DC *\ l?5i CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY BEQUEST OF STEWART HENRY BURNHAM 1943 Cornell University Library DC 216.1.H43 1851 The life of the Empress Josephine :first 3 1924 024 330 411 a Cornell University § Library The original of tlnis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92402433041 1 JOSEPHIIE. / THE LIFE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. /irst WUi nf SupnUnn. P. C. HEADLEY, AOTHOB OF "WOMEN OF THE BIBLE," BTft AUBURN: DERBY AND MILLER. 1851. ,,, ,, \nmi Hi. in' 4 O.I Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 185G, by DERBY AND MILLER, In the Clerk's Office for the Northern District of New York. BTEREOTyPKD DY THOMAg D, SMITH, 216 WILLIAM STRBBT, N. Y. PREFACE. In offering another biography of Josephine to the admirers of that brilKant woman, it was the design of both the Author and Publishers, to fm-nish 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 in- debted to Memes ; and have referred for various in- teresting facts, to Bourrienne, Hazlitt, Von Rotteck, Scott, AHson, &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 extend the admiration of the pure and Beautiful, in contrast PEBFACE. with all the forms of corruption humanity could pre- sent in a period of bloody Revolution. The Empress was a greater personage than Napoleon in the elements of moral grandeur, and retained her sovereignty in the hearts of the people, while he ruled by the unrivalled splendor of his genius. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PA8I lijtereBt of Josephine's History. — Birth and Pamily. — Early Tears. First Love. — Singular Prediction. — Circumstances which cher- ished Superstition. — Attachment broken off. — Becomes ac- quainted -with Beauharnais. — Is Married. — Visits the Court of France. — Makes Provincial Tours. — The Birth of Eugene and Hortense. — Domestic Difficulties. — Separation fromher Husband. ^ — Hetirement. — 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 the Army. — His Principles and Humanity. — Elected to the National Convention. — Appointed Commander on the German Frontier.— T-Despatch to the Convention, 11 CHAPTER n. Fall of the Gironde. — ^Beauharnais arrested and imprisoned. — Letter of Josephine to her Aunt. — Friends forsake her. — Correspon- dence with Beauharnais. — Levity in View of Death, and Infi- delity during the Reign of Terror. — Josephine's Kindness to the Suffering. — Examination of Beauharnais. — Louis obtains an In- terview for Beauharnais with his Family. — Josephine's Descrip- tion of the Scene. — Parental Influence. — Beauharnais 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, .80 JONTENTS. CHAPTER m. Josephine undeceived. — Her Arrest. — Description of the Scene.^ The Prisoa^Hortense and Eugene. — Josephine's Composure. — Her Kindness to the Prisoners. — Correspondence with Beau- harnais renewed. — Romantic Story. — Prison Horrors. — Beau- haruais' Interest in the Young Maniac. — Returning Hope. — Levity of Prisoners. — Josephine's maternal Character. — Robes- pierre's Policy. — The Interposition of Friends. — Josephine's Appeal to Sigas. — Result. — Meeting of Be.auharnais and Jose- phine. — Crisis in Destiny. — Last Hours of Beauharnais. — His Execution. — Relics unexpectedly received by Josephine. — Her Distress and Danger. — Cheered by the Prophecy of Euphemia. — Circumstances of Robespierre's Death. — Liberation of Jose- phine. — Interest in her Children. — Famine. — Domestic Suffering. — Survey of the Revolution.— Beauharnais Family towards the Close of the year 1*795, CHAPTER IV. Bonaparte in Paris. — A Glance at his History. — Personal Appear- ance. — His Exploit the 13th Vendemiaire. — Acquaintance -with Josephine. — Her Views of a second Marriage.^Hesitates. — Ka- poleon frequents the Mansion of Madam De Beauharnais. — Hiq Conversational Powers. — Marriage. — Leaves his Bride to join the Army. — Brilliant Success. — Correspondence.— Eugene's Hero- ism. — Letters to Josephuie. — ^Her Residence at Milan. — ^Bona- parte's Peculiarities, and Ejndness to Josephine's Family. — He marches to Rastadt. — Retmns to Paris. — Josephine joins him, . 103 CHAPTER V. Departure of ITapoleon 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 trans- mitted to Napoleon. — Her Innocence vindicated. — Maternal Solicitude and Faithfulness. — Napoleon's Return to France. — Unfortunate Mistake. — His Anger. — The Reconciliation. France, ... . 128 CONTBNTb. CHAPTER VI. PAGB Kapoleon's Design. — Josephine's Political Views. — Eugene. — Con- yivial Scenes. — The 18th Brumaii'e. — Napoleon First Consul. — The Result. — Murat's Marriage. — His Treachery. — Josephine's Mediation. — Life in the Tuilleries. — Josephine. — Bonaparte. — He orders the Improvement of Malmaison. — Escapes Assassina- tion.— Again crosses the Alps. — Battle of Marengo. — Relaxa- tion at Malmaison. — Josephine's Benevolence. — Conspiracy and the Infernal Machine. — Marriage of Hortense. — Cliaracter of Louis Bonaparte. — Person and Character of Hortense. — Inci- dents by the way. — Important Events. — Peace of Amiens. — Gayety of the People. — Home of the Consul. — Renewal of Hostilities with England. — Accident. — Napoleon's View of Death .... 146 CHAPTER VII. Josephine and the Bourbon Conspirators. — Doke D'Engbien. — His Death. — Josephine's Grief and her Sympathy for the Conspira- tors. — Bonaparte's Movements. — His Ambition. — Views of the Senate. — Bonaparte becomes Emperor of France. — Oath admin- istered to the Legion of Honor. — Emotions of Josephine. — Royal Court. — Excursions to Boulogne. — The Princess of Baden. — Incidents. — Josephine's Forebodings. — Religious Marriage of Josepliine. — The Coronation, 201 CHAPTER VIII. 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. — Josephine at Genoa. — The rapid Travel to Paris. — Preparations for War. — Josephine Regent of France. — Letter to Cambaceres. — Napoleon's Victories. — Arrival of a Courier. — Marriage of Eugene. — Josephine's Letter upon the expected Marriage of her Niece Steplianie De Beauharnais. — The Royal Family. — Domestic Arrangements. — Bonaparte's Habita and Illness. — Hunting Excursions, — Hatred of Bonaparte's Relatives towards Josephine. — Her Kindness in return. — Napoleon's Move- ments, 237 CONTENTS. CHAPTER IX. PASS A ne-w Phase in Josephine's Destiny. — N'apoleon's Love. — His Desire for u. Successor. — Rumor that the Prince Royal of Holland 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 Returt from Tilsit. — Treatment of the Empress. — Journey to Italy.— Scenes at the Capital. — Napoleon. — Josephine's Diary. — SpanisJ Affairs. — Incidents of the Journey. — The Emperor meets Alex- ander. — Results. — Josephine. — Return to Paris. — Bonaparte's Designs. — Preparations for a Divorce. — Decree of the Council. — Consummation, 274 CHAPTER X. Josophine's Retirement and Sorrow. — Her Residence at Malmai- son and'Navarre. — Maria Louisa. — National Joy at the Birth of Toimg Napoleon. — Congratulations of Josephine. — Licidents of Life at Navarre. — Bonaparte's Campaign to Russia. — His Dis- asters. — The Fidelity of Josephine. — Letters. — Napoleon abdi- cates the Thi-one. — Josephine receives the Homage and Sym- pathy of the Great. — Her last Illness and Death. — Funeral. — Summary of her Character, LIFE OF THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. CHAPTER I. BITEBEST OF JOSEPHIOT's HIST0B,T. — BlaTH AND FAMHY. — EARLT TEAX8, — ^FmST lOVE. — SINGULAR PKEDIOTION. — OmctlMSTANOES WHICH OHEB- ISHED SUTEKSHnON. ATTACHMENT BEOKEN OFF. BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH BEAUHAENAia. IS MABKIED. "VISITS THE COUBT OF FBANOE. — MAKES PBOVINCIAL TOUBS. THE BIRTH OF EUGENE AND HORTENSE.— DOMESTIC DIFFICULTIES. SEPARATION FROM HER HUSBAND. RETIRE- MENT. RETURNS TO MARTINIQUE. RESIDENCE THERE. HER RETURN TO FRANCE. INGIDENTS OF THE VOYAGE. IS UNITED TO HER FAMILY. ORIGIN OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. RESTATES GENERAL CONVOKED. BEAUHARNAIS A MEMBER. UPON ITS DISSOLUTION AGAIN ENTERS THE ARMY. — HIS PRINCIPLES AND HUMANITY. — ELECTED TO THE NATIONAL CONVENTION. — APPOINTED COMMANDER ON THE GERMAN FRONTIER.— DESPATCH TO THE CONVENTION. The name of Josephine is invested with a romantic and mournful interest. From the quiet hfe 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 great events which mark the ebb and flow of the mighty tide bearing the destiny of universal humanity ; revolutions whose sub- 12 LIFE OP 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 heavj' 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 interesting 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 W^iffndies 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 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 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 ilaria, 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 ieet, she rapidly de- veloped both her intellectual and physical powers. Kind to all, especiahy to the slaves of the plantation, she was admired and caressed ; careless-hearted as the gazelle, she danced awr.y the hours beneath a sky that seemed to laugh in her joyous face. She had a passion for music, and would wander away to the sea-shore or a forest sohtude, and pour her melodies like a wild-bird on the air. 0[ her rich tones, Napoleon said in after years, " The first 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-ia" study a pleasant amusement. To copy her own Jan.-;- guage, " I did not hke the restraint of my clothing, noi to be cramped in my movements. I ran, and jumped, 14 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. and danced, from morning to night. Why restrain the wild movements of my childhood ? I wanted to do no hurt to those from whom T 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 spell 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 fugitives 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 si^j^e- ceased lord, and was accompanied thither by his only son. This, was a sad -blow for Josephine. With Mafia, who was inclined to melancholy, and loved soli- tude, -her sprightly ana social nature had less sympathy I h in with other female friends, to whom she would re- LIFE 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 woman, 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,.^.! to fear and hope?' 'On your head be it then; listen: you will be,. married, sora; that union will not be happy;, you will becorpeawidoWj-and then — theli you will be Queen of France 1 Some happy- years will be yours ; but you will die in a hospital, rmid civil commotions,' 16 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. " On concluding these words," continued Josephine " the old woman burst from the crowd, and hurried away, as fast as her Jimbs, 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 scaffold, 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 I ended by regai-ding 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 lisitened 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- ief 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 Viscount Alexander de Beauharnais, who held estates in Martinique under lease to M. Re^iiaudin, visited the island to establish his claim to the inheritance. He, however, had some time before come to the New Coij-- 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 Ilenaudin, he became acquainted 18 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE with the M. Tasher family, and interested in Jose- phii. e, who was now in the glory of her youthful beauty. That influential lady had fixed her choice upon Beauharnais 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 appuarance, 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 beau 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. Weaiy 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 born, who became Queen of Holland. Though surrounded by all that could gratify ambition and taste — the em- bellishments of art, lavished on a beautiful residence — gorgeous equipage and retinue — happy in the domestic LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. Iji 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, wJiile 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^hat 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 JOSEPHINE. divorce, which, by her own management and the in flueiDce of friends, was defeated. In her retirement at this 'time, she felt all that heavy gloom, and abandon of sorrow, which fall like night on noonday, upon a heart in vihich. feeling was the ruling element, moving ever to the Cynosui-e 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 life 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 hei'o- 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- lit 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's LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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 tilial 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 a 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 fair 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 JOSEPHINE. France on family affairs, the passage had absorbed the 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 affi-ight, 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. We were not yet more than half-way ; and before reaching France it seemed impossible to procure another pair LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 23 of shoes. I felt quite overcome at the idea of the sorrow 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- ter, and, with honest bluntness, inquired the cause of our tears. Hortense, sobbing all the while, eagerly 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 in 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 JOSEPHINE. 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 ruling purpose 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 pohtical 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 OF JOSEPHTiXE. 25 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 4ugust 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 leaders, 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 OP JOSEPHINE. 27 omission of the de in tiie autograph, every indication of titled aristocracy. TO THE NATIONAL CONVENTION: Head-quarters, Landau, 20th July, 1'793. " I have to inform you, citizen representatives, that on 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 67th, occupied at the same instant Alberweiller and the various defiles leading therefrom ; the vanguard, led on by G«nerals 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 LIPB OF JOSEPHINE. 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- non, 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- licans 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, and "ffi the history of the noble De Beauharnais. CHAPTER II. TALL OF THE ^lEONDE. — BEAUHABNAIS AKEESTED AND IMPEISONED.^ LETTER OF JOSEPHINE TO HEB. AUNT. FEIENDS FOK3AKE HEE. COB- EESPONDENOE WITH BEAUHAENAIS. ^LEVITT IN VIEW OF DEATH, AND INFIDELITT DDEING THE EEIGN OF TEEEOK. JOSEPHINE'S KINDNESS TO THE SDFFEEING. EXAMINATION OF BEAUHAENAIS. LOUIS OBTAINS AN INTEEVIBW FOE BEADHAENAIS WITH HIS FAMILT. JOSEPHLNE's DE- SCRIPTION OF THE SCENE. PAEENTAL DnflUENOE. BEAUHAENAIS BE- TEATED. HIS DANGEE INCEEASED BY NEW EVENTS. CHARGE OF CON- BPIEAOT. EUGENE AND HOETENSE EXAMINED. JOSEPHINE'S ACCOUNT OF THE TEANSAOTIOK. ^AGAIN VISITS THE LUXEMBOURG. SCENES IN PRISON. LETTERS. ROBESPIEEEE. 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 sfedne 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 populace, and a revolutionary LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 31 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 vengeance fell unsparingly on this noble party, which in May, 1793, fell in the embrace of the blind and many-armed Briareus, whose locks weri knotted with the Lest 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 LIFE OI' JOSEPHINE. 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 bag 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- rine, 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 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 33 pome 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.' I arose instantly, and dismissed Victorine with a mes- sage to call my husband, " ' Madam,' said the young tradesman, vphen 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 know you 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 my 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 man took with respect, but without embarrassment. Spite of our solicitations, Alexander refused to flee. ' With what can they charge me ?' asked he ; ' I love liberty ; I have borne arms for the Revolution ; and had that depended upon me, the termination woul*" 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 I ; ' 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 is 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 ; it is impossible, therefore, that you should hot also be a good citizen.' LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 35 " When 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 5f hose 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 rage, 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 T ' Whither flee ?' answered my husband : 'is there a vault, a garret, a hiding-place, into which the eye of t4ie 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 I 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 satisfaction. He it 36 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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 that 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 he made a selection, collecting the pieces into a parcel, which was sealed and forwarded to the committee. The choice chiefly included reports and discourses LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 37 pronounced by Alexander in the Constituticftial 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 he was taken from me, all his friends have disappeared, one 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 ^ith news from Luxembourg. Provided his 38 LIFE OP 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, the committee, have the first perusal of the others." There, is a quiet raillerie in his letters, which illus- trates the unconquerable buoyancy of the national character, as will be seen in the subjoined communi- cation. VISCOUNT DE BEAUHAENAIS TO JOSEPHINE. " Lo ! pauvre petite, you are still unreasonable, and 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 for one's self and others all the benevolent sentiments of the heart, all the best qualities of the spirit, all the gen- tle 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 ; n truth, a slight misadventure is a campaign against nisfortune. Ah ! if you knew how we learn to com- )at our mischance here, you would blush for having jeen afflicted. Every captive — now this is literally .he case — leaves his sorrows at the grated entrance, and shows within only good-humor and serenity. We have transported to the Luxembourg the entire of so- ciety, excepting politics ; thus, you will grant me that LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 39 we have left the thorns in order to gather the roses. We have here charming 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, without 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, I -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 you 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 haatening 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 reason ! 40 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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 OP JOSEPHINE. 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 continue, some are atrocious, a great number ridiculous, and all more or less curious. What, indeed, can be more remarka- ble than to behold the highest orders interrogated be- 12 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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 with 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 rational. 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 that, 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 appearance 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 credentials have not been burned ? Citizen, 1 advise LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 43 thee to bestow them here with the committee, and I give'thee the assurance that a good bonfire shall soon render us an account of thine ancestors.' Here a ridiculous 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 having 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. M. 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 LIFEOPJOSBPHINE. ^ M. de B. — A French citizen, and a general in the 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 reality. 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 ? LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 45 M. de B. — Yes, citizen ; and at an ever-momorable era. President. — That was after the flight of the tyrant? M. do B. — That was on the occasion of the journej of Louis XVI. to Varennes, and on his return. Member. — For a bet, the citizen does not considei 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, I 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 L 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 have recourse to it 46 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. rarely, and that they yield to humanity whatever they can take from severity without compromising the safety of the State. A Member, (it was the old wretch charged with 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 for 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 Franqais." " Here a new uproar ensued, some defending, others impugning, these novel discoveries in literary history, LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 4 My husband would have smiled in derision, nad he not sighed 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 judgment-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 hastened with Eugene and Hortense, to embrace the captive. Josephine has feelingly and most beautifully described 48 LIFE „0F JOSEPHINE. 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 physician, 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 I 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, I 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 aflfectionate heart, wished to persuade us that we acted wrong in LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 49 afflicting ourselves, since papa's illness was not danger- ous. All this while poor Hortense eAibited 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, at 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 1 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, mamma ?' At these words, she threw herself upon my bosom, and, putting one arm around her father's neck, drew him gently towards us. A smile shone through her tears ; and Eugene, min- gling his caresses in this domestic scene, rendered the whole truly affecting. Amiable and gentle child, he shows as much singleness of heart as his sister displays penetration and spirit. 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 4 50 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. made, and from the conversations my daughter had collected, and overheard, she had divined that her father v^ras a prisoner. We now acknowledged what it was no longer possible to conceal. ' And the rea- son?' demanded Hortense. Even her brother, less timid than usual, would know the motive for such severity. It would have been very dilBcult to satisfy them.- Strange abuse of power, abused and despicable excess of tyranny, which a child has judgment to condemn, which all ought to possess the right to punish, and yet of which men dare not complain ! " ' Oh,' cried Hortense, ' when we are able, we will punish your accusers.' ' Hush, my child,' said her father, ' were you to be overheard speaking thus, I should be ruined, as well as yourself and your mother ; while we would not then enjoy the consolation of 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. " ' I wish every possible happiness to my aunt,' said Alexander, laughing : ' nevertheless as the Nine are LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 61 said never to be so interesting as when they are afflict- ed, I would 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 oaths 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 52 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. have 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 I 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 for exercise. Two days after, the doors were thrown open, LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 53 and he received the very unexpected visit of a mem- ber of the Committee of General Safety. The visitor was Vadier, his colleague in the Constitutional Assem- bly, a gray-headed, suspicious ruffian, vs'ho 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 from 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 ; it 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, they were guided by one of those arms which had 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- inal.' ' 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-revolutionary 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 how avoid the stab made in darkness ? there is no LIFEOFJOSEPHINB. 55 remedy ; we must be silent and bare the throat.' At these words, which 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 in- 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 their foes with the guillotine, it was improved with cowardly haste. Soon after the interesting scene in the cell of Beau- harnais, the revolutionary newspapers came out with flaming editorials upon the " grand conspiracy discov- ered 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 BEAUHAKNAIS. " 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 JOSEPHINE. and whom I Jiave 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 completely 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 his 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 this avowal, I was sensible of an inexpressible revulsion taking place within me ; I felt that I grew pale with 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 which he inspired me, when the thought arose that I might thus do 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 felt 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 perceiving the 58 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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 of 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 friendsRip. 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 JOSEPHINE. 59 She was successful in her application — Louis gained for her access to the prison-police, 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 for 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 BEAUHAENAIS. " Louis, the deputy of the Lower Rhine, whom I 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. He 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 me to his colleague, who is charged with the police of the prisoners. The latter, with malice in his look, and mockery on his tongue, complimented me ironically upon the interest I expressed in Nevil's fate. 60 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. ' The cordwainer,' said the ruffian, ' is a vigorous and 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. I 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 JOSEPHINE. 61 authorizes these communications only in the presence of a witness ; but this postscript which I add, gives the power to render the witness invisible if circumstances permit ; or, if not, makes him Wind and deaf.' Avow my beloved aunt, that though now misplaced, it woula not be easy to find a more amiable personage than M Prosper Sigas. " From the officers of the Committee I descended to the Hotel de Brionne, under the gate of which the depot is situated. You will have difficulty in believing that neglect, or rather atrocity, could be carrie8 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 thaii a few boards raised some thirty inches from the floor, spreading mutual infection from the bodies, while they envenom the evils of their minds by dreadful 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 has 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 OP JOSEPHINE. that paralyzed the nation, the might of brute force, displayed tact in the management of that horrible enginery, which shook the kingdoms of Europe. When he beheld symptoms of a reaction involving the decline of his de_moniac 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 lo send forth its volcanic fires. He gave more latitude to the press, and permitted debate — apologizing with appare&t 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 out 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 cup of trembling was well nigh full — the corsair of the wrathful billows, was already reeling in the circles of the vortex awaiting it. CHAPTER III. JOSEPHINE UNDEOEIVED. HBE ARKE9T. DESOEIPTION OF THE SCENE. THE PRISON. — HOETENSE AND EUGENE. JOSEPHINE'S OOMPOSDEE. HEB KINDNESS TO THE PRISONERS. CORRESPONDENCE WITH BEAUHAKNAIS RENEWED. ROMANTIC STORY. PRISON HORRORS. BEAUHARNAIS' DT- TEEEST IN THE YOUNG MANIAC. RETURNING HOPE. LEVITT OF PRIS- ONERS. — ^Josephine's maternal character. — Robespierre's policy. — THE interposition OF FRIENDS. JOSEPHINE'S APPEAL TO SIGAS. RESULT. MEETING OF BEAUHARNAIS AND JOSEPHINE. CRISIS IN DES- TINY. LAST HOURS OF BEAUHAKNAIS. HIS EXECUTION. RELICS UNEX- PECTEDLY RECEIVED BY JOSEPHINE. HEB DISTRESS AND DANGER. CHEERED BY THE PROPHECY OF EUPHEMIA. CIRCUMSTANCES OF BOBES- PIEBEE'S death. LIBERATION OF JOSEPHINE. ^INTEREST IN HEB CHIL- DREN. FAMINE. DOMESTIC SUFFERING. SDETEY OF THE REVOLUTION BEAUHARNAIS FAMILY TOWARDS THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR 1795. During the interlude of hope, Josephine wrote to her husband, breathing encouragement and the affection of a true woman's heart in every lilie. She referred to a pamphlet which about this time appeared, condemn- ing the severity of the Committee, and intimating a restoration of ancient customs, written byDesmouUns, himself soon after a victim to the vengeance of the chief, who permitted him to write and live no longer than might subserve his designs. The infidelity of Robespierre also, it seenjs, about this time assumed the phase of Deism ; which she re- garded as indicative of slumbering humanity awaking to activity. But Beauharnais understood the Revolu <54 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. tion 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 : — DB BBAUHARNAIS TO JOSEPHINE. " 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 any difficultj' ; and, to secure the triumph of his detestable system, he will even, if need be, play the part of sf, man of feeling. Robespierre, in the conviction of his pride, believes himself called to regenerate France; and his 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 lamenta- 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 JOSEPHINE. 65 which will be wrested by the tyrant into 9, cause for the sacrifice of new victims. Such is the grand out- line of his policy. " 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 wev 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, that brought her beneath the very shadow of the guillotine. She was thrown into prison, where entire families were pining in unpitied wretch- edness, a fate which she might have anticipated long before, 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 letter 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 MADAM F. BEAUHARNAIS. " I commence this letter at a venture, and without snowing if it will reach you. On Tuesday last Nevil's 5 66 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. mother 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 life ; he be- longs to a class whose members are pardoned, or rather overlooked ; others are more exposed.' ' Others 1' 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 imrnediately 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 JOSEPHINE. 67 that the three cherished beings who constitute my whole happiness, occasion hkewise 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 slum- ber, contrasted with 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 titill asleep, clasped her arms round my neck, whispering, in broken murmurs, 'Come to bed, fear nothing ; they shall no. 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, 1 found the same president already named, whom very weakness renders inhuman, and whose sloth favors his prepositions against the accused. These prejudices, so 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 oeing placed upon every article with lock and key, I was conducted to the 68 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. house of detention at the Carmelites. Oh, what shudderings came over me on crossing that threshold, still humid with blood ! ' Ah ! my beloved 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 character which sustained this fair victim, away from every pleasant association, and surrounded with the stains of that general assassination ; while her husband and offspring 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- LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 69 less. But 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 OP 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. Vr vt" vt" vf» Tp ^ " 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 acquaintances and friends whom I have recovered, I see everybody and every- whp"* meet with hearts to console and misfortunes in LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. ■} which to sympathize. This reminds me that you, my dear Clara, believe yourself to be among the unfortunate, and under that title have a right to what I lavish upon others. To-day, however, you shall have no consola- tion beyond the certainty of an 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 Nevil, 72 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. who had obtained his liberty. She describes, witn, great simpHcity, 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 MarsoUier 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 OF JOSEPHINE. 73 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 vouch- 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 rendering 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 toleration must have been ordained by God, wh'om he beheld so well manifested in the benevolent Abbe. This priest reserved for himself nothing beyond the simplest neces- saries : 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 his vis- 74 LIFK OF JOSEPHINE. age, save when he found it impossible to be of service to a brother, or soothe the remorse of a guilty con- science. " Tommy, gifted with quick penetration and lively sensibihty, 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 lattei appeared so delightful to him, that he succeeded in all things ; it sufficed that his father — for so the boy named ti;e 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 Tommy ; and so modest himself in everything per- LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 75 sonal, he enjoyed with pride the success of this child of his adoption. Alas ! the happijiess 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 hia 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- 76 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. ere which took place on the 2d of September in this prison — a spot fojrever 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, LIFEOFJOSEPIUNE. 77 fell at his feet, and extending a mangled hand to Tom- my, 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 officiating, 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 opera- tion, 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 enchant- 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 faking place. While thus em- ployed, sleep stole over his own frame, and the chari- table hands which removed from the despoilers the oodles of the martyrs, carried away Tommy, and laid 78 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. him on his bed. There he remained eight-and-forty . 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 hai'p, 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 afiecting 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. LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 79 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 being 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 sang- 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 a,ttractive lustre upon his character, and afford, in the subjoined reply, a pleasing continuation of the young maniac's history. BEAUHARNAIS TO JOSEPHINE. m "Your history, my beloved friend, is extremelj touching, and little Tommy very interesting. After having read your letter more than once, privately, I 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 tears 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 the 80 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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 this idea; it will, my good Josephine, accord with your 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 Josephine, I cannot persuade myself but that I am- happy! When we shall once more be reunited, my happiness will no LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 81 longer be an illusion, and you will be of the 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 Robes- pierre, as evidence of more moderation in view and a less brutal policy to succeed that which d' ed France. After alluding with triumphant an ation 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 have givea orders for fetes, country parties, and new furniture. To-day, Madam de S. sent for a famous jockey, with whom she has concluded a treaty for replenishing 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 82 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. you, my (Jear 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 vthole 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 prisoij, and formed a fine contrast with LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 83 the idiot folly and sensuality that marked the chai'acter of her associates, ft om the fashionable walks of life. She was a fond Hiother, and yet endowed with decision, which never sacrificed principle, and propriety, to pareutal partiality. There is a delightful illustration 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, my 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 very inconsiderate. My 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 your rela- tions. I am therefore obliged to tell you, that I prefer M LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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 sweeping 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 fully 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. LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 8& JOSEPHINE TO CITIZEN PROSPER SIGAS. " Citizen, — I am informed that you have been em ployed to prepare a report, to be presented to the Com- mittee of General Safety, on the affair of General Beauharnais. 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 us — placed me in momentary correspondence with you. That brief space sufficed to convince me, that the gratitude of those whom you 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- mands 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 of the founders of liberty meditating its downfall! He 86 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. who among a hundred others, was distinguished 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, that 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, Beauharnais, 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 ot light played upon the horizon of despair to the gaze of the Viscount, whose hastening ordeal would blot it ou.1 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, who 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 character. 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 Hke his. Now I grieve that these 88 LIFEOFJOSEPHINE. • people of the Committee did not see him. Could they have resisted the ascendency of his virtues ?" This trusting wife, with all her experience in scenes of human cruselfy — her sorrows inflicted by the fero- city 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 its 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 his 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- LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 89 • 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 Josephine, interrupted by the messengers of death, from whom he purchased a lock of his own hair, shorn off in accordance with 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 tfitter 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- kncfwn. Enclosing the memorial of aflfection 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. "night of the B-'Ith theemidoe, Year 2d, Gonciergery (24-25 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 scaffold." 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 JOSEPHINE. was carried into effect, rescued her from the murderer's hand, and with seveaty others doomed to death on the following morning. Never, perhaps, was there a more forcible illustra- tion of the mastery of superstition 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 compg.nions 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 " incorruptible" ■ — 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 OP JOSEPHINE. 93 spiracy was formed of which Tallien 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 nourished 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 cahhage-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 hastened 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 his 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 JOSEPHINE. 95 the masses were suflFering, and the prisoners retained as a kind of hostage for fqture 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 last 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 previ-6w years were called the Reign of Terror, so 1795 Blight 'be named the "starving time." It is also related t-jjat .to escape the restless spirit of ochlocracy which yet \s;as rife, Madam Beauharnais was obliged 96 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. to apprentice Eugene to a carpenter in the Rue del' Echeile, lest his noble blood should make him a mark for the assassin's stroke ; and that the subsequent Vice- j-oy of Italy, in this condition, was seen bearing on his youthful shoulders the heavy 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 responsibihty, had been penetrating the minds of the enslaved, and the press scattered them 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. '^Jae clear illumination of Revelation was discarded as juperstition, and sensuality, passion, characteristic LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. ffi frivolity, and. "aristODratic bitterness of the court and foreign monarchies to innovation, made the struggle from its commencernent 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 lite music on the ear of the opprelsged,^ 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- thjoes 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 third estate, or the people, by which his authority wa§ 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 evei-y 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 outciy," rushed upon the hoary sepulchre of hope and innocence like resistless surges, till it fell amid the acclamations of miUions, 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 uKiprincipled leaders, succeeded ; (he aban- 7 98 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 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 jrabble 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, 17Q2, the Jacobin faction, headed by Robespierre and Marat, having obtained the ascendant, declared Royalty forever abolished, and France a Republic. Louis XVI. was arraigned before the Convention, December 11th ; January 17th condemned, and was executed on the 21st of the same month. Next fell the Girondfi, of whom Beauhamais 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 Th C mittee of Public Security was subordinate, acting as police, and with the former constituting the Legislative Assembly as far as any deliberative action softened 'the fierceness of misrule and unbridled depravit Th LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 99 crowning 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 arid sunny slope, with the spreading da,wn, 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 i» their feet. This crisis reserved Josephine for new scenes, and brighter as well as gloomier 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, whose persowa/ 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 bettei; feelings, as in the following letter of JOSEPHINE TO MADAM F. BEAUHARNAIS. " I must relate to you a charming trait of our Eugene, 100 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. Yesterday, being the 7th Thermidor, the anniversary of a day ever to be deplored, I sent for him, and show- ng 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, le* him whose image it presents be your constant model : he was the most amiable and affectionate of men, he Tyould 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 of 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, LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 101 was ornamented with a long garland of 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-length portrait of my unfor- tunate husbalid. 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 their 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 disorder 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- ing qualities ! How much did I regret that my Hor- tense was absent ! — but she is with you. She will read my letter ; she will weep with joy in there recogoizing her own affections, and will double her delight while , 102 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. she runs to mingle tears with those of her brother, who, I am well assured, will ever bear in mind his fatiier's constancy and courage, and will strive to render him- self worthy of the name he bears, by perpetuating the brilHant 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 theatre of influence. CHAPTER IV. BONAFAaTE IN PABIS. A GLANOE AT BIS HISTOaT. PEKSONAL APPEAEANOE. HIS EXPLOIT THE 13TH VENDEMIAIEE. ACQUAINTANCE VlTH JOSE- PHINE. HER TIEWS OK A SECOND MAEEIAQE. HESITATES. NAPOLEON FEEQUENTS THE MANSION OF MADAM DE BEAUHAENAIS. HIS CONVEESA- TIONAL POWEES. MAREIAGE. LEAVDS HIS BEIOE TO JOIN THE AEMT. BEILLIANT SUCCESS. COEEESPONDENCE. EUGENE's HEROISM. LETTEES TO JOSEPHINE. HER KESIDENCE AT MILAN. BONAPAKTE's PEOULIAEI- TIES, AND KINDNESS TO JOSEPHINE'S FAMILY.— HE MAECHES TO EASTADT. EETUENS TO PAEIS. 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«l ^ * The new calendar formed Oc^per, 179S, upon the abolition of the Christian Register, divided the*ear into twelve months of thirty days each, succeeded by five comp^mental days. The names of the months are taken from the seasons. In the Spring, were Germineal, Florial, and Prarial; in the "Summer, Messidor, J'hermidor, and Fructidor ; in the Autumn^'-f«nrfmJer«, Bramuire, and Frumiare ; in the Winter, Nivose, Plwvi^, and Ventose. 104 LIFE OF J03£PHXN£. less have added him to the myriads despatcheH by the guillotine. Here the months passed away ; the youth- ful officer frequenting the theatr-es, and moving quiet- ly among the busy crowds that thronged the Capital, scarcely arrested their attention, much less the eye of Deauty; while his restless spirit chafed 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., bis fellow Students. This strengthened his sublime decision of character, and qiiickened his keen observation of... human nature, while it gave binl that appearance y>f severity and contempt for man, which distinguished hSk manner when mingling with promiscuous societjs*-^ He was at this date, twenty-six. The dark'^com- plexion of early years had worn ofFun|ier the mild sky of France; but a contagious disea^ he had talcen at Toulon, fronti a soldier, and whifch penetrated lil system with malignant power, so reduc^ his frame, that his flashing eye seemed set in the sockets of a skeleton. Yet his ambition was Untamed, and he LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 105 waited anxiously for an occasion which tne convulsions of the country in their constantly changing aspect, in the i'oUowing autumn presented. The Convention had lost favor with the multitude, and a new step was demanded in the march of revolution. A constitution 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 to the Enghsh 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 resist the onset. Menou assumed the cornmagP^uid failed to fill the perilous posiJion^JHiil^y^Hiaecision alarmed the body still in sessieTH^ J55,iTas exclaimed, as if a sudden revelation had aroused him, " I have the man w^om you want: it is a little Corsican oflicer, who pill not stand upon ceremony." This expres- sionf determined the destiny of Napoleon. He was soon in command, and the 13th Vendemiare, (October 5ffi,) planted his cannon at the cross-streets and bridges, sweeping with his hail of death the advancing columns 106 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 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 work 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, increased the interest Napoleon had entertained ler since through the friendship of Barras he aer acquaintance in the social circles of Paris. It is relaiOTF^at before he indulged serious intentions of marrying Madam Beauharnais, he offei'ed himself to Madam De Permon, an old family friend, and an mteresting widow, but was rejected. However this may be, he was deeply smitten with the charms of the 'ovely woman, whose son had given assurance of her excellent qualities in his own admirable behavior. The increasing attachment was every way favorableHo*. Napoleon's plans and advancement, but subject of LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 107 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 her 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 convenieht to follow the will of others. 108 LIFE OP 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 ? — will 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 suflfered. 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. " Bar ras gives assurance, that if I marry the general, he vulWfe 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 highlyproba- ble ! I know not how it is, but sometimes this way- wardness gains upon me to such a degree, that almost 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 fdr 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 to-morrow, upon condition of following the .gen- eral ; but we might perhaps cross each otlKTr on the route ; thus I deem it more prudent to wait for your reply before taking my determinatfon. Speed, then, your answer — and your return stilf mote. " Madam Tallien gives rnfi in commission to tell you, that she loves you tenderl^M^he is always beautiful and good ; employing her iiffliense influence only tj^ 110 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. obtain pardon for 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 aifectionate. 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 chai-ming 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, I shall torment myself; once concluded, come 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 tldmirer 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 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. Ill the mansion of Madam Beauharnais, to hear the mel- ody of her voice, and enjoy an interlude of romantic p]easm-e, amid the stormy scenes that opened before 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 beauty 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 were 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 ravishing tones of love, and the sweeter notes of fame's 112 LIFE OF JOSEPHirrE. 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 " -woald burn . , ■ : And rend his temples in return;"' _- ;,•. and which would prove a crown of Upas to the , fair forehead of the sorrowful Josephiree. After a hasty- visit with his mother, at 'MarseiT-les, of whom he always spoke 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 war- riors, and disclosed with cheei-ful assurance, the pro- ject of crossing the cloud-mantled barrier. His suc- cessful 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 disciplin- ed columns had encamped seciii'ely ; 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 Httle 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 quickly, 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, rathei than the utterance of an intellect well poisefd as it was creative and mighty. Eugene soon joined his father-in-Iavv, 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 by Josephine : — 8 114 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. FKOM GENEBAI. BONAPARTE TO HIS WIFE. " My BELOVED FRIEND, — My first laurel is due to my country ; my second shall be yours. While pressing Mvinzi, 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 undeserving 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 ; I was seen by the general, and felt con- LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 115 scious that you would applaud me. What motives to serve one's country ! These encouragements will at all times be the same, and they will ever possess the same influence over my 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* aU, 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 of peace at Leoben, passed rapidly through the Vene- tian States to Milan, and fixed his residence at Mon- tebellp, a delightful country-seat six miles from that city, Here Josephine, having arrived from Paris, 116 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. b&gan to enjoy what circumstances had hitherto denied her since her second marriage, the tranquillity and joy of'Aowe. She won the afTection 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 lovjngly over heir as when she was the charming Creole, of Martiiiiqu^' and looked upon the glorious suflimits, atid unrivalled lakes that slept in their embrace. Her excursions to the Apennines, Lake Como, and especially to Lake- Maggiore, 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 gardens, with the orange, citron, and myrtle, to lend shade and beauty to the esplanade. In the distance the Alps lift their LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 117 solemn brows into the azure, girdled with cultivated 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 landsc€ipe 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, wiiile 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 aifection. 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 which had- the stamp of destiny, were uiider the inspection of a legion 118 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. of powrerful 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- iect besides the 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, in 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 tent, and in the Smoke of battle. When- the 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- flict, he not unfrequently drew forth this talisman of LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 119 nis purest hopes and most rational delight, and then nastened to communicate the tidings of conquest to the original ; in which the expression once occurs, " In 4he 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 Directoiy 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 't& republic of Genoa ; treaty of peace with the Emperor at Campo-Formio.- :;*,.„ " Liberty given to thepeof^fe of Bologna, Ferrara, Modena, Massa-Carrara, La Romagfaa,' Lbmbardy, Bressera, Bormio, the Valletina, the Genoese, the Im- perial Fiefs, the people of 'the departments of Coreigra, 120 LIF£ OF JOSEPHINE. of the -^gean Sea, and of Ithaca. ' Sent to Paris all 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 extract from a letter written at this time by an observer of the triumphal procession, is interesting, and has an air of fidelity in the descriptioil. " 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 JOSEPHINE. 121 to indicate that his career is not yet terminated. I found him very like 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 bim. 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- siasm of the people in the cherished determination to overthrow the wretched government, soon as the blow could be decisively giv^n. 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 froni 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 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. false, it was the commencement of detraction and sus picion 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 cloud- ed with an interruption of domestic tranquillity, which but for the magic of her sincere devotion, inspiring 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 foil- ed his designs, and his own observation of the hazard of the enterprise induced him to abandon it for an- other. In these schemes hi» noble wife did much in obtaining influential friends to him in securing their adoption. The expedition to Egypt was finally de- cided 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 alto- gether of his dreaded pre-eminence. He received his appointment April 12th, 1798, and with a troop of a hundred Savans, to gather antiquarian embelhshments for the gallery of the Louvre, which he had already adorned by his contributions from the cabinets of Italy, and also to make scientific researches ; he hastened to Toulon to join his assembled army and magnificent fleet ? CHAPTER V. depaetuke of napoleon foe egypt. the parting with josephine at touion. she retires to plombieees. accident. sends foe hoe- tense.^^exci;esion home. — raee qualities of Josephine's chaeao- TEE. consequences OF HER CONFINEMENT AT PLOMBIEEES. EDMOES OF napoleon's DISASTEES IN EGYPT. MALHAISON. JOSEPHINE WATCHED BY SECRET ENEMIES. CHAEGES OF INFIDELITY TRANSMITTED TO NAPO- LEON. HEE INNOCENCE VINDICATED. ^MATKENAL SOLICITUDE AND FAITH- FULNESS. napoleon's EETUEN TO FEANOE. UNFOETUNATE MISTAKE. HIS ANGEE. THE EEOONCILIATION. FEANCE. 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 lifted 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 "picked soldiers," reflected the unclouded beams of the ascending orb. 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 upon 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 OP 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 frofn 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 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 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, which came down with a fearful crasE. 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 scieiitific 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 tnade her young heart bound with rapture. Though successful in scholarship, her laugh rang out as she cast aside her books, or turned from the prison of girlhood, to the shaded lawn and the carriage waiting at the gate, for a ride into the beautiful country with its free air and 136 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. music — and toward the being upon whose bosom her 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, apd decision, in doing, which ttie great Chief- LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 127 tain so sublimely manifested on the vast battle-field of nations. A single letter will shed additional light on this peculiar excellence ; written relative to the disci- pline of a niece also under Madam Campan — while it contains valuable suggestions for the consideration of youth : — " My dear Madam Campan, — With my niece whom I return to your charge, receive also my tjjanks 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 thoughtless ; 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 his own fortunes , and if those who serve the state in the first ranks ough) to have some advantages and enjoy some privilege^ they should on that account' strive only to rendei themselves more beloved and more useful. It is solelj 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 her constantly. It is my pleasure that she treat as 128 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 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- y as the point of a traitor's weapon among the nerves LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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, whien anxious to secure a her- mitage for. herself and a refuge for her children. By the intervention of her unfailing friend, Barras, the 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 Directer, and the grateful acknowledgment which flowed spontaneously when kindness was experienced, are expressed in her own sensible and simple style, in a note written to him, while negotiating for a title to this attractive country residence. " TO CITIZEN BAEEA3, " 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 whose delicacy enhances the bene. 9 130 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. fit, thgl 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 inclinatiwis 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 I have been unfortunate ? or should I have experienced how much benevolence may soothe the unhappy? !Cach 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 sufiering, 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 soliludicj to study, and to the education of my children, I shal consecratt© it to our tranquil happiness and to our unalterable gratitude." LIFE or JOSEPHINE. 131 But the years that were anticipated with subdued feeling, as devoted to seclusion, had gone full of aston- ishing change, bringing her forward upon the fore- ground of a drama, that riveted the observation of 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 home 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 Malmaison with reference to his taste, and lived in the enjoyment of a select society, embracing members of the Directory, over whom her influence was ilways 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 fabi-icate reports unfavorable to her fidelity, 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 JOSEPHINE. suspicion, 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 ray soui 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, to 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 agains^ me calumnies of such a specious nature as to be admitted, eveo. for a moment, by one LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 133 who hitherto has deemed me worthy of his entire affec- 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 coua,try. 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 aJone 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 sweetens existence by all that is delightful in passion ? Can I ever efface from my memory your kindness to Hor- 134 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. tense^-your counsel and example to Eugene ? If thia 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, as 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 you 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 your friend: finally, to keep me informed of everything connected with you. But how have these people acted, who pretend such devo- LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 135 tion, in whom you confide, and according to whose report you judge me with inconceivable injustice? They conceal from you whatever might lessen the paia of absence ; they take advantage of your suspicious character, in order to create disquietudes that may 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 ore 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 maay 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 speJik of you. My male writers are very numerous ; they compre- hend your daring achievements better than women ; they talk with enthusiasm of your noble deeds, while, at the same time, they cannot complain of your having taken with you their spouse, their brother, or their 136 LIFK OP 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 accompHshed 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 world.' 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 faring 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 OP JOSEPHINE. 137 embarrassment. Besides, being little accustomed to "Commanders, officers, legionaries, citizens, soldiers! swear upbn your honor to devote yourselves to the service of the empire,, to the preservation of the integ- rity of the French teiritory, to the defence of the Em- peror, of the laws of the republic, and of the property which they have made saored — in short, swear to concur with all your might in maintaining liberty and equality, which are the b^s of all our institutions. Do you swear ?" 'f Each member pf the, Legiqjo, of Honor exclaimed ilitary 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 w-ho, 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 Rotbiere, 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 might 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 anj 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 Emperor ; I shall easily know 16 242 lilFE OP JOSEPHINE. 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 fuli 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; wcare 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 bath ; and you perceive it would not have been so easy as you just now thought to recognize tho 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, saying, ' Of a truth, my good rnother, 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 his charming queen, toiling up the heights over which he had led conquering armies — his thoughts busy with those mighty scenes — hers wandering over the waste 244 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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 trie 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 like 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 m'agnificence 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 noijility and beauty dispersed; Na- poleon calmly -received their display of loyalty, and the gay Milanese agaiin, 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 OP JOSEPHINE. 245 and imposing — especially gratifying to his noble mothei', who was a deeply interested spectator of the scene. So the succeeding weeks, like those after the festivities at Paris, wei-e crowded with denaonstrations 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 di«d 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 mirror 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 diiEculty in bringing up, for, my husband, who is a day-laborer, has not always work.' ' Well, how much would m^ke 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 (1251.) jn 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 246 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 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 rich 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, the 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 -■*«! terrible shock. The imperial carriage glided like a LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 247 spirit along the highway, and the lash fell with increas- ing rapidity upon the foanaing 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 to 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 LIFE 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 CAMBACEREB. " 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 in 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 lavirs, 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, while 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 fathers 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- ductions, 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 JOSEPHINE. 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 thoustind Austrian prisoners ; on the 9th, the de- feated 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 ensmj ; and on the 17th, the grand consummation in the capit- ulation of Ulm, crowed the ten days' work with glory, the world^ad 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 JOSEPHINE. 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 op the Grand Army, — In fifteen days we have finished our campaign. What we proposed to do has been done. We have chased the Austrian troor from Bavaria, and restored our ally to the sove- reigE ' of his dominions. " 'i at army, which with so much presumption and impn ence marched upon our frontiers, is annihilated. "Ik ' 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- ply 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, I 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 fifteen hundred men, killed and wounded. " Soldiers ! this success is due to your entire confi- dence in jseur Emperor, to your patience in supporting 253 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. fatigue and privations of every kind, and to your re- markably intrepidity. " But we will not -stop here. You are impatient to commence a second campaign. " The Russifin army, which the gold of England has 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 woi'ds 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 eveiy 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 JOSEPHINE. 253 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 receiv^ 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, »he 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, (1806,) 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 :ii54 LIFE or Josephine. a political marriage, and as such young Beauharnais recoiled from the paternal decree. But he found in the princess Augusta, all he could desire or love, and their mutual devotion became deep and enduring ; a source of pleasure to Josephine, through a life of sin- gular and changeful interest. The maternal character of this remarkable woman is most attractive, and al- ways 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 in- deed " her crown," and she was happy in their pros- perity, when every other joy was crushed. Napoleon 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, excepting 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, illustrates the pure and elevated sentiments that were cherished in all the relations of life : — LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 255 JOSEPHINE TO THE COMTESSE GIKAEDIN. "My dear Feiend, — I send you, a set of jewels, which will serve to prove that I do not cease to think of you. 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 of an "attachment which you cannot doubt, on recalling your own affection for me when I was utterly destitute, 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, makes her re- gard this match with a degree of pain, because it re- 256 LIFE OF JOSEPHIJfE. moves her from me and her family ; yet a while, and she will forget everythjing 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 received 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 will 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, Napolf on was not idle — un- like Hannibal, he never paused for voluptuous ease upon a height of glory, nor for an instant relaxed his 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 ti'embling 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 » 17 258 LIFE OP 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 th?it, 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 nQt ray fault, but yours. However, you will see that I have a,oted indulgently towards one sensible and deserving woman. I allude to Madam Hatzfield. Wheji I show.e5d. her her husband's lettf :^, she burst into tears, and in a tone ^ the mopt exquisite grief an4 candor, f xclgimed, ' 1% is indeed, l^i? writing !' This wa? top muc^, it went iff my heaift, ^d I said, ' Weft Madsj)?; throw the letter into the ^rcj a^d then I shall Ji^ye ij.9 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 259 proof against your husband.' She burned the letter, and was restored to happiness. Her husband is now safe ; two hours later, and he would have been lost You see, therefore, that I like women who ai-e feminine simple and amiable, for they alone resemble you November 6th, 1806, 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, frorn the general 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 ot 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 260 LIFE OP JO&EIHINE. 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-room of petitioners, for her interposition, or the royal favor. 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 apphcant'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 Lokd 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 JOSEPHINE. 26 J which 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 findle 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 affected 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 362 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. the million, or to a 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 Fem- me-de-chambre. "My dear Miss Aubert, — 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 Pire 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 few 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 JOSEPHINE. 263 to 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 the 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 affair, a gentle tap at her door was the signal, which introduced her joyfully to his room. Sometimes an int-erview 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 toitet 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 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. bles, until the women were monuments of amazement, and Josephine archly smiling on the wreck of robes, ribbons and diamonds. He never failed to exhibit his 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 grund convert, their tables were placed under a canopy on a platform, elevated one step, and with two arm-chairs, one on the right for. the Emperor, the other on the left LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 264 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 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. him well took care to be prepared beforehand. The 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. Herea 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 took 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 a-nd 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 bfead in the sauce. In the attacks of indigestion, which were often very severe, and attended with vomiting, nothing could exceed the anxious tenderti'esS of Josephine ; for Napoleon supported the sickness with scarcely a- degree of composure. " On the first symptoms of the malady, he flung him- self at full length on the carpet of his bed-room, and LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 267 Josephine was instantly by his side. She 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 attaclis 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 per- fect 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 this barbarity,, which she mentioned with tears. Josephine 268 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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 efijoyment 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 the 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 JOSEPHINE. 269 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 for the future. The wild jsro^e^e- bounded over the slopes and lay down in the glades, unharmed till his illustrious preserver was no longer able to save him fi'om 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 by 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, oft6?5 came in collision; returning, in all her intercourse, kindness for the enmity she received as constantl] from them. Madam Murat was an ambitious an« rather imperious woman, inclined to usurp authority bj virtue of her relationship to Napoleon. A letter froa the Empress on the subject, delineates the charactei of both the distinguished ladies. " You are not, my sister, an ordinary woman ; and therefore I write to you after a fashion very different 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! 270 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. With so many means of pleasing, wliy do you 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 befoi'e 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 JOSEPHINE. 271 of 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 into:^_f 272 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. ication of spirit. Be this, however, as it may, the effect is the same, manifested as this haughtiness is by vanity, 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 less favored." Turning from the incidents in the daily life of the imperial household, we find the years were full of stir- ring events Ao 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 vi^ith 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 hoi'izon of his ambition, until he could gaze upon no object that cast a shadow of uncertainty on the boundless prospect without irri- LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 273 tation, 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 tears over his couch of suffering — shrinking only from the frown of displeasure or accents of reproach. 18 CHAPTEK IX. A NEW FHASE IN Josephine's destiny. — napoleon's love. — his desike FOK A SDCOESSOB. ^EUMOK THAT THE PEINCE EOTAL OF HOLLAND 13 TO BE THE HEIB-APPABENT. OHAEACTEK OK THE TOUNQ PRINCE. HIS AFFECTION FOE BONAPABTE. ^ALTERNATE HOPE AND FEAE. THE PEiNCE DIES. — Josephine's grief. — napoleon's retdbn from tilsit. treatment of the empress. JOtlBNRT 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. BONAPAKTe'S DESIGNS. PEEPAEA- TIONS FOE A DIYOECE. — DECEEE OF THE COUNCIL. — CONSUMMATION. Astronomers tell us of a star which once shone out in the heavens 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 ugpn 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 JOSEPHINE. 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, wh«n 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 her 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 society had raised. The dignity which the 276 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. Archduchess Maria Louisa brought with her, failed to elicit 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 hin! 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 foi him to fail in having a corresponding affection for her LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 27'( 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 Josephine, 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, witk 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 they 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 hi.s schemes were immortal, that all this vast edifice, reared by his 278 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 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 fore- 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 could 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 Napolepn 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 that 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 him to partake freely of a fruit which had been forbidden him, on account of the indisposition 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 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. have for military exploits, especially endeared him to 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. His 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 tiie 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 it cannot be supposed that he had given no reason for it. He noticed, and seemed pleased with the attentions LIFE OP 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 fier 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, the 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 herself. 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 LITE or JOSEPHIXE. tainty how he might still retain Josephine, and the imperial hne 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 Empei-or, 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 unlocked for that she had hardly drearned 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 CQurier who first brought her tidings of,*he 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 afiliction had LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 283 her sorrow appeared so great. Day after day she shut herself up in her apartments, weeping bitterly and " refusing to be comforted." Her own affection for her grandsonxioubtless 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 aU 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 was 284 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. formerly attached,* and exaggerated accounts of an interview which 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. LIFK OF JOSEPHINE. 285 claim was undisputed to tiie 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 her 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 OP JOSEPHINE. frequently take to the chase and pursue it with 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. If 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 uncon- cerned, careless of the future ; as a flower opens its petals and smiles in the glad 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 honrs. His osten- sible reason was to secure the Grand Duchy of Tus- cany for his sister Eliza, and to confirm by his pres- ence the treaty flf 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 jtfapoleoa LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 28'7 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 lis 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 impot- 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 \vhich in default of his own lawful male heirs, Napoleon adopted Eugene as his son, and made him heir to tlie " iron croWn" of Italy. Satisfying himself that Eugene felt the obligations undet 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 'iicfcles arid demoiselles from all parts of the empire. Foreign ambassadors from every quarter of the world were present, and vied with each other in the splendor 288 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. of their entertainments. Tlie 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 sdighted love, and wounded pride. The dis- position of Josephine was naturally light and joyous. She was inclined by nature to find a brighter view in every picture pf life, and it was doubtless this which supported her so well under the knowledge she pos- sessed of Napoleon's intentions towards her. Her 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 affections, 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 afTection than he ever gave to any other object. But he would not let one of the 19 290 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. ■purposes or plans which he .had formed go unaccom- plished, though the world were to perish. " All, or nothing," was his motto wJien-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 his cher- ished schemes was for the perpetuity of his empire, she now clearly saw that her own sacrificewas inevitable. The Prince of Holland had died ; the viceroy, Eugece, 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 ofa petty farm, is unhappy if he have ,9airiqsaol uavol srI ,e-i6isd blsz ovsri 6w 6 ad asch"Uokimmii»^ix»^ipsf[{)iw ,^j;[dj3doiq WVf?PmHi°gaStal^i^^lolitkl5i^&ef^P m> ^ne ei 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 eveiy 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 uninterrupted 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 bfien 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 292 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. afforded Napoleon all the pretext which he needed, to commence operations against her. His design was fixed, that the Pyrenees should no longer separate these 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 eaxly 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 you 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 your 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 AprU. LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 293 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 pf importance which she ever made with Napol^oS. ■" This evening we leave St. Cloud, in order to- vjsit 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 passage is interesting, as an example of ' Napoleon's manner with his subjects ; but how are we to explain corn and grapes in April! Was this one of his contrivances?" — Memes. |^ 294 LIFE OF 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 oelow par, and the purchases more difficult during the ast eighteen months — the date of your entering upon tffice, Mr. Prefect. Whence are these things ? I am not ignorant that here there exists two opinions, as directly opposed to the government 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 and these deed^, 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 perfectly 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 ai'e 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 regenera^ion 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 accomplished ? First by reducing all to submission, and then by extending to each a friendly hand, which may secure without humbhng. This is the Emperor's doctrine, which he ha? applied to France^ which France has devotedly 296 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. accepted; readily comprehending that a period 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'ceil of the port is magnificent ; all the ships were hung 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 JOSEPHINE. 297 Emperor was presented with a spectacle worthy of nim. On the declivity of a mountain gently scooped out in different 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" greater 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 JOSEPHINE. French name — ' to our native land ;' ' to glory ;' ' ta liberty..' I dare not mention the attentions of which I was the object ; they touched me deeply ; for I regarded 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 Jie Prince of Asturias. As a consequence of the vents of Aranjuez, this latter has been proclaimed un- (er the title of Ferdinand VII. ; but the old King Charles, from whom fear had extorted an abdication, now protests against that act. The new monarch pre- tends thiit 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 devot- 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 people in humiliation ; the second, honey-tongued and wheed- ling, at once deceives the nation and enslaves his pupil Both have caused, and still cause the misfortunes of Spain. "What in truth can be more deplorable than the respective situation of the governors and governed ? The former are without confidence, the latter without LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 299 attachment. Amid these two factions, which may well 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. But 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 qxiarrel, 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 sent 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 300 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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 fldcks 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, to mduce him to resign his claims to LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 301 the successiou 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 this time gvlng his crown to Napoleon. On the 12th of the sarre month, Ferdinand was brought to a renun- ciation lOf 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 opinion, if it differed from his, was very likely to be the safer one. It was at least so in the present case. The 302 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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 is to subjugate all the nations of the earth. He cher- ishes such a confidence in his star, that should be 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 whicb would attend the accomplishment of others. Josephine, calm and unbiased, looked at every possible danger and formed an opinion in reference to it, 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 cburse. 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 fbfth to catch one look at the wonderful Corsican, who strode LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 303 SO 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. Josephine 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 fully 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. 304 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. A. Without a murmur slje had' left St. Cloud at his bid- 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 und.er all the weariness of the iourney, and made him feel that every joy was sweeter 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 renawn. 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 way of his separation from her were thus increased by the excursion to Ba- yonne, his purposes for taking such a step had never LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 305 been stronger than when he entered the capital on their return. The history of Bonaparte is pre-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- » Kapoleon -was bom August 15th, 1769. 20 306 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. ther allusions to Spanish affairs, since her immediate 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. ' You are about to undertake,' said Escoiquiz to me, ' one of the labors of Hercules, where, if you please, nothing 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 the first steps were taken in the affair, it was impossi- LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 307 ble for me to recede. When I- saw those imbecilks quarrelling and trying to dethrone each other, I 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, I would never have attempted it." 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 effectually 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. 308 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. He reached Erfurth on the 27 th of September, and found Alexander as tractable as at their 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 w^as not the chief design of his journey, it was at least his 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 vi'hen 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 JOSEPHINE. 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 hfe.- Her pride 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 was never denied a fond caress. She had a smile and a kind word for every one; and whether ^oing. the h*- ors of the imperial court, or attending to the wants of some poor pensioner upon he^jjounty — whether amid her maids of honor or with the nobles of the empire, in all that outward circumstances couM indicate, she was the same blithesome being as before. However dark were her prospects, she still hoped on, and determined 310 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 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, jfier 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 hitnHhat she could bear the trials, and needed no rest ; that she should be happier amid the nrivatioHs of the camp, and the tumults of war, by his LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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, thfen 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 invadra:. The Spanish armies, though driven from the plains, were still unconquered. The Alpine nests of Asturias ; the inaccessible retreats of Gallicia ; the ru^ed ranges which swept between the Duero and the Guadal- quivir; every mountain fastness, from the Pyrenees to the Sierra Nevada, swarmed with sturdy and in- vincible defenders. Ferdinand VII. Jiad 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 Juodled a flame of patriotic resentment against France, which spread like a conflagration throughout the Peninsula. 312 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 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 unconquerable 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 ended ia the total overthrow of the unitfcd 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 his 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 approaching English army, in Biscay. Soult was ordered to put to rout Count de Belvidere in 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 with resistless energy upon the British army, which, under the com- mand of Sir John Moore, had already retreated to 314 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. Corunna. The battle of Coi'unna 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 career. But little of the time which Napoleon now spent at the 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- noticed 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 OP JOSEPHINE. 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 continually 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 instant 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 ti-eaty 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 leave 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 unhesitatingly obeyed the summons. She was too 316 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 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 Irom 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 Emperor 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 power. 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 incident 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 the heart of the Empress, who sent for her, and bade LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 317 he* tell the cause of her sadness. Said she, " My kind 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 Tie 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 whicti was to have so decisive an influence upon her own happiness. 318 LIFE OP 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 musi; now recur to Napoj 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 his scattered soldiers, and took up his line of march for * Berthier. LIFE OF JOaEPHINE. 319 Vienna. At Abensberg, at Eckmuhl, and at Ratisbon, the Austrians, who attempted in great strength to blocli 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 were 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 SchcEnbrunn* 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 Ceesars 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 Theresa, in 1754, and is distant only a mile from Vienna. Maria Louisa preferred it to all the palaces of her father. 320 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. to listen to his vows, and demanded protection for herself, and safety for her fugitive family. Napoleon left her, resolved that the vsrar should not cease tijl the Emperor of Austria vs^as 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 was 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 astonished. 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 Dalmatia, embraciiig about two hundred thousand square miles. LITE OF JOSEPHINE. 331 peace, upon conditions which still left her, next to France and Russia, the most foi'mida'ble power Upon the continent. It was said at the time, and with great' probability, that the reason for these remarkable coni' cessions lay in the contemplated matrimcroial alliance between Bonaparte and the house of Hapsburg^ though the statement that his marriage ' was one of the secret articles in the treaty of peace, was afterwards denied' uy Napoleon. On the 16th of October, Bonaparte left Schoenbrunn ; at Munich, he stopped and despatched a courier to this 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 Poiitaine'-' bleau at ten o'clock on the morning of lhe26thVknd of course found no preparations made for his receptibrii 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 galtop immediately to St. Cloud, and announce ta'the Empress his arrival. Fontainebleau is forty miles distant, and it was one o'clbck before Josephine re- deii^'ed the intelligence: Aware of the Emperor's disposition, she set off hastily*, with a feeHng of disftiay,- 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 told him the ^mpre^s'hSad dome', 'he"to(rft no notie&ofi 332 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. the announcement. It was the first time he had 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 feajrs. for his safety, her efforts for his success? As she stood sobbing there, Napoleon's heart smotet 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 tears. Retiring to dress, they flowed afresh, .apd for several moments she freely indulged them. What me^Qt his coldness, and then his return- ing fevor ? W^ his l^iR4n§ss real, or did he show it only to give her a false hope, ^si {he boa is said to loosen its folds and Ipok brightly in the eyg of its vic- tim, as a prdude 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 misunderstandr ing, and mainly dsgirpus of treating the other vvitb affection. !( was not many day^s, however, before the LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 323 attendants saw tokens of alienation. The manners of the 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 time 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. Nap.oleon 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 myseff but to our empire." Josephine would answer sometimes by tears, then by supplications, 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 star-light evening as they sat alone at a window of the palace — " Bonaparte, behold that bright star ; it is mine ! and remember, to mine, not to 324, LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. thine, has sovereignty been promised. Separate, then, our fates, and your star fades !" Nothing, however, could sv?erve the Emperor from his purpose, and Josephine saw from day to day, that 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 ! .^h ! 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 amid the chaos of happiness which once was hers. The language of her thoughts was, as our Eng- lish poet expressed it, " Like the lUy, ■lat once -was mistress of the field, and flourish'd, * II hang my head, and perish." .ijonaparte 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 comedj, and pass with perfect calm- LIFE OF JOSEPHINK. 325 ness through the ordeal; but this is only an outside view of the picture. It was no farce that inade 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, but 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 purposes 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-dress which completely shaded the upper part of her face. The dinner was one merely of form. The viands were brought on and removed, but neither Josephine nor Bonaparte tasted the luxuries or uttered a word Once or twice their eyes 'inet, but were instantly 326 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. averted, each fearing to. read the look which revealed the spirit's struggle. Josephine saw that her sun-light had passed away, and felt that the storm would quickly spend its wrath upon her. The dinner ceremony concluded, the Empei'or rose, and Josephine followed him mechanically into the ad- joining 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 souf, 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 houi 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 yield to the interests of France." " Say no more," said the Empress ; " I expected this ; I understand and feel for you, but the sti'oke is not the less mortal." Josephine stopped ; she tried to say more, but the appalling vision of her doom choked her utterance. She endeavoi'ed to command her feelings, but they were too strong to be restrained, and sobbing LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 3?T 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 eagedy 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 it 828 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. illustrates her peculiar feelings in relation to this event, we have inserte4 '■ — ' , "My presentiments are realized. You have pro- -iKHineed the word which separates us ; the rest is only , a formality. Such is the reward — I will not say of so . many sacrifices, (tbey were sweet, because made for .you) — ^but of an attachment unbounded on my part, and of the most splemn oaths on yours. But the state, whose interests you put forward as a motive, will, it is ^aid, indemnify me, by justifying you ! These inter- ,ests, howeyer, upon which you fe^n to immolate- me, . are but a pretext ; your ill-dissembled ambilion, 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 orf France — that insidipus house of . Austria — which detests our country from feeling, sys- Jeni, and necessity, Do you suppose that the hatred, sp 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 )?yf 1756) mentioned- by yourself only iHjith hor- ror; think you, I ask, that her posterit)^ while they inherit Jier power, are not animated also by her spirit ? LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 329 I do nothing more than repeat what I have heard from you a thousand times ; but then your ambition hmited itself to humbhng a power which now you propose to elevate. Believe me^so long as j^ou shall be mastei of Europe, Austria will be submissive to you; but never know reverse ! " As to the want of an heir, must a mother appear to yoti 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 one 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 JOSEPHINE. unavailing regret, slie 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 irnmediate 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 movementSj no one detected a step less light, an air less gay, a mien less commanding, than had distinguished her in the palmiept days of her imperial happiness. Hortense was at Fontainebleau when Napoleon made his an- nouncement to the Empress, and Eugene left Itgly 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 lofiger 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 would 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 JOSEPHINE. 331 "The Emperoi-," 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 Empi-ess exhibited during the whole of these scenes. She be- came willing to sacrifice all her interests — to leave the 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 ca,lmness 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 comfortless; a 332 LIFE OT JOSEPHINE. vine reaching forth in vain its tendrils for the support 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 eacn countenance wore a shade of gloom, as if some terrible blow were impending over the dearest pjospects of every heart. Napoleon first addressed them and told them the object of his calling them together. " The jpolitical interests of ray 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 affections 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 LIFE OP 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 always that rank and the title of Empress : but, above all let her never doubt my feelings or regard nie 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 334 LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 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, caine slowly forwai'd. 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 andits resting-place — While still behind, with yell and blow, Sweeps, like a storm, the coming foe." 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 m&rriage contracted between the Em- LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 335 peror Napoleon and the Empress Josephine, is dis- solved. Art II. The Empress Josephine shall preserve the title and rank of Empress Queen CitoWNED. Art. III. Her allowance is fixed at an annual pay- ment out of the public treasury* Art. IV. Whatever provision the Emperor shaL 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 overcome with emotions, sank again into her seat. Count Regnaud de St. Jean d'Angely placed the pen in ber hand, with which she signed the fatal decree. The deed was done, but oh, with wh i' 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 arid 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 longer 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 SS6 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. hardly left the saloon before he fainted and fell, com- pletely overcome by his anguish. ■ ' 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 been steeling her heart to composure, but when the blow fell, she bowed hke 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 weepingi Josephine entered the apartment. She threw open the door bxit stopped, as she saw the Emperor, doubtful whether id' advance or T&tire. A throng of emotions — delicaCy, love — the consciousness that she had no longer any right there, and an unwillingness to leave without ah adieUj 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 looted in each other's embrace, silently mingling their tears together. Josephine remained with him "an hour, arid 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'MaT- LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. 337 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 whi&h she was to pass, anxious to catch oiie last look at their rnartyr mistress, "who carried with her into exile the hearts of al\ iJnat had enjoyed the ha|)piness of access to her presence." The expressions of their grief as they met her ears, -were too much for the heart of Josephine. She tvpuld have slopped and taken them each by the hand, but she knew if she bad 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 faithfiil 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 e^ face whose two-fold ex- pression of resignation and sorrow, made it indescriba- bly touching and lovely ; and was borne away foreyer from the palace consecrated by her presence, to the empire of virtue and affection. 22 CHAPTER X. JOBSPmNE'S BETmEUSNT AKD SORROW. — OEB, BESIDENCX AT MALMAISON AKD NAVAaEE. — MABIA lOUISA. — NATIONAL TOT AT THE BIKTH OF TOCNQ NAPOLEON. OONGBATDLATIONS OF JOSEPHINE. — INCIDENTS OF LIFE AT NAVABEE.— BONAPABTe's OAMPAIOK TO BCS8IA.— HIS DISAS- TEES. — THE FIDBLITT OF JOSEPHINE. — LETTEES».^^NAPOLEON ABDICATES THE THEONE. — JOSEPHINE BECEIVES THE HOMAOE AND STMPATHT OF THE OEEAT. — HEB LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. — ^FDNEEAL. — SUHHAET OF HEE CHABACTEE. 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 lier unof- fending spirit, that forced the tears like rain from her swollen eyes, and to hide the agony wrftten in unmis- takable lines upon her meek and mournful face. Though past middle age, she wag still youthful in ap- pearance, arid 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 her 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 hours of weeping, while every apartment of that villa, LIFE OP JOSEPHIsCE. 33^ "chosen and embellished by her taste, presented to her eye some trace of the man whose arjijhinn crushed her, or gave back to her imagination an eeho 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 soiight, but her affections were torn, from their object and bleeding — she vj^s spurned. from a heart that h&xi 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 was 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 wJiere 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 and mark out his course of conquest, and show his con- clave of confidential friends the comprehensive plans *f .340 LIFE OF JOSEPHINE. of miction he had xlesigned. His camp-bed, arms laid aside, and apparel thrown off carelessly -wtiere 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 w^e 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 hai'mony 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. I 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 apartmen-t there must be a large flower-stand con- stantly filled with fresh flowers in th^ir season, and in "L'iFE 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 ranunculus 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 cori'e- 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 342 ' jIPB OJF JOSEPHINE. ever alDsenl from her apartments, while Canova, then in his glory, adorned the galleries with the creations of his genius, or by his presence enhanced the pleasure &f conversation in the saloons. Several months were spent in this manner at Mal- maison, her sadness unbroken, however brilliant the social aspect; when a cltange of residence brought diversion to her thoughts, and in proportion to this effect, a relief to her mental gloom. The chosen spot was Navarre, onci; 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 wi'eck. Tan- gled shrubbery had usurped the mounds where flowers had bloomed, the streams were filled with fallen branches, and the lakes stagnant with mouldering vegetation. 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 wilderness of decay " blossomed as the rose ;" the waters sparkled and murmured along their channels, and slumbered LIFE OP JOSEPHINE. 343 in their boundaries fringed* with foliage — the sunny slopes were gay with jlowers, and the wide fields alive with the laborer^ who^ were grateful for toil, if it pur- chased bread. In the centre of this miniature kingj dom, the ex-Empress lived more secluded