to the experienced generals, among whom 
 was Eugene, for whose fate a fond and noble mother 
 was deeply anxious, he pressed ou to the capital of 
 a nation in mourning 
 
 ' For the unreturning brave." 
 
 To him it was an entrance strangely in contrast with 
 
 former advents upon the theatre of public homage. 
 
 Hitherto, the flying courier, followed by the roar of 
 
 artillery, had proclaimed to the waiting millions, the 
 
 annihilation of armies and the- glory of France. IS' o w 
 P* 24
 
 372 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 he left the struggling remnants of a magnificent host 
 among the blood-stained snows of a cheerless waste, 
 ar.d sadly, yet unyieldingly came again to taKe his 
 sceptre, sullied with the touch of conspiracy. 
 
 Intelligence of all these movements was conveyed to 
 Josephine at Malmaison. She still watched with the 
 tenderest solicitude over Napoleon's fate, and heard 
 with deep sadness of his disastrous Russian campaign. 
 An ordinary woman might have had a selfish delight 
 in the reflection that her own repudiation was the first 
 step in his descending career ; but this was far from 
 the thoughts of Josephine. If her life would have con- 
 tributed to his prosperity or happiness, she was ready 
 for the sacrifice. She would gladly have hastened to 
 meet him on his return to Paris, and bound up his 
 wounded spirit, with her sympathy and love. She 
 heard indeed of the congratulations and addresses of 
 the public functionaries of Paris upon his return — and 
 that the cities of Rome, Florence, Milan, Turin, Ham- 
 burgh, Amsterdam, and Mayence, had sent him the as- 
 surance that his presence alone was necessary to re- 
 move the disquietude that existed in the Empire, but 
 she was also aware that sources of fearful trouble to 
 the Emperor, were arising in the capital and in various 
 parts of France. She understood thoroughly the 
 schemes of the Philadelphes,* and was apprised of that 
 daring treason, headed by one of their number, Gen- 
 eral Mallet, which affected her deeply, for it indicated 
 
 * A secret association in the army, formed for the purpose of over- 
 throwing the Imperial power.
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 373 
 
 feeling against the Emperor, more widely extended 
 than apparent upon the surface of society. In these 
 tidings her quick ear caught the first moaning of the 
 tempest which would wreck his splendid fortunes. 
 
 The campaign of Saxony, upon which Napoleon 
 now entered, completed his downfall. He commenced 
 it with high anticipations of success, and though at the 
 outset a few great victories attested his genius, he soon 
 began to feel the mortification of repeated defeats. 
 His armies were no longer the invincible host, which 
 had hitherto never failed him in the hour of trial. 
 
 Toward the spring of 1814, when the allies had in- 
 vaded more than one third of France, and Napoleon s 
 throne was trembling on the undulations of an earth- 
 quake, whose march his prophetic vision discerned, 
 but which he could not avert ; he made his last visit 
 to the home of Josephine. The briglit sun was sink- 
 ing behind the purple hills, and Malmaison was peace- 
 ful as though the plains and slopes of vine-clad France 
 were untrodden by contending armies, and unreddened 
 by the blood of slaughter, when, with distressful air, 
 the Emperor entered the retreat of her who clung to 
 his side with intenser afl^ection amid the gloom of dark 
 ening disaster. They wept together, and while he 
 looked upon her sad and loving face he said — " Ah ! I 
 have been as fortunate as was ever man on the face 
 of the earth ; but to-day, now when a storm is gather- 
 ing over my head, I have not, O Josephine, in the wide 
 world, any but you upon whom I can repose." 
 
 The Jacobins w^re disposed to offer thei^ influenco
 
 SH LO-E OF JOSEPHIKB. 
 
 to save the " child of destiny," but demanded in return, 
 entire control of the press, and permission to advocate 
 freely the principles of the revolutionary period. His 
 words on the subject are forceful, and indicate regard 
 for enlightened freedom not wholly extinguished by 
 absolute rule, and disclose some filial emotion in this 
 offspring of Liberty, " to whom he owed everything, 
 though he had disowned his mother, and was about to 
 fall." He said indignantly — "This is too much! In 
 battle I shall have a chance of deliverance ; but I shall 
 have none with these furious blockheads. There can 
 be nothing in common between the demagogic princi- 
 ples of ninety-three, and the monarchy ; between clubs 
 o( madmen and a regular ministry ; between revolu- 
 tionary tribunals and established laws. If my fall is 
 decreed, I will not at least bequeath France to the 
 revolutionists from whom I have delivered her." 
 
 When about leaving Paris to make the last desper- 
 ate onset upon his exulting foe, he summoned the Na- 
 tional Guard to the Tuilleries, and while the large and 
 brilliant assembly were waiting in the deepest silence, 
 Napoleon entered the hall, leading by the hand the son 
 of his hopes, not yet three years old. With a calm but 
 melancholy mien, he surveyed the impressive scene, 
 chen with his usual clear and sonorous voice, delivered 
 a speech, from which the following is a quotation : — 
 
 "Gentlemen, and Officers of he National Guard! I 
 am happy to see you around me. This night I set out 
 to take the command of the army. On quitting the 
 capital, I confidently leave behind me my wife, and my
 
 UrE OF JOSEPHINB. 9l6 
 
 Bon, in whom so many hopes are centered. Under ycur 
 faithful guard I leave all that, next to France, I hold 
 dear. To your care they are intrusted." 
 
 Bonaparte threw himself into the overwhelming tide 
 of allied forces, and struggled nobly to regain the foun- 
 dation of sovereignty, sliding so rapidly from beneath 
 his feet. He did not, however, forget Josephine ; but 
 as often as communication was possible, sent letters 
 breathing the warmest affection ; while hers in return 
 were hailed with delight that brooked no delay in pe- 
 rusal, even amid the very tumult of battle. At length 
 the closing scenes. in the terrible tragedy, of which a 
 hero and king was the victim, interrupted the cor- 
 respondence. She could almost behold the field of 
 strife, and hear the discordant roar of combat. 
 
 One day, while sitting in a summer-house, looking 
 toward Paris, she saw a Sister of Charity near her case- 
 ment, and inquired respecting her mission of mercy, 
 The nun told her that the sisterhood had many wounded 
 officers under their care, and no sheets with which to 
 bind the bleeding limbs, and that she was on her way 
 to the capital for a supply. The Empress immediately 
 took the purchase into her own hands, and the saloons 
 of Malmaison became alive with the activity of fair 
 women preparing lint and bandages for the suffering. 
 
 Josephine was tortured with suspense, and w^hen she 
 heard that the royal family were flying to Blois, before 
 the advancing invaders, in her excitement and despair 
 she determined to depart for Navarre. On her way 
 ihither, discovering a detachment of troops in the dis
 
 376 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 
 
 tance, who were French hussars, she mistook them fo? 
 the terrible Cossacks, who had descended like demons 
 upon the arena of universal war. Beneath the peltings 
 of the storm, she fled across the fields ; and when the 
 illusion was dispelled, entering her carriage, she si\entl)? 
 pursued her journey, and awakening as from a. trance 
 upon their arrival at the palace, it is related, exclaimed, 
 " Surely, surely, Bonaparte is ignorant of what is pass- 
 ing within sight of the gates of Paris ; oc .f he knows, 
 how cruel the thoughts that must now a^'late his breast ' 
 Oh ! if he had listened to me !" 
 
 On the 31st of March, 1814, the allies entered Paris 
 During the fierce struggle beneal'i its walls upon the 
 preceding day, he was at Troyes, and with a suite of 
 four officers travelled towards tKe metropolis at the 
 rate of fifteen miles an hour, but did not hear of the 
 decisive battle till within a few miles of the city. His 
 army followed, marching with the unrivalled rapidity 
 of more than fifty miles a day. Napoleon tried to in- 
 flame the enthusiasm of his generals, and strike once 
 more for France — but it was too late ; the enemies of 
 the new dynasty and freedom had thrown their Bria- 
 rean arms around both and crushed them. On the 11th 
 of April, Bonaparte signed the articles of unconditional 
 abdication of his throne, expressed in these words : — 
 
 " The Allied Powers having proclaimed that the 
 
 Emperor Napoleon is the only obstacle to the re-es 
 
 tablishment of peace in Europe ; the Emperor Napo- 
 
 eon, faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces 
 
 or himself ana his heirs the thrones of France and
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 877 
 
 Italy, and that there is no personal sacrifice, even that 
 of life, which he is not ready to make for the interests 
 of France." 
 
 Maria Louisa without having a parting interview 
 with the Emperor as she requested, departed for Ram- 
 bouillet with her son, and soon after for Austria. She 
 was attached to Napoleon, but how unlike in her resig- 
 nation to his fate, the disinterested and magnanimous 
 Josephine. She in the mean time, was reading with 
 swimming eye his last messages, or carrying them in 
 her bosom, near her beating heart. 
 
 Vague rumors only had broken the painful silence 
 of many days, when the subjoined letter confirmed her 
 apprehensions, and revealed the changeless devotion of 
 a proud and fallen monarch. 
 
 "FoNTAiNEBLEVu, April 16, 1814. 
 " Dear Josbphine, — I wrote to you on the 8th of 
 this month (it was a Friday,) and pei-haps you have 
 not received my letter. Hostilities still continued . 
 possibly it may have been intercepted ; at present the 
 communications must be re-established. I have form- 
 ed my resolution ; I have no doubt this billet will reach 
 you. I will not repeat what I said to you : then I la- 
 mented my situation ; and now I congratulate myself 
 thereon. My head and spirit are free from an enormous 
 weight. My fall is great, but at least it is useful, as 
 men say. In my retreat I shall substitute the pen for 
 the sword. The history of my reign will be curious ; 
 the world bas yet seen me only in profile — I shall show
 
 878 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 myself in full. How many things have I to disclose ! 
 how many are the men of whom a false estimate is en- 
 tertained ! I have heaped benefits upon millions ol 
 wretches ! What have they done in the end for me ? 
 They have all betrayed me — yes, all. I except from 
 this number the good Eugene, so worthy of you and of 
 me. Adieu, my dear Josephine ; be resigned as I am, 
 and ever remember him who never forgot, and never 
 will forget you. Farewell, Josephine. Napoleon. 
 
 " P. S. I expect to hear from you at Elba : I am 
 not very well." 
 
 When the paroxysm of grief was over, she spoke 
 with all the ardor of her earnest spirit of the forsaken 
 Exile : " I must not remain here — my presence is 
 necessary to the Emperor. That duty is indeed more 
 Maria Louisa's than mine ; but the Emperor is alone 
 — forsaken. Well, I at least will not abandon him. J 
 might be dispensed with while he was happy — now, I 
 am sure he expects me." Then turning with more 
 composure to her chamberlain, added — "I may, how 
 ever, interfere with his arrangements. You will re- 
 main here with me till intelligence be received from 
 the allied sovereigns — they will respect her who was 
 the wife of Napoleon." 
 
 The allied sovereigns did not disappoint her — she 
 was urged to keep her residence at Malmaison, and 
 assured of their friendship and protection. 
 
 The Emperor Alexander of Russia, was especially 
 attentive and kind to Josephine, and as the only refuge, 
 Bhe accepted the generous proposal, and was soon
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPniKE. 379 
 
 quietly restored to her favorite hermitage. Napoleon 
 was a prisoner to the Kings of Europe, and like a caged 
 eagle, his soaring genius was confined within the nar- 
 row horizon of ocean-bound Elba, while their vulture 
 gaze was still fixed anxiously upon him. Josephine's 
 heart was there with the captive, as is seen in her 
 letter addressed to him soon after nis arrival upon the 
 island. 
 
 " Sire, — Now only can I calculate the whole extent 
 of the misfortune of having beheld my union with you 
 dissolved by law ; now do I indeed lament being no 
 more than your friend, who can but mourn over a mis- 
 fortune great as it is unexpected. It is not the loss of 
 .1 throne that I regret on your account ; I know from 
 myself how such a loss may be endured ; but my heart 
 sinks at the grief you must have experienced on sep- 
 arating from the old companions of your glory. You 
 must have regretted, not only your officers, but the 
 soldiers, whose countenances, even names, and bril- 
 liant deeds in arms you could recall, and all of whom 
 you could not recompense ; for they were too numer- 
 ous. To leave heroes like them deprived of their 
 chief, who so often shared in their toils, must have 
 struck your soul with unutterable grief; in that sor- 
 row especially do I participate. 
 
 "You will also have to mourn over the ingratitude 
 and falling away of friends, on whom you deemed you 
 co\ild confide. Ah ! sire, why cannot I fly to you ! 
 wliv cannot I give you the assurance that exile has no 
 terrors save for vul;j;ar minds, and that, far from dimin
 
 380 LIFE OF JOSKPHlIfK. 
 
 ishing a sincere attachment, misfortune 'mparts to it 
 new force ! I have been on the point of quitting France 
 to follow your footsteps, and to consecrate to you the 
 remainder of an existence which you so long embellish- 
 ed. A single motive restrained me, and that you may 
 divine. If I learn that, contrary to all appearance, 1 
 am the only one who will fulfil her duty, nothing shall 
 detain me, and I will go to the only place where hence- 
 forth there can be happiness for me, since I shall be 
 able to console you when you are there isolated and 
 unfortunate ! Say but the wwd, and I depart. Adieu, 
 sire ; whatever I would add would still be too little ; 
 it is no longer by words that my sentiments for you are 
 to be proved, and for actions your consent is neces- 
 sary. Josephine. 
 
 "Malmaison has been respected; I am there sur- 
 rounded with attentions by the foreign sovereigns, bul 
 had much rather not remain." 
 
 But the constitution of Josephine began to yield to 
 the repeated shocks il had sustained during the event- 
 ful years, whose departure left her a divorced and 
 crownless queen, and the Emperor who deserted her, 
 a thronel-ess exile on a solitary island. To increase 
 her solicitude and suffering, promised pensions were 
 withheld, and her sensitive nature put to the torture 
 by distressing embarrassment. As spring advanced, 
 her system began to develop disease, and by the ap- 
 plication of remedies, obtained a partial and transient 
 restoration. This was in the beginning of May. On 
 the tenth, she gave a dinner party, upon which oc-
 
 LIFE OF JOSEPHDra:. 381 
 
 casion among the distinguished guests, was the Er^- 
 peroi Alexander. Though suffering alternately tiie 
 thrilling pain and chills which shook her delicate 
 frame, she assumed her wonted smile, and after the 
 entertainment, joined in games of amusement on the 
 beautiful esplanade. Compelled at length to retire 
 from the ring, she betrayed her suffering only by the 
 pallor of her countenance, and in reply to inquiries, as- 
 sured her friends it was fatigue, and would be gone 
 with the morrow. But disease was doing its work. 
 The successive days brought no relief, and by the 
 25th, she was rapidly sinking before the ravages of a 
 malignant quinsy. 
 
 Physicians were constantly by her side ; science and 
 love exhausted their resources to rescue the uncom- 
 plaining sufferer from the skeleton hand of the de" 
 stroyer. She was conscious of her danger, but sweet- 
 ly avoided any intimation of it, or utterance of pain, 
 that might distress those who were watching for a ray 
 of returning hope. But none shone on the marble 
 forehead of the dying Josephine. 
 
 Eugene and Hortense were apprised by the physi- 
 cians that death was near, that they might prepare for 
 the dreaded event. They whispered with faltering 
 accents in the ear of that mother, her approaching 
 doom, while they hung over her couch with the agony 
 of breaking hearts — like those beside the grave of, 
 hope. Nor is it strange that such grief was theirs ; a 
 mother — and one who was an angel of love and guid- 
 ance to their path, was just entering the portal of a
 
 282 LIFE OF JOSEPHnrK, 
 
 bourne, whence no fond voice replies to the spirit's 
 questioning or its bitter prayer. Josephine soon after 
 received the sacrament. 
 
 The Emperor Alexander arriving, approached her 
 bed-side ; and as the fading eye of Josephine recog- 
 nized him, she rallied her departing strength, and, 
 wh'Je a new light beamed upon his features and then 
 fell on her kneeling and weeping children,— she beck- 
 oned to the silent group about her to come near, and 
 said with a celestial smile, and in tones of death's gen- 
 tlest music : — 
 
 " At least I shall die regretted ; I have always de- 
 sired the happiness of France ; I did all in my power 
 to contribute to it ; and I can say with truth to all of 
 you now present at my last moments, that the first 
 wife of Napoleon never caused a single tear to 
 flow." 
 
 As these words died upon her lips, she passed into 
 a slumber, unbroken till on the morning of the 29th of 
 May, she left the shadows of time for the realm of 
 immortalitv. 
 
 The body was embalmed and laid in a coffin of 
 sycamore lined with lead, and on the 2d of June, the 
 funeral procession moved from Malmaison to the vil- 
 lage of St. Ruel. While the remains lay in state, 
 twenty thousand persons from various parts of France, 
 came to look on the illustrious sleeper — and when the 
 concourse followed her to the grave, sovereigns led 
 the countless host, and two thousand poor formed the 
 last company of mourners, deeply lamenting the loss
 
 LITE OF JOSEPHEfTB. 883 
 
 of their benefactor. An oration was made on the oc- 
 casion, bj the Archbishop of Tours, and while prayers 
 were offered by the bisliops, Hortense was alone iji 
 her devotions, having retired to a chapel, where un- 
 disturbed, she might pour her grief on the infinite bo- 
 som of Him whose name is Love. And when the 
 multitude had gone from the sacred edifice, how beau- 
 tiful the spectacle of that dutiful daughter kneeling 
 with Eugene beside the tomb ; and both baptizing it 
 with their tears. Upon the simple monument of un- 
 adorned marble, Josephine is represented in royal 
 robes, in the attitude of kneeling, and on the memorial 
 of virtue, whose snowy whiteness is no false symbol 
 of character, is the brief and affecting inscription, 
 
 " EUGENE AND HOKTENSE TO JOSEPHINE." 
 
 In the narrative of stirring events, and common in- 
 cidents in the life of Josephine, the same unselfish 
 motives of action, untarnished virtue, gentleness, and 
 fidelity are always visible. She was endowed with a 
 fine intellect, and an attractive, though not beautiful 
 person. But what is most conspicuous and lovely, is 
 her warm and earnest sympathy with the suffering — • 
 lier joy in doing good. She may have been open to 
 the charge made against her, of jdelding to the French 
 luxit}' of morals in social life before her marriage to 
 Napoleon ; but her general chai-actcr, as delineated in 
 these pages, remains unquestioned. It maj' well be 
 regretted that we have so little evidence of a decidedly 
 religious life ; while we can believe, that in any of our
 
 384 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 American Protestant communities, she would have 
 been a Christian woman of rare excellence. And 
 while the name of Napoleon is repeated with admiring 
 wonder at the splendor of his genius, and sadness 
 because of its perversion, in the memory of all the 
 good to the last hour of time will be embalmed the 
 name of Josephine.
 
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