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 JOSEPHINE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH.
 
 Josephine ,# * * # * # 
 Empress of the French 
 
 & # by Frederick A. Ober 
 
 Illustrated 
 
 New York and Boston <* 
 j* j H. M. Caldwell Co. 
 
 Publishers ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
 
 Copyright, fS^, 
 BY FREDERICK A. OBER. 
 
 A II Rights Reserved.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. Island of Martinique 1 
 
 II. Her first Decade 9 
 
 III. The Great Hurricane 17 
 
 IV. The Carib Prophetess 25 
 
 V. At Diamond Kock 33 
 
 VI. La Belle Creole 44 
 
 VII. The Picnic at the Carbet Peaks 55 
 
 VIII. First Loves of Josephine 66 
 
 IX. The Voyage to France 77 
 
 X. The Bride of Beauharnais 87 
 
 XI. Martinique Revisited 99 
 
 XII. A Loyal Son of France 113 
 
 XIII. Terror the Order of the Day 130 
 
 XIV. In the Shadow of Death 144 
 
 XV. Madame Tallien and the Directory 156 
 
 XVI. General Bonaparte 167 
 
 XVII. Marriage of Josephine and Napoleon 184 
 
 XVIII. The Italian Campaign 202 
 
 XIX. The Little House, Rue Chantereine 217 
 
 XX. Napoleon's Love-Letters 234
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XXI. Bonaparte in Egypt ". 249 
 
 XXII. The Consulate 270 
 
 XXIII. Your Majesty 297 
 
 XXIV. Austerlitz to Wagram * ... 325 
 
 XXV. Portents of Disaster 343 
 
 XXV. Divorce 360 
 
 XXVII. Navarre and Malmaison 384 
 
 XXVIII. Elba and Fontainebleau 395 
 
 XXIX. Death of Josephine 408 
 
 XXX. In Retrospect 420 
 
 Appendix 435
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Josephine, Empress of the French Frontispiece. 
 
 FACING PAGE. 
 
 Map of the Caribbean Sea 2 
 
 Map of the Island of Martinique 8 
 
 Birthplace of Josephine 10 
 
 The Sucrerie 22 
 
 Diamond Eock 40 
 
 The Ancienne Cuisine .- 54 
 
 Riviere Madame, Fort de France 74 
 
 A Waterfall near Josephine's Birthplace 96 
 
 Statue of Josephine, Fort de France 110 
 
 The Traveler's Tree and Shrine 114 
 
 Bonaparte, First Consul 168 
 
 Eugenie Desiree Clary 200 
 
 Josephine in 1796 250 
 
 Napoleon at Malmaison 300 
 
 Little Church at Trois Ilets 350 
 
 Josephine, by Prud'hon 400 
 
 Marriage Register of Josephine's Parents 434
 
 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. . 
 
 ISLAND OF MARTINIQUE. 
 
 A TROPICAL morning of the year 1762. 
 
 As the sun rose from the Atlantic, he found a 
 green and rugged island interposed between him- 
 self and the Caribbean Sea : a chain of wrinkled 
 hills, with summits wreathed in vapory clouds. 
 This verdant mountain-mass was Martinique, one of 
 the fairest of those many isles that lie, crescent-like, 
 between the ocean of storms and sea of calms. 
 
 One day far distant, in the age of fire, it had been 
 upheaved from slimy ocean-depths ; its primal rocks 
 for centuries had been beaten upon by tropic sun, 
 and washed in torrential rains ; slowly, during eons 
 of time it had gathered the garment of verdure 
 now enwrapping it. Heat and moisture, the great 
 alchemists, had combined to prepare its soil for the 
 reception and retention of the seeds and germs 
 of plant-life, brought hither by birds, by the winds 
 that swept its surface. Thus the deep and gloomy
 
 2 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 valleys, the sloping hillsides, even the mountain- 
 summits, were covered with carpets of emerald em- 
 bossed with flowers and trees. 
 
 How many ages it lay there, desolate, between 
 shining sea and gloomy ocean, who can tell ? No 
 one knows when the primogenial life began : the 
 first flutter of wings, the primitive pulse-beat of 
 sentient organisms. . . . But one day this paradise 
 was invaded by aboriginal man, who may have 
 reached it drifting upon a giant tree, wrenched from 
 some forest by the hurricane, or in a rude canoe, 
 hewn from cedar or ceiba. 
 
 We have reasons for believing that he came from 
 the south, from the region of the Orinoco, or the 
 Amazons ; but we only know that this man found 
 by Europeans in possession of the Caribbees, in the 
 latter part of the fifteenth century, was of a type 
 then unknown in the Old World, and called Indian. 
 
 Columbus found here, in the last decade of that 
 century which gave America into the keeping of 
 civilized man, the Carib cannibals. So fierce were 
 these barbarous Indians, so warlike, so active in the 
 defense of their homes and hunting-grounds, that 
 for many years after the so-called discovery, the 
 island remained in their possession. Then the 
 French adventurers colonized it : the sea-rovers and 
 buccaneers, attracted by the beauty and fertility of 
 the island. The Caribs were gradually driven back 
 from the coast-lands to the mountain valleys, fi- 
 nally disappearing altogether. The French planters 
 prospered, their estates covered the lowlands ; their
 
 MAP OF THE CARIBBEAN SEA.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 3 
 
 slaves, imported from Africa, multiplied to a great 
 population ; their prosperity attracted the atten- 
 tionof their enemies. . . . During that long and 
 bloody struggle for supremacy between France and 
 England, their colonial possessions suffered infin- 
 itely more than the home countries. The scene of 
 conflict was shifted from sea to sea, from ocean to 
 ocean. Finally, having already colonized or taken 
 by force many of the choicest Caribbean islands, the 
 English fell upon Martinique. 
 
 It was too rich a country to escape their clutches ; 
 their fleet approached its shores ; the whole island 
 was alarmed ; planters and slaves, alike animated by 
 patriotic sentiment, hastened to its defense. 
 
 A morning in January, 1762. . . . Upon the 
 summit of a hill overlooking the deep bay of Fort 
 Eoyal, stood a fair and delicate woman about 
 twenty-five years of age. She was the center of a 
 group of female slaves, who were regarding, as anx- 
 iously as she, the scene spread out before them. 
 The deep valley at their feet was filled with shadows ; 
 a peaked morne cast its black counterpart across the 
 intervening vale, and aslant the hill on which they 
 stood. The morning air was cool and sweet ; it 
 breathed of naught but peace ; yet, across the bay, 
 less than four miles away, arose the smoke of con- 
 flict. The English fleet had approached the shore ; 
 the grim walls of Fort Saint-Louis, bristling with 
 guns, were sending forth a storm of shot ; boats 
 from the fleet were striving for a landing. At first 
 they were repelled by the gallant islanders, but
 
 4 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 eventually were successful. Then the great wooden 
 ships, hitherto silent, replied to the cannonade from 
 the fort, and a pall of smoke hid the scene from 
 view. 
 
 The white watcher fell to the ground and covered 
 her eyes with her hands ; her servants gathered 
 around her. Silent and trembling, they awaited the 
 lifting of the cloud ' that hid the fort. An hour 
 passed, and another ; the shadows shortened on the 
 hill ; a faint sea-breeze drifted by them. The can- 
 nonading had ceased, the cloud of smoke was dissi- 
 pated by the breeze. The woman rose to her feet 
 and strove to penetrate the mists that still clung 
 about the farther hills. She started, gasped, looked 
 again, and then fell into the supporting arms of her 
 attendants. . . . 
 
 Above the fort no longer waved the Lilies of 
 France ! 
 
 Slowly and sorrowfully the little group descended 
 the hill, to the plantation -house at its foot, there to 
 await such tidings as the day might bring to them. 
 
 A bride of but little more than a month, Madame 
 Tascher de La-Pagerie had been compelled to part 
 from her husband a week previous to the battle, 
 when he was ordered to assist at the defense of the 
 Fort. As a lieutenant of the forces, he could not 
 evade his duty to the government ; loyal and patri- 
 otic, he yet left his bride with reluctance, and an- 
 swered the imperative call to arms. 
 
 He had sent daily messages to her as he directed 
 the erection of earthworks behind the town, scarped
 
 JOSEPHINE. 5 
 
 the hillsides commanding the bay ; but for the last 
 two days no messenger had been able to reach the 
 plantation, isolated as it was among the hills, and 
 beyond the bay swept by the guns of the enemy. 
 
 Though almost overborne by her grief and anx- 
 iety, Madame Tascher could not yield to her desire 
 for seclusion, but was obliged to attend to the affairs 
 of the large plantation, with 'its dependent slaves. 
 Two days had nearly passed, the second was nearing 
 its close, when the mistress of La-Pagerie saw a 
 negro riding up the palm-bordered avenue from 
 the landing at the bay. Standing in the southern 
 doorway, above the rose-garden, she saw behind 
 this horseman another, coming at a furious rate ; 
 and a few minutes later was sobbing on her hus- 
 band's breast. 
 
 The fight had ended, with victory for the English ; 
 the planters were dispersing to their homes ; and 
 Lieutenant Tascher, who had acquitted himself so 
 bravely as to win the esteem of the English com- 
 mander, was permitted to return to his estate. 
 
 Finding the demands of his large properties suffi- 
 cient to occupy all his time, Lieutenant Tascher 
 resigned his commission and devoted himself 
 entirely to agricultural occupations. His principal 
 estate was this on which he and his bride had taken 
 up their abode, and which had come to them as her 
 dower : the beautiful valley of Sannois near the 
 little hamlet of Trois-Ilets. Acres unsurveyed lay 
 spread out upon the hills adjacent : the valley itself 
 penetrated far into the interior. All within sight
 
 6 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 of their house was theirs, stretching from the quiet 
 waters of the bay to the crests of the distant hills. 
 
 Not only the soil belonged to them, but the entire 
 population of one hundred and fifty slaves. Here 
 they lived happily surrounded by their dependants, 
 over whom they exercised a beneficent sway, and 
 entertaining their friends, when they chanced to 
 visit from the near town of Fort Eoyal, and the 
 farther city of St. Pierre. 
 
 Two happy and peaceful years followed the capt- 
 ure of the island by the English. In the cultivation, 
 of his vast estate, with its billowy fields of sugar- 
 cane and fragrant groves of coffee- trees, M. Tascher 
 passed his time, outwardly tranquil, but inwardly 
 disturbed by the thought that he and his family were 
 the subjects of an alien government. His father, 
 the first of the name in America, had come to this 
 island of Martinique in the year 1726. He was a per- 
 sonage of rank, as appears from his request, four 
 years later, for the registration of his letters of 
 nobility ; a formality which the French noblemen 
 coming to the Antilles never omitted. 
 
 His request was granted, but not until 1745, and 
 meanwhile he had been united in marriage to Mile, 
 de La Chevalerie, the daughter of a wealthy family 
 of the island. 
 
 A son was born to them, Joseph Gaspard de La- 
 Pagerie, whom they sent to be educated in France. 
 This young man returned to Martinique in 1755, was 
 appointed First Lieutenant of Artillery, and actively 
 engaged in the erection of batteries at Fort Koyal,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 7 
 
 the chief port and naval station of the French West 
 Indies. He aided in a repulse of an English force 
 under General Moore, in 1759, and (as we have al- 
 ready seen) took an active part in the defense of 
 Fort Royal during the second assault, in 1762. 
 
 Following the example of his illustrious father, 
 he formed an alliance with a rich Creole family, in 
 November, 1761, by marriage with Mile. Rose-Clair 
 des Vergers de Sannois. Through her he came into 
 possession of the estate of Sannois, to which he 
 retired at about the age of twenty-seven, there to 
 reside the remainder of his life.* 
 
 Absorbed as this happy couple became in the mul- 
 titudinous cares of the " great-house " (as the dwell- 
 ing of a West Indian proprietor is called ) and the 
 acres adjacent, they yet perpetually recurred to the 
 one irritant of their otherwise placid existence : the 
 floating of a foreign flag above the Fort. 
 
 As devoted children and lovers of La belle France, 
 their existence was embittered by this reflection : 
 that their children, should they be blest with any, 
 would be born beneath an alien flag. 
 
 Fortune, however, still continued favoring : there 
 came a day when M. Tascher was made supremely 
 happy by the intelligence that a daughter had been 
 born to him. And, coincident with this announce- 
 ment, came the faint report of cannon, from across 
 the bay. Fort Royal was rejoicing over the reces- 
 sion of Martinique. 
 
 * Histoire de la Martfnfque. 
 * See Appendix I.
 
 8 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Then the cloud lifted from the planter's brow, 
 for his daughter was a child of France ! 
 
 NOTE. Martinique lies between the 14th and 15th degree of lati- 
 tude, north ; is about 45 miles long by 15 broad, with an area of 380 
 miles. It was discovered by Columbus, in 1502, inhabited by Indians 
 who called the Island Madiana. The French colonized it in 1635. 
 The British seized it in the years 1762, '81, '94, and in 1809 ; but it 
 was finally restored by the treaty of Paris, 1814. Slavery was abol- 
 ished in 1848, and the bulk of the present population is black or 
 colored. It was the naval station and rendezvous of the French, 
 during the American revolution.
 
 MAP OF THE ISLAND OF MARTINIQUE.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HER FIRST DECADE. 
 
 THIS daughter of the Creole planter, whose birth 
 was thus auspiciously announced by the salvos of re- 
 turning peace, was none other than she who subse- 
 quently became celebrated as JOSEPHINE. 
 
 The treaty of peace, by which Martinique, 
 amongst other colonial possessions, had been re- 
 stored to France, was signed on the twelfth of Feb- 
 ruary, 1763. A war-ship brought the news to Fort 
 Royal ; the final transfer of troops and the installa- 
 tion of the new governor took place in June, on the 
 twenty-third of which month Josephine was born. 
 The planter and nis wife desired a son, and to veil 
 their disappointment they bestowed upon the new 
 arrival the name so honorably borne by the father 
 and grandfather. The child was christened Marie- 
 Joseph-Rose, thus combining and perpetuating the 
 baptismal names of her grandfather, grandmother, 
 father and mother : Marie-Joseph-Rose-Tascher 
 de La-Pagerie. This formidable appellation was 
 soon abbreviated to Josephine, around which have 
 since clustered all synonyms for grace and win- 
 someness. 
 
 Six years later, on the island of Corsica, was born
 
 10 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 one with whom the name of Josephine is insepa- 
 rably linked : NAPOLEON. 
 
 Napoleon and Josephine : we cannot but pause a 
 moment to note the parallelisms in the great events 
 of their lives. 
 
 Both were island-born ; the one in a rock-ribbed 
 isle of the Mediterranean, the other in a tropic seg- 
 ment of the Caribbean crescent. 
 
 Both first saw the light soon after the accession of 
 their native land to France ; and both have been 
 wrongfully accused of being but the adopted children 
 of that country.* 
 
 Both early sought the shores of the mother-land ; 
 but both ever retained their love for the place of 
 their birth, returning to it when in trouble, and 
 maintaining an affection for its people. 
 
 Their happiest years were those of their youth and 
 passed in the retreats of nature, free from strife and 
 turmoil. To them they constantly recurred, with 
 longing and in loving remembrance ; but, urged by 
 ambition, they pursued a course counter to the dic- 
 tates of their affections. 
 
 Each was twice married, once for love, once to 
 gratify ambition. 
 
 To the last, each retained the other in esteem, de- 
 spite the estrangement of their latter years. 
 
 But to return to that eventful day, the twenty- 
 
 * Corsica was annexed to France in June, 1769 ; Napoleon born 
 15th of August, that year.
 
 BIRTHPLACE OF JOSEPHINE.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 11 
 
 third of June, 1763. Joy and gladness filled the 
 hearts of the planter and his wife. Writing to her 
 sister, a week later, Madame de La-Pagerie ex- 
 pressed her great gratitude to God for " His gift of 
 a daughter," and hoped the child would possess all 
 the most agreeable traits of both ancestral families. 
 That her desires were gratified, at least in this re- 
 gard, history has assured us ; no more loving and 
 winsome infant, later developing into a graceful 
 and sympathetic girl and mother, ever gladdened 
 the hearts of hopeful parents. 
 
 The Creole nature is one of complaisance ; yet, the 
 surroundings of a child of wealthy parents, in those 
 days of slavery, were not conducive to deferential de- 
 portment. Slave women waited on the child from 
 birth, their children were also at its service night and 
 day. 
 
 Hereditary influences and climatic conditions 
 conduced to shape the little Creole into a perfect 
 type of her class. She was unfettered by clothes 
 and unrestrained by commands. As the tropical 
 sun evokes from the soil an exuberance of vegeta- 
 tion to which the colder regions are strangers, so, 
 too, the solar energy manifests itself in the ardency 
 of the human temperament. 
 
 The Creole is more volatile, less restrained, more 
 passionate, and given to lighter play of fancy, than 
 the dweller at the North. And this quality is more 
 than temperamental : it is physical, also. 
 
 The Creole (that is, the descendant of Europeans 
 born in the Tropics) has a delicacy of figure and
 
 12 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 litheness of limb, a grace and freedom of move- 
 ment, that compensates for the loss of robustness 
 and perhaps of virility. Free from the restraints 
 of clothing, in earliest youth, the body develops 
 along natural lines and the limbs become models of 
 symmetry. 
 
 Such a " child of the sun," a creature of love, 
 laughter, and careless gayety, was the youthful 
 Josephine. As soon as she could walk outside the 
 doors of the " great house " she became the favorite 
 companion of the slave-children, who swarmed 
 about the establishment. Or, rather, they became 
 her devoted adherents, guiding her footsteps, watch- 
 ing over her every movement. She was really a 
 queen before she could talk, an empress in fact 
 before she ever saw the shores of France. Accus- 
 tomed to have her lightest fancy taken seriously, 
 to have her orders obeyed as soon as uttered, she 
 was in danger of becoming imperious and selfish. 
 Only her native sweetness saved her : the innate 
 and surpassing graciousness of her disposition. 
 
 There is a tradition of a sister, a year older than 
 herself ; but the records of the little church where 
 she was baptized do not confirm it. At all events, 
 she had no sisterly companion with whom to join in 
 play, and was chiefly thrown upon the resources 
 afforded by the colored children about the place. 
 
 There was freedom enough : room enough in 
 which to expand, to develop, to indulge in romp or 
 ramble.. 
 
 The planter's house was situated upon a natural
 
 JOSEPHINE. 13 
 
 terrace, escarped from the side of a steep hill. 
 Behind it rose the hills that swung around the head 
 of the valley and cut off the view in that direction. 
 But in front, the ground sloped towards the sea, to 
 which led a broad and straight avenue of mag- 
 nificent palms. Their trunks straight as arrows, 
 and over one hundred feet in height ; their verdant 
 crowns interlaced above the road. 
 
 Between the house and the palm-avenue lay the 
 rose-garden, filled with plants that bloomed perpet- 
 ually ; their fragrance invaded and made delightful 
 the atmosphere of the dwelling. 
 
 A fruit-garden rambled around the outer edge of 
 this paradise of roses, straggled over the slopes, 
 and finally lost itself in the depths of the valley, 
 out of which tumbled a brawling stream. In the 
 dry season this stream was a mere babbling brook, 
 drawing its thread of silver over the broad and 
 rocky bed ; when the rains came it fumed and 
 roared, fighting its way between the tree-trunks 
 and carrying some of them off with it to the sea. 
 
 When in its normal condition it held many a 
 peaceful pool in its embrace, rambling from one to 
 another with the freedom of a true tropical lover. 
 One of these pools was early selected by Josephine's 
 mother as her bathing-place. It lay beneath a giant 
 ceiba tree, a silk-cotton, whose buttressed trunk 
 reached out into it, and above it spread its canopy 
 of verdant foliage. 
 
 The glorious palms and the silk-cottons were the 
 Titans of this tropical world in miniature, towering
 
 14 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 so high above their fellows that all others were 
 dwarfed by comparison. Beneath them grew the 
 mango and guava, the custard-apple, sapote, banana, 
 orange, plantain, calabash, and a hundred others. 
 Fruits were in abundance, all the year through. 
 The golden -fruited mango shaded the veranda and 
 dropped its delicious morsels for the little girl to 
 find. The same tree, or one of its descendants, still 
 casts its shade over the ground where Josephine 
 played with her companions. On the hill-slopes 
 gleamed the yellow cane, in the gorges grew the 
 glossy-leaved coffee, with its crimson fruit. Tan- 
 gles of vine and serpentine liane made barriers at 
 the mouths of the ravines and hung their festoons 
 around the trees. 
 
 But this Happy Valley was not without its evil 
 things ; beneath the luxuriant growth of vine and 
 shrub lurked many dangers. Within the house 
 itself were venomous insects, hiding beneath the 
 floors, in holes and corners. There was always 
 danger of disturbing an enormous centipede, with 
 its numerous feet, its scaly back and poisonous 
 mandibles. This island is its peculiar haunt, 
 and here it attains to a length of many inches. 
 Rapid of movement as anything that crawls, it 
 flashes upon your sight an instant, then is gone. 
 It hides in your clothing, and if disturbed pricks its 
 poison into your flesh, leaving behind a burning 
 fever. Or the tarantula, which here is surcharged 
 with venom, and is found so large that its hairy 
 legs can spread across a saucer. Scorpions, too,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 15 
 
 share with the centipedes the soft and rotting wood, 
 and hide beneath chips, dead leaves and even cast- 
 off clothing. Ants in great variety, some of them 
 capable of inflicting burning stings, some invading 
 the house in hordes of millions. Great house- 
 spiders, harmless but hideous ; bats as large as 
 doves, but not so innocent of harmful intent ; 
 chigoes, minute insects that penetrate the flesh and 
 lay eggs therein that develop into festering sores ; 
 the bete-rouge, a kind of tick, that fastens upon the 
 skin and buries its head in the flesh. These are the 
 worst of the plagues with which a tropical country 
 is infested ; but mere mention of them will show 
 how many are the dangers to which an infant 
 is exposed. Even the carefully-nurtured child of 
 wealth cannot wholly escape some annoyance, and 
 the children of the lower classes are frequently 
 stung and bitten. 
 
 Contempt is the child of familiarity, and the fre- 
 quency with which such pests are seen divests them 
 of the terror they might otherwise inspire. But 
 there is one disturber of the peace in Martinique 
 which is not only carefully avoided, but feared. 
 This is the poisonous serpent, called the Fer-de- 
 Lance. It is aggressive and venomous, and though 
 its home is in the forest, yet it frequently descends 
 to the gardens, and even enters the dwellings. Ever 
 since the island has been in possession of the white 
 man, this serpent has been a terror and scourge. 
 It invades the cane -fields, where it strikes down the 
 negro-laborer ; suspends itself from limbs of trees
 
 16 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 that stretch above the forest-paths ; lies in wait for 
 its victims in every conceivable situation. Except 
 within the cities, where the streets are lighted, there 
 is no stir of human life in this tropical island, after 
 the shades of night have fallen. Imagine, then, the 
 monotony of existence on a plantation, where the 
 family seek repose soon after dark ; where books 
 are scarce ; to which the newspaper rarely pene- 
 trates. 
 
 The span of child-life is the daytime ; the waking 
 hours filled with boisterous play, the night with 
 sleep. To the child, then, the monotony of planta- 
 tion-life would not seem depressing. 
 
 * See Appendix II.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 17 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE GREAT HURRICANE. 
 
 "I ran, I jumped, I danced, from morning to 
 night ; no one restrained the wild movements of 
 my childhood." 
 
 These are the words of Josephine herself, recur- 
 ring in later years to the happiest period of her 
 life : the first decade of her child-life at Sannois- 
 de-la-Pagerie. 
 
 With the earliest dawn of day she was out of her 
 couch and in the open air. The great room in 
 which she slept, with its bare white walls and tiled 
 floor, was occupied conjointly with her favorite 
 nurse, Adee, who was tireless in her efforts to 
 please and protect her little charge. Adee was one 
 of those golden- skinned products of tropical Marti- 
 nique, a me'tise, with purple tints in hair and 
 melancholy eyes, and the hues of sun-ripened fruit 
 in her complexion. She was tall and lithe, young, 
 joyous, and loving. Her lovers could be counted by 
 the score ; but not one of them could draw her 
 away from " 'ti Josephine," to whom she had vowed 
 devotion to the death. 
 
 One of those delicious mornings, to experience
 
 18 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 which is the joy of a lifetime, Josephine opened 
 her eyes to see her good nurse bending over her. 
 She was that day three years old, and a little fete 
 had been arranged in celebration of such an impor- 
 tant event. It was the custom, among the planters 
 of that time, 'to perform some act, or make some 
 sacrifice, that should cause the birthdays of their 
 children to be remembered. On this occasion M. 
 Tascher had promised to give his daughter an un- 
 usual happiness : in honor of her birthday he had 
 promised to free one of the slaves. 
 
 It was with the recollection of her father's prom- 
 ise, that she opened her eyes and looked up question- 
 ingly into the face of her nurse. "Is it lovely? 
 Is the sun shining ? " she asked. 
 
 " Of course it is, petit fi ! it is always shining; 
 but- 
 
 " But ? " repeated Josephine, anxiously. " It 
 must shine ; to-day little Jo- jo is to be made free. 
 Papa has given him to me." 
 
 "Yes, ma chere," said the girl, imprinting a kiss 
 on the ripe lips, which Josephine unconsciously re- 
 turned ; " but I saw a bad-looking cloud in the sky, 
 as I went out to feed the doves, and the hurricane- 
 birds were flying low over the bay. But roll out, 
 now, let me put on the new frock from the Fort. 
 Ah, how lovely she will look ; come now, to the 
 bath." 
 
 The little pink feet pattered across the marble 
 tiles, to the bath-room, where the sweet water from 
 the hills, I'eau douce, was gurgling in the basin,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 19 
 
 and soon their owner was laughing and plashing, 
 to the music of the stream. The nurse's face wore 
 an anxious expression, but with sweet gravity she 
 attended upon the child, now and then casting a look 
 towards the window opening upon the bay. Sud- 
 denly the door of the chamber was opened, and M. 
 Tascher appeared. He cast a hurried glance around, 
 and then, seeing the ones he sought, he seized a 
 large bath-towel, threw it around his daughter, and 
 gathering her into his arms, pressed her to his 
 breast, kissing her passionately. 
 
 "Quick, Adee, follow me with what you can find 
 at hand. To the case-a-vent : to the hurricane- 
 house ; lose not a moment ; the hurricane is upon 
 us. Madame is already there." * 
 
 The quick ears of Adee had already caught the 
 premonitory mutterings of the coming storm ; but 
 she had hoped to finish the child's toilet without 
 alarming her. Gathering into her arms some 
 articles of clothing scattered on the floor, she 
 hastened after her master, who had crossed the en- 
 closure behind the dwelling, and was at the entrance 
 of the hurricane-house. 
 
 The case-a-vent, or hurricane-house, was an in- 
 dispensable adjunct of every plantation in the island, 
 
 * The author is indebted for this narrative, to the traditions of 
 Trois-Ilets. 
 
 The great hurricane, which destroyed the property of M. 
 Tascher, and devastated the island, occurred the 13th August, 
 1766, some seven weeks after Josephine's third birthday. See 
 Appendix (3) and " Histoire Generate des Antilles."
 
 20 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 subject as it was to those terrible storms called by 
 the first Indians, ouragans, and which have made 
 desolate many a fair and prosperous estate. 
 
 It is usually built into or under the side of a hill, 
 with walls of stone several feet in thickness, and, 
 as far as possible, in a sheltered situation. The door 
 is of thick plank, there are no windows ; and, as may 
 be imagined, the air within, if the storm be of long 
 duration, is most oppressive. 
 
 Not too soon had the family of M. Tascher 
 sought and gained the shelter of the cave under the 
 hill. Scarcely had the last servant been drawn 
 within and the massive door closed and bolted, than 
 the hurricane was upon them in all its fury. The 
 tall palms writhed and bent beneath its blows ; 
 mango and calabash, orange and guava trees were 
 quickly stripped of their limbs ; roof-tiles from the 
 mansion, boards from the negro-quarters, and 
 branches wrenched from trees, were hurled through 
 the air. 
 
 The door of the case-a-vent groaned on its huge 
 hinges, strained at the iron bars across it, almost 
 burst its fastenings. The air within the cave be- 
 came hot to suffocation ; moans and cries arose 
 from the terrified servants ; but little Josephine 
 uttered not a word. Close clasping her arms around 
 her father's neck, and clinging also to her mother's 
 hand, she lay quiet and calm. But within her 
 tender bosom what tumultuous feelings struggled 
 for expression ! . . . Her fete-day, it was to have 
 been ; she was to have ruled the plantation as a
 
 JOSEPHINE. 21 
 
 queen absolute ; one of her subjects was to have 
 been freed from the bonds of slavery ; on every side 
 there would have been joy and rejoicing. But now 
 . . . Upon a sensitive organism like hers, what 
 lasting impress would this scene and experience 
 make ! . . . With senses exquisitely attuned to the 
 harmonies of nature, what a shock would be this 
 dissonance ! 
 
 Thus early in her sad life, she was brought face 
 to face with the terror and despair of humanity. 
 She must have been impressed with man's impo- 
 tence ; perhaps then was born her fatalism, her 
 resignation to the inevitable, to which she clung in 
 later years. 
 
 The hours passed slowly ; but finally the door 
 ceased to strain at its fastenings, and M. Tascher 
 commanded the huge negro who had it in charge, 
 to open it a little way. Carefully and slowly, the 
 bolts were drawn and daylight admitted. All was 
 quiet without. The darkness that had accompanied 
 the storm, caused by the dense clouds and sheets of 
 rain, had been dispelled by the sun, which was now 
 shining brightly. A mighty sigh of relief arose 
 from that imprisoned throng ; but changed to cries 
 of distress as the scene of desolation met their view. 
 
 The wind had died away to a moan ; exhausted 
 nature lay prostrate, torn and bleeding. Hardly a 
 tree was left standing : huge ceibas, cedars, and 
 sapote trees had been uprooted and cast to the 
 ground. But the most mournful spectacle was of 
 the palm-avenue, for in place of the columnar
 
 22 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 trunks with their waving plumes, was a ragged row 
 of shattered stumps, with here and there a few 
 mangled leaves clinging to the stems. The huts of 
 the negroes, which had been grouped around the 
 sugar-mill, were entirely destroyed, and soon a 
 hundred despairing beings were groping in their 
 ruins. 
 
 All this scene of devastation M. Tascher took in 
 at a glance ; it somewhat prepared him for the 
 crowning desolation of all : the total destruction of 
 his house.* 
 
 A groan escaped him, as he looked upon what had 
 been his happy home. In ruins ; not a wall left 
 standing ; the rose-garden strewn with stones and 
 tiles. From that moment the father of Josephine 
 was a changed and broken man. Tall, alert, hand- 
 some, ever with a smile on his bronzed face, he 
 had worked hopefully for his home and family ; had 
 built and improved ; but now, all was swept away, 
 the work of years, the improvements of a century. 
 
 He never rebuilt the great-house ; for years after, 
 the family lived in the upper rooms of the sucrerie, 
 or sugar-house, where the cane was ground and 
 converted into sugar. 
 
 His wife clung to his shoulders and little Josephine 
 mutely appealed to be taken to his arms. With- 
 drawing his fixed gaze from the ruins, he looked 
 absently at them a moment ; then the consciousness 
 
 *"3f. de La Pagerie cut sa maison cohabitation entierement 
 ruinee ; le b&timent seul de sa sucrerie resta debout. C'est la quVl se 
 refugiaavec safemmeet Josephine," etc., Histoire de la Martinique.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 23 
 
 of their continued presence came upon him and he 
 clasped them to his breast. " My wife, my daughter ; 
 yes, thank the good God, they are left to me ! '' 
 
 With eyes blinded by tears, the unfortunates 
 sought for some familiar scene ; but all was changed. 
 The river had burst its banks, had swept away their 
 garden and many trees ; but more than this : it had 
 carried away some of their servants in the flood. 
 
 Only the great sugar-house remained standing, of 
 all the buildings pertaining to the estate. To this 
 structure the now homeless family directed their 
 steps. Its walls were of stone, some two feet in 
 thickness, its rafters heavy and covered with earthen 
 tiles, the doorways were broad, with granite lintels. 
 Above the ground-floor, where the machinery was 
 placed: huge rollers to press the juice from the cane, 
 great gloomy vats filled with water, an endless 
 tramway for the carrying away of the cane-stalks ; 
 above this dark, cavern-like room were two large 
 chambers. The beams supporting the floor were 
 sound and strong, and the floor itself intact. To 
 the chambers the negroes, obeying M. Tascher's 
 orders, carried such of the furniture as they could 
 find, such of the scattered clothing and valuables as 
 could be collected, and there the family took up their 
 abode. Fate, or fortune, so willed it that while she 
 lived at Trois-Ilets, Josephine knew no other place of 
 residence, unless visiting at the house of a friend, or 
 at school. 
 
 Two dormer windows were thrown out towards 
 the sea, the bare rafters were hung with draperies,
 
 24 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 mats of rushes were strewn upon the floor, and the 
 rooms made as habitable as possible. 
 
 The old building still stands (or it stood, a few 
 years ago, when it was seen by the writer of these 
 lines), a mute memorial of that scene of devastation 
 of more than one hundred years ago. Nothing else 
 remains to remind one of what transpired here when 
 it was the home of the youthful empress. Of the 
 great-house, only the kitchen was left standing, by 
 the hurricane ; the ancienne cuisine, as it is called 
 to-day ; this, too, still exists. The lover of Josephine, 
 the traveler who may chance to reach this obscure 
 valley, may still trace the outline of the great-house 
 walls, and look upon the small structure that was 
 once attached to it. Its walls are of stone, its roof 
 of rich-hued tiles, lichen-covered. Above it droops 
 a mango tree, dropping its golden fruit to-day, as in 
 the century past, for the children playing beneath 
 its shade. In this small building lived for many 
 years the mother of Josephine, after the death of 
 her husband, and even while her daughter was em- 
 press of France. 
 
 As the watchful Adee was carrying Josephine to 
 the place in which they were to live, her attention 
 was attracted by an object floating at the river-side. 
 She halted, but, though shuddering with an unde- 
 fined feeling of dread, she continued her way to the 
 upper chamber, first leaving her charge with a serv- 
 ant, before returning to confirm her fears.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 25 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE CARIB PROPHETESS. 
 
 HER fears were realized. Parting the guava 
 bushes, peering through them fearfully, Adee saw 
 the body of little Jo- jo, his hands grasping the guava 
 roots, his glassy eyes looking up into the sky. " Ah, 
 pauv j gar con ; poor little Jo- jo ; and yesterday he 
 was to have been free ! " Adee carefully drew the 
 dead boy from the water, and took him to the negro 
 camp, where his mother received him in stony 
 silence. Hers was not the only bleeding heart in 
 the valley of Sannois. A disaster so overwhelm- 
 ing, so universal, had reduced the usually boister- 
 ous negroes to despairing quietude. They gathered 
 around the mother with mute offers of sympathy ; 
 one stretched out the contorted limbs, another went 
 to the wrecked workshop and made him a casket of 
 cedar wood ; another dug a grave beneath the mango- 
 tree above the ford. That evening they bore him 
 gently to his rest beneath the fruited mango, all the 
 slaves joining in the procession. Jo- jo had been the 
 favorite playfellow of Josephine ; he was a few 
 years older than the white child, and grave and dig- 
 nified beyond his age. Next to Adee, he had held a 
 place in her heart, as one to be loved and trusted. 
 Her first inquiry, after the noon-day siesta, was for
 
 26 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 her companion. " Bring Jo- jo to me, Adee, I wish 
 to tell him he is free. No fete, no flowers ; only the 
 big storm ; but no matter ; it was my birthday, was 
 it not ? And papa promised me Jo-jo. I wonder if 
 he will leave us and his mamma, now he is free ? " 
 
 "He has left already," said Adee, burying her 
 head in her hands; "when you were sleeping, a 
 good man came to take him away." 
 
 The child regarded her inquiringly. Her own 
 nature was truthful ; she believed in her nurse im- 
 plicitly ; but there was a veiled something in her 
 words she could not understand. It seemed incred- 
 ible that Jo- jo should have gone without bidding 
 her farewell. 
 
 At last she said, calmly, with a suspicion of fear 
 creeping around her heart : ' ' Adee, who was the 
 ' good man ' ; was it 
 
 "Ah, ma chere it was le Bon Die ; the good Lord 
 took little Jo -jo." The child clasped her hands, her 
 tears flowing silently. 
 
 "Then, Adee, then Jo-jo ^sfree, is he not?" 
 
 "Yes, child ; but do not think of it ; better not ; 
 he is happy now. Come, come down with me to the 
 bay. I will carry you." Adee forced herself to 
 smile, singing a favorite song, which always capt- 
 ured the hearts of the little ones : 
 
 " Come, my darling, kiss your sweetheart ; 
 She will buy you fowl and rice ; 
 Come, my dearest, kiss your sweetheart." 
 
 Josephine rose submissively, and Adee took her to
 
 JOSEPHINE. 27 
 
 the bay, wending her way through and over fallen 
 tree-trunks, and the million fragments of their dev- 
 astated home. There they found the fishermen 
 assembled, bewailing the total loss of their boats and 
 nets. The shore was strewn with wreckage, and 
 multitudes of fish were lying on the sands and in the 
 grass, where the storm had cast them. 
 
 The river-mouth was full of titiri, little fish so 
 small that a hundred would scarce fill a teaspoon, 
 but which, when fresh, are made into the most 
 delicious of fish-cakes. The natives of the island 
 have a tradition that the titiri only appear with the 
 heats of the summer lightning, and they call the 
 electric flashes of the storms in July and August, 
 the " titiri lightnings " : z'edarai-titiri, which, they 
 say, hatch the fish. 
 
 Then there was the " perroquet," or parakeet fish, 
 with its bands of vivid yellow and red ; the cirur- 
 gien, all blue and black ; the souri, in pink and yel- 
 low ; and finally, Adee pointed out the " Bon-Die- 
 manie-moi" so-called by the fishermen : "the Good- 
 God-handled-me," because it had finger-marks on 
 each side its head. 
 
 By diverting the child in this manner, directing 
 her attention to the manifold attractions spread out 
 by nature, on every side, Adee restored her to her 
 former self, and it was with composure that they 
 returned to the shelter of the sugar-house. 
 
 After months and years of constant labor, M. 
 Tascher succeeded in restoring to the devastated
 
 28 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 plantation somewhat of its former aspect of exuber- 
 ant fertility ; but, though the ruins of the great- 
 house were removed, and the hill-slopes replanted in 
 coffee and cane, neither the giant trees nor the 
 houses were replaced. 
 
 The struggle with nature was exhausting and 
 depressing, for the elemental forces were difficult to 
 control, and periodically burst their bounds, destroy- 
 ing in a day or a night what it had taken years to 
 create. Thus the planter became the victim of 
 gloom and depression, and his wife worn with the 
 unceasing battle for life. Their great joy was their 
 daughter. Year by year, Josephine grew in grace 
 and beauty, developing into a sweet and thoughtful 
 maiden ; full of the tenderness, the gentle gravity, 
 so characteristic of the high-born Creole. 
 
 At the age of ten she was almost arrived at 
 woman's stature ; not tall, but admirably propor- 
 tioned, with a flexile, graceful figure ; abundant 
 hair crowned her shapely head ; her hands and feet 
 were so small and so beautiful that in after years 
 Napoleon never ceased to admire them. Although 
 sun-kissed and breeze-caressed, from her constant 
 exercise in open air, yet her complexion was rich and 
 delicately-tinted. In short, she was strong and 
 healthy, agile and supple, with a mind as free from 
 morbid thoughts or impulses as her body was from 
 taint of disease, or physical defect. 
 
 Her nurse was still her companion ; Adee had 
 kept pace with her mistress in the development of 
 physical charms, and was now a ripened Juno, the
 
 JOSEPHINE. 29 
 
 envy of her female companions and the despair of 
 would-be lovers. She guarded her as tenderly as 
 during the first years of infancy, when she had been 
 given into her charge by the mother. She was more 
 than mother to her, since she gave her all her time, 
 allowed her own rich life to be absorbed by the other. 
 And Josephine repaid her devotion with love of 
 equal measure ; she was her friend and confidante, 
 not her servant. They were inseparable, they took 
 long walks together, bathed in the same pool beneath 
 the ceiba, sang and danced together. 
 
 It was during one of their long rambles late one 
 afternoon, when they had penetrated into the valley 
 farther than usual, that they had an adventure 
 which made a great impression upon Josephine. 
 They had followed the stream from the lower vale 
 till it became a mere rivulet, and near its source, 
 perched on the side-hill under a great gommier tree, 
 saw a hut of palm and cane leaves. It was little 
 more than an ajoupa, or sylvan hut, to exterior view ; 
 but on close approach it revealed a substantial con- 
 struction and unexpected amplitude within. 
 
 In front of the ajoupa sat a woman of some 
 thirty-five years, beneath a bower of plantain 
 leaves. Accompanying Josephine and her nurse was 
 a girl from Trois-Ilets, or Fort Royal, probably her 
 father had a city house at the latter, and estate at 
 the former bourg, who was frequently her com- 
 panion. She was a little older than Josephine, this 
 young lady, Aimee Dubec de Rivery, and belonged 
 to one of the oldest families of the island.
 
 30 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 The proprietress of the hut invited them to enter, 
 and they wonderingly accepted her invitation. She 
 was a Fille de Couleur, of attractive appearance ; 
 a daughter of the people, born with all the inherited 
 charms of the mingled blood of Carib, Negro and 
 Caucasian. Her black eyes and hair had the purple 
 tint bestowed by the Carib ; her feet and hands also 
 showed by their smallness and delicacy the aborig- 
 inal birthright. Her serpentine movements, the 
 flowing curves of her figure, the silk-like smooth- 
 ness of her richly-tinted skin, all proclaimed her a 
 representative of the island's best and rarest type.* 
 
 She was clad in the holiday costume of the richest 
 of her class, which revels in color and startling 
 effects. On her head she wore a turban of gay 
 "Madras," a mouchoir of brightest colors ; her 
 skirt or douillette was of violet silk ; over her 
 shoulders was a foulard or shoulder-scarf, of costly 
 silk ; and this, as well as the turban, was orna- 
 mented with gold brooches and "trembling-pins.'' 
 
 She appeared a veritable queen of the forest ; but 
 she was really a priestess of Obeah. 
 
 " You did not come for that purpose," she said to 
 them, as they seated themselves upon wooden 
 benches ; " you did not come to have your fortunes 
 prognosticated, but to-day they will be told you." 
 
 The girls shrank from her touch, as she ventured 
 
 * Josephine, when at Navarre, repeated this story, in substance, 
 and it is given in various biographies of the Empress. Island tradi- 
 tion, however, makes the prophetess of Carib, rather than of African, 
 descent.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 31 
 
 to take their hands ; but Adee, herself of the same 
 class of mixed-bloods, reassured them and bade them 
 not to be afraid. 
 
 " Why should you be afraid ? It is a good fortune 
 that I shall give to both of you. And first, you are 
 both to be queens : yes, one of you will reign in 
 France, the other in an Oriental harem." 
 
 This preposterous announcement at once restored 
 their courage, and the girls entered with zest into 
 the spirit of the occasion. "Yes," proceeded the 
 sibyl, frowning at their levity, "good fortune will 
 at first attend you both ; each of you will make a 
 long and stormy voyage ; each will at first marry 
 happily ; but eventually one will be released by the 
 death of her husband, the other will be captured by 
 Algerian pirates and sold to the slavery of the Sultan 
 of Turkey. She will acquire great influence with 
 him, and her son will afterwards sit on the throne ; 
 but she will die miserably. "As for you," address- 
 ing Josephine, " as for you, it is written in the stars 
 that you will become the bride of the greatest man 
 the modern world has seen. No, he is not yet in 
 the world's eye ; his star will rise coincident with 
 yours. But when yours sinks, then his also sets 
 beneath the horizon. Go now ; I have spoken ; you 
 do not believe me ; but wait, wait yet twenty years." 
 
 The trembling girls departed, vainly striving to 
 shake off the evil effect of this intercourse with the 
 mysterious woman. Whether or not this prediction 
 of the sibyl was ever uttered, the incident is found 
 in the memoirs of the queen ; it cannot be ignored.
 
 32 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Mademoiselle Aimee, was, it is said, subsequently 
 captured by Algerian corsairs, sold to the Sultan, 
 and became the mother of one of the numerous Mo- 
 hammeds, or Selims, with whom Turkey has been 
 cursed. 
 
 Silent and subdued, they pursued the valley path 
 to the sucrerie ; the sun had set, the stars were out, 
 behind them the Southern Cross stood still above 
 the crest of a hill. A black bird swooped across 
 their path, uttered a shrill shriek at sight of them, 
 and disappeared. ' Bon Di6"* muttered Adee, 
 crossing herself, " that was the Diablotin." 
 
 * Die, island patois for Dieu.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 33 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AT DIAMOND ROCK. 
 
 THE Diablotin, or Devil-bird, has its home in the 
 mountain, where, at the very summit, it burrows a 
 hole for itself. More than two hundred years ago 
 it was discovered, yet to-day it is as mysterious as 
 ever. As night falls the lone dweller in the mountain 
 valley, or the solitary fisherman drawing his net, 
 hears a shriek, as of a despairing soul, sees a dusky 
 figure sweep by him ; that is all. Then he crosses 
 himself, saying : ''The Devil-bird is a- wing, and I 
 must seek a shelter." For days the apprehension of 
 evil to befall will cling to him ; no more firmly does 
 the Oriental believe in the malific virtue of the evil 
 eye. 
 
 In reality, the Diablotin is a harmless bird, a 
 species of petrel, its home in the mountain-top, its 
 haunts over the turbulent sea. But Adee was firm 
 in her conviction that something harmful would 
 result from this chance meeting with the Devil-bird ; 
 and when, that night, Madame La-Pagerie told her 
 that it had been decided to send Josephine away to 
 school, she felt her fears were verified. 
 
 " O Yeyette mi " (addressing Josephine by the 
 pet name of the household), and throwing her arms 
 3
 
 34 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 around her neck : " Yeyette, ma fille, you will not 
 leave your dear Adee ? What can the schools teach 
 you ? Do you not already know how to dance, to 
 sing, to play the tambou, to embroider, to whistle 
 like the birds, to run like the agouti ? Never, never 
 will you be so happy as you are now. Stay with us, 
 Yeyette." 
 
 Madame La-Pagerie smiled sadly, but, untwining 
 the arms of the loving pair, drew Josephine to her 
 side and set before her the necessity of attending to 
 her commands. "You are now a large girl, my 
 darling, I have taught you all it is possible, en- 
 cumbered as I am with the care of your two sisters ; 
 your education must be finished at the convent. It 
 will not be a long separation, and besides you can 
 return here every week, spending a day with us. 
 Adee shall go with you and return with you, if you 
 desire." 
 
 Her tears were flowing, for it cost her a great 
 effort to part, even temporarily, from her eldest 
 daughter. She had been so helpful to her : a 
 womanly companion rather than a little child ; yet 
 withal so ready to engage in romp or frolic. Jose- 
 phine said nothing, but kissed her mother sub- 
 missively, and was led to her chamber by Adee, 
 blinded by her tears. There the two wept together, 
 and consoled each other with the assurance that the 
 separation should not be for a long time, and that, 
 the great scheme of education finished, Yeyette 
 would return to live with them all her life. 
 
 There were two convents of repute in Martinique,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 35 
 
 that of the Ursulines at St. Pierre, the farther city ; 
 and another, the " Dames de la Providence," at the 
 near town of Fort Royal. Here lived Josephine's 
 grandmother, with whom she resided while attend- 
 ing school at Fort Royal, and who cared for her 
 as for her own child. The years passed rapidly ; 
 Josephine was an apt pupil and readily acquired all 
 the nuns could teach her. At the age of fifteen she 
 returned to her home at La-Pagerie, where she had 
 spent the long vacations. 
 
 Her two sisters, Desiree and Marie, were then 
 aged respectively about twelve and ten. During 
 the years when they might have been her compan- 
 ions she was away at school ; thus it was that Adee 
 still held the place of elder sister in her affections. 
 The faithless Adee, having been in a measure 
 separated from the idol of her heart, had allowed 
 one of her numerous admirers to capture and carry 
 her away. 
 
 Released from school, Josephine hastened to rejoin 
 the expectant family at La-Pagerie, and the day 
 following the happy reunion an excursion was 
 planned to the sea-valley behind the hills where 
 Adee, now a matron and mother, was living with her 
 husband. 
 
 She had sent invitation by special messenger, an 
 old African, who had waited in order to guide the 
 party over the hills. They started at daybreak : 
 M. Tascher, grave but kindly, led the little procession 
 mounted upon a Puerto-Rico pony ; behind him, in 
 hammocks of Cayenne grass slung between poles
 
 36 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 carried by stout negro-laborers, were the daughters 
 of the house of La-Pagerie, gay and laughing. 
 
 They took the valley path until it ended at a break 
 in the hills, whence they descended towards the 
 open sea. Hitherto in deep shade, owing to the 
 early hour of their departure, the sun burst upon 
 them at the hill-crest, illumining the blue ocean and 
 gilding the spires, the mountain peaks, of the 
 distant island of St. Lucia, where also M. Tascher 
 had a plantation. The girls caught their breath at 
 the beauty of the scene spread out before them, 
 clapped their hands with joy at sight of the new 
 world at their feet. Josephine was full of elation 
 at the prospect of soon meeting with her devoted 
 nurse. The cool morning breezes fanned her hair 
 and cheeks, the gilt-crested humming-birds darted 
 at her hammock and played around her head. Sweet 
 odors of honeysuckle and frangipanni, jessamine 
 and acacia, filled the air, and the birds, the wrens 
 and siffleurs, caroled to her as she passed them by. 
 
 With a heart bursting with gladness and filled 
 with thanksgivings, the girl reclined in her hammock, 
 dreamily noting the shifting phases of the gliding 
 panorama. The joyous slaves sang wild songs of 
 their native Africa, their deep bassos reverberating 
 in the gorges, as they swung along, happy in the 
 service of their mistress. At the head of the pro- 
 cession, now descending the narrow trail in Indian 
 file, strode the ancient African. He carried a small 
 drum, or tambou, made by stretching a skin of some 
 wild animal over the head of a hollowed log. As
 
 JOSEPHINE. 37 
 
 the sea opened to their view he sent out a note of 
 warning to the dwellers in the valley : ' ' Tarn, tarn, 
 tarn, tarn, tarn." It was heard and answered : 
 " Poum, poum, poum, poum " "La calienda!" 
 shouted the hammock-bearers, " The dance, the 
 African dance. Ah, we will have a good time, 
 soon." 
 
 Thus, elated with anticipation of a feast and' 
 dance, the negroes hastened forward, and soon they 
 had reached the shore, where the hills had drawn 
 their feet away from the sea and left a curving 
 beach, backed by fertile meadow and bordered with 
 cocoa palms. 
 
 Beneath the palms was a collection of grass huts, 
 with wattled sides and deep-thatched roofs, sur- 
 rounded with gardens of tropical, fruits. Here 
 lived the freed negroes and colored people of that 
 district, and, standing in the doorway of one of the 
 newest of the huts, was the Junoesque figure of 
 Adee. In her arms was an infant, a twelvemonth 
 child, naked as a god, golden in hue as the boy the 
 Guiana Indians offered to the king of El Dorado. 
 With a loud cry of joy, she ran forward to welcome 
 her darling Yeyette, casting the astonished infant 
 into the hammock, and clasping the girl in her 
 arms. 
 
 "Ah, Yeyette mi, my darling, light of my eyes, 
 my heart's idol ! Adee thought she would never 
 see you again." They laughed and cried, holding 
 each other close, and then at arm's length, gazing 
 into eyes filled with tears of joy. When the
 
 38 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 paroxysm had passed, Adee picked up the golden 
 infant and led the way to her house. Her husband, 
 another magnificent specimen of the mixed race, a 
 brown-skinned Adonis, was introduced, and soon 
 refreshments were brought the tired travelers. A 
 little black boy climbed a cocoanut tree and cast down 
 some "water-nuts," then descending, he clipped off 
 the pointed end of each, leaving a small round hole, 
 opening into the ivory geode, filled with sweetest 
 water. 
 
 Drinking this clear nectar, they were refreshed, 
 and after the hammocks were slung beneath the 
 trees they all took a brief rest, after which the vis- 
 itors were summoned to a straw-thatched pavilion, 
 where, spread upon a table, was a banquet, prepared 
 with all the luxuries of the Tropics. The air was 
 perfumed with the fragrance of pine-apples, bananas, 
 savory soups and delicious desserts. M. Tascher 
 presided, his eldest daughter sat at his right hand, 
 with her sisters opposite, while the happy Adee, her 
 husband, and the prettiest girls in the hamlet, 
 waited upon them. Breakfast having been served, 
 and the attendants having disposed of their duties 
 for the day, a short siesta was indulged in, after 
 which all repaired to a near palm grove, to witness, 
 and take part in, if so desirous, the dance of the 
 day. Seated upon the ground, with a back-ground 
 of netted lianes, was the aged African who had 
 been their guide. He took a large tambou between 
 his knees and began the preliminary call to the cali- 
 enda : Poum, poum ; tam-tam-tam, tam-poum I "
 
 JOSEPHINE. 39 
 
 The hollow sound rolled along the plain and through 
 the woods, rising and falling, diminishing and 
 swelling, with a weird and powerful effect. Billows 
 of sound, deep muttering as of distant thunder, wild 
 calls of night-birds, melancholy wailings of wander- 
 ing spirits : all these seemed to be evoked from that 
 skin-covered log. A peculiar quality of the tambou- 
 roll is, that it traverses vast distances, penetrates 
 great areas of forest, impelling the listener to seek 
 out its source, to assemble with his brothers for the 
 wild and savage calienda. Old " Fou-fou " (the 
 Crazy-crazy) had acquired the art from an African 
 ancestor, himself a great chief of a coast-tribe ; and 
 by means of the subtle, fascinating, and awe-inspir- 
 ing thunder roll of the tambou, his royal forbear 
 had often called his tribe to war. 
 
 Brought to America with the imported slaves, the 
 tambou still supplies the negro with his simple 
 music, supplemented sometimes by that evoked 
 from calabash and gourd. 
 
 Not for many years had old Crazy-crazy had so 
 distinguished an audience, and the presence of the 
 master of Sannois^ together with his charming 
 daughters, inspired him to unprecedented feats of 
 skill. The protesting tambou growled and groaned, 
 howled and moaned, sent its wail afar and its muffled 
 sighs deep into the earth. 
 
 " Hark ! " cried Adee, "it is the voice of Pelee, the 
 sigh of the demon- jombie, who lives in the crater- 
 heart of the great volcano." 
 
 In truth, it seemed the very earth was trembling ;
 
 40 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 almost the awed listeners could fancy they heard 
 the ominous mutterings of a coming earthquake, 
 and they shuddered. For the earthquake was no 
 stranger to the dwellers in Martinique. 
 
 Then old Fou-fou sat astride the drum, tapping it 
 with his finger-tips, caressing it with rapid passes of 
 his hands, and now and then punishing it with a 
 vicious kick of his naked heel. He broke into sav- 
 age song, in the chorus of which the assembled 
 negroes joined : 
 
 " Oh, yoi'e-yoie ; 
 Oh, miss^-ah, 
 Y bel tambouy^, 
 Ai'e, ya, ya'ie, 
 Joli Tambouye." 
 
 The music ended in a prolonged roll, dying to a 
 moan, a sigh, fainter and fainter, until lost in the 
 forest-depths. The African fell from his drum 
 prone upon the ground, and with a sigh of relief his 
 auditors left him, seeking more cheerful entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 Before the huts lay a crescent of sand, hot and 
 glistering in the sun of midday ; but beginning to 
 be cool in the shadows of the cliffs, as mid- afternoon 
 was reached. The waves gently lapped its golden 
 floor, inviting the children to wade in their foam, 
 to embark upon their bosom. 
 
 Isolate in the waters of the bay, a mile away or 
 so, rose a great rock, like a pyramid, and five hun- 
 dred feet in height.
 
 DIAMOND ROCK.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 41 
 
 "That is 'Diamond Kock,'" said M. Tascher, 
 pointing to it : "La Roche du Diamante. Do not 
 you remember, Yeyette, the story of its capture, by 
 the English, some twenty years ago? When the 
 French and English were at war, and when the 
 fleets of both great powers were scouring these seas 
 in search of prey, some of our smaller vessels used 
 to escape the enemy by sailing between that rock 
 and the mainland, thus reaching unharmed the port 
 of Fort Royal, which is just behind that promon- 
 tory. This occurred so frequently that the British 
 commander, Lord Howe, vowed he would stop it, if 
 it took all the sailors of his fleet. So he sent a mid- 
 shipman there, with a picked body of men, who 
 hoisted several guns to the summit of the rock, and 
 who, for over a year, commanded the channel. We 
 could not dislodge them, the rock is so steep, and 
 they annoyed us exceedingly. But finally the Eng- 
 lish admiral sailed away and forgot them, and, as 
 they were only provisioned for a limited time, they 
 capitulated to our commander at the Fort. It is 
 said that the rock was entered on the British Ad- 
 miralty lists as 'His Majesty's Ship, Diamond- 
 Rock,' and its brave defenders rated as the crew of 
 a ship-of-war." 
 
 "Mafoi!" exclaimed Yeyette, "but they were 
 brave men. How I should like to have met them ! 
 Cannot we go over to the rock ? " 
 
 " Is it safe, Adee ? Do your boats ever go there ? " 
 
 "Yes, indeed. We can reach it in half an hour. 
 Charles, get the canoe." A great canoe, hewn
 
 42 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 from a huge gommier tree, was quickly brought 
 around from the river, and into it they all climbed, 
 with cries of joy. Three bronze sailors paddled so 
 lustily that they were soon under the lee of the Eock, 
 and shortly ashore, in a sheltered rift. There was 
 not much to see at the marge, so Yeyette wished to 
 climb the narrow path, which wound around the 
 cliff like a thread. 
 
 " I don't think it would be safe," said Adee ; " but 
 we can go a little way. But have a care, my child ; 
 the rock is very steep." 
 
 "Never fear, but follow me," cried Yeyette, and 
 she was already a hundred feet up the height before 
 her father, who had been hidden behind a project- 
 ing rock, saw and shouted to her to descend. 
 
 She laughed and kissed her hand to him, but 
 climbed breathlessly on. Half-way up, the trail ab- 
 ruptly ended ; the rock had been dislodged in some 
 earthquake. The shelf of rock upon which she stood 
 was so narrow she could not turn, and glancing 
 about her fearfully, she caught sight of the white 
 waves, two hundred feet below, snarling at the base 
 of the precipice. This sight made her dizzy ; her 
 head reeled, she would have fallen, had not Adee, 
 who was close behind, quickly caught and steadied 
 her. A moment, only, they hung above the white- 
 fanged waves, leaping and gnawing at the rocks 
 below ; then, held in her nurse's arms, Josephine 
 retreated to a broader ledge, where she recovered 
 from her fright. 
 
 Sobered by this incident, she descended to join the
 
 JOSEPHINE. 43 
 
 group below, and her father, having no words with 
 which to rebuke her, folded her in his arms. Trem- 
 bling in his embrace, her face hidden against his 
 shoulder, Josephine then realized what a refuge and 
 strength was this grave and tender parent, whose 
 love was too deep for words, whose life was devoted 
 entirely to her happiness. 
 
 The canotiers bore them swiftly to the beach, 
 whence, after a brief tarry for refreshment, the 
 planter and his daughters departed for their home. 
 The sun had set beneath the waves ere they reached 
 the hill-crests above La-Pagerie, and their descent was 
 made in the dusk. But the villagers accompanied 
 them with torches of fragrant gommier gum, which 
 flickered and fitfully illumined the recesses of the 
 woods, where the serpents lurked, and from which 
 came out heavy perfumes of wild flowers and 
 strange nocturnal noises. Old Fou-fou, who had re- 
 covered, marched at the head of the company ; the 
 weird music of his tambou throbbed through the 
 still air ; as it pulsated, all the night, through Jose- 
 phine's journey in dream-land.
 
 44 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LA BELLE CREOLE. 
 
 "NATURE, rich and sumptuous, has covered our 
 fields with a carpeting, which charms as well by the 
 variety of its colors as its objects. She has strewn 
 the banks of our rivers with flowers, and has planted 
 the freshest forest around our fertile borders. . . I 
 love to hide myself in the green woods that skirt our 
 dwelling-place." 
 
 Thus wrote Josephine to a friend of her youth. 
 She was unspoiled by society, untouched by the 
 vanities of the world. She was a child of nature : 
 everything around her, sentient or inanimate, 
 
 contributed to her enjoyment If we were 
 
 to look ahead of our narrative some twenty years, 
 and transfer our view to Malmaison, that retreat in 
 France to which she hastened at every opportunity 
 when she could escape the cares of the court, and 
 where she finally passed her closing days, we 
 should find ample evidence that her love for nature 
 was yet strong within her. When she went to 
 France, either on her first or second voyage, she 
 took with her such specimens of the plants around 
 La-Pagerie as were endeared to her by the perfumes 
 of their flowers, or to which she was attached from
 
 JOSEPHINE. 45 
 
 sentimental associations. "The gardens of Mal- 
 inaison, during her lifetime, resembled a veritable 
 Eden. It was her daily habit to visit her exotic 
 plants, to watch over and water them ; and these 
 she called her 'great family,' displaying the most 
 intimate knowledge of their life, history and names, 
 and sometimes playfully rallying the Emperor 
 (Napoleon) upon his ignorance of botany." From 
 every source, she received presents of rare plants ; 
 but that which was particularly endeared to her was 
 one she herself had carried to France, the amaryl- 
 lis gigantea, and which attracted great attention, 
 from the beauty and fragrance of its flowers. This 
 royal plant grew in profusion around La-Pagerie ; 
 and a thousand others adorned the slopes of the hills 
 and bordered the stream flowing past the sucrerie. 
 
 After her conventual life at Fort Royal, with now 
 and then a dip into the placid waters of the society 
 gathered at the Capital, her residence at the planta- 
 tion might have seemed monotonous ; but there is 
 no evidence of this in the imperfect records of this 
 period of her youth. Hers was a healthy and excep- 
 tionally happy nature, with no craving for what 
 was hidden from her view, and no yearning after 
 the presumably unattainable. It is in seclusion 
 such as that in which her youth was passed, that 
 the greatest men and women have been nurtured. 
 Nature is a generous mother to those who will but 
 cast themselves upon her bosom and imbibe from 
 her primeval fonts. Without the distractions 
 of the city, with no dissipating demands from
 
 46 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 society, nature's children devote their time to add- 
 ing to their knowledge of the things immediately 
 about them, to widening their powers of observa- 
 tion, in truth, to becoming acquainted with the 
 great and primal facts, the eternal verities. All 
 knowledge is cumulative ; during long centuries, 
 nature had been writing her book, for this child to 
 read. During generations past and preceding, her 
 ancestors had gathered to themselves the best about 
 them, and had transmitted to her the increment. 
 In her, first, their rich and generous lives found 
 expression : Josephine was their Amaranth. It was 
 this strong hold on nature, this stability derived from 
 a virile ancestry, that enabled Josephine to with- 
 stand the assaults of innumerable foes, during the 
 period of the Revolution, the Directory, and the Im- 
 perial regime. 
 
 At fifteen years of age, Josephine had fulfilled all 
 the expectations of those who had watched the bud- 
 ding charms of her infancy and childhood. The bud 
 had opened into bloom of rarest worth ; the heart of 
 the rose was not more sweet and fragrant than her 
 fresh loveliness. Like the flowers around her, she 
 bloomed for the delectation of those who might be- 
 hold her beauty. Like them, also, she was uncon- 
 scious of her loveliness, which displayed itself in her 
 grace of manner as well as in purety physical sym- 
 metry. 
 
 The slaves were all devoted to her, and vied with 
 one another in her praise. " Toujour content, tou- 
 jour joyeuse," she flitted in and out their humble
 
 JOSEPHINE. 47 
 
 cabins, an angel of mercy to the old and decrepit, a 
 joyous spirit to the young, as well. 
 
 The fame of " La Belle Creole," was not confined 
 to the island-bounds but extended across the seas, 
 to France, where her aunt, Madame Eenaudine, re- 
 sided, and who insisted that her niece should join 
 her there. There is no evidence to show that Jose- 
 phine was desirous, at first, of going to France, but 
 much to indicate her great unwillingness. Her 
 mother, having in mind her future, and knowing 
 only too well the terrible cares and responsibilities 
 of plantation life, was most favorably impressed 
 with the invitation from the aunt, and soon under- 
 took to prepare her daughter for the voyage. 
 
 She was not cold nor calculating ; but she may 
 have taken heed to the aunt's suggestion that it 
 was time for her niece to marry, and that she had 
 already selected a worthy companion for her, in the 
 person of young Beauharnais. . . The records of the 
 parish church of Saint Louis, at Fort Royal, show 
 that there was baptized there, in June, 1760, an in- 
 fant born the month preceding, upon whom was be- 
 stowed the name of Alexandre de Beauharnais. 
 Josephine's aunt, Madame Renaudine, was this 
 infant's godmother, and later, in France, became the 
 wife of the Marquis de Beauharnais, the child's 
 father. 
 
 The Marquis de Beauharnais, then acting as gov- 
 ernor of Martinique, left for France the following 
 year, but his son was committed to the charge of 
 Josephine's aunt and her grandmother. Madame de
 
 48 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 La-Pagerie, then residing at Fort Royal. When 
 Josephine was attending school at the convent, as 
 she passed her nights and some of the holidays with 
 her grandmother, she must have heard a great deal 
 of the young Alexander ; but never met him, as he 
 was sent to France while very young. 
 
 This, then, is the extent of the acquaintanceship 
 of these young Creoles, who were later to be joined 
 in the bonds of matrimony. 
 
 We will not anticipate the sorrowful days, for 
 they came all too soon ; but turn again to the happy 
 ones passed at La-Pagerie. Josephine resisted the 
 entreaties of her aunt and the disinterested advice 
 of her mother for nearly a year, content to dwell with 
 her parents, even though thus isolated from the 
 world of society. Her life was simple and regulated 
 according to the 'Creole itinerary : in the morning 
 the cool bath in the stream ; the forenoon devoted 
 to the little duties of the household ; noon to break- 
 fast, followed by the siesta ; late afternoon to inter- 
 change of visits with the dwellers on neighboring 
 estates, and evening to dinner and social recreation, 
 such as music, reading, and especially dancing, of 
 which Josephine was inordinately fond. 
 
 Although La-Pagerie was almost as secluded as 
 the " Happy- Valley " in which dwelt that unhappy 
 Prince of Abyssinia, yet, she did not sigh, like Kas- 
 selas, for the world outside, nor try to burst its 
 rocky bounds. The "Prince" came to the valley, 
 though, tradition tells us, and carried away with him 
 an ineffaceable impression of her charms.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 49 
 
 Beneath a precipitous rock rising sheer above 
 the stream in the valley above the sucrerie, and 
 under the shade of the broad -armed ceiba trees, 
 was still is the pool in which, every morning, Jo- 
 sephine and her maid took their matutinal bath. 
 The great rock is masked in vines, from its crevices 
 spring out glossy-leaved "fig" trees, and huge wild- 
 pines sit astride their limbs, holding within their 
 cup-shaped leaves the purest water. From rock to 
 ceiba tree stretch the cables and cordage of long 
 lianes, these also hung with filamentous ferns and 
 rich-hued orchids. Beneath this tent-like canopy, 
 purling quietly in the seclusion of this perfumed 
 bower, the glassy surface of the pool reflected the 
 flower and foliage overhead. No one often disturbed 
 the sanctity of this retreat, for it was held as sacred 
 to Josephine ; the slaves had been forbidden, under 
 severest penalties ; and few strangers ever visited 
 the valley. 
 
 Loosely wrapped in their bath-robes, their feet 
 thrust into hempen-soled slippers, Josephine and her 
 maid tripped gayly up the valley path to the pool, one 
 morning in May. The sun was still hidden behind 
 the bulk of the gloomy Trochon Peak and the 
 valley held the mists as in a cup, level with the tops 
 of the hills. The air was sweet with the fragrance 
 of the shell-tinted frangipanni, the flambeau-trees 
 flamed in scarlet masses by the river-side; the 
 matin music of birds rose from the enveloping 
 mists. 
 
 Reaching the pool, they cast aside their wraps, 
 4
 
 50 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 and cautiously ventured into the chill water. Great 
 bowlders ringed the pool around, but in its center 
 was a bed of sand, where the water was about up to 
 their shoulders as they stood erect. A group of 
 ecrevisse or crayfish had gathered here, but at 
 sight of the invaders they scampered to the shelters 
 of the rocks, whence they peered out sullenly, wrig- 
 gling their feelers nervously. One, bolder than the 
 rest, sallied forth and nipped the future empress' 
 little toe, thinking and rightly that it was a 
 bonne-bouche worth some risk to reach. 
 
 Josephine shrieked and fell into the water, where 
 she lay immersed, all but her dainty head, while the 
 maid sought out and chased back to his retreat the 
 bold freebooter of the stream. 
 
 Floating in ecstatic abandon thus, beneath the 
 o'erarching mosaic of flower and leaf, Josephine 
 was espied by a diminutive humming-bird, who, 
 with shrill chirps of alarm, darted at her face. She 
 instinctively shielded her eyes with one hand as he 
 flew so swiftly at her ; but he poised himself a foot 
 away, a-wing in mid-air, still uttering his angry 
 chirps of indignant protest. 
 
 His buzzing wings formed a halo of mist about 
 the emerald body, and his pointed helmet gleamed 
 like a gem. 
 
 "He must have a nest near," said the maid; 
 "yes, there it is, right over your face. Look, and 
 there's his little wife, sitting, I dare say, on their 
 eggs." She reached up and drew down a length of 
 liane, at which the female darted away, revealing,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 51 
 
 inside a dainty cup of lichen-covered down, two eggs 
 as small and white as pearls. 
 
 " Pauv' petit,'' 1 exclaimed Josephine, as she rose 
 to look at them. " Don't touch them, Fifine ; don't 
 harm the little darlings. Come, we'll go away ; our 
 presence here disturbs these pretty creatures." 
 
 The little husband with the gilded crest had 
 perched himself in a loop of liane, where he sat 
 watching ; but as Josephine and her companion 
 turned towards the bowlder upon which they had 
 thrown their robes, he darted before them swift as 
 light. His excited manner, his eccentric move- 
 ments, and his alarm-cries, attracted their attention. 
 Something more than their mere presence had 
 caused this sudden change in his behavior. Sud- 
 denly he darted downward ; rose, dropped again ; 
 his cries were now mingled with another sound, 
 the dreaded hiss of the serpent. 
 
 " Look, Yeyette, there ! close to my robe. Don't 
 you see ? Ah, Mon Die I It is the Fer-de-Lance I " 
 
 Stunned, stupefied, Josephine saw that terrible 
 apparition ; saw its broad flat head, its darting 
 tongue of flame, its slimy folds ; and, overcome with 
 the horror of its presence, fainted in her servant's 
 arms. 
 
 The maid retreated to the deeper water of the 
 pool, supporting her precious burden with difficulty, 
 her own limbs benumbed and chilled. 
 
 ' ' Help ! help 1 Come quickly. To the bathing- 
 place. The serpent is here. Yeyette has fainted ! " 
 
 She sent her cries out into the morning air ; but
 
 52 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 at first there was no response. The negroes were 
 away in the fields, and M. Tascher had gone to 
 Trois-Ilets. 
 
 Meanwhile, the gallant humming-bird persisted 
 in his attack upon the common foe, with well- 
 directed thrusts of his needle-pointed beak. Swift 
 as lightning, he returned again and again to the 
 attack, blinding the serpent with repeated thrusts, 
 like javelins thrown into his eyes, and eluding his 
 angry fangs by the dexterity of his movements. 
 The humming-bird's attempts at diversion only 
 partially succeeded, however ; never for a moment 
 did the serpent lose sight of his prospective prey in 
 the water. Slowly, yet surely, he glided towards 
 the half -fainting Fifine and her unconscious charge. 
 " Holy Mother ; and the Fer-de-Lance can swim ! 
 He will surely reach us ; then " 
 
 But there was no retreat ; the great rocks hemmed 
 her in ; the serpent was within a dozen feet of her. 
 In sheer despair Fifine sent one last cry for help, 
 which a mocking echo caught and returned to her. 
 
 But hark ! Was not that an answer ? 
 
 " Where are you? Who is it ? What?" 
 
 "Here at the bathing-place. Oh, come at once. 
 We are lost ! The serpent It was already 
 entering the water ; slowly each sinuous fold melted 
 into the pool ; as if, sure of its victim, the Fer-de- 
 Lance wished to prolong the enjoyment of her 
 agony. 
 
 There was a sound of approaching footsteps, a 
 crashing of the bushes on the brink ; a man's face
 
 JOSEPHINE. 53 
 
 appeared. In one swift glance its owner took in 
 the situation. There was a loud report ; the surface 
 of the pool was torn into foam by plunging shot ; 
 the serpent lay stretched upon the water, mangled 
 and bleeding. Quickly snatching one of the robes 
 from the rock, the rescuer plunged into the pool, 
 enwrapping the form of Josephine, as the maid's 
 nerveless arms relaxed their hold, and bore her to 
 the bank. He was about stooping over to chafe her 
 hands, when, turning to look back, he saw Fifine in 
 greater peril. She had fainted at the moment of 
 rescue ; the body of the serpent had drifted against 
 her breast, a repulsive object, that slimy, checkered 
 skin, against a form as beautiful as Dian's own, 
 though golden bronze in hue. It was the work of 
 a moment only to draw her from the water, and 
 once on the bank her robust constitution asserted 
 itself. Her eyelids quivered, a tremulous sigh 
 escaped her lips. At the first sign of returning con- 
 sciousness, the rescuer desisted from his labors to 
 hasten the recovery of her mistress, and withdrew. 
 Fifine caught a glimpse of his retreating form, as 
 she opened her eyes, but as soon as she was on her 
 feet he had disappeared. Forgetting, in the excite- 
 ment of that moment, all else than that Yeyette 
 was in need of her assistance, she bent all her ener- 
 gies to bring her back to life. She was soon re- 
 warded. Josephine opened her eyes and looked 
 wonderingly about her. Placing a finger warniugly 
 on her lips, Fifine cautioned her to keep silence, 
 standing between her and the pool/ where the
 
 54 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 serpent still floated, that she might have no reminder 
 of the dreadful accident. They had barely recovered 
 their composure, before Madame Tascher came fly- 
 ing towards them, having been sent thither by 
 their unknown savior.* 
 
 * The description of the bathing-pool is from the author's notes, 
 made in 1878, while on the Sannois estate, and the adventure with 
 the serpent from tradition, as narrated by a descendant of one of the 
 La-Pagerie slaves.
 
 THE ANCIENNE CUISINE.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 55 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE PICNIC AT THE CARBET-PEAKS. 
 
 ACROSS the bay of Trois-Ilets, rising in the distance 
 high above the wrinkled hills of the coast, rose the 
 majestic bulk of the Carbet-Peaks. Its shadow, of 
 a morning, traveled across the lowland in advance 
 of the rising sun, till it lost itself far out at sea. 
 Having climbed above that mountain sentinel, hav- 
 ing dissipated the mists of all its valleys and 
 penetrated the gloomy gorges that seam its eastern 
 slopes, the sun had no other concern with Marti- 
 nique, save to diffuse its heat and light all over the 
 island. No other obstruction offered to its passage 
 across the zenith, and its descent of the western sky, 
 until it had buried its glowing face in the far distant 
 wave-line of the horizon. 
 
 The highest mountain in the island, itself a con- 
 geries of mountains, is Mont-Pelee, 4,500 feet in 
 height : a volcano quiescent. Other volcanic peaks 
 rise above the line of the mountain-mass, by scores, 
 giving that diversified character to the surface which 
 distinguishes all the isles of the Caribees, and a 
 climate varying with the altitude. From coast to 
 mountain-top, the temperature sinks as the traveler 
 ascends, until an agreeable mean is found at some 
 two thousand feet.
 
 56 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Toward the latter part of May, in the year 1778, 
 the proprietor of La-Pagerie decided to give his 
 family the pleasure of a picnic on the slopes of the 
 higher hills. The extensive preparations which he 
 considered necessary might cause a smile to one at 
 the present day, when excursions of a hundred miles 
 are taken almost on the spur of the moment ; but 
 to the dweller at Trois-Ilets the event was as mo- 
 mentous, almost, as a journey to France. A body 
 of slaves, the bulk of whom were to have a holiday, 
 was sent ahead the day before to clear a trail and a 
 space on one of the lateral ridges beneath the well- 
 known ' ' maroon-tree. " Another group was detained 
 to manage the canoes and carry the equipment of 
 the party, while still another was reserved as ham- 
 mock-bearers and hostlers. For nearly a week, 
 Madame de La-Pagerie had been extremely busy in 
 preparing the food for the expedition : in issuing 
 invitations to the proprietors of adjacent estates, 
 and also to some of the residents of the Fort. At 
 last, all was ready : at daylight, the expectant people 
 gathered at the shore, transferred themselves to the 
 canoes, and set off across the bay. All were happy, 
 the younger members of the party bubbling over with 
 excitement. The French character asserted itself 
 in bursts of song, in wild speculation as to the de- 
 lights of the unknown hills to which they were going, 
 in frolic, jest and repartee. The largest canoe, 
 hewn by the labor of M. Tascher's own slaves, from 
 a monarch of the mountain- forests, contained the 
 La-Pagerie family and that of the proprietor of an
 
 JOSEPHINE. 57 
 
 estate adjacent to Sannois, an English gentleman of 
 means, an exile temporarily from his country, owing 
 to his adherence to a defeated cause. 
 
 This gentleman and his wife, who had become 
 well-known through their hospitality, shall be dis- 
 missed with this passing mention ; but not so their 
 son, a young man about two years the senior of 
 Josephine, who then appeared to her the embodiment 
 of all the manly virtues. Her eyes watched his 
 every movement as he assisted the ladies to their 
 places in the canoe, and for him she reserved a seat 
 by her side, which he appropriated as the canoe was 
 pushed off from the shore. And while the gay party 
 is being ferried across to the Fort, let us inquire 
 why this apparent attachment which leads them to 
 prefer their own company to that of the others. 
 
 In a word : this was the young man whose oppor- 
 tune arrival at the bath, on that fateful morning 
 when the serpent had appeared, had probably saved 
 the life of the eldest daughter of La-Pagerie. 
 
 He had modestly withdrawn himself from obser- 
 vation, after warning and accompanying Madame 
 de La-Pagerie to the pool ; but he could not conceal 
 his identity. After Josephine's complete recovery, 
 she had sent for him, and had thanked him, with 
 all that grace of manner which in after years capt- 
 ured the heart of the conqueror of Europe. 
 
 Was it strange that the young man was thence- 
 forth her devoted slave, that his heart leaped out to 
 meet hers, that love, ardent and irresistible, took 
 possession of his being ? And, was it to be wondered
 
 58 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 at that, viewing him as she did, in the light of a 
 rescuer, an interest in him should be awakened that 
 might lead to love ? It might be said of her, as has 
 been said of one who afterwards shone at her own 
 court in France : " The source of her power, as also 
 of her weakness, lay in her vast capacity for love." 
 It is certain that she viewed him with great favor, 
 and that her parents were very anxious to divert 
 her from what might become a hopeless passion. 
 Both were young, both impressionable, both were 
 exteriorly attractive, and both were eager for con- 
 genial companionship. 
 
 They had known each other since earliest child- 
 hood, but an interval of absence had separated them, 
 while he was away in England. His recent return, 
 his hunting excursion in the valley of Sannois, 
 which had led him to his fate, they could not but 
 regard as more than fortuitous. Lovers always 
 surround themselves with a cloud of occult reason- 
 ing : from the beginning of the world, they have 
 been divinely led. 
 
 They did not follow out this mode of reasoning to 
 its inevitable ending ; but their parents did. From 
 different motives, the parents of each were opposed 
 to what apparently would be a desirable match. 
 They cast anxious glances at the young couple, 
 already oblivious to their surroundings, even un- 
 aware that the little god was hovering over them, 
 his arrows aimed at their hearts. 
 
 There is no more blissful state than that into 
 which Cupid plunges his intended victims : the
 
 JOSEPHINE. 59 
 
 world contracts, its horizon shuts them in ; they 
 two only inhabit this mundane sphere. Josephine's 
 lover had already reached the stage of obliviousness 
 to surroundings which precedes the last and acute 
 stage of intense desire. Their parents resolved to 
 nip this would-be blossom in the bud, before it should 
 be too late ; but for this day these two were to be 
 together. They did not dream of the cruel fate 
 provided for them by parental solicitude, but aban- 
 doned themselves to the pleasures of the day, and 
 of each other's society. 
 
 Fort Eoyal was soon reached, and at the shore 
 they found friends to meet them. There was 
 Josephine's grandmother, Mme. de La-Pagerie, at 
 whose house she always had a second home ; her 
 unmarried aunt, Mile. Rosette de La-Pagerie, and 
 her father's influential brother, Baron de Tascher, 
 known as the Chevalier. He was commander of the 
 Fort, then considered one of the most important of 
 the French possessions in the New World, and for 
 his distinguished services in the army had been 
 decorated with the Cross of Saint Louis. 
 
 With them, the party from La-Pagerie had 
 brought Josephine's grandmother on the maternal 
 side, Madame de Sannois, who was to stay with 
 Mme. de La-Pagerie, at the Fort, while the younger 
 members were absent in the hills. This old lady was 
 the last of the name then resident in the valley of 
 Sannois, which had been the dower of her daughter 
 on the event of her marriage to M. Tascher, and had 
 descended from the first of the name, who had come
 
 60 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 to Martinique from the island of St. Christopher, 
 about the year 1690.* 
 
 Three generations were then present at that 
 happy reunion at the Fort. Who could have anti- 
 cipated that she who was one of the youngest and at 
 that time only distinguished by her gayety and good- 
 ness of heart, her happy smile and graceful move- 
 ments, was to eclipse the fame of even the Baron 
 and Chevalier? Josephine moved about with a 
 smile of greeting for all ; she had many admirers 
 and she served them all alike. None had made any 
 impression, except it were the young Englishman, 
 to whom she was indebted, and towards whom she 
 may have been unable to conceal her inclination. 
 
 Hammocks and ponies were in waiting at the Fort, 
 and without losing time, as the sun was rising 
 above the lower hills, the merry people set off for 
 their destination. Three hours of an ascending 
 trail finally brought them into the region of the 
 "high- woods," the bois grandes, where the air was 
 fresh and cool, and the great trees met and inter- 
 laced their giant arms a hundred feet above their 
 heads. Kichest tapestry of tropical vegetation lay 
 beneath them, covering the hills and slopes ; far 
 away gleamed the sea, a sheet of silver, its bur- 
 nished surface as yet unruffled by the morning 
 breeze. 
 
 The vast fields of golden sugar-cane had yielded 
 to the plants of the temperate clime ; in the foot- 
 hills clumps of feathery bamboo, like huge plumes, 
 
 * " Histoire de la Martinique."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 61 
 
 succeeded by the tree-ferns. Cocoa palms, which 
 grew everywhere along the coast, disappeared as the 
 hills were reached, and cheir places were supplied 
 by the palmiste, gru-gru, and the mountain palm. 
 In the high woods grew the immense gommiers, 
 twenty feet across, and from which the mountain- 
 eers hew out the canoes which they sell to the dwell- 
 ers on the coast. The gum of this tree is fragrant, 
 and is burnt as incense in the island churches, while 
 torches, long flambeaux, are made from it by rolling 
 the spicy resin in leaves of the balisier } or wild plant- 
 ain. Lianes and bush-ropes netted the high forest 
 together, making it impervious to travelers except 
 where the trails had been cut, and the lush leaves 
 of the orchidaceous plants hung across the path. 
 The trail was along the knife-edge of a lateral ridge 
 of the Pitons, which finally expanded into a broad 
 space at its junction with the main mountain, cov- 
 ered with great trees. This miniature plateau was 
 some three thousand feet above the sea, and the air 
 was cool and sweet. The laborers, who had been 
 sent ahead the day before, and who had camped 
 here over night, had swept the surface clear of under- 
 brush, so that the trunks of the forest giants rose 
 through their canopies of leaves, like the groined 
 columns of some mighty temple. 
 
 Here the ponies and hammocks dropped their 
 burdens, hampers were unpacked, rude tables im- 
 provised, broad balisier leaves spread upon the 
 ground, where the older members of the party re- 
 clined upon blankets, while the younger, after many
 
 62 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 cautions to beware of serpents and centipedes, ranged 
 the plateau. All finally gathered about the tables 
 and plantain leaves covered with food and drink, 
 where was a "spread" that would have delighted 
 the heart of a Lucullus, after such a climb as those 
 Creoles had accomplished : all the native viands, 
 cooked under the superintendence of Mme. de La- 
 Pagerie, added to dainties imported from France. 
 Communication with the mother country, though 
 frequently interrupted by the English cruisers, in 
 war time, was by sailing-vessels, and freights were 
 low, so that all the luxuries of France were at the 
 doors of Martinique, in exchange for her products 
 of sugar, coffee and rum. After the breakfast a 
 brief siesta, in hammock and on blanket, and then 
 the games began. A smooth space was leveled in 
 the center of the clearing and the merry children 
 danced till they were tired, which was not till late 
 in the afternoon, when the long shadows of the trees 
 warned them that it was time to leave. 
 
 Josephine was locally celebrated as the best dancer 
 in the canton, and entered into the sports of the 
 children with an abandon that was infectious. But, 
 early in the afternoon, seeing that William, her 
 English lover, was not taking part with esprit, she 
 desisted and sought him out, where he was moping 
 against a gommier trunk. 
 
 He was not unhappy, as she thought ; his natural 
 British heaviness had contrasted so forcibly with the 
 French levity that she fancied him miserable, when 
 he was only stupid. She did not know then, what
 
 JOSEPHINE. 63 
 
 some one of her countrymen has since remarked : 
 that "the English take their pleasures sadly." 
 William was even then picturing to himself his 
 charmer as he had seen her many times in play with 
 him, and gloating upon the thought that some day 
 she would be his. He awoke from his revery as she 
 approached, and they joined in conversation, becom- 
 ing so absorbed that they did not at first heed the 
 call to horse, and were the last to start. 
 
 Josephine's hammock-bearers were patiently wait- 
 ing beneath the maroon-tree, and William's pony 
 was pawing the ground not far away. While assist- 
 ing her into her hammock, the young man re- 
 marked upon the unusual stillness of the air, which 
 in the mountains is always astir, moved by vagrant 
 breezes from the heated region beneath. The leaves 
 of the trees, and even the broad plantain-pennons, 
 and the fern fronds were motionless as though held 
 by an unseen hand. No sound broke the quietude, 
 save the deep diapason of the siffleur montagne, the 
 mountain-whistler, far away in a ravine. The hush 
 was oppressive, the still atmosphere was almost 
 suffocating ; these two felt as though they had been 
 left alone in another world than that into which 
 they had been born. " Allons," said Josephine; 
 "let us goat once, I feel terribly depressed." Giv- 
 ing his pony's bridle into the hand of his groom, 
 William walked by the side of the hammock, and 
 strove by conversation to divert the mind of his 
 inamorata from what they felt was an impending 
 calamity.
 
 64 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 It was enough for him that they had been al- 
 lowed to have one whole day together ; now let 
 come what might, in any event she would be with 
 him. For the others had gone on and were already 
 far down the mountain-side ; he was her only pro- 
 tector. 
 
 At last it came ; what they had dreaded to name, 
 but had felt was imminent. A dull, rumbling roar 
 beneath their feet, around them ; a convulsion of 
 the very earth ; a moaning among the trees : it 
 was the earthquake ! Their attendants fell upon 
 their knees, shrieking : " Tremblement-de-terre, trem- 
 blement-de-terre, the earthquake ! the earthquake ! " 
 That was all ; in that single exclamation was ex- 
 pressed the ruin, desolation, and despair attendant 
 upon the most dreaded of cataclysms. 
 
 Josephine was thrown forward as the negroes 
 fell, but her lover caught and held her in his arms 
 before her feet touched the ground. One blissful 
 moment he held her, then she gently disengaged 
 his arms and stood erect, though trembling, at his 
 side. A second shock, still more powerful than the 
 first, caused her to clutch his arms with both her 
 hands and gaze wistfully into his face. Her eyes 
 were wide with fear, her slender form quivering 
 with excitement. Never had she looked so nearly 
 divine as at that moment ; never had her lover felt 
 the impulse so strong within him to clasp her in his 
 arms again, and bid the world defiance. But no ; 
 he was a Briton, slow but sturdy ; her implied com- 
 mands were upon him ; her honor was in his hands.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 65 
 
 Young as he was, he was held by the traditions of 
 his race ; of his ancestry, birth, and breeding. Be- 
 tween them, then, was only the unspoken word. 
 If he had but strained her to his heart, and whispered 
 in her not unwilling ear : " I love you "... Ah, 
 William, William ; what a prize you lost by your 
 restraint ! But perhaps the world will forgive you 
 this timidity ; for had you then spoken, there might 
 have been no Josephine, no gracious queen of France 
 for the world's worship. 
 S
 
 66 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FIRST LOVES OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 THE earthquake lasted but a moment ; its effects 
 were seen at Fort Eoyal in fallen walls, demolished 
 houses, ruined homes. 
 
 The absence of the lovers had hardly been noticed, 
 so overcome were the older people by the greater 
 accident. They were merely recognized and as- 
 signed their places in the canoe, where they joined 
 in the general lamentation. William was uneasy, 
 for he felt that, somehow, he had failed in his duty 
 had neglected the opportunity of his life. He was 
 now striving to reconcile his ideas of honor and 
 rectitude with his obligation to self and Josephine. 
 He had failed, that he perceived, for Josephine was 
 now cold towards him, and a rare pout sat en- 
 throned upon her pretty lips. 
 
 What had he done ? Nothing. He had not met 
 her expectations. It slowly dawned upon him that 
 he had acted a man's part undoubtedly, but not a 
 lover's. He would amend ; he tried to draw her 
 attention ; but it was too late ; the auspicious 
 moment had passed ; Josephine was not one to 
 thresh over old straw. She could be carried away 
 by an impetuous lover, by an ardent one ; later in
 
 JOSEPHINE. 67 
 
 her life she permitted such a one to marry her, 
 whom she at first tolerated, then admired, and 
 finally adored. But William was not a Napoleon. 
 
 Her phlegmatic English lover was more constant 
 than Napoleon, if we may believe tradition ; she was 
 his first love, and his last. For it is related that 
 when Josephine lay dying at Malmaison, in the year. 
 1814, he came to the palace and begged for an inter- 
 view, having all those years held her image in his 
 heart. The ex-Empress was unable to grant it, and 
 died without beholding him ; he expired three days 
 later, from the effects of a wound received in 
 battle. 
 
 This is the beginning and the end of Josephine's 
 first romance. She undoubtedly had an affection 
 for this, her first lover, but finally yielded to the 
 desires of her parents and dismissed him from her 
 thoughts. At all events, William soon went to 
 England, and out of her life ; though it is said that 
 he wrote her frequently, letters that were inter- 
 cepted and never delivered.* 
 
 At first, as we have seen, Josephine turned a deaf 
 ear to the urgent entreaties of her aunt, Mme. de 
 Kenaudin, to come to her in France ; but after this 
 episode she was extremely anxious to go. From 
 the letters of the period, still preserved in the ar- 
 chives of the La-Pagerie family, we may trace the 
 steps that led from this humble home at Sannois, 
 direct to the throne of France. 
 
 * Memoirs of Queen Hortense.
 
 68 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Many fables have been invented and related of 
 the circumstances that led to the marriage of our 
 heroine with Alexandre de Beauharnais ; but not 
 one surpasses in interest and romance the actual 
 story as told by the actors in this drama themselves. 
 It has been charged that the marriage was brought 
 about by the ambitious aunt of Josephine, solely 
 through her intrigues with the Marquis de Beau- 
 harnais, the elder. This assertion is directly con- 
 tradicted by the facts, as shown in the letter of the 
 Marquis, in the year 1778, to Mme. de La-Pagerie, 
 asking the hand of his daughter for his son Alexan- 
 der, who was in this instance his father's secretary. 
 He opens by declaring his great desire to give unequi- 
 vocal proof of the esteem in which he holds their 
 acquaintance, and adds : " My children possess ample 
 incomes, each one inheriting some 40,000 livres per 
 year, and it rests with you, my dear friend, whether 
 one of your daughters may not share that of my 
 Chevalier. The respect and attachment he feels for 
 Madame de Renaudin, impels him most ardently 
 to desire union with one of her nieces. He seems to 
 think that the second (Desiree) would be of the 
 age most suitable for him. 
 
 " I myself regret that your eldest daughter (Jose- 
 phine) is not some years younger, as she certainly 
 should have the preference ; but I must confess to 
 you, that there seems to me too little difference be- 
 tween her age, fifteen and a half, and my son's, 
 which is only seventeen. However, this is one of 
 those occasions in which the feelings of a parent must
 
 JOSEPHINE. 69 
 
 yield to circumstances." The Marquis then goes on 
 to declare that his son possesses all the engaging 
 qualities necessary to make a woman happy, and as- 
 sures his friend that he does not expect a dot with his 
 daughter, as the Chevalier is already well provided 
 for, with his 40,000 livres, inherited from the mater- 
 nal side, and the 25,000 more which he is to expect 
 from himself. He then urges the father to send his 
 daughter to France with the utmost despatch le 
 plus totpossible. " You owe me this pledge of friend- 
 ship," he concludes ; and adds, in case he cannot 
 himself accompany her, to entrust her to some trust- 
 worthy person ; but not by any means to send her by 
 a ship of war, as she would be far more comfortable 
 in a merchant packet. 
 
 The Marquis also wrote the mother at the same 
 time, repeating his offer to the father ; and, as 
 though sensible that it was an unusual proceeding 
 to ask the hand of a younger daughter while the 
 elder was still unmarried, he adds : " Not that any 
 one has said any but agreeable things of the elder ; 
 but we fear she is too old, relatively to my son's 
 age. . . . He is well worthy your regard, madame ; 
 and if, as I expect, mademoiselle, your daughter of 
 whom I have received such charming portraits re- 
 sembles you, my dear madame, then I shall have no 
 fear for the happiness of my son." 
 
 He is not content with this, but even writes the 
 grandmother at Fort Royal, and also the uncle, the 
 Chevalier Tascher de La-Pagerie, to use their in- 
 fluence. " Use all your efforts, my dear Baron, to
 
 70 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 induce your brother and sister-in-law to send their 
 second daughter to France." Mme. Eenaudin joins 
 with him in urging forward the prospective union, 
 and, in order that it might not be said that her niece 
 had made the voyage to France in order to get 
 married, solely, she advised her parents to give out 
 that she was going to complete her education. She 
 draws a flattering portrait of Alexander, declaring 
 that it would be impossible for her to eulogize him 
 beyond his deserts, with his handsome face, fine 
 figure, lively disposition, love for science, and, above 
 all, " the beautiful qualities, of soul and heart, in him 
 so blended that no one knows him but to love." 
 There is no doubt of the affection existing between 
 Mme. de Eenaudin and her god-son ; she had watched 
 over him since his earliest youth. The aunt, like- 
 wise, anticipating the very natural desire of her 
 brother's family to see Josephine settled in advance 
 of her sisters, alludes to the regret of the Marquis 
 that the eldest daughter is not at least three years 
 younger than Alexander. " But then, you know," 
 she concludes, ' ' this will not be the first instance 
 of a younger sister being established before the elder. 
 And, since the age of the younger is so advan- 
 tageous, we cannot but believe that Heaven has so 
 ordered it." 
 
 Meanwhile, what had happened in Martinique ? 
 Communication between the island-colonies and the 
 mother country was slow and uncertain ; the direst 
 of events had taken place. Heaven had not so or- 
 dered it, apparently, for a week before that letter
 
 JOSEPHINE. 71 
 
 was written, Desiree, the object of her aunt's solici- 
 tude, had expired. The message did not, however, 
 reach its destination till early in December, thus 
 only renewing the grief of the afflicted family. 
 Writing on the 9th of January, 1778, M. de La- 
 Pagerie sadly replies : " A malignant fever carried 
 off our dear Desiree, on the 16th of October last, at 
 the very moment you were thinking of her happi- 
 ness. " * 
 
 He feels very grateful to the Marquis for his ex- 
 pression of confidence, and this renewed assurance 
 of his esteem ; and, as it was quite evidently his de- 
 sire to unite the two families by marriage, with- 
 out an expressed predilection for any one of his 
 daughters, he (M. Tascher) takes the liberty to sub- 
 mit that the third, and youngest, might be found 
 available. This one was Marie-Francoise, called by 
 the family "Manette." "She is now," he wrote, 
 " eleven and a half years of age ; of a gay and lively 
 disposition, naif and sensible. She promises well 
 as to face and figure. and education will do the 
 rest." 
 
 He writes that he had great difficulty in inducing 
 her and her mother to consent to the separation, but 
 it had finally been done, and he would sail with her 
 in April or May. 
 
 It seems only natural that the eldest daughter 
 should have felt the slight thus put upon her, and 
 she doubtless so expressed herself, for the father ex- 
 
 * Archives de Famille.
 
 72 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 plains to Mme. deKenaudin : " The eldest, you are 
 aware, has been home from the convent for some 
 time, and, as she has frequently desired me to take 
 her to France, she will be, I fear, a little put out by 
 your evident preference for the younger. . . . She 
 has a very lovely complexion, beautiful eyes, hand- 
 some arms, a shapely figure, and a remarkable apti- 
 tude for music. . . . 
 
 11 1 furnished her with a teacher of the guitar, while 
 she was in the convent, and she profited well by her 
 lessons, and has a very charming voice. It is a pity 
 that she cannot be sent to France to complete her 
 education, so well begun ; and if it were only in my 
 power, I would send the two together. But, how 
 can I separate a mother from the two remaining 
 daughters, so soon after the third has been snatched 
 from her by death ? " This letter was written from 
 St. Lucia, where Mr. Tascher had a plantation. 
 
 It was immediately answered by the aunt, who 
 wrote after consulting with the Marquis under 
 date of llth March, 1TT8 : 
 
 " Come to us, my dear brother ; come, with one of 
 your daughters, or with two : whatever you do we 
 shall find agreeable ; and we shall not doubt you will 
 be guided by Providence, who knows better than we 
 what is best for us. ... You are acquainted with 
 our sincere desires : we wish for one of your daugh- 
 ters (which one did not seem to matter). The Cav- 
 alier deserves to be made perfectly happy, and you 
 alone, perhaps, are the one best able to declare which
 
 JOSEPHINE. 73 
 
 one possesses the requisite qualities. ... So act 
 accordingly." 
 
 Meanwhile, there was trouble in the Tascher fam- 
 ily, for the youngest daughter, backed in her oppo- 
 sition by her mother and her grandmother, declared 
 she would not take the voyage to France, even if she 
 never had a husband. The father, who seems to 
 have been an honest, though henpecked husband, 
 was distracted, as between his duty and desires. He 
 wrote Mme. Eenaudin again, before definitely decid- 
 ing upon which daughter to send, under date of June 
 24th, 1T78 : " You know, my dear sister, the blind 
 devotion of most of our Creole mothers for their 
 children. ... In short, not only is Manette opposed 
 to the voyage, but her mother and grandmother, 
 and you know what that means ! ... If I had but the 
 means, I would start immediately, with the eldest, 
 who not only wishes to see la belle France, but is con- 
 sumed with a desire to see her dear aunt. Only two 
 things prevent me : a lack of means and the fact that 
 she was fifteen years old yesterday. She is likewise 
 well-developed for her age ; indeed, for the last five 
 or six months has seemed to be nearer eighteen than 
 fifteen. She has, as I have written you, a happy dis- 
 position ; plays a little on the guitar, has a good 
 voice, and a liking for music, in which she will some- 
 time become proficient. But, alas, I fear she will not 
 fulfill your expectations, on account of the objection 
 you have to her age." In this tenor also he wrote 
 the Marquis, realizing that his was a most embar-
 
 74 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 rassing position. He did not wish to let pass such 
 an opportunity for an alliance with so distinguished 
 a family as he frankly admitted yet he hesitated 
 to recommend without qualification the eldest 
 daughter ; though her only defect was on account of 
 her age ; which was, in his opinion, more than 
 counterbalanced by her numerous good qualities. 
 To this effect he wrote the Marquis, who replied, as 
 the aunt had done, that he would not assume to de- 
 cide ; so it be one of the daughters, he would be sat- 
 isfied. But he hoped his old friend would come 
 soon ; and whichever one he brought should also be 
 their choice. 
 
 Alexander, who was then absent with his regi- 
 ment, was acquainted with the bizarre condition of 
 affairs, and immediately responded that he readily 
 accepted the exchange, having had a preference for 
 the eldest all along. He expressed himself satisfied 
 with whatever arrangement should be made, and, 
 though he did not allow thoughts of his prospective 
 bride to distract him from his duties, was somewhat 
 disappointed that Josephine herself had not arrived, 
 instead of a letter. He did not doubt he should like 
 her. "The great attachment she has for her aunt, 
 and her strong desire to be with her, inclines me in 
 her favor. . . I trust, my dear papa, that you have 
 already urged M. de La-Pagerie to send us his eldest 
 daughter, whom we have always more ardently 
 desired than the youngest." 
 
 This the Marquis probably did, for in a letter of 
 9th September, 1778, he complimented the planter
 
 JOSEPHINE. 75 
 
 upon his decision, and assured him that they were 
 already looking forward with impatience to their 
 arrival, and the day they landed in France would 
 be the happiest of their lives. With the consent of 
 his son, he sent to Martinique authority to publish 
 there the banns with whomsoever should be selected, 
 leaving a blank space for the name ; an unusual 
 mark of confidence in the integrity of his old friend 
 and companion-in-arms. 
 
 By the same packet, the aunt wrote her brother 
 saying how happy they had been since the un- 
 certainty was removed, and that she only hoped 
 that Manette would be able to obtain such a fine 
 parti as her sister. She felt more than sure that 
 her sister in-law, Mme. de La-Pagerie, would some 
 day thank her for having secured for her such a 
 desirable son-in-law. She assured her brother that 
 M. de Beauharnais was exceedingly impatient to 
 embrace him and his daughter. " Alas, if I could 
 only fly to you. . . . Adieu, my dear brother ; 
 adieu. But come, come ! Your dear sister implores 
 you." 
 
 Thus it was decided : the eldest daughter, Jose- 
 phine, was to be sent to France in search of a hus- 
 band. No, not in search of one ; he was already 
 burning with impatience to embrace her. She was 
 his bride, in fact, before she left the soil of Mar- 
 tinique. Her name had been inserted in the blank 
 space on the banns, and had been proclaimed. 
 
 This may be new, at least to English readers ; but 
 the truth of this statement has been established by
 
 76 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 the letters from which we have quoted ; the actors in 
 this strange drama have told their own story.* 
 
 But how was the news received at Sannois La- 
 Pagerie ? Outside the family, among the slaves, 
 there was bitter lamentation ; for all felt for Jose- 
 phine a love approaching reverence. The sad in- 
 telligence reached the little hamlet where her old 
 nurse, Adee, dwelt by the shore. She at once 
 hastened to her own " Yeyette," big with the impor- 
 tance of a message. She had consulted the Carib 
 sibyl ; more than that, she had studied the flight of 
 the Diablotins ; "and from their flight strange 
 auguries she drew." 
 
 " Yeyette-moi, don't go ; you must not. Look, I 
 have read the Devil-bird's message, it is this : ' Be- 
 ware of the sea.' Again and again, in their flights 
 around the Diamond, they have confirmed it. And, 
 besides, don't you remember the sibyl's warning ?- 
 Vous serez Heine de France ; vous aurez de belles 
 annees; mais(0, see the warning here), vous periez 
 dans une meute."-[ 
 
 * Verified by the biographer of Josephine, who consulted the 
 letters in the family archives, which were freely placed at his dis- 
 posal. 
 
 f Local tradition.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 77 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE VOYAGE TO FRANCE. 
 
 ALTHOUGH every member of the La-Pagerie family 
 was sensible of the great advantage of this pro- 
 jected alliance with the house of Beauharnais, and 
 Josephine herself was extremely anxious to visit 
 the mother-country, yet, when the time came to say 
 adieu to her mother, her friends, and her dear 
 Martinique, she hesitated. Again, since the month 
 of March, 1778, when news of the treaty signed 
 between France and America had been received, a 
 sea-voyage was considered very unsafe. It was in 
 February of that year that our commissioners, 
 Franklin, Lee and Deane, had concluded the negotia- 
 tions which resulted in a treaty of alliance, com- 
 merce, and amity with the French nation. Since 
 then, war had existed between the mother-country 
 and England ; English cruisers swept the seas, 
 English war-ships menaced Martinique. M. Tascher 
 would not take upon himself any further responsi- 
 bility, in view of the opposition he had encountered 
 from the mother and grandmother, and, unless 
 passage could be found in a convoyed packet, or 
 neutral vessel, refused to make the voyage. Tfeus 
 nearly a year passed away, during which the family 
 was torn with anxiety, and the aunt, Mme. de
 
 78 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Renaudin, harassed with the fear that the Beau- 
 harnais might change their opinion, or the young 
 man's ardor might cool. Meanwhile, although her 
 brother assured her that he was sincerely seeking 
 an opportunity, it was late in the year 1779 before 
 she had definite news of his sailing. 
 
 Scarcely a month passed that did not leave with 
 its departure some impressive reminder of the 
 possible dangers of that sea-voyage. One morning 
 in April, the peace of the valley of Sannois was dis- 
 turbed by the boom of heavy guns. Hastening to 
 the hill overlooking the sucrerie Josephine and her 
 father saw, dim in the distance, the ghost-like out- 
 lines of several immense warships, wrapped in the 
 smoke from their own guns. The terrible Eodney 
 had come, as he had threatened, to reduce the 
 rebellious islands to submission. Seventeen years 
 had passed since his first appearance here, when his 
 sailors and marines had assisted at the reduction of 
 Fort Koyal, and when he had also conquered the 
 islands of St. Lucia and Granada. He had since 
 become the scourge of the French naval marine ; 
 his name was in every mouth. The French fleet 
 concentrated at Fort Royal had sailed out to give 
 him battle. The result was indecisive, though the 
 English fleet was driven away for the time ; but the 
 action, within view of these interested spectators, 
 who had so much at stake in the outcome of the 
 war, only emphasized the dangers of a voyage across 
 the Atlantic.* 
 
 * See Appendix (4).
 
 JOSEPHINE. 79 
 
 " It must not be, Yeyette ; the risks are too great, 
 the dangers too many." 
 
 1 ' As you say, my dear papa ; I am content. France 
 attracts me, and to see Paris has been the dream of 
 my life ; but I am happy here." 
 
 "I believe you could be, my daughter ; you have 
 always been a good and dutiful child. But, again, 
 I desire to secure for you a future of at least some 
 promise. Here there is absolutely nothing ahead. 
 See, how have I worked all these years ; your 
 mother has devoted her life to her duties and our 
 welfare ; yet, what have we now ? Less than when 
 we began. Only last year, forty of our slaves 
 died, from the fever and the serpents. I myself 
 am broken, despairing ; every earthquake, every 
 hurricane, leaves us a little poorer, less hope- 
 ful." 
 
 "Mon cher papa ! And yet he would send me 
 from him ! His oldest daughter ; the only ' son ' he 
 has. Would, that I were in truth a son, able to help 
 you in the fields. If I were only Joseph, as you 
 named me, instead of Josephine ! Alas, woman can 
 do so little that is worth the while ! But, at least, I 
 can stay with you, I will not desert you." 
 
 "No, Yeyette, it is better that you go to France ; 
 there will you find a greater future. Your aunt 
 will leave you her heir, even if nothing comes of 
 this projected union. Yes, you can help me better 
 there." 
 
 There were distractions enough now at Fort Eoyal, 
 for all the French fleets rendezvoused there on their
 
 80 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 way to America. In 1779, arrived the gallant Count 
 De Grasse, chief of the squadron that sailed from 
 Brest to join at Martinique the fleet of Comte 
 d'Estaing. The fort was the gayest place, perhaps, 
 in the colonies, and Josephine, as the niece of the 
 commandant, Baron de Tascher, and one of the 
 prettiest young ladies of the place, was the object of 
 many attentions. 
 
 At Brest, whence the fleet had sailed, was her 
 betrothed, and it is possible that she received news 
 of him from the officers, who must have envied the 
 Chevalier his good fortune. But they passed on, 
 gay and gallant Frenchmen ; sailed out of her vision 
 into the horizon, towards America, where they so 
 materially assisted our forefathers at Savannah, and 
 contributed later towards the downfall of Corn- 
 wallis. They sailed on into illimitable space ; some 
 of them returned after the Eevolution was over ; 
 but many of them are still sailing, sailing, through 
 the voids of the century past. 
 
 The household returned to its wonted vocations ; 
 the ladies acted as mediators between the lord of the 
 estate, who was master absolute over his slaves, and 
 the negroes. Josephine, made sad and thoughtful 
 by her recent experiences, was to the slaves a ver- 
 itable Lady Bountiful ; she passed her time in deeds 
 of charity, and doubtless then acquired that angelic 
 disposition for which her name is even yet a popular 
 synonym. The ladies of La-Pagerie were celebrated 
 for their care of the slaves, exercising a super- 
 vision over them from the time of birth, teaching
 
 JOSEPHINE. 81 
 
 them the catechism, healing their wounds, inter- 
 ceding for them when threatened with punish- 
 ment, at once protectors, instructors, and sisters of 
 charity. 
 
 Josephine might be seen at this time, clad in cool 
 white muslin, a gay Madras handkerchief about 
 her head, swinging in a hammock of silk grass, or 
 the center of an admiring group of negroes, joining 
 in the dance to the music of the tambou, at evening 
 by the light of the flambeaux, or beneath the 
 brilliant tropical moon. 
 
 But this life of mingled care and gayety could not 
 go on forever. M. Tascher was not unmindful of his 
 promise to the Marquis. Ever watchful for an 
 opportunity to redeem that promise, he at last found 
 passage in a convoyed ship, " La Pomone," which 
 sailed for France in September. 
 
 In France, we might have found the parties in- 
 terested in this voyage as anxious as the voyagers 
 themselves. Tired of garrison gallantries, at last, 
 the Chevalier was anxiously inquiring for the news 
 from Martinique. During the month of August not 
 a word, but on the fifth of September he wrote his 
 father that he had received secret information of a 
 convoy about to sail from that island. And he had 
 a presentiment that his intended bride would come 
 at that time, and was all impatience. More than a 
 month passed, however, without further news, but 
 the last of October, Mme. de Renaudin received a 
 letter from her brother, dated the twentieth of that 
 
 month, by which she learned that he had arrived at 
 6
 
 82 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Brest, together with their sister, Mile. Rosette de 
 La-Pagerie, and his eldest daughter. 
 
 That same year, 1Y79, there arrived at another 
 point on the coast of France, coming from another 
 island-colony of that country, the one who later 
 raised to such a height of power and prosperity this 
 unknown girl, Mile. Josephine de La-Pagerie. . . . 
 
 Meanwhile, at receipt of the news from Brest, 
 Mme. de Renaudin and the young Alexander hast- 
 ened to join the La-Pageries. Hearing that M. 
 Tascher was very ill from an old wound or malady, 
 aggravated by the long and tempestuous sea-voyage, 
 the Chevalier, with rare thoughtfulness, hurried on 
 in advance, in order to ascertain how seriously he 
 was affected, and if necessary to prepare his god- 
 mother for any shock. 
 
 He had also arranged with one of his comrades at 
 Brest to send him an express, if M. Tascher should 
 be critically ill ; but all these precautions were un- 
 necessary, for he was found to be in better health 
 than they had expected from the reports. 
 
 About the twenty-eighth of October, in a letter to 
 his father, he details the condition of affairs, and 
 gives a hint of the impression made upon him by the 
 young Creole. 
 
 " You will pardon me for not writing sooner, but 
 since our arrival here I have hardly had a moment 
 to myself. . . . Our departure is now fixed for 
 Tuesday next. I need not assure you that we are
 
 JOSEPHINE. 83 
 
 all impatient to be near you. . . . Mile, de La- 
 Pagerie, who is as anxious to see you as the rest of 
 us, you will perhaps find less pretty than you had 
 expected, but her modesty and sweetness of character 
 surpass anything that has been told you. ... I 
 found, to my disgust, that all the town seemed to 
 have been informed of the nature of our errand, 
 which I had thought a secret, but, though I am 
 compelled to blush, sometimes, at the compliments 
 thrust upon me, still I find some satisfaction in the 
 flattering marks of attachment from my comrades, 
 and their lively interest in my welfare. . . . ' 
 
 Thus, though somewhat disappointed at the first 
 glimpse of his bride, the Chevalier was, on the whole, 
 disposed to make the best of affairs. 
 
 A few days later, while en-route, Mme. de 
 Renaudin wrote the Marquis assuring him, upon her 
 sacred word, that Josephine would not disappoint 
 him in any respect. . . . "Sera votre chere et 
 tendre fille, tfest moi qui vous en assure." She 
 possessed all the beautiful qualities essential to the 
 happiness of the Chevalier. And as to the latter : 
 "He begs me to embrace you for him, and not to 
 take it ill that he does not write to-day ; for he is so 
 well engaged that he cannot. Yes, my good friend, 
 he is very much occupied at present, very much 
 absorbed, with your future daughter-in-law." 
 
 The recreant Alexander does add a line, however, 
 to the effect that he finds the company of his 
 father's future daughter so sweet that this must be
 
 $4 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 the explanation of his silence. He expresses the 
 great desire they both feel to be near him, and the 
 hope that the Marquis is looking forward to em- 
 bracing both his children when they arrive. So it 
 seems that Alexander had lost little time in his love- 
 making. He had the advantage of position, of 
 education, of experience in the gallantries of the day ; 
 against these qualifications Josephine had nothing 
 to oppose except her own native charms. He was 
 not at first attracted by her ; but within three days 
 she had won him, in spite of himself. The under- 
 standing is complete between these two children, 
 brought together across so many leagues of sea, 
 destined for each other by the machinations of two 
 intriguing relatives. Alexander had been pre- 
 disposed to the match, from the representations of 
 his godmother, whom he devotedly loved, and his 
 father, whom he reverenced. It does not seem to 
 have occurred to him to combat their wishes, and 
 so he at once set himself to the task of liking this 
 young Creole, as soon as she arrived. Josephine, 
 .as we have seen, was equally complaisant. ' ' To love 
 was one of the necessities of her being." It does 
 not appear that she had ever had any one upon 
 whom to lavish the wealth of affection with which 
 nature had endowed her. Her father and mother 
 were always occupied in the cares of the estate ; her 
 servants, her maids, however much she may have 
 been attached to them, were not suitable subjects 
 for a reciprocal affection that could attain to the 
 dignity of a passion.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 85 
 
 Modest, retiring, but never coy nor shy, Josephine 
 had freely accepted the Chevalier's advances, and 
 within a few days had enmeshed him in his own net. 
 He was captured by that nameless charm, by the 
 infinite grace and sweetness, in her so harmoniously 
 and ravishingly blended. Never, at her best estate, 
 has Josephine been declared beautiful, but universal 
 testimony has been recorded from the mouths of 
 plebeians as well as princes, that she was ever 
 gracious and winning. 
 
 Josephine, although developed physically beyond 
 her years, was still a child at heart and in the sim- 
 plicity of her manners. It is said that she and her 
 young companion took their dolls with them on the 
 voyage and played with them throughout the long 
 and dreary days. The Chevalier rallied her upon 
 this, but she replied sweetly enough, and he rather 
 congratulated himself that she had no more harmful 
 acquaintances. He found her "heart-whole and 
 fancy free," at all events ; and he delighted in the 
 reflection that she was to be his, his own, without 
 the shadow of a rival to arouse his jealousy. 
 
 They reached Paris about the tenth of November, 
 where they were met by the Marquis, who, from the 
 very first, attached himself to Josephine as if she 
 were his own daughter ; and she reciprocated this 
 affection with a loyal devotion. 
 
 Since everything seemed propitious for an imme- 
 diate marriage, the desires of young Alexander were 
 acceded to and preparations at once commenced. 
 Mme. de Renaudin the more readily consented, as
 
 86 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 she feared a possible miscarriage of her dearly cher- 
 ished plans, and saw that the young people were 
 so evidently attracted to each other. She generously 
 furnished her niece with a trousseau costing 20,000 
 francs, and insisted that the ceremony should be 
 performed at her country house at Noisy, in order 
 to avoid the publicity and confusion attendant upon 
 a wedding in the capital. The ceremony was fixed 
 for the thirteenth of December ; but several days be- 
 fore it took place, M. Tascher de La-Pagerie, who was 
 suffering from a relapse of his malady, was obliged 
 to delegate his authority to the Abbe Louis Samuel 
 de Tascher, a doctor of Sorbonne, and the most dis- 
 tinguished representative of the family in France. 
 
 In the presence of the Abbe, of Mme. de Renaudin 
 (who filled the place of mother to her niece) of the 
 Marquis de Beauharnais, Count Claude, his brother, 
 and several other reputable witnesses, Mile. Jose- 
 phine de La-Pagerie and Alexander de Beauharnais 
 were made one, in the Church of Noisy-le- Grand. 
 
 " And so they were married." Were they mated ? 
 Does any one whisper of love f Perhaps ; the aunt 
 and the father may have cherished the delusion for 
 awhile. But, it was as purely a mariage de conve- 
 nance as any that has ever been arranged since it 
 became the custom to marry and be given in mar- 
 riage. 
 
 Their interest in each other had been awakened 
 by the representations of their friends, stimulated 
 by the romantic manner of their betrothal, and 
 propinquity had done the rest.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 87 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE BRIDE OF BEAUHARNAIS. 
 
 THIS venture in matrimony of a young man of 
 nineteen and a girl of sixteen was at the outset fe- 
 licitous. The first year passed away very happily, 
 and the young bride, diverted by the attractions of 
 gay Paris, was the petted idol of the Vicomte's 
 relatives, who were numerous and attentive. She 
 did not altogether like the transition from the free 
 life of Sannois to the artificial state of existence she 
 was obliged to lead in France, and has left on record 
 her protest against the paints and perfumes, and the 
 heavy clothing with enormous hoops, "which would 
 not permit the wearer to pass straight through a 
 doorway." In the summer the young pair resided 
 at Noisy-le-Grand, with Mme. de Renaudin, and in 
 the winter at the hotel of the Marquis, in the Rue 
 Thevenot. We have seen what were the influences 
 that surrounded and shaped her, during the form- 
 ative period of her character ; it will now be shown 
 how she developed, from a Creole provincial, with 
 no education save that furnished in an obscure con- 
 vent, into one of the most polished and accomplished 
 ladies of the time. In the first place, she possessed 
 infinite tact and perception of the proprieties. She
 
 88 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 was constantly surrounded by members of the aris- 
 tocracy, who had received their education in the 
 most approved schools of society. One who was of 
 the greatest service to her, and who became her 
 most affectionate friend and adviser, was Mme. 
 Fanny de Beauharnais, wife of Alexander's uncle, 
 the Count Claude. Born of wealthy parents, at 
 Paris, in 1T38, she had received a brilliant education 
 and had displayed precocious talents, writing verses 
 at the age of ten, and applauded by the literary 
 celebrities of the day. Married at the age of fifteen, 
 she procured a separation from her husband a few 
 years later, and abandoned herself to literary pursuits, 
 her salon in the city and at Fontainebleau becoming 
 the favorite resort of the distinguished men and 
 women of the day. She displayed a deep interest in 
 Josephine, who through her was initiated into the 
 mysteries of literary Paris, though she may not 
 have read all her books. She was cultured and re- 
 fined, whatever may have been her morals, and she 
 exercised a great influence, and in the right direction, 
 upon the wife of her nephew. Another lady with 
 whom she became intimate, and who was a frequent 
 visitor to the family, was Mme. de La Eochefou- 
 cauld, a relative of Alexander's and Mme. de Rohan 
 Chabot-Leon nee Elizabeth de Montmorency. The 
 establishment of the Marquis was worthy his rank, 
 and among the numerous and brilliant salons open 
 to the young vicountess was that of Madame de 
 Montesson, the morganatic wife of the Due d'Or- 
 leans, where Josephine first met Mme. de Genlis,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 89 
 
 and where were assembled all the grand society 
 dames of the time. It is true that the name of the 
 Vicomtesse de Beauharnais is not inscribed upon 
 the official lists of the receptions at the Court ; but 
 it is difficult to believe that she was not received, as 
 she was fully entitled to that honor by birth and 
 marriage. It is known that her husband was one 
 of the most welcome of the cavaliers at the Queen's 
 receptions, and she had bestowed upon him the title 
 of the beau danseur of the Court. She was pri- 
 vately received by Marie Antoinette, however, and 
 this made amends for a public presentation. Her 
 staunchest friend and mentor was the aunt who had 
 been instrumental in bringing her to Paris, and 
 consummated her marriage with the Chevalier. 
 Mme. de Renaudin, a native of Martinique, had 
 come to Paris in 1760, had secured a separation 
 from her husband, on the basis of incompatibility 
 and brutality, and was then living at ease upon the 
 alimony granted her, and a large private fortune. 
 At first, under the protection of the Marquis de Beau- 
 harnais and his wife, after the latter had left France, 
 she entered into an amorous attachment with the 
 former, and late in life they were married. She 
 maintained a separate establishment at Noisy, but 
 appears to have resided in or near the household of 
 the Marquis, rue Thevenot, in the winter season. 
 
 She was godmother to Alexander, to whom she 
 was most tenderly attached, and filled a mother's 
 place in the heart of Josephine. Notwithstanding 
 her equivocal relations with the old Marquis, her
 
 90 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 family seem to have held her in esteem, and her 
 letters show her to have possessed many admirable 
 qualities of head and heart. Her brothers corre- 
 sponded with her regularly, and in one of the early 
 letters sent to her from the Baron is a confidential 
 description of his sweetheart, to whom he was 
 afterwards married. One cannot but wish that the 
 young Alexander could have found it in his heart to 
 detail the charms of his fiancee with such enthu- 
 siasm and minuteness : "She has such a beautiful 
 complexion, such lovely eyes, so pretty a mouth, so 
 divine a figure, the whole forming a most ravishing 
 ensemble, that I am more than charmed." 
 
 Under the tutelage and instruction of her aunt, 
 whose twenty years in Paris had made a perfect Pari- 
 sian, Josephine applied herself most assiduously to 
 acquire that superficial knowledge which passes 
 current in the world of society, and that polish of 
 manner which glosses over many defects. She 
 possessed natural tact and aptitude, and above all a 
 good heart, which is at the basis of good manners. 
 Doubtless she had more amiable qualities of heart 
 than knowledge of science, literature or art ; but 
 with what success she applied herself, her subsequent 
 career, as wife of the First Consul and as Empress of 
 the French, abundantly testifies. During the first 
 few months of their marriage the Chevalier devoted 
 himself to his wife with commendable zeal for her 
 happiness, and she returned his attentions with 
 affection. She was sincerely attached to the Vis- 
 count, for her heart felt the need of some one to
 
 JOSEPHINE. 91 
 
 love, and all her thoughts centered in him. She 
 was young and inexperienced ; he was also young, 
 but ardent, ambitious, impatient of restraint. 
 Soon he began to assume an attitude towards her 
 which did not fail to produce its effect : that of 
 master and mentor. 
 
 He had received a more complete education, was 
 more in touch with the world than she, with her 
 Creole manners and provincial teaching, and soon 
 assumed an air of superiority which was galling, 
 even to the amiable Josephine. Thus their estrange- 
 ment began : the novelty having worn off, the 
 eyes of this mercurial Alexander were opened to his 
 true position as the husband of one whom he had 
 espoused more through deference to his father and 
 godmother than from actual affection. He taunted 
 her with the fact that she was merely a demoiselle 
 educated in a colonial convent, and brought up by a 
 mother and godmother noted only for their domes- 
 tic virtues. 
 
 Two years after their marriage their domestic re- 
 lations were strained to the point of open rupture, 
 and the father and aunt, hesitating to intervene 
 openly, solicited the services of Alexander's old tutor, 
 M. Patricol, to whom he was very much attached. 
 This gentleman held a long conversation with the 
 Viscount, then absent from Paris with his regiment, 
 who frankly stated the reasons for his conduct. In 
 effect, he said : he had thought at first he could be 
 able to live happily with Mile, de La-Pagerie, not- 
 withstanding the defects of her early education, and
 
 92 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 had set himself zealously at work to amend the 
 neglect of the first fifteen years of her life. But, 
 shortly after their union, he had found in her a lack 
 of confidence, an unreadiness to lend herself to his 
 guidance, which had chilled his ardor, and perhaps 
 his affection. Her total indifference to his plans for 
 her improvement had caused him to renounce them 
 forever, and in place of spending his time at home, 
 as he had originally contemplated, vis-a-vis with 
 one who scarcely ever addressed him, he had tired 
 of this monotonous existence, and had returned to 
 the more congenial atmosphere of the garrison 
 In short, it was the same old story : Mr. Young- 
 husband, surfeited with the sweets of domesticity, 
 balked in his efforts to attain the unattainable, and 
 hankering after the forbidden pleasures of his bach- 
 elor life, withal, would saddle upon the wife all the 
 responsibility for his peccadilloes. 
 
 His letters of this period are full of advice as to 
 her studies and her behavior. It would seem, from 
 her own letters, that Josephine's education was by 
 no means inferior to that of the ladies of her time. 
 Her epistolary style was correct and yet simple, she 
 had made good progress in drawing and music, and 
 had early exchanged her guitar for a more fashion- 
 able harp. But she was extremely averse to severe 
 mental effort and, though she may have appreciated 
 her husband's scheme of studies, was utterly inca- 
 pable of traveling in the path he had marked out. 
 With a Creole's dislike for schools and continued 
 application, she preferred the easier method of
 
 JOSEPHINE. 93 
 
 unconscious absorption through the medium of her 
 environment. 
 
 A temporary reconciliation was brought about, 
 through the intervention of their friends, shortly be- 
 fore the birth of their first child (Eugene, subse- 
 quently viceroy of Italy), on the third of September, 
 1781. But even the delights of paternity, as well as 
 the entreaties of his wife, were unavailing to re- 
 strain him from returning to garrison life. He had 
 tasted freedom, and he wished to pursue it further. 
 One of his charges against his wife was, that she 
 had become jealous and petulant ; but after this 
 practical abandonment of her and his heir she re- 
 signed herself to the care of her infant, finding in 
 his innocent companionship and caresses a solace for 
 her grief. 
 
 It was thought that extended travel might dis- 
 tract his attention and absence renew his affection 
 for his wife, and in November, the Viscount obtained 
 leave of absence from his regiment and took a jour- 
 ney into Italy, going to Genoa and thence to Rome. 
 Writing from Genoa, in the latter part of 1781, he 
 mentions having been presented to the Doge, by 
 whom he was politely received, and who gave him 
 agreeable news of Lord Cornwallis and the Comte 
 de Grasse. In a postscript only, he alludes to his 
 wife, to whom (he adds) he will write from Eome. 
 Returning to Paris after six months' absence, he was 
 warmly welcomed by his wife, and it was thought 
 the reconciliation was now complete. 
 
 The Marquis and Mme. de Renaudin were over-
 
 94 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 joyed, for they had most loyally espoused the cause 
 of the wife, and had been unwilling witnesses of her 
 sufferings. Their joy was of short duration, how- 
 ever, for the fickle spouse soon announced his deter- 
 mination to return to his regiment, then at Verdun, 
 and Josephine, afflicted by a new access of jealousy, 
 overwhelmed him with tears and reproaches. Thus 
 unhappy in his domestic relations, made uneasy by 
 a conscience not altogether lost to a sense of his in- 
 fidelities, Alexander sought to obtain forgetfulness 
 in the pursuit of " glory." He offered his services 
 to the Marquis de Bouille, who had recently arrived 
 from Martinique, with extensive schemes against 
 the English colonies. From his uncle, the Due de 
 La Rochefoucauld, he received a letter warmly 
 recommending him for the position of aide-de-camp ; 
 but failing to secure the coveted situation, he re- 
 solved to volunteer. On the last of September, 
 1782, he sailed from Brest, arriving at Martinique 
 in November, where he was well received by the 
 La-Pagerie family. 
 
 M. Tascher, Josephine's father, had only returned 
 from France at the beginning of the year, and had 
 been the unhappy bearer of ill-tidings to his wife of 
 their daughter's infelicities. Madame Tascher at 
 first received him coldly, but he made a complete 
 conquest of the Baron and his wife, the latter de- 
 claring, in a letter to her sister-in-law, that she 
 would be the happiest of women if only her own 
 son resembled the dear Alexander. As commander 
 of the port of Fort Royal, Baron de Tascher was
 
 JOSEPHINE. 95 
 
 prominent in all the affairs of the island ; those, at 
 least, of national importance. During the five 
 years from 1778-1783, Fort Koyal was the port-of- 
 call and refitting station for all those immense fleets 
 engaged in the American war of the Revolution. 
 The Baron thus indirectly contributed to the success 
 of American arms, for he received and successively 
 entertained the ships of the Comte d'Estaing, going 
 to the United States, and which remained for six 
 months in Martinique waters ; the squadron of 
 Lamothe-Piquet, obliged to repair here the damages 
 received in glorious action in that same bay of Fort 
 Royal ; that of the Comte de Guichen (who had 
 been engaged by Rodney) ; and lastly the grand 
 squadron of the Comte de Grasse, which had made 
 this port its general rendezvous. Since the depart- 
 ure of Josephine, two great naval battles had been 
 fought off Martinique ; one within sight of her home. 
 It was in April, 1780, that the English fleet under 
 Rodney narrowly escaped defeat, after a most des- 
 perate battle, in Martinique waters. On April 
 twelfth, 1782, occurred that terrible naval -engage- 
 ment between Rodney and de Grasse, off the coast 
 of Dominica, an island adjacent to Martinique, 
 which lasted from seven in the morning till six at 
 night, and in which the British took seven French 
 ships of the line and two frigates. The boom of 
 the guns could be heard at Martinique, and the 
 crippled fleet returned hither for repairs.* In some 
 
 * See Appendix (5).
 
 96 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 of these stirring scenes the Baron was a participant, 
 and with all the great captains and admirals of the 
 French fleet he was on terms of intimate friendship. 
 But, although Alexander was burning to distin- 
 guish himself, and must have been stirred to frenzy 
 by the accounts from the lips of the actors in this 
 bloody drama, yet he was compelled to await the 
 outcome of events, ingloriously inactive. The 
 peace of January, 1783, and the treaty of Versailles, 
 put an end to all warlike preparations ; and thus 
 his voyage had been in vain ; unkind fate had 
 thwarted his desires. It has been stated that the 
 Vicomte de Beauharnais accompanied Rochambeau 
 to America ; but there is no authentic record of 
 such action ; in fact, although such may have been 
 his intention, on his departure for Martinique, it 
 was never consummated. 
 
 During this period of enforced idleness his natural 
 levity did not fail to assert itself, for he had a 
 liaison with a woman of loose character, who was 
 at enmity with the house of La-Pagerie. By her 
 influence, he was incited to open rupture with M. 
 Tascher, and his jealousy excited against his wife, 
 left free and alone in gay and dissolute Paris. In 
 an interview with his father-in-law he boastfully 
 announced his intention of sailing for France, where 
 he would henceforth be the master in his own house, 
 and would call his wife to strict account. And this, 
 notwithstanding the last packet had brought him 
 news that should have inclined him towards his
 
 A WATERFALL NEAR JOSEPHINE'S BIRTHPLACE.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 97 
 
 wife : the birth of a daughter (Hortense) 10th of 
 April, 1783. 
 
 The patience of the La-Pageries was at last 
 exhausted. Indignant at the conduct of this un- 
 faithful son-in-law towards one who was more pre- 
 cious to him than his own life, M. Tascher wrote 
 the recreant husband a letter full of reproaches, 
 distinctly throwing down the gauntlet, offering to 
 take back his daughter, for fear she might come to 
 want, and to save her from the indignities to which 
 she was exposed. He closed with the bitter taunt 
 that the only war Alexander had made, in this boast- 
 ful campaign of his, was against the reputation of 
 adefenseless woman and the peace of her family. 
 This merited reproach rankled in the heart of the 
 offender, and exasperated him to such a degree that, 
 immediately upon arrival in Paris, he came to an 
 open rupture with his wife, notwithstanding the 
 intercession of his father and godmother, who in 
 vain urged the claims, not alone of the mother, but 
 of the children. 
 
 His rage and wounded vanity prompted him to 
 demand a legal separation, the first steps toward 
 which he immediately instituted. 
 
 Proudly conscious of her own integrity, and sus- 
 tained by the sympathies of the Viscount's own 
 family, Josephine withdrew to the shelter of a 
 convent, after the custom of the time. Within the 
 seclusion of Panthemont, she awaited the decision of 
 the court, which was entirely in her favor ; the care 
 of Eugene seems to have been given to the father, 
 7
 
 98 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 but Josephine retained the custody of her daughter, 
 and to mother and child a sufficient alimony for their 
 maintenance was adjudged. 
 
 The Creole mistress is said to have followed Beau- 
 harnais to Paris, and she alone adhered to him ; his 
 entire family, including his father, his elder brother, 
 and his aunt, the Countess Fanny de Beauharnais, 
 espoused the cause of Josephine and rallied to her 
 side with redoubled attentions and solicitude.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 99 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MARTINIQUE REVISITED. 
 
 THE La-Pageries were rejoiced at the prospect of 
 once more receiving their absent daughter at 
 Sannois, and urged her to sail immediately for Mar- 
 tinique. But for the urgent entreaties of the 
 Marquis de Beauharnais, doubtless Josephine would 
 have sought the haven of peace at Sannois, for her 
 perturbed spirit needed rest and seclusion. It may 
 have been owing to this desire of her father-in-law 
 to afford her a retreat that the Marquis left the 
 house in the rue Thevenot and hired a residence 
 at Fontainebleau, in August, 1785. The Viscount, 
 furious at his defeat, yet ashamed of the ignoble 
 part he had played, had rejoined his regiment, fall- 
 ing back into the career which had been inter- 
 rupted by the unfortunate voyage to Martinique. 
 
 At Fontainebleau Josephine resumed the monot- 
 onous routine of domestic duties, the placid state of 
 existence into which her husband had burst, like a 
 hurricane ; and as, after the storm, there is always a 
 lull, or calm, so now into her life came an interval of 
 repose. Her aunt sold her home at Noisy and came 
 to live near her, as also the Countess Fanny de Beau- 
 harnais, the devoted godmother of Hortense. At
 
 100 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Fontainebleau, then, the afflicted wife was sur- 
 rounded by loving relatives, and at the head of her 
 father-in-law's household she presided with grace 
 and dignity. She lived quietly in this modest re- 
 treat, rarely going into society, her only diversions 
 being a walk through the magnificent forest or a 
 ride on horseback into the adjacent country. It was, 
 perhaps, not alone from a desire for seclusion that 
 she was impelled to lead this quiet life, since there 
 was an absolute necessity for the husbanding of her 
 resources. It appears, at this time, from her letters 
 to Martinique, that she was depending less upon her 
 husband's pension than upon remittances from home. 
 These letters, so sweet and simple, without literary 
 pretension, the unaffected productions of a good- 
 hearted, earnest woman, are still preserved in the 
 family archives. They tell us that the haughty 
 pride of M. Tascher would not allow of his daugh- 
 ter's receiving alms from one who had so deeply 
 wronged her. On the 20th May, 1787, for instance, 
 she acknowledges the receipt of 2,789 livres, at the 
 hand of her uncle, the Baron, who was on a brief 
 visit to France. He urged her to return with him 
 to their native island, but it was not till a year 
 later, in June, 1778, that she finally embarked for 
 Martinique. She may have encouraged a hope that 
 Alexander would relent and return to her, which 
 sustained her during those three years ; but if so it 
 was at last abandoned. They had not met during 
 that time, though a correspondence had passed be- 
 tween them ; mainly with reference to the children,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 101 
 
 I 
 
 it is true, but serving to keep alive the remembrance 
 of happier days. She would doubtless have received 
 him back, if only for the sake of their children ; for 
 Josephine, as Napoleon once said, had "no more re- 
 sentment than a pigeon." She remembered favors, 
 but forgot injuries, and all her troubles arose from the 
 fact that base people took advantage of this nobility 
 of nature, this magnanimity of soul, which could 
 see no evil in the acts of those who had once been 
 her friends. There is no record of any act of hers 
 proceeding from base intention, or design to injure 
 any being with whom she may have had relations. 
 She looked to the world for pleasure, for happiness, 
 gladly accepting whatever it gave her ; not taking 
 account of the evil things and the sorrow, which 
 were heaped upon her in full measure. She grieved 
 over her wrongs, but they did not spoil her lovely 
 disposition ; she never retaliated in kind. She even 
 disassociated the act from the individual ; not real- 
 izing, apparently, that evil may be inherent in a 
 person, and took back into her service servants and 
 maids who had slandered her. 
 
 This magnanimity, or rather absolute integrity 
 of intention, subjected her to misunderstanding. 
 
 The voyage to Martinique was protracted but 
 pleasant, and eventually she saw before her the 
 hills above the valley of Sannois, and was welcomed 
 by her parents to their humble dwelling. Nearly 
 nine years had passed since she left Trois-Ilets, a 
 careless, happy girl of sixteen ; to return, divorced, 
 the mother of two children worse than fatherless.
 
 102 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 In the hearts of her parents she found that love and 
 security for which she had hungered, and in the re- 
 pose of La-Pagerie she took melancholy pleasure in 
 revisiting the scenes of her childhood. In company 
 with the young Hortense, she sought out the places 
 hallowed to her by association : the bathing-pool, the 
 flower-garden which she used to cultivate with her 
 own hands ; visited with her the lowly huts of the 
 slaves, and carried to them comfort and cheer ; ex- 
 plained to her the processes of sugar-making going 
 on in the vast room under their dwelling. 
 
 The Vicomtesse remained entirely secluded, visit- 
 ing her nearest neighbors, as M. and Madame 
 Marlet, on the plantation adjoining ; on Sunday 
 attending services at the little church in the bourg, a 
 mile away, and, after the custom of that time, calling 
 on the cure, at the presbytery. It is evident that this 
 seclusion was very welcome to her, and that she 
 contemplated a long residence here, with more of 
 satisfaction than might have been expected in one 
 who had tasted the pleasures of Paris. Still, her 
 brief happiness there had been tempered by sorrow, 
 and the recollection of it embittered by the cruelties 
 of her husband . Had she but possessed the guardian- 
 ship of Eugene, there at Trois-Ilets, it is doubtful if 
 the calls from France could have tempted her to re- 
 turn. It is related that she again met the Carib 
 sibyl who had prophesied her elevation to the throne 
 of France, and who pointed out to her that while a 
 portion of that prediction had been verified, yet 
 there remained the greater height to which she was
 
 JOSEPHINE. 103 
 
 to attain, and to reach which she was to return to 
 France. 
 
 Be that as it may, she was not destined to remain 
 long quiescent in the seclusion of Sannois de La- 
 Pagerie. The premonitory mutterings of the gath- 
 ering storm in France reached Martinique, and 
 awakened quick response in the lively and turbulent 
 Creole ; the island was soon in arms, faction fight- 
 ing against faction. The convocation of the States- 
 General aroused also the people of the colonies ; the 
 demands of the people of France found an echo in 
 Martinique, which, in common with Guadeloupe and 
 Santo Domingo, was soon plunged into the horrors 
 of civil strife. The new ideas were adopted with 
 alacrity ; Fort Royal nominated as its first mayor 
 the Baron de Tascher, Josephine's uncle, who was 
 destined to take a prominent part in the approaching 
 struggle. From January, 1790, until the close of 
 the Revolution, Martinique was extremely agitated. 
 The first collision occurred on the day of the Fete 
 Dieu, 16th June, 1790, at the city of St. Pierre, be- 
 tween some whites and people of color, in which 
 several of the latter were slain. As a matter of pre- 
 caution, the ringleaders were arrested and confined 
 in Fort Bourbon ; but popular sympathy being with 
 them, they eventually seduced the soldiers guarding 
 them, and possessed themselves of the fort. They 
 turned the guns of the fort against the town, the 
 governor retired within the walls of Fort St. Louis, 
 and Baron de Tascher, sent to treat with the rebels, 
 was made prisoner and held as a hostage.
 
 104 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 The governor, fearing similar treatment at the 
 hands of the garrison of Fort St. Louis, which 
 seemed on the eve of revolt, fled to the heights of 
 Gros Morne, where he rallied about him the inhab- 
 itants of the mountain region. Meanwhile, though 
 several of her immediate family were taking an 
 active part in the revolutionary movement, Mme. de 
 Beauharnais resided peacefully at Sannois ; although 
 greatly concerned, not only for her uncle, but on ac- 
 count of the news from France, where her husband 
 had come to the front, in political affairs, and was 
 then embroiled. 
 
 With all the ardor of his impulsive nature, Beau- 
 harnais now urged his wife to join him in Paris, 
 being as anxious for a reconciliation as he was, some 
 years before, for separation. Whatever may have 
 moved him to this, there had been no change in his 
 wife. She had ever kept alive the hope for reunion, 
 although discouraged as to the prospect, and she 
 lent a willing ear to his appeals. There is no doubt 
 as to her attachment for the Viscount ; and, even 
 though his harshness had dispelled the illusions of 
 their first year of happiness, she still clung devotedly 
 to their memory. Above all, she desired that the 
 family might be reunited, in order to have her chil- 
 dren and husband once more together. Her anxiety 
 for their welfare, her tender solicitude for their 
 future, impelled her to accede to his requests, and 
 consent to seek him once again in Paris. She in- 
 formed her parents of this decision, and one may 
 'imagine their reception of this unwelcome intelli-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 105 
 
 gence, knowing as they did the unstable character of 
 her spouse, and being cognizant of his many infidel- 
 ities. Her mother, who had received her first-born 
 with extreme gladness, and had hoped she would live 
 with her always, entreated her to stay ; not to leave 
 that habitation of peace to plunge into the dreadful 
 vortex of the Revolution. The father, then suffer- 
 ing from the sickness that carried him to the grave, 
 maintained a dignified silence, but he was pierced to 
 the heart by her apparent ingratitude. In view of 
 the brutal treatment she had received at his hands, 
 and his insulting attitude towards her father and 
 the entire family, this decision of Josephine's to re- 
 turn to her husband seemed to them inexplicable. 
 Although one cannot but deprecate her attitude 
 towards her parents, who had sacrificed so much for 
 her welfare, yet one cannot withhold admiration at 
 her courage and devotion to that which she seemed 
 to consider her duty. The situation in Martinique 
 was not devoid of danger, but was tranquil, com- 
 pared to the condition of Paris, where, as frequent 
 rumors indicated plainly to them, events were 
 hastening to the inevitable and terrible catastrophe. 
 After the flight of the governor from Fort Royal, 
 a revolutionary government was organized, a na- 
 tional guard formed, and another mayor chosen in 
 the place of Baron de Tascher, still a prisoner in 
 Fort Bourbon. There were four ships of war in the 
 bay, the commander of which decided to sail for 
 France, instead of mingling in the civil strife ; and 
 learning that Mme. de Beauharnais desired to secure
 
 106 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 a passage for the mother country, he offered her the 
 hospitality of his flag-ship, " La Sensible." He had 
 often been a guest at La-Pagerie, and was but re- 
 paying a debt of hospitality in kind. Josephine 
 gratefully accepted the offer, and hastened her prep- 
 arations for departure. At last the signal was set 
 for sailing ; at the shore of Trois-Ilets were gathered 
 all the friends of her youth ; her father and mother, 
 whom she was never to see again. The commander 
 of the squadron had made his preparations so far as 
 possible in secret, for fear of detention ; and as it 
 was, when the final signal was set, the revolution- 
 ists became alarmed and demanded that the fleet 
 remain in the harbor. Word was instantly sent to 
 Fort Bourbon, which trained its guns upon the flag- 
 ship. The boat which had conveyed Josephine and 
 Hortense from the shore was hastily taken on board, 
 and the fleet set sail. From the guns of Fort Bour- 
 bon a rain of shot descended around the ships, in 
 the midst of which they made their departure from 
 the port. It was a strange fate which ordained that 
 the Baron de Tascher should be compelled to witness 
 his niece depart under fire from the guns of the fort 
 in which he was confined a prisoner, and which her 
 own father had aided to construct, twenty-eight years 
 before. Yet it was so fated. The little fleet finally 
 escaped beyond the range of the guns, and the Baron, 
 as well as the anxious watchers at Trois-Ilets, had 
 the melancholy satisfaction of seeing the ships disap- 
 pear with full sails into the horizon. 
 
 Josephine's departure was in the month of Sep-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 107 
 
 teraber, 1790, and her arrival in France, and at 
 Paris, where she was joyfully received by Beauhar- 
 nais, followed in due course. The story so often re- 
 lated : that she returned on board a merchant vessel, 
 and in great straits, not having means with which 
 to pay for her passage, is refuted by the evidence 
 of contemporary letters, which show that she, on 
 the contrary, was the honored guest of the nation, 
 and made her last voyage to France on a ship of the 
 State. As she was there by invitation of its com- 
 mander, the presumption is that her passage was 
 free ; and that she was not impoverished is shown by 
 the remittance at various times during her stay in 
 Martinique, of the aggregate sum of 17,403 francs, 
 to her aunt, in repajnnent of loans from that rela- 
 tive. Again, although the affairs of M. Tascher 
 were not in a prosperous condition, still, what is 
 known of his integrity and lofty character, forbids 
 the assumption that he would allow his daughter 
 and the heir to his estates, to return to her husband 
 destitute. 
 
 This devoted parent, whose whole life had been 
 one long struggle with untoward circumstances, 
 finally succumbed to adverse fortune, and survived 
 his daughter's departure less than two months. 
 
 He died from the disease with which he was suf- 
 fering at the time of her visit, and which was doubt- 
 less aggravated by her abandonment, on the sixth 
 of November, 1790, lamented by all who knew him 
 in the colony. One year from that time, almost to 
 a day, the only surviving child deceased, the young-
 
 108 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 est sister of Josephine, Marie Frangoise ; thus the 
 aged mother was left alone, on that solitary estate 
 among the hills of Trois-Ilets. 
 
 This mother appears to have been a worn an of un- 
 common fortitude and elevated character. She 
 lived here a life of seclusion, till her death in 1807, 
 her latter years embittered by the recollection of 
 filial ingratitude ; indifferent to the grandeur that 
 surrounded her daughter after she had become the 
 wife of Napoleon, and attended only by a single 
 servitor. 
 
 Respecting her lonely life on the estate, there are 
 some traditions extant, which show that it was not 
 without its perils. She was waited upon by a foster- 
 sister of Josephine, to whom the family had been 
 particularly attached. This young woman expected 
 to be set free, but not being manumitted at the 
 expected time, she tried to murder Mme. Tascher, by 
 putting pounded glass in a dish of peas she had 
 prepared for her. Her mistress was warned only 
 just in time, having raised the spoon to her lips. 
 She strove to shield the girl, who confessed the 
 intended crime, by sending her to the island of St. 
 Thomas ; but was unable to save her life, the council 
 condemning her to be burned alive. This was not 
 an unusual sentence, in those barbarous times, just 
 preceding the Revolution ; and the unfortunate 
 girl suffered the horrible penalty.* See Appendix, 6. 
 
 * The foregoing is based upon the records of the La-Pagerie 
 family, " Archives de la Maison de Tascher," upon the registers 
 still extant in the city hall of Fort de France, and upon the traditions,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 109 
 
 In her Memoirs, Josephine says: "I had long 
 ago entreated my mother to come and settle in 
 France, and had held out to her the most nattering 
 prospects. Napoleon himself had promised to re- 
 ceive her with the greatest distinction. ' I shall 
 treat her nobly,' he said, 'and I am sure she will 
 better sustain the honors of her rank than a certain 
 lady of my household,' " Madame Letitia, who was 
 very parsimonious. But Mme. de La-Pagerie would 
 not accede to her daughter's wishes, and even if 
 she did not prefer the quiet abode at Trois-Ilet, 
 had many doubts as to the stability of Josephine's 
 fortunes. 
 
 She once wrote her: . . . "While awaiting the 
 pleasure of seeing you again, I confine myself to 
 the preservation for you of a safe retreat from the 
 
 of the descendants of the La-Pagerie slaves. The author possesses 
 a fac-simile copy of the marriage-register of Josephine's parents, and 
 in the parish records of Trois-Ilets are the "Acts of Birth " and " Acts 
 of Interment" of the Empress's sisters, as follows : 
 
 " 1763, July 27th. . . I have this day baptized a girl, aged five weeks, 
 daughter in legitimate marriage of M. Joseph-Gaspard de Tascher, 
 Chevalier Seigneur de La-Pagerie, and Mme. Marie-Rose Des Vergers 
 de Sannois, its father and mother ; she has been named Marie- Joseph- 
 Rose," etc. 
 
 " Frere Emanuel, Capucin, Cure." 
 
 "1765, Jan. 21, Catherine Desiree, a daughter, born llth Dec., 
 preceding." 1767, April 6th, " Marie-Francoise, born 3d Sept., 
 1766." 1777, 16th Oct., " I have buried in the cemetery of this parish, 
 the body of demoiselle Catherine Desiree de La-Pagerie, aged 13 
 years." 1791, 5th Nov. . . "I have buried in the cemetery of this 
 parish, the body of Marie- Joseph-Rose," etc. This was a mistake 
 in the name, that of the eldest daughter, Josephine, having been 
 taken for that of the third, and youngest, Marie-Francoise. . .
 
 110 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 tempests which environ you on every side. . . . 
 Were you here, I should have nothing else to desire 
 in the world. Oh, that I could once more press you 
 to my heart, before death overtakes me." Seeing 
 this letter, Napoleon is said to have remarked : . . . 
 " I perceive that Madame de La- Pagerie, like my- 
 self, will permit no participation. She wants to 
 reign alone. Very well ; 1 will some day establish 
 her as a sovereign in America, and furnish her with 
 a code of laws for the new nation." 
 
 Madame Tascher proudly refused all offers of 
 assistance from the Empress, and even returned 
 the diamonds which adorned a picture Josephine had 
 sent her of herself. She kept the portrait, however, 
 always before her, according it better treatment 
 than one of the Emperor, which she hung in an 
 unfrequented room, laughingly declaring that she 
 was afraid of its influence over her. 
 
 At the time of her demise, when Josephine was at 
 the height of her glorious career, the etiquette of 
 Napoleon's court forbade her to wear mourning or 
 to display any sign of grief, so she was compelled to 
 dissemble her sorrow and mourn in secret this 
 mother whose life had been devoted to her welfare 
 from the time of her birth. 
 
 The mother of the Empress lived for many years 
 in the chambers of what had been originally a wing 
 of the " great-house," destroyed by a hurricane in 
 1766, and used as the kitchen. Here she died ; 
 from this rude dwelling she was borne across the 
 fields of the estate to the little church at Trois-
 
 STATUE OF JOSEPHINE, FORT DE FRANCE.
 
 JOSEPHINE. Ill 
 
 Ilets, where one may now find a tablet to her mem- 
 ory : 
 
 "Ci-Qit 
 
 THE VENERABLE MADAME 
 
 ROSE CLAIRE DUVERGER DE SANNOIS, 
 
 WIDOW OF MESSEBE J. G. TASCHER DE LA-PAGERIE, 
 
 MOTHER OF HER MAJESTY THE EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH, 
 
 DIED THE SECOND DAY OF JUNE, MDCCCVII., 
 
 AT THE AGE OF LXXI. YEARS, 
 PROVIDED WITH THE SACRAMENTS OF THE CHURCH. 
 
 IN this little church at Trois-Ilets where Josephine 
 and her sisters were baptized, all that was earthly 
 of her sainted mother was laid at rest. In the 
 cemetery adjoining, stretching down to the sea- 
 side, are the graves of her two sisters and her father. 
 And these are the remaining memorials, in that 
 solitary place so far from the shores of France, 
 of those who in life comprised the family of Jose- 
 phine de La-Pagerie, one-time daughter of Mar- 
 tinique, and later Empress of the French. 
 
 Three miles away across the shining waters of 
 Fort Royal Bay, stands a statue of Josephine, one 
 of the most beautiful sculptures of modern times. 
 On its pedestal are bas-reliefs representing the im- 
 portant events of her life, chief of which is the Cor- 
 onation. The left hand of the Empress rests upon 
 a medallion-portrait of Napoleon, in the right are 
 gathered the folds of her robe, which drapes a figure 
 majestic and graceful. The beautiful head is adorned 
 with the crown which Bonaparte placed upon her 
 brow ; the sweet face, with its expression of wistful
 
 112 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 yearning, is turned toward La-Pagerie, the home of 
 her childhood. Surrounding the statue are en- 
 circling palms, the glorious oreodoxas, natives of 
 this island of Martinique. 
 
 And through the mists of time, we see her thus : 
 her face turned wistfully to the happy home where 
 her only peaceful years were passed, where alone 
 she found surcease from the turmoil and the ter- 
 rors of revolutionary France. That country may 
 claim her, as closely identified with the career of 
 the great Napoleon, but to America belongs the 
 formative epoch of her life, when that character 
 was shaped, which crystallized into the woman 
 known and loved as JOSEPHINE.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 113 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A LOYAL SON OP FRANCE. 
 
 JOYFULLY received by the Viscount, Josephine 
 was conducted to his house in the rue de 1'Univer- 
 site, where she found herself in a different society 
 from that she had left. During the next four years 
 she was to live amid scenes for which her previous 
 peaceful life at Martinique had by no means pre- 
 pared her. She was at once plunged into the tu- 
 mults of the Revolution ; but at the outset, and 
 through all that trying period of strife, she con- 
 ducted herself with a tact and sagacity that does 
 her infinite credit. Surrounded as she was by people 
 who played an important part in the regeneration 
 of France, and often admitted to deliberations of 
 the most important character, yet she never sought 
 to play the role of politician ; which indeed was to 
 her repugnant. 
 
 She was content to maintain the dignity of her 
 salon, and to receive with graciousness the various 
 guests who gathered for the discussion of political 
 affairs. Among these were the Marquis de Lafa- 
 yette, d'Aiguillon, de Crillon, d' Andre, d'Montes- 
 quieu, d'Biron ; in fact all the military aristocracy 
 of the Constitutional party. The leaders, also, of
 
 114 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 that party : Barnave, Chapelier, Mounier, Thou ret, 
 and many others. She was then but twenty -seven 
 years of age, and still in the freshness of her youth- 
 ful prime ; light-hearted, animated, and with a 
 polish of manner acquired by her intercourse with 
 the best of Parisian society. Among the intimate 
 friends of that time she could reckon some of the 
 most distinguished representatives of the oldest 
 families ; as the Count de Montmorency, the devoted 
 colleague of her husband in the Assembly ; his rela- 
 tive and former colonel, the Duke de La Eochefou- 
 cauld ; the Marquis de Caulaincourt ; the Prince de 
 Salm-Kirbourg, and the Princess de Hohenzollern. 
 
 Her aunt, Mme. de Eenaudin, and the Countess 
 Fanny de Beauharnais, were frequent visitors at 
 the little house in University Street, and she had 
 engaged a governess for Hortense, whose education 
 was thus carried on under her own supervision, 
 while at the same time Eugene was studying at the 
 college of Louis le Grand. The sad news of the 
 death of her father quickly followed her return to 
 France, and in the midst of her grief she was called 
 upon to witness, and not alone to witness but to par- 
 ticipate in, a series of events which, while contrib- 
 uting to the overthrow of society, also vitally affect- 
 ed her own future. For three years henceforward, 
 her own history is inextricably interwoven with 
 that of her husband ; the biography of the one is 
 almost that of the other. 
 
 They were now cordially united, and, the one 
 forgiving, the other remorseful, were equally de-
 
 THE TRAVELER'S TREE AND SHRINE.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 115 
 
 termined to bury the past in the grave of oblivion. 
 Not even her children knew the extent of their 
 father's dereliction. 
 
 Alexander de Beauharnais, a native by birth of 
 Martinique, but early adopted by France, possessed, 
 as we have seen, all the ardent nature of the trop- 
 ical Creole, unchanged by transportation to a more 
 temperate clime, and for many years undisciplined 
 by adversities. 
 
 At the age of ten, in company with his elder 
 brother and their preceptor, he was sent to Ger- 
 many, where he passed two years at Heidelberg, 
 then going to Blois, to live awhile with his mater- 
 nal grandmother, the Countess de Chastule. At 
 the age of sixteen he entered the army, and was 
 assigned to a regiment commanded by a cousin of 
 his mother, the Due de La Rochefoucauld. He was 
 attentive to his duties and docile, but lively and 
 imaginative, of a happy disposition and greatly 
 liked by his comrades. His figure was elegant, his 
 manners perfect, and he was noted for his stylish 
 presence, even in a time of exquisite and elegant 
 fashions. 
 
 Early in the year 1778, the regiment of the Due 
 de la Rochefoucauld was sent to Bretagne, with the 
 intention of going to America, with Rochambeau ; 
 but there is no evidence that the young officer ac- 
 companied that famous general who so materially 
 aided Washington in his victories over the British. 
 He sojourned a while at Brest, and was there 
 advised of the death of Desiree de La-Pagerie.
 
 116 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 The following year, 1779, he was united in mar- 
 riage to Josephine ; his subsequent career we have 
 traced, until his return to France, after the ill- 
 starred visit to Martinique, and finally the reconcil- 
 iation. 
 
 Although by birth a scion of nobility, yet he was 
 above all a patriot, and at the outbreak of the Rev- 
 olution thought he could see in it the regeneration 
 of France. He embraced the popular cause, and 
 yet was a supporter of the constitutional party ; 
 wishing to reform, and not to destroy, still he was 
 carried away by the revolutionary wave, though 
 protesting, and aghast at the sanguinary conse- 
 quences. 
 
 At the convocation of the Three Estates, in April, 
 1789, Beauharnais was elected a deputy by the 
 nobles of Blois ; but was among the first of his 
 order to join the tiers-etat. He was bold and out- 
 spoken, sometimes carried away by the ardency of 
 his nature ; but on the whole wise, and above all 
 patriotic. He loved the army, and civic honors had 
 no attraction for him, save as they contributed to 
 the welfare of his country. While his wife was en- 
 route to France, in 1790, he had courageously de- 
 fended the conduct of the general commanding the 
 army on the Rhine frontier, M. de Bouille, for his 
 stern repressal of the praBtorian insurrection at 
 Nancy, and in conjunction with Mirabeau had 
 introduced a resolution into the assembly approving 
 the general's course and complimenting him for his 
 bravery. That same brave Bouille, at one time
 
 JOSEPHINE. 117 
 
 governor of Martinique, and who had wrested from 
 English rule several of the Caribbean islands ; the 
 "Bronze General," who had stood immovable for 
 hours, with drawn sword, facing enraged soldiers 
 of his command ; the determined loyalist, " the last 
 refuge of the king " in his vain flight towards the 
 frontier, in 1791 ; finally compelled to leave the 
 country he had so long defended, to save his own 
 life. The loyalty and the defection of Bouille cast 
 reflection upon his friends, and added to the sum of 
 suspicions subsequently accumulated against Beau- 
 harnais. But nevertheless he defended him, loyal to 
 the military, to his friends ; and still a patriot. 
 
 He was twice elected president of the Assembly, 
 and at the flight of Louis XVI. in June, 1791, he 
 found himself, by this defection of the king, " occu- 
 pying the chief place in the nation. " He was master 
 of the situation, rose to the demands of the hour. 
 The morning after the royal flight, he called the As- 
 sembly to order, and, with grave and serious air, 
 stated that he had information to communicate of 
 the greatest importance. He then informed his col- 
 leagues that the king and the royal family had fled, 
 or had been abducted by enemies of the public safety. 
 The confusion was tumultuous, the excitement in- 
 tense ; but, during the heated debate that followed, 
 and the terrible suspense as to the actions of the 
 king and his retreat, during all the popular disturb- 
 ances, Beauharnais presided over the deliberations 
 of the National Assembly with dignity and firmness. 
 He won the regard of all, and when he resigned his
 
 118 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 high office, on the third of July, it was amid the en- 
 thusiastic plaudits of his colleagues. He was re- 
 elected on the thirty-first, and under his presidency 
 was accomplished the most important business of 
 the Assembly : the revision, co-ordination, and defin- 
 itive vote upon the new Constitution of France. 
 
 The discussion opened on the fifth of August, and 
 after having given birth, as it were, to this Consti- 
 tution which, in the estimation of some, deserved to 
 endure for centuries, but did not survive its pro- 
 jectors the Assembly dissolved. Desirous of re- 
 pose after his arduous duties, the Vicomte retired, 
 with his wife and children, to the seclusion of his 
 country retreat, the Ferte Beauharnais. 
 
 But the time for repose had not yet arrived. The 
 suicidal acts of the French had enraged all Europe ; 
 the gauntlet of war had been accepted ; the country 
 was declared to be in danger, and the young men 
 flocked to the camps, more attracted by the prospect 
 of military glory than in love with fratricidal war- 
 fare. 
 
 The first armies sent to the frontier to repel the 
 invaders were under the command of Luckner and 
 Eochambeau, and to the command of the latter Beau- 
 harnais was attached. At the time of leaving the 
 Ferte Beauharnais for the frontier, he wrote to his 
 father, stating his desire to assist in restoring tran- 
 quillity to France, and in repelling the enemies of 
 his country, and imploring his paternal sanction. 
 This letter is dated the 17th January, 1792 ; his 
 father responded duly, bestowing upon him his
 
 JOSEPHINE. 119 
 
 blessing and approving his course. At the same 
 time, his eldest son, Francois, was in the army of 
 the Conde, opposed to the patriot army ; and he was 
 classed as an emigre until the second consulate. 
 Alexander was at once promoted to the rank of Chef- 
 d'etat Major, under General Biron, and entered upon 
 his duties with enthusiasm. Meanwhile, in order 
 to comprehend clearly the course of events that led 
 to his subsequent promotion and arrest, let us glance 
 at a brief summary of revolutionary events. 
 
 As the world has known now for more than a cent- 
 ury, the pressure of affairs had compelled the King 
 of France, Louis XVI. , to summon the nobles of his 
 realm to his assistance. They met in February, 
 1787 ; but, unwilling to submit to a taxation of the 
 privileged classes, in order to raise the revenue for 
 meeting the enormous deficit, their assembly was 
 dissolved in May. Two years later, yielding to the 
 popular clamor, Louis convoked the States-General 
 (1789) the first assembling of the peoples' represent- 
 atives since 1614. The result is known : that the 
 remedy was worse than the disease ; the clergy and 
 nobles refused to make any concessions to the tiers- 
 etat ; the people for the first time were convinced 
 that they could conquer by force. 
 
 With Mirabeau's answer to the king's attempt at 
 suppression: "We are here by the power of the 
 people, and we will not be driven hence save by the
 
 120 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 power of the bayonet," the key-note of Revolution 
 was sounded. The whole revolution, says Mme. 
 de Stael, " was but audacity on the one side, and 
 fear on the other." But it was the audacity of a 
 long-suffering and outraged people, and the fear of 
 a degenerate nobility. The ' ' powder- tower about 
 which unquenchable flame was smoldering " was 
 at last on fire. In July took place the popular up- 
 rising of Paris, on the fourteenth of that month the 
 attack on the Bastile ; a national guard was formed 
 and entrusted to the command of Lafayette ; in 
 August the Assembly enacted the abolishment of 
 all feudal rights and privileges, and declared the 
 "rights of man : " measures accepted by the king, 
 with the right of suspensive veto ; Oct. 5th witnessed 
 the invasion of Versailles by the Paris mob and 
 the next day the return of the king to the capital, 
 at the mercy of the mob, barely held in check by 
 Lafayette. 
 
 The year 1790, February, the king appeared in the 
 Assembly, and on the fourteenth of July, he took 
 oath to support the new constitution. On that date 
 took place what Carlyle has termed the " great 
 swear," when, on the Champ de Mars, the Pres- 
 ident of the National Assembly swore (je lejure) to 
 support the king and the constitution ; the people- 
 all France, swore, to the remotest province, as spon- 
 taneously as the preceding, and succeeding, out- 
 breaks had spread. 
 
 This year saw the rise of the revolutionary giants : 
 Dan ton, Marat, Mirabeau, Desmoulins, and many
 
 JOSEPHINE. 121 
 
 others, who led the movement awhile, then fell be- 
 neath the axe of the guillotine. Upon the frontier 
 ihe'emigres were gathering, and the coalition of the 
 Powers was being formed for the invasion of France. 
 The death of Mirabeau, in April, 1791, destroyed 
 whatever hope the king may have derived from his 
 anticipated defection ; the cause of monarchy was 
 lost, and he essayed to escape from France by flight, 
 on the 20th of June. He was intercepted at Va- 
 rennes, when almost within sight of the frontier, 
 where Bouille was awaiting him, to conduct him 
 within the lines of the emigres. The king was taken 
 back to Paris, and Bouille crossed the frontier, nar- 
 rowly escaping with his life. 
 
 The Assembly was now supreme, the king offi- 
 cially dead, although by the constitution of Septem- 
 ber, that year, he was nominally the executive and 
 still held the power of suspensive veto. This power 
 he undertook to assert in the veto of the measures of 
 the next legislative assembly, declaring the emigres 
 guilty of high treason, and against the recalcitrant 
 priests. The flame of insurrection had extended 
 to the colonies of France, especially in the West 
 Indies, where the blacks of Hayti and Santo Domingo 
 were committing atrocious massacres. The situa- 
 tion there may be given in a sentence, in the reply 
 of the chief Oge, to one of the white judges : Tak- 
 ing some black powder in his hand, he spread over it 
 a quantity of flour, saying : ' ' Now they are white. " 
 Shaking his hand, then opening it, he said : ' ' Where 
 now are the whites ? Ou sont les Blancs f "
 
 122 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 In the midst of these alarms, how many times 
 must it have occurred to Josephine, thinking of 
 her mother and relatives, in far-distant Martinique : 
 Where now are the whites ? 
 
 At the opening of the year 1792, the Girondists 
 were in power ; an army of 160,000 men was raised 
 by vote of the Assembly, and in April war was 
 declared against Austria ; the conflict of France 
 with the outside powers was fairly begun, not to end 
 for twenty years, and until nearly two million of 
 her sons perished upon the battle-field. Again 
 and again, the hydra-headed populace rose to 
 the surface of affairs and compelled both King and 
 Assembly to listen. Armed with pikes, on the 
 twentieth of June, a mob broke into the royal 
 palace, in defiance of national guards ; on the tenth 
 of August, the insurrection occurred which drove 
 Louis from the Tuileries into the arms of the 
 assembly, and ended in the massacre of the Swiss 
 guard. Thenceforth a prisoner, the king was dead 
 to the people ; stripped of power, a monarch without 
 a crown. 
 
 The country had been declared in danger, in July, 
 and an appeal sent forth for an universal uprising 
 to repel the Prussian invaders, then rapidly advanc- 
 ing. The country responded as one man, from 
 center to circumference being in violent agitation, 
 armed and alert. The proclamation of the Duke of 
 Brunswick, hastening to the release of the king, 
 sealed the fate of both king and ci-devant nobility. 
 The property of the emigres had already been seized ;
 
 JOSEPHINE. 123 
 
 now their lives were in danger, even though they 
 might have declared for France, and were fighting 
 for their country against the invaders. They were 
 declared "suspects," or under suspicion of conspir- 
 ing against the welfare of the country. By "sus- 
 pect," their orders of arrest explained, with dia- 
 bolical vagueness, is meant all who ' ' by their manner, 
 by their family relations or connections, by their 
 speech or writings, have shown themselves partisans 
 of tyranny and the enemies of liberty ; particularly 
 all the ci-devant nobles, their wives, mothers, fathers, 
 sons and daughters, brother or sisters ; as well as all 
 agents of emigres, who have given constant proof 
 of their attachment to royalty." Comprehensive 
 enough, in sooth, and few escaped the clutches of 
 the revolutionary hell-hounds, who had not already 
 sought safety over the frontiers. Even Lafayette, 
 the popular idol, who had so ably controlled the 
 mobs of Paris, after being sent to the front, where 
 he won several victories over the Austrians, was 
 summoned back by the Jacobins to stand trial, 
 which meant death, and to escape which he fled 
 across the frontier and into the arms of the Aus- 
 trians, who kept him five years a prisoner in loath- 
 some dungeons. Like Lafayette, a patriot-noble, 
 Beauharnais served well in the army ; like him, 
 also, he was summoned, in due season, to answer 
 charges of treason. " In the beginning of 1789, a 
 splendor and .terror still surrounded the nobility. 
 The conflagration of their chateaus, kindled by 
 months of obstinacy, went out after the fourth of
 
 124 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 August, and might have continued out, had they at 
 all known what to defend, and what to relinquish 
 as indefensible." 
 
 Repeated reports of Prussian advance and French 
 losses filled the populace with fury, causing them to 
 commit the most terrible excesses, and culminating 
 in the massacres of the second of September, when 
 bodies of armed men broke into the prisons where 
 the suspects were confined, and murdered above a 
 thousand in cold blood, among them many priests, 
 and women of gentle birth, as the Princess de 
 Lamballe, one " beautiful, good, who yet had known 
 no happiness," who was hacked to pieces, and her head 
 fixed on a pike, that Marie Antoinette might see it. 
 The September massacres of St. Bartholomew, two 
 hundred years before, found almost a parallel in 
 these, "when innocence and beauty were sacrificed to 
 insensate rage, and daughters saved their fathers 
 only by drinking the blood of aristocrats. 
 
 With what sorrow and shudderings must the 
 Beauharnais have heard of this hell-carnival, in 
 which friends went down to death, and some of their 
 own relatives were killed. The good Duke de Roche- 
 foucauld, who had been as a second father to Alex- 
 ander, was murdered in the presence of his wife and 
 aged mother, his blood bespattering their cheeks. 
 His nephew, the Count Charles de Rohan-Chabot, 
 an intimate friend of the family, was murdered at 
 the abbey ; and thus the tale might be told, but 
 could not then be uttered, from fear that the next 
 "suspect " might be one of themselves.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 125 
 
 The desperate valor of the French army under 
 Dumouriez finally turned the advance of the Prus- 
 rians into a retreat, and the country breathed more 
 freely ; but did not relax its persecution of the sus- 
 pects. In the newly-elected national convention of 
 the 21st September the more violent of the agitators, 
 the Jacobins, were in the ascendant, their section, 
 known as the " Mountain," and representing the 
 extremists, far out-numbering the moderates, or 
 Girondists. On September 25th France was pro- 
 claimed a republic, and in December proceedings 
 were instituted against the king which resulted in 
 a sentence of death. Thus, in the course of the 
 year 1Y92, Paris had accomplished the humiliation 
 of royalty ; the downfall of the aristocracy ; the 
 elevation of the Jacobins to power, with the cor- 
 responding defeat of the Girondists ; and the proc- 
 lamation of the republic. 
 
 We have little information of the movements of 
 Mme. de Beauharnais, during this sad and eventful 
 year. Accustomed, however, from infancy, to- re- 
 gard the sovereigns with respect, even with rever- 
 ence, she could not but have been profoundly affected 
 by their misfortunes, and have wept over their un- 
 happy fate. At the same time, she was rejoiced 
 that her husband was remote from the center of 
 sanguinary civil strife and the terrible guillotine ; 
 though well aware that he was not beyond the 
 reach of their enemies. 
 
 It is a matter of regret that we do not possess the 
 correspondence of husband and wife, during this
 
 126 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 period, when trouble and sorrow, shared in com- 
 mon, must have brought their hearts very close to- 
 gether in mutual sympathy. 
 
 The execution of the king, on the 20th of Janu- 
 ary, 1793, brought upon France the execrations 
 of the world, hastened the movements of the co- 
 alition, provoked the royalist insurrection of the 
 Vendee, and filled the distracted country with dis- 
 sensions: But it united the party in the ascendant, 
 which took to itself the credit of the French suc- 
 cesses on the frontiers, and gave birth to the revolu- 
 tionary tribunal and the terrible "Committee of 
 Safety," invested with absolute power over the 
 lives and property of the people. Ingratitude and 
 suspicion could go no farther than it was carried by 
 this central tribunal, which rewarded bravery with 
 insult and contumely, and patriotism by dishonor 
 and death. The brave Custine, who had succeeded 
 to Brion, after his great successes in the Palatinate, 
 had been compelled to withdraw into French terri- 
 tory, leaving behind him twenty thousand French 
 invested in Mayence. The committee at once re- 
 called him, and gave the command to Beauharnais, 
 who, at the age of thirty-three, found himself 
 General-in-Chief of the Army of the Rhine. 
 
 He was charged with the onerous task of retriev- 
 ing the territory lost by his predecessor, at the same 
 time he was hampered by the commands of the 
 terrible Committee, which not only presumed to 
 dictate his movements, but to prescribe victories, 
 without furnishing him the men and material of
 
 JOSEPHINE. 127 
 
 war. The General did not dissimulate to Josephine 
 the gravity of his situation, of which she was fully 
 aware from her own observation. His appointment 
 was confirmed in May ; in June the leaders of the 
 Girondists were arrested by the Jacobins, and 
 Beauharnais, as a sympathizer with their party and 
 principles, was suspected. Still, he hoped by feat- 
 of-arms to earn the gratitude of his country and 
 save his family from ruin, and had confidence that 
 the rectitude of his course would be recognized. In 
 this confidence his wife did not share, as is shown 
 by her attempt to provide for the safety of their 
 children, by committing them to the care of the 
 Princess de Hohenzollern, who, with her brother, 
 had formed the project of taking refuge in England. 
 In anticipation of this event, the children spent 
 several days with the Princess at her residence in 
 Artois, and a letter has been preserved, written at 
 this time to Hortense 
 
 " MY DEAREST DAUGHTER : 
 
 " Thy letter gave me great pleasure, my dear 
 Hortense. I am sensible of thy regrets at being 
 separated from your mamma, my child ; but it 
 is not for a long time, for I expect the Princess 
 to return in the spring, when we shall again be 
 together. . . I love my darling little Hortense, 
 with all my heart. . . Embrace Eugene for me. 
 " Thy loving mother, 
 
 "JOSEPHINE DE BEAUHARNAIS." 
 
 Josephine had acted without consulting her husband, 
 who, on learning of the proposed departure, and in
 
 128 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 view of the effect such an act would have upon the 
 Committee, despatched a courier with an order for 
 detention. The Princess, having no one to whom 
 she could entrust the children, herself took them to 
 Paris, to Mme. de Kenaudin ; and, by this circum- 
 stance, being prevented from leaving the country at 
 the time intended, caused a delay that was fatal to 
 her brother, the Prince. 
 
 The Marquis was then residing at Fontainebleau, 
 where Mme. de Beauharnais was a frequent visitor ; 
 though she did not dare absent herself from her 
 house in Paris, owing to her conspicuous position 
 as the wife of the General of the Army of the Rhine. 
 
 Beauharnais gave all his energies to the reorganiza- 
 tion of his army and the perfection of its discipline, 
 with such success that he was complimented even 
 by the Committee. He had before him the hercu- 
 lean task of the deliverance of Metz from the Prus- 
 sian besiegers, who were commanded by the ablest 
 generals, and the King of Prussia in person. Be- 
 fore assuming the defensive, he addressed a long 
 and diffuse proclamation to his soldiers, breathing 
 of ardor and patriotism ; but in striking contrast to 
 the terse, energetic and burning appeals of Bona- 
 parte, as at Arcole and Eivoli. He was inspired 
 with the highest motives, but in vain ; the strong- 
 hold capitulated before his army could reach it, and 
 his command was only saved by a rapid and well- 
 executed retrograde march to the strong position 
 he had left. The capitulation was denounced by 
 the committee as infamous, and the failure to re-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 129 
 
 lieve the besieged as treachery. As a defeated 
 general, as a ci-devant, and a former Girondist, Beau- 
 harnais could not be regarded by the tribunal as other 
 than a "suspect." His resignation was accepted, 
 his offer to serve his country in a subordinate 
 capacity was refused, and he was ordered at once 
 to Paris. Josephine had kept him informed of the 
 sentiment, constantly increasing, adverse to the 
 employment of the ci-devant in command ; but his 
 love of country impelled him to the offer of service 
 in any capacity. 
 
 On the 25th of August, 1793, the reunited family 
 retired to their country place, instead of fleeing 
 from the dangers that menaced them. By retiring 
 into the country, Beauharnais only anticipated by 
 a few days the orders of the Committee, promulgated 
 on the 5th of September, commanding all the military 
 noblesse, who had resigned or been deposed, to re- 
 tire to their homes, at a distance from Paris, under 
 the most extreme penalties. . . . 
 
 On the 17th of September, was issued the strin- 
 gent order against the "suspects," by which the 
 clergy and the nobility were placed under ban, and 
 the prisons and houses of detention filled to over- 
 flowing with prospective victims of the guillotine. 
 Even the buoyant nature of Alexander de Beau- 
 harnais could not blind him to the fact that the 
 reign of terror had begun ; he and his family were 
 under suspicion. 
 9
 
 130 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 "TERROR THE ORDER OF THE DAY." 
 
 THE Terror was upon this devoted family ; like a 
 surging billow, increasing as it roared and rolled, 
 it had invaded and submerged all France. Under 
 such a terrible menace as the decree of the suspects, 
 no person of distinction could rest secure within the 
 bounds of the republic ; but Beauharnais, possessing 
 the esteem and love of his neighbors, counted upon 
 their protection. This is shown in a letter, copied 
 by the hand of Josephine, in answer to a testimonial 
 from the inhabitants of Blois, welcoming to their 
 midst one who had given his best years to the service 
 of his country. Towards the end of the month 
 (September, 1793), these people, wishing perhaps to 
 shield him from the Committee, and to testify their 
 esteem, chose him mayor of their commune. Mine, 
 de Beauharnais, who was not yet forbidden to visit 
 the capital, sought to engage in her husband's 
 behalf such persons now in influence as would 
 protect one who, though content to be relegated to 
 obscurity, still scorned to fly. At this time, the 
 old Marquis and Mme. de Kenaudin resided at 
 Fontainebleau, and Mme. Fanny de Beauharnais in 
 Paris, with her daughter, the wife of Alexander's
 
 JOSEPHINE. 131 
 
 eldest brother, who was in the army of the Conde. 
 By his defection he had placed the lives of all his 
 relatives in danger father, brother, wife, mother 
 and sister-in-law by the definition of the Decree, an 
 entire family of " suspects." 
 
 It had needed only the execution of the king, to 
 let loose the passions of the lower classes and un- 
 chain the fury of the Jacobins. The moderates had 
 long since given way to the extremists, and must 
 now reckon with Marat and Robespierre, who could 
 not obtain victims enough, who could not shed blood 
 enough, to quench their diabolical thirst. All 
 power was now centralized in the so-called Com- 
 mittee of Public Safety, which every day was hauling 
 before them the friends and acquaintances of the 
 Beauharnais. 
 
 The suspected family saw its own fate impending, 
 but could not escape, for the flight of one would but 
 precipitate the catastrophe. In agony of heart, but 
 outwardly calm, Josephine and her husband gave 
 their attention to their duties at the Ferte Beauhar- 
 nais, and each night felt grateful that they could 
 gather beneath their own roof-tree an united family. 
 The General devoted himself entirely to his office, 
 which, though an inferior one, he allowed to absorb 
 all his time. At last, the first blow fell, in the 
 imprisonment of the wife of the emigre, on the 
 third of November. Her mother, Madame Fanny, 
 counted upon her friendship with a secretary of the 
 Commune, to protect her ; but his influence could 
 not extend to the daughter. More and more critical
 
 132 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 became their position ; faster and faster fell the 
 sharp blade of the guillotine. 
 
 The year 1793 was to be a memorable one ; the first 
 month witnessed the head of a king fall " as a gage 
 of battle " at the feet of the enemies of the republic ; 
 in July, a fairer head was severed : that of Charlotte 
 Corday, that " stately Norman figure, of beautiful, 
 still countenance," who killed Marat, "one nian 
 to save a hundred thousand ; a villain to save 
 innocents ; a savage beast, to give repose to my 
 country." Alas! vain sacrifice of a noble life; it 
 was not Marat, but one silent behind him, the in- 
 explicable Robespierre, she should have slain. In 
 October, another, more famous, equally guiltless 
 of actual crime, equally unfortunate, the hapless 
 discrowned queen, Marie Antoinette, whose head 
 was sheared away by the relentless guillotine, on 
 the sixteenth of the month. To complete this trio 
 of French heroines, add another shining figure : the 
 ninth of November, Madame Roland, led to execu- 
 tion from Charlotte Corday's cell. "Noble white 
 vision, with its high queenly face, its soft proud 
 eyes, long black hair floating down to the girdle, 
 and as brave a heart as ever beat in womanly 
 bosom. . . . Like a white Grecian statue, serenely 
 complete, she shines in that black wreck of things, 
 long memorable." Who was refused a pen to 
 " write the strange thoughts" rising in her. 
 
 "0 Liberty, what strange things are done in thy 
 name! ..." 
 
 The last day of October was the last day of life
 
 JOSEPHINE. 133 
 
 on earth for the twenty-two Girondists, guillotined 
 in a body : "Samson's axe is rapid one head per 
 minute. . . . They attempt the Marseillaise ; the 
 chorus so rapidly wearing weak the chorus has 
 died out." But not in the hearts of the people ; their 
 death hastened the downfall of the arch-fiend : Robe- 
 spierre already trembles for his security. 
 
 " Qa ira; la guillotine ne va pas mal." Give 
 them time enough, they will devour each other, 
 these cannibals ; but before the end comes, how many 
 innocent shall perish ! . . . During the last months 
 of the year the persecution of the military nobles, 
 which had begun with Custine, was continued, 
 until more than twenty generals were under arrest, 
 most of whom paid with their lives their devotion 
 to the infernal "republic." Among them, Hou- 
 chard, guillotined the 16th of November ; Luckner 
 and Brion, on the first day of the new year, 1794 ; 
 nearly all of Beauharnais' military companions and 
 former commanders ; and finally the Vicomte him- 
 self. He had been a colleague of Houchard, had 
 served under Brion ; in short, neither his inesti- 
 mable services as Commander of the Army of the 
 Rhine, his popularity as mayor of his commune, 
 the influence of his wife, nor the vigilance of his 
 aunts, could save him from arrest. He was noble, 
 he had been a member of the constituent assembly, 
 he was a moderate, he was the brother of an emigre ; 
 he was, if any, qualified for a "suspect." De- 
 nounced before the local committee, he was arrested 
 at Ferte, taken to the prisons of the Luxembourg,
 
 134 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 where he found many of his old comrades, also 
 victims to the ingratitude of the republic than 
 which no ingratitude can be baser. Custine had 
 already perished : one who " had fought in America : 
 a proud brave man ; and his fortune led him hither ! " 
 Beauharnais was arrested in January, 1794. That 
 month the houses of detention and prisons held 
 4,600 victims ; in March 5,800 ; at the beginning of 
 April 7,500 ; at the end of April 8,000 ; " crowded to 
 the ridge-poles " with " suspects." 
 
 " The 44,000 committees, like so many companies 
 of reapers and gleaners gleaning France, are gather- 
 ing their harvest and storing it in these houses of 
 detention." No one attainted of royalty escaped, 
 who had not already fled from this country accursed. 
 In November had fallen the head of Philippe 
 d'Orleans Egalite, the last remaining of notable 
 royalty, though professing himself a republican. It 
 was in that same bloody November," says Carlyle, 
 in his revolutionary rhapsody, " that two notable 
 prisoners were added : Dame Dubarry and Jose- 
 phine Beauharnais. Dame whilom Countess Du- 
 barry, unfortunate female, had returned from 
 London ; they snatched her, not only as ex-harlot 
 of a whilom Majesty, and therefore 'suspect,' but 
 as having furnished emigrants with money. Con- 
 temporaneously with whom there comes the wife of 
 Beauharnais, soon to be the widow : she that is Jose- 
 phine Tascher Beauharnais ; that shall be Josephine 
 Empress Bonaparte, for a black divineress of the 
 Tropics prophesied, long since, that she should be a
 
 JOSEPHINE. 135 
 
 Queen, and more. ... In that same hour perished 
 poor Adam Lux of his love for Charlotte Corday." 
 Rhapsody sometimes leads the rhapsodist astray, as 
 in this instance, when the great Carlyle mistook the 
 wife of the emigre for that of the younger brother. 
 Misery enough Josephine endured, and soon enough 
 the door of the prison closed upon her ; but it was in 
 April, not in November, that she followed her 
 husband to the detention-house. 
 
 Her husband arrested, Josephine displayed a 
 courage and energy that might seem foreign to her 
 soft and indolent Creole nature ; did we not know that 
 in the crucial tests of life, this same Creole nature 
 has often risen to sublimest heights of heroism and 
 self-sacrifice. Far from seeking her own safety in 
 flight, which she might have done, she devoted all 
 her time to efforts for his liberation : writing letters, 
 soliciting those in power, with prayer and en- 
 treaty ; she neglected nothing ; yet was all in vain. 
 Alexander Beauharnais, ci-devant noble, a general 
 of the army, and a gentleman, was too great a prize 
 to be permitted to escape the clutches of the canaille. 
 
 She was not surprised, for she had realized that 
 nothing short of a miracle could save her from 
 arrest, when, on the twentieth of April, the minions 
 of Robespiecre seized and carried her to prison. 
 Her chief concern was for her children, suddenly 
 deprived of her protection, left alone and unattended, 
 who for several days were at the mercy of their 
 enemies. Hortense was but eleven and Eugene 
 only twelve, but they displayed a courage commend-
 
 136 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 able and unusual, in the cruel circumstances sur- 
 rounding them. Finally they were found by their 
 relatives, the Countess Fanny and the Aunt Renau- 
 din, who cared for them while their mother was in 
 prison. But for weeks Josephine was in doubt and 
 her heart torn with anxiety. As she crossed the 
 threshold of the Carmelite prison, still stained with 
 the blood of the September victims, she shuddered 
 with dread for the future, yet more from apprehen- 
 sion for those dearer to her than life. The end, she 
 believed, was near ; yet she sustained herself with 
 courage, for the sake of those looking to her for 
 assistance, in this the most trying hour of her life. 
 The General obtained a transfer to the Convent, but 
 was confined in a different quarter, as is shown by 
 two letters, written respectively by father and 
 mother, to their children. These letters are full of 
 affection, of hope, yet necessarily guarded in ex- 
 pression, as the spies of the Committee were on 
 every side. The mother's is dated from the Prison 
 of the Carmelites, 28th April, 1794, and is addressed 
 to Hortense, probably conveyed to her by some 
 sympathizing friend : 
 
 " MY DEAR LITTLE HORTENSE : 
 
 " It pains me so to be separated from thee and my 
 dear Eugene : I think of my darling children con- 
 stantly, continually, whom I love and now embrace, 
 with all my heart. JOSEPHINE." 
 
 Equally tender, but longer, was the letter sent by 
 the General. Few opportunities were afforded for
 
 JOSEPHINE. 137 
 
 correspondence with their dear ones ; the days 
 dragged dismally away, hopeless, cheerless, un- 
 relieved by news from them.* 
 
 The day of Josephine's incarceration witnessed 
 the execution of fourteen magistrates of the Paris 
 parliament ; on the next the fatal cart carried to the 
 scaffold the Due de Villery, the Admiral d'Estaing, 
 the former minister of war, and the Comte de la 
 Tour du Pin ; on the 22d, perished d'Espremeuil, 
 and other members of the constituent assembly, 
 while in the same death-cart were the venerable 
 Malesherbes and his sister, the Marquis de Chateau- 
 briand and his wife, the Duchesse de Chatelet and 
 Grammont. The rumble of the death-carts was 
 continuous, and many of the old friends of the 
 Beauharnais were in these days sent to the guillotine. 
 What hope could there be for them, under the 
 shadow of suspicion, allied to the most distinguished 
 of the victims ; and what road lay before them other 
 than that leading direct to the scaffold ? It was not 
 solely the brave officer of the army, martyr to his 
 principles, who had fought vainly for the republic, 
 who was made a victim of injustice ; but every other 
 person whose name was a reminder of the mon- 
 archic regime. 
 
 Companions with Josephine in captivity were 
 
 * Very few letters have been preserved, of those which were con- 
 jecturally written, at this and the period immediately preceding. 
 Those published in the "Memoires et Correspondance de Plmpe'ra- 
 trice Josephine, particularly, were subsequently denounced by 
 Eugene. Some bear the impress of authenticity ; but are probably 
 ex post facto.
 
 138 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 some of the noblest of the women of France : as the 
 Duchesse d'Aiguillon, who shared with her the 
 narrow cell once occupied by a sister of the order. 
 Another, at first not prominent, but who eventually 
 was the means of their being restored to freedom, 
 was a certain beautiful woman of Spanish birth, 
 Mme. de Fontenoy, suspected mistress of one of the 
 Committee. Here in this gloomy prison the sweet 
 and sympathetic character of Josephine won all 
 hearts, for she was always true to herself, under 
 whatever adversity of fortune. " Benevolent to her 
 inferiors, amiable to her equals, polite to those who 
 assumed to be her superiors, she won the affectionate 
 regard of all her companions in affliction." 
 
 On the ninth of May, 1T94-, Eugene and Hortense, 
 then aged respectively twelve and eleven, addressed 
 a naive and pathetic letter to the Committee, im- 
 ploring the release of their mother, whom they 
 declared innocent of any intention of harm, and 
 absolutely necessary to their existence. 
 
 To this petition the callous " citoyens " turned a 
 deaf ear, and they remained motherless at Fontaine- 
 bleau, with their aunt and the Marquis. Tradition 
 has it that Eugene was apprenticed to a joiner, and 
 Hortense to a seamstress, during the period of their 
 mother's incarceration ; but the most authentic 
 history of their lives does not refer to this. It is 
 more probable that they were left in charge of their 
 relatives, who consoled them so far as possible for 
 their loss of father and mother. 
 
 Meanwhile, the guillotine ceased not its work of
 
 JOSEPHINE. 139 
 
 death ; its daily victims could now be counted by 
 scores, even as high as fifty and sixty at a time 
 being sent to fall beneath the glittering steel. 
 "Soon," said the infamous Fouquier-Tinville, rub- 
 bing his hands with savage glee, "soon, we will 
 vacate all the prisons and put up over their doors, 
 'houses to let.' The guillotine works well; the 
 heads are falling like slates from a roof." They 
 were falling ; but, soon after the opening of the 
 year 1794, other heads than those of priests, inno- 
 cent women, and nobles, were brought beneath the 
 axe. For dissension had appeared within the com- 
 mune itself : there can be but one Lucifer in the infer- 
 nal regions ; there was room for but one Robespierre 
 in this hell-vortex of the revolution. Even the 
 Hebretists, the enrages, the enraged extremists, in- 
 curred the displeasure of their chief, and twenty of 
 them perished on the 24th of March. Danton, the 
 lion of the Cordeliers, and Desmoulins, were the 
 next to fall, the first week in April, leaving supreme 
 the terrible triumvirate, Robespierre, Couthon and 
 St. Just. But, even as Danton before his death had 
 predicted, his downfall carried with it all the others. 
 Like a tree of the tropical forest, bound to its com- 
 panions by an inextricable network of lianes, the 
 giant in his fall dragged to the ground all those 
 about him, enmeshed as they were in their innu- 
 merable crimes. Not one head could be lopped off 
 here, and another there : all must be severed ; the 
 last one must expiate his fiendish deeds, before the 
 tribunal of outraged justice.
 
 140 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 The " men of terror," tigers caged in their crimes, 
 raged among themselves ; their cruelties redoubled, 
 their horrors accumulated. Carnot, one of the com- 
 mittee, finds his own name among the list of " sus- 
 pects. " Who then can be exempt ? Only by striking 
 off the head of the dictator can the rest even hope 
 for reprieve. His doom is sealed, yet how accom- 
 plish it, how drag forth the tiger in his lair ? Only 
 desperation can do this ; only an arm nerved by love 
 of life, or love of love, can send the dagger to the 
 heart of the tyrant. It is there, in the convention ; 
 it is wielded by one Tallien, a man steeped in deeds 
 of blood, yet having heart enough to be in love,- 
 with a fair "suspect," that same Madame Fonte- 
 noy, friend and fellow-prisoner of Josephine. 
 
 His mistress is in durance ; she urges him to give 
 her liberty, for the death-axe is suspended over her, 
 and he dares. Dagger in hand, he denounces the 
 tyrant ; stems the tide, turns it against the arch- 
 fiend, Robespierre, who is decreed "accused." 
 
 He is arrested ; escapes ; is driven to bay, and 
 shoots himself through the jaw ; but the next day 
 the death- tumbrils bear him and his fellow-con- 
 spirators to the guillotine. As Samson lifts his 
 mangled head to the view of the populace, a mighty 
 shout announces that the man-of-blood has fallen ; 
 the tryant is dead. Paris, and France breathe more 
 freely now ; the suspects in the prisons may rejoice, 
 for they will soon be set at liberty. 
 
 But there is one ear deaf to the shouts of an eman- 
 cipated people ; one whose fortunes we are follow-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 141 
 
 ing, to whom the death of Robespierre conveyed no 
 import. Three days previously, Alexandre de Beau- 
 harnais had met his fate ; the twenty -eighth of July, 
 was a date now meaningless to him. The star 
 of Beauharnais had set. Five days before he had 
 been taken before the dread Tribunal. He was 
 accused of nothing except he was guilty of bearing 
 an aristocratic name. Foredoomed, and aware of 
 his impending fate, yet he defended himself with 
 ability, confounding his accusers, refuting their 
 accusations, in vain ; he was condemned to death. 
 
 He was returned to prison, whence, the day before 
 his death, he indited a last letter to his wife, bidding 
 her farewell, expressing sentiments of the most 
 exalted patriotism, of conjugal affection, of pater- 
 nal solicitude : "Night of the 6th Thermidor, 
 Year 2 (July 24th, 1794), . . . Yet some moments 
 to tenderness, to tears and to regrets, then wholly 
 to the glory of my fate, to the grandest thoughts of 
 immortality. When you receive this letter, my 
 Josephine, your husband will have ceased to live. . . . 
 Thy generous soul pardoned the moment that sor- 
 row overtook me. . . . What thanks do I owe to 
 Providence, who, I trust, will bless thee. . . . Now 
 Heaven disposes of me before my time ; and even 
 this is one of its mercies. ... I have just under- 
 gone a cruel formality : my hair has been cut off. I 
 have contrived to purchase back a lock of it, that I 
 may bequeath to my wife and to my children this 
 last pledge of my affection, of my last recollection. 
 I feel that at this thought my heart is breaking,
 
 142 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 and my tears bedew the paper. Farewell, all that 
 I love ! Love each other, speak often of me ; and 
 never forget that the glory of dying the victim of 
 tyrants, the martyr of freedom, ennobles the scaf- 
 fold." 
 
 He carried to the scaffold the same lofty disdain for 
 death that had distinguished him in his attacks upon 
 the enemies of his country. Eegret at leaving behind 
 him his dearest and most beloved, the prey to fac- 
 tion and at the mercy of his deadliest enemies, caused 
 him the greatest pain. In the fatal death-cart he 
 grasped the hand of a single friend, but with what 
 feelings may be imagined that of the Prince of 
 Salm-Kirbourg, who had risked and lost his life by 
 returning to Paris with the children of Beauhar- 
 nais. 
 
 Thus perished, on the 24th of July, 1794, at the 
 age of thirty- four, Alexandre de Beauharnais, 
 first husband of Josephine, father of the Prince 
 Eugene and Queen Hortense. 
 
 A generous heart, a proud and lofty spirit ; above 
 all, a man honest and sincere ; by his premature 
 death his country lost a great military genius, who 
 would have skillfully combated her enemies. 
 
 Carried away by the impetuosity of youth, im- 
 patient of even the slight restraint of his married 
 life, he had grossly wronged the noble companion 
 Heaven had bestowed upon him. But, so far as 
 possible, in the four years preceding his death, he 
 had reclaimed himself ; had endeavored to atone 
 for his misdeeds, by a devotion that lasted even to
 
 JOSEPHINE. 143 
 
 the foot of the scaffold. On her part, she had not 
 only pardoned him, but ever strove to conceal his 
 conduct during the years of their separation, from 
 his children. They knew him only as high-minded 
 and honorable, and as such cherished his memory. 
 
 Although apprehensive of the worst, yet Josephine 
 was not aware of his death until she saw it published 
 in the daily bulletin of victims, two days afterwards. 
 She had hoped till then ; but this frightful blow 
 stretched her upon the prison floor unconscious. 
 
 It was hours before she recovered consciousness ; 
 then she accepted with apparent calmness the in- 
 evitable decree, and prepared herself for a similar 
 fate, which, she had reason to believe, would not be 
 long delayed.
 
 144 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 
 
 THE Terror ended with the downfall of Robespierre 
 and the Tribunal, but the horror of it lasted many 
 weeks and months, even years. The popular agita- 
 tion extended itself to the houses of detention, where 
 the prisoners felt the great change in the air, but 
 could only for a while divine what had happened. 
 Many of them were already under sentence of 
 death, seventy were marked for execution on the 
 very morning that Robespierre perished. Among 
 those who had received the " act of accusation " 
 condemning her to the scaffold, was Josephine ; 
 but, stupefied with the horror of her husband's 
 death, and benumbed by despair, she was unable 
 to read it. Her companions gathered around her. 
 "At first a mournful silence, the calmness of hope- 
 less woe, was the only sentiment manifested towards 
 me ; " but at last they broke out into lamentation 
 of her fate. Her companions' cries awoke her from 
 the stupor of grief and, true to the sentiment of 
 self-abnegation which ever inspired her, she endeav- 
 ored to cheer those who were condemned to perish 
 with her. She even forced a smile to her wan 
 countenance and recalled the oracle of the Mar-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 145 
 
 tinique prophetess, reminding them that, in many 
 particulars, it had been fulfilled, and that she firmly 
 believed in its consummation. " What, I con- 
 demned to death ? " she said with a mournful smile. 
 " Have no fear, my friends. Do you not know, I 
 am yet to be a queen of France : Je serai reine de 
 France." And, turning to her intimate companion, 
 Mme. d'Aiguillon, she added : "I will appoint you 
 my dame ffhonneur," a promise she fulfilled when 
 raised to the throne ; but an appointment which 
 Napoleon would not sanction. 
 
 This sally was an inspiration of despair, which 
 for a while revived her drooping spirits ; but how 
 could hope sustain itself in the face of the too 
 evident preparations for her execution ? The brutal 
 jailer entered the cell occupied by herself and Mme. 
 d'Aiguillon, saying he had come to take Josephine's 
 bed away, for the use of another prisoner. " How 
 now," said the duchess, lightly, " are you going to 
 give her a better one ? " " No, no," said the brute, 
 with a significant gesture, "not at all ; she will not 
 need another very soon." It was the 9th Thermidor ; 
 the fall of the men of terror had been accomplished ; 
 but in the prisons, where the occupants were in 
 ignorance of what was transpiring outside, reigned 
 dark despair. Even Josephine had resigned herself to 
 the belief that her end was near, and, anticipating the 
 brutal office of the executioner, had cut off locks of 
 her hair to be sent to her children, as a last momento 
 of their loving mother. She had not seen them for 
 
 many days, and had been granted only one brief 
 10
 
 146 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 interview with her husband, two days before his 
 execution, when, their hearts bursting with grief, 
 these two met in a last embrace. His last thoughts 
 were of her, hers of their children, and she wrote 
 them a letter of farewell, to be delivered after she 
 should have ceased to live. In this pathetic mes- 
 sage she says : "My last sigh will be one of tender- 
 ness, and I hope my last words may prove a lesson. 
 Time was when I could impart sweet instruction ; 
 but the present will not be the less useful, that it 
 has been given in the season of calamity." But her 
 destiny was not so soon to be accomplished ; her end 
 was not yet come ; from the profoundest depths of 
 despair she was to rise to the pinnacle of supreme 
 fortune. 
 
 One of her companions, looking through the 
 grated window of her cell, saw a woman in the street 
 making signs to her. When the woman noted that 
 she was observed she seized her robe significantly. 
 For a moment she was at a loss to grasp the mean- 
 ing of this pantomime, then she nodded : "Kobe" 
 was the word the woman meant to convey. Seeing 
 that she was understood, she stooped and picked up 
 a stone : " Pierre Eobespierre ! " It dawned upon 
 the prisoner that something eventful had occurred 
 to the arbiter of their fate, and she awaited breath : 
 lessly the next development. 
 
 The woman threw the robe from her violently, at 
 the same time dashing the stone to the ground. It 
 flashed upon the prisoner : Robespierre had fallen ; 
 the woman drew her hand across her neck ; he had
 
 JOSEPHINE. 147 
 
 been guillotined ! The joyful suspect hastened to 
 communicate the glad news, and soon the prison 
 was in a tumult ; reprieved from death, with life 
 and all its joys now opening out before them, the 
 prisoners fell into each other's arms, wept and sang. 
 The intelligence so strangely conveyed to them was 
 soon confirmed by the altered behavior of their 
 jailers ; the next morning they were free. 
 
 Among the first to be released, Josephine sought 
 out her children, pressed them to her bosom in a 
 delirium of joy, and bedewed them with her tears. 
 The fear of re- arrest was not absent, and she hast- 
 ened to Fontainebleau, where she was soon joined 
 by her sister-in-law, the wife of the emigre, and 
 where she remained for several months. The family 
 was reunited, the only absent member the viscount, 
 whose memory Josephine mourned sincerely, in the 
 privacy of her retirement. She had long since for- 
 given him his infidelities and his neglect ; she only 
 remembered his devotion during the past four years, 
 his constancy to truth, his heroic death. 
 
 Here ends the first and most tragical period of 
 Josephine's existence, when she was left a widowed 
 mother, at the age of thirty-one. She was in the 
 prime of early womanhood, her youth a memory, 
 the future dark before her. Of this period of her 
 life which we have scanned, biographers and histo- 
 rians have given us few details ; but it would appear
 
 148 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 that it was not the least interesting ; for it is the 
 prelude to the second chapter of her career, which 
 finds her name intimately associated with that of 
 the greatest in the history of France. Henceforth, 
 after a brief period of gloom, we shall find her fort- 
 une growing brighter and more brilliant, as we 
 trace her successive steps to fame, as the wife of 
 General Bonaparte, consort of the First Consul, and 
 finally Empress of the French ; but in whatever 
 station, she will be always found true to herself. 
 
 Although most of the biographers of Josephine 
 pass abruptly from the death of her first husband 
 to her marriage with General Bonaparte, thus leav- 
 ing a gap of nearly two years in her life unnoticed, 
 still, these two years, though the least known, 
 are not to be overlooked. Viewing their many 
 omissions and misstatements, we might with truth 
 assume that she had been peculiarly unfortunate in 
 her biographers, some of them having been entirely 
 ignorant of the circumstances of her early life, and 
 others unreliable in their accounts of her first ac- 
 quaintance with the great Napoleon. Even in later 
 life, she has been subjected to misstatement and 
 misapprehension of motive, especially by her Eng- 
 lish biographers, who have allowed their hatred of 
 Bonaparte to extend to all with whom he was 
 brought into intimate contact. They have neg- 
 lected few opportunities to disparage Napoleon, and 
 to insult his virtuous consort. 
 
 One of the first acts of Mme. de Beauharnais, 
 after finding herself at liberty, was to announce the
 
 JOSEPHINE. 149 
 
 fact to her sorrowing mother, so long kept in sus- 
 pense, so long torn with doubts as to the safety of 
 her daughter, in distant Martinique. 
 
 While apprehensive as to the fate of her child, 
 during the Reign, of Terror, Madame de La-Pagerie 
 herself narrowly escaped being submerged in the 
 tide of civil strife that desolated her native island. 
 Animated by the same sanguinary principles that 
 prevailed in France, Royalists and Republicans 
 fought each other as fiercely as in the mother- 
 country, and the fair land was bathed in blood. 
 The troops were under command of the governor, 
 Rochambeau, who offered to Mme. de La-Pagerie, 
 as the mother-in-law of one of the generals of the 
 republic, a refuge at the fort. But this the mother 
 of Josephine would not accept, although there had 
 been an attack upon the quarter of Trois-Ilets, in 
 June, 1793 ; and she remained upon the plantation. 
 
 The estates adjoining were ravaged and the great 
 houses burned, but Sannois de La-Pagerie was pro- 
 tected by both contending parties. In the midst of 
 the civil war, the English, taking advantage of the 
 disturbed condition of the island, attacked Fort 
 Royal, finally compelling Rochambeau to surrender, 
 though after a most desperate defense. Among 
 those liberated on parole, with the privilege of retiring 
 to their plantations, was the Baron de Tascher, Jose- 
 phine's uncle, who thus followed the course pursued 
 by her father, some thirty years before, and two 
 years before her birth. This was in 1794. The Eng- 
 lish being not only masters of the island but of the
 
 150 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 ocean, correspondence between Martinique and the 
 home country was extremely precarious, many letters 
 being intercepted, and lost forever to their intended 
 recipients. This will account for the absence from 
 the family archives of any reply to the first letter or 
 letters, written by Josephine to her mother. Four 
 months after her deliverance, or on the 20th of 
 November, 1794, she addressed another letter to her 
 mother, trusting to a more prosperous fortune than 
 had attended its predecessors, and this missive is still 
 in existence. It is superscribed : " To the widow 
 La-Pagerie, on her estate at Trois-Ilets, island of 
 Martinique," and in it, after explaining that it was 
 entrusted to the care of a gentleman bound for New 
 England, via the French islands, Josephine says : 
 
 " I shall be happy if it reach you, with the assur- 
 ance that your daughter and grandchildren are 
 well. You are doubtless already aware of my mis- 
 fortunes : that I have now been four months a 
 widow, and left with only my children to console me, 
 and my dear mamma as my sole support. . . . My 
 dearest wish is some day to be reunited to you, and 
 I live only in the hope that this desire may be 
 realized. Adieu, my dear mamma ; we all embrace 
 you, and not a day passes that we do not speak of 
 you, and of our hope of seeing you in good time. 
 Again, farewell. From your daughter, who loves 
 you with all her heart." 
 
 "LA-PAGERIE, veuve BEAUHARNAIS." 
 
 "Do not forget loving remembrances to all our 
 relatives and friends and a greeting to all the 
 
 servants."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 151 
 
 Ever the same, loving and thoughtful, remember- 
 ing even the negroes on the estate, Josephine forgot 
 nobody, even when herself in deep distress. ... In 
 apprising her mother of her frightful experiences, 
 she could not but have represented to her the desti- 
 tute condition in which she and her children had 
 been left : their property had been confiscated, their 
 friends imprisoned. During the year 1792, the 
 general had been obliged to absent himself with the 
 army, and his scant pay, always irregular and some- 
 times withheld, was the sole support of his family. 
 By the imprisonment of the heads of the household, 
 every resource, of whatever kind, was entirely cut 
 off. It was in pitiable poverty that freedom found 
 the widow of Beauharnais ; but poverty was at that 
 time universal, and to be poor was considered no 
 disgrace. To such depths were the noblesse de- 
 scended, that among them friends shared with each 
 other their last franc, their last crust of bread. It 
 cannot be denied that the vicomtesse was reduced 
 to the last extremities of poverty, that starvation 
 seemed imminent, and that she hardly knew which 
 way to turn for relief. In her extremity, what 
 more natural than that she should appeal to her 
 mother, still residing upon the home estate, to which 
 she was sole heir, after her mother's demise ? 
 
 We find this appeal in a letter bearing date 1st of 
 January, 1795. 
 
 "MY DEAREST MOTHER: At last, through the 
 kindness of our good friend, Emmery, I have op-
 
 152 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 portunity for communicating with you, and I em- 
 brace it eagerly. I hope this message from your 
 poor Yeyette and her children will reach you ; for 
 she has great need of your sympathy ; her heart 
 yearns for that of which she has been so long de- 
 prived. . . . You must be aware by this time, of 
 the misfortunes that have befallen me, and must 
 know that I have no other recourse than to you for 
 the means of my existence. ... I am not only 
 widowed, but am deprived of my husband's prop- 
 erty ; and without the assistance of our good friends, 
 Emmery and his partner (bankers, or brokers, to 
 whom the La-Pagerie sugars had been remitted and 
 upon which they advanced), I do not know how I 
 should have maintained myself alive. ... I know 
 too well your regard for my honor to have the 
 least doubt that you will supply me with the means 
 for subsistence and to requite my indebtedness to 
 them. ... I shall have to depend upon your bounty 
 entirely, and must beg that you make me a remit- 
 tance at least every three or four months. . . . The 
 children are well ; they love you and send you their 
 tenderest greetings, in which I join. We are look- 
 ing forward to the time when we shall be once more 
 reunited, never more to be separated ; and this is 
 the dearest wish of your poor Yeyette. Farewell, I 
 again embrace you, with all my heart and soul. 
 
 " LA-PAGERIE, veuve BEAUHARNAIS." 
 
 The mother was able to remit but small sums, and 
 at long intervals, and Josephine's position, depend-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 153 
 
 ent as she was upon them, became from day to day 
 more precarious. Through their assistance, how- 
 ever, she was enabled to live during the "starva- 
 tion time " of 1795 ; though, in common with 
 many others of her class, she was at times at loss 
 to procure a morsel of daily bread. 
 
 Finally, acting upon the advice of the friends at 
 Dunkirk, to which port the Martinique sugars were 
 shipped, she resolved to make a flying visit to Ham- 
 burg, where was established the banking-house 
 through which her remittances were received. She 
 arrived there towards the last of October, and was 
 cordially received by the banker, M. Mathiessen, 
 through whose advice she was enabled to effect 
 three bills of exchange on Martinique, as appears 
 from a letter to her mother, dated 30th October, 
 1795, from Hamburg 
 
 " You will receive, then, my dear mamma, three 
 bills of exchange, drawn upon you from Hamburg, 
 the 25th October, at three-months' sight, in my 
 favor, in three sums, as follows : 400, 350, and 250 
 pounds sterling. ... I need not remind you how 
 necessary it is to honor these drafts, since they are 
 for the reimbursement of the friends who have so 
 generously assisted me and my children. . . . 
 
 " Why do you hesitate to rejoin us, my dear 
 mamma ? Think how much trouble and vexation 
 your coming would save your dear Yeyette, who 
 lives only in the expectation of soon seeing you, and of 
 realizing the hopes she has so long and so ardently 
 cherished. It is also the advice of our friends : to
 
 154 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 convert everything possible into funds, and come to 
 us as soon as agreeable, to rejoin your own children, 
 who love you and will ever cherish you. Eeceive 
 this assurance of tenderest regard, my good and 
 well-beloved mamma. 
 
 " LA-PAGERIE, veuve BEAUHARNAIS. 
 
 " My father-in-law and aunts are well. Give my 
 tenderest regards to all my friends ; remembrance 
 to the domestics ; embrace my old nurse for me." 
 
 These letters show conclusively that, however 
 reduced the widow of the Vicomte Beauharnais 
 may have become, she did not appeal to strangers to 
 assist her, nor to charity. It was to her commercial 
 agents at Dunkirk, where the sugar of the Mar- 
 tinique plantation were shipped for sale ; and to her 
 banker at Hamburg, through whom the financial 
 transactions were conducted, that this courageous 
 mother and sagacious woman had recourse. It 
 is possible that she may have received assistance 
 from others, but there is no authentic record of it. 
 These letters, speaking eloquently through the for- 
 gotten years of the century past, dispel the cobwebs 
 of fancy and invention, of envy and hate, which have 
 been woven about the memory and deeds of this 
 daughter of the La-Pageries. In order to explain 
 her continued existence during the terrible period of 
 distress subsequent to her marriage with Napoleon, 
 her detractors have assailed her virtue and her 
 integrity, when, as we have seen, neither did she
 
 JOSEPHINE. 155 
 
 barter the one, nor depart from the other. She 
 could not have been other than she was ; we 
 are not warranted in assuming, and we have no 
 reason for believing, that she was faithless to her 
 character, as we have seen it developed under adver- 
 sity and sorrow, faithless to her children, nor 
 faithless to the memory of her husband. She bore 
 herself serenely, faithful to her charge, loyal to her 
 friends, unremitting in her efforts to heal the 
 wounds and conceal the scars of the days of the 
 Terror.
 
 156 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MADAME TALLIEN AND THE DIRECTORY. 
 
 " THE Terror ended, a season of luxury succeeds 
 the reign of poverty. Tallien's mistress, now wife,* 
 establishes her sa/cw, and gives brilliant soirees. . . . 
 Bound her is gathered a new Republican army of 
 citoyennes in sandals ; ci-devants, or other ; what 
 remnants soever of the old grace survives are 
 gathered there. . * . At her right hand in this cause 
 labors fair Josephine, the Widow Beauharnais, 
 though in straitened circumstances ; intent, both of 
 them, to blandish down the grimness of Republican 
 austerity, and re-civilize mankind. . . . Grim gen- 
 erals of the Republic are there . . . among which do 
 we not recognize once more that little, bronze-com- 
 plexioned artillery officer of Toulon, home from the 
 Italian wars ? . . Somewhat forlorn, for the present, 
 stands that artillery officer ; looks with those deep, 
 earnest eyes of his into a future as waste as the most. 
 He stands there, without work or outlook, in this 
 forsaken manner ; glances, nevertheless, it would 
 seem, at the kind glance of Josephine Beauharnais ; 
 and for the rest, with severe countenance, with open 
 eyes and closed lips, waits what will betide." 
 
 * Jeanne Marie Ignace Therese Cabarrus, born in Saragossa, Spain, 
 1775 ; Divorced from Tallien, 1802 ; married the Prince of Chimay. 
 Died in Belgium, Jan. 15, 1835.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 167 
 
 In order to understand the current of events that 
 had borne Josephine from prison into the society of 
 the ruling parties, we must retrace our steps, and 
 gather up the threads that wove this rope of circum- 
 stance. A fellow-prisoner with the Widow Beau- 
 harnais and her companion suspects was the beauti- 
 ful Madame de Fontenoy, the daughter of Count 
 Cabarrus, Spanish minister of finance, who, at an 
 early age, had been married to M. de Fontenoy, a 
 councillor to the parliament of Bordeaux. She was 
 unhappy with her husband, and secured a divorce 
 shortly before meeting with Tallien, who, in 1793, 
 had been sent on a mission by the Convention to 
 Bordeaux. " In Bordeaux rules Tallien, bristly, 
 fox-haired Tallien, still young in years, now become 
 most gloomy, potent ; Pluto on earth, and has the 
 keys of Tartarus." This in allusion to his crimes 
 as agent of the revolutionary committee. . . . But 
 there he metMme. de Fontenoy, " brown, beautiful 
 woman, daughter of Cabarrus ; . . . who became 
 his mistress, whom he would wed." She was born 
 in Saragossa, Spain, about 1775, and was thus some 
 twelve years the junior of Josephine. Her beauty 
 was such as to cause a decided sensation in Paris, 
 and her fame filled the ears of all. But she did not 
 escape arrest, even though the powerful Tallien had 
 fallen in love with her, and she was incarcerated with 
 the other suspects of the Revolution. It was her im- 
 prisonment, and the imminent danger of her execu- 
 tion, that led Tallien to make his desperate on- 
 slaugkt upon Robespierre ; and thus she was in-
 
 158 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 directly the cause of the release, not only of Jose- 
 phine, but of many others. She was not only hand- 
 some, but generous, kind and amiable ; and one of 
 the ladies whom she had been the means of saving 
 from death said of her : " If you call Mme. Bona- 
 parte our Lady of Victory, you must call Mme. 
 Tallien our Lady of Good Help." 
 
 She was the acknowledged queen of fashion, after 
 the establishment of the Directory, and "set the 
 pace " for the ladies of her small court ; though all 
 may not have followed in it. In truth, her " revolu- 
 tionary reputation" was urged against her appear- 
 ance at the court of Napoleon, when, by that strange 
 turn of Fortune's wheel, Josephine was the first 
 lady in France. The latter never forgot her in- 
 debtedness, however, to Mme. Tallien, and would 
 have bestowed honors upon her, but for the interdict 
 of her royal master. Although Tallien had dared 
 death for love of her, yet the possession of this 
 beautiful woman did not fully realize his hopes. 
 After a few years of married life, during which she 
 bore him several children, they were divorced, in 
 1802. She was wont to appear at the Tuileries in 
 a Greek costume, clinging and semi-transparent, 
 which displayed more of her transcendent charms 
 than was agreeable to her husband's wishes.* 
 
 * Tallien, Jean L., born in Paris 1767 ; died Nov., 1820. 
 
 In 1791 became a member of the Jacobin Club ; '92, clerk of the 
 Commune ; ' 93, sent on mission to Bordeaux ; '94 denounced Robes- 
 pierre ; '95 assisted in the establishment of the Directory; '98, ac- 
 companied Bonaparte to Egypt, as one of the " scientific men ; " 
 taken by the English on the return voyage ; 1802, divorced from
 
 JOSEPHINE. 159 
 
 But for the lives of those dependent upon her, 
 but for their welfare, it would seem that Josephine 
 would rather have accepted death itself, than en- 
 dure the humiliation of relief from such a source as 
 the revolutionary monster, Tallien. Yet that was but 
 one of the factors in the leveling process by which 
 the noblesse were humbled to the earth ; made to 
 consort with the very agents of their misery, the 
 blood of their own relations still red on their hands. 
 Tallien was a type of Jacobinism ; of the proletariat, 
 now risen to the surface. The son of the house 
 steward of the Marquis of Bercy, he rose by his own 
 talents to a position of influence in the commune, 
 becoming its clerk in 1792, and deputy to the Con- 
 vention from the department of Seine et Oise. He 
 took his seat among the Montagnards, voted for the 
 death of Louis XVI., and was one of the bitterest 
 of the members of the Jacobin Club. In 1793 he 
 was sent to Bordeaux as an emissary of the revolu- 
 tionary party, where he committed great atrocities. 
 In 1795, as commissioner of the Convention, he 
 ordered all the Royalist prisoners taken by General 
 Hoche to be shot. He was cruel, remorseless, un- 
 sparing, pitiless. After the fall of Robespierre he 
 was for a time the acknowledged leader of the 
 "Thermidoreans," and through his influence the 
 infamous Fouquier-Tinville and his accomplices 
 were doomed to the guillotine. His courage was 
 undoubted, and he was among the ablest defenders 
 
 Mme. Tallien, by whom he had four children ; 1805, appointed 
 consul to Alicante.
 
 160 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 of the Convention against the rebellious sections of 
 Paris, and shared in the Eepublican coup d'etat of 
 the "Eighteenth Fructidor." His influence was 
 strongest in the interim between the overthrow of 
 the revolutionary tribunal and the establishment of 
 the Directory, when he was elected a member of the 
 "Council of Five Hundred." 
 
 At length the Directory was established, upon 
 the ruins of what remained after three years of 
 anarchy and misrule. The revolution had destroyed 
 itself ; the most culpable of the blood-stained con- 
 spirators had fallen by their own hands, their heads 
 dissevered by their own instrument of decapitation. 
 Some remained for years unpunished, their many 
 crimes unavenged ; they themselves took the lead 
 in the formation of a stable government or an at- 
 tempt at such. The thousands who had perished 
 made no protest, except through those once bound 
 to them by ties of blood, safe, though impotent, be- 
 yond the frontiers of France. Those remaining 
 dared not raise their voice ; they must accept the 
 terms their masters should see fit to dictate. It 
 was enough, for the present, that the more moderate 
 had returned to power, or were striving to grasp 
 within their hands the reins of government. From 
 the chaos of anarchy the ark of safety finally ap- 
 peared, long to be tossed on the tumultuous waves 
 of passion and intrigue ; destined never to land on 
 the shore of security ; but bearing messengers of 
 peace to a long-suffering people.* 
 
 * Carlyle.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 161 
 
 In the year 1795, as the result of the earnest 
 efforts of the moderate Republicans, the legislative 
 power was declared vested in two assemblies : the 
 Council of Five Hundred, and the Council of the 
 Ancients ; the former having the exclusive right of 
 proposing laws for the consideration of the latter. 
 The actual power was to be lodged in an Executive 
 Directory of five members, to be chosen by the 
 Council of the Ancients, from a list presented by 
 the Five Hundred. The new "Constitution of the 
 Year III." was acceptable to the people; but even 
 in its birth it came near being strangled by the 
 Convention that was responsible for its existence. 
 Desiring to peupetuate their power and to provide 
 a check for Royalist or ultra-Jacobin return, the 
 authors of the new constitution decreed that two- 
 thirds the new assembly of 500 should be chosen 
 from among themselves ; hence a new uprising ; of 
 which in its place. 
 
 Without anticipating the current of events, it 
 may be mentioned that France was ruled by the 
 Directory for four years, during which period it had, 
 altogether, thirteen members, only one, Barras, * of- 
 ficiating during its entire term of official life. 
 
 * Barras, P. F. J. N., born 1755 ; 1793 at Toulon ; '94, instru- 
 mental in the overthrow of Robespierre; '95, President of Conven- 
 tion ; October, calls Bonaparte to his aid to quell insurrection of the 
 sections ; '98, executes the coup d'etat which banished the minority, 
 18th Fructidor;' 99, reigns for a while paramount, until Directory is 
 overthrown by Bonaparte; later, conspired with Royalists, and was 
 banished until after the restoration. Died 1829 ; memoirs published 
 1873 and 1895. 
 ii
 
 162 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 The supreme power was exercised by five individ- 
 uals, and of these five Barras stands forth conspic- 
 uous. With his name that of Josephine has been 
 associated, to her discredit ; her enemies seizing 
 upon the fact of their alleged intimacy to cast the 
 blight of suspicion upon her every act and motive. 
 
 Barras was a notable figure before he became as- 
 sociated with the ruling members of the Directory. 
 He had served in the East Indies, with the rank of 
 captain. He took part in the attack upon the 
 Bastille and the Tuileries, and was elected a 
 member of the first Convention. In 1T93, he was 
 sent to the south of France, where his severities 
 against the anti-revolutionists, at Toulon, made 
 him prominent as a devoted Republican. He was 
 one of the most active in the revolt of the ninth 
 Thermidor, leading the attack upon the Robespier- 
 rians, and commanding the troops who took the 
 arch-enemy prisoner. The day following he was ap- 
 pointed secretary to the Convention ; in November a 
 member of the Committee of Safety ; an ardent per- 
 secutor of the Montagnards, as well as of the Roy- 
 alists and emigres. In February, 1795, he was 
 elected president of the Convention ; chosen as one 
 of the five members of the Directory, he is said to 
 have used his position to gain immense wealth, and 
 to procure the means for gratifying his passion for 
 debauchery. 
 
 This was the man with whom, through force of 
 circumstances, Josephine was brought into contact. 
 It is true, that his reputation was bad, perhaps
 
 JOSEPHINE. 163 
 
 none was worse, even in that time when the records 
 of personal behavior were not too closely scanned. 
 It is to be feared that less attention was given to the 
 character one at that time bore than to the position 
 he held. It was a period of disruption, of confusion, 
 of sauve-qui-peut ; any straw would be grasped by the 
 once haughty noblesse that gave a promise of extri- 
 cation from the whelming flood. In the Memoirs 
 of Josephine is a characterization of Barras, which if 
 not from her own pen (as is alleged), at least gives 
 a contemporary delineation of his salient features : 
 " He was the hope of all parties, but espoused none. 
 He severely censured the men of the revolution and 
 cast contempt upon our fierce demagogues. He had 
 just cause of complaint against many of them ; yet, 
 for his own advantage, he caressed them all. He 
 wore the livery of no faction. . . . His youth having 
 been boisterous and very irregular, he was despised 
 by the nobility, and this circumstance probably in- 
 flamed his zeal in favor of the revolutionary princi- 
 ples. He was a member of the tribunal that sat in 
 judgment on the king. He tendered his resigna- 
 tion ; it was not accepted, and the proposition was an- 
 swered by frightful menaces. The Brutuses of the as- 
 sembly denounced him as recusant, and fear alone 
 dictated the vote he gave on that dread occasion. . . . 
 Barras became acquainted with Bonaparte when on 
 a mission into one of the southern departments. . . . 
 After the rising against the Convention, Bonaparte 
 had held the post of general of the troops of the 
 division of Paris. Not feeling within himself the
 
 164 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 courage to repel force by force, Barras authorized 
 Bonaparte to reap those sterile laurels. . . . This 
 act was enough for those two men, impelled by a 
 thirst for celebrity, and proud of having made the 
 capital tremble. The moderation of the one, and 
 the foresight of the other had made the Frenchmen 
 who were most resolute in opposing the acts of a 
 power as feeble as it was arbitrary, lay down their 
 arms." 
 
 Tallien, Barras, Bonaparte : these three names link 
 the history of the widow of Beauharnais with the 
 most eventful period of the French revolution. 
 One after the other descended, retired to the ob- 
 scurity from which they had emerged, until only 
 one is left : an immortal name, with which that of 
 Josephine is inseparably associated. 
 
 By an arbitrary decree of the Convention, which 
 prescribed that two-thirds of the assembly should be 
 taken from its own ranks, offense was given both to 
 Royalists and middle-classes, who, most strangely, 
 united in an uprising against their newly-elected 
 law-makers. By a remarkable reversal of fortune, 
 the Convention found itself opposed by some of its an- 
 cient supporters, and allied with it the worst of the 
 proletariats. The greater strength was on the side 
 of the Eoyalists, who prepared for a conflict to the 
 death ; only prompt and determined action could 
 save the Convention from annihilation. 
 
 The president himself was a man of courage and 
 energy, he made the best disposition possible of the 
 troops at his command ; but he hesitated to assume
 
 JOSEPHINE. 165 
 
 the responsibility for the carnage that he knew 
 must ensue from a combat at close quarters. His 
 indecision cost him, eventually, his position ; cost 
 France millions of soldiers ; elevated into prominence 
 a rival who soon hurled him and his companions 
 from power. At Toulon, while on his southern 
 mission, Barras had met Bonaparte, whose skillful 
 strategy had delivered that port from the English 
 into the hands of the French Eepublicans. 
 
 In the summer of 1795 Bonaparte was in Paris, on 
 the verge of poverty, without employment. He had 
 risen to the rank of general of brigade, but had been 
 struck off the list of employed officers, for disobe- 
 dience of orders. That disobedience, which consisted 
 in a refusal to proceed to the west, to join the army 
 of Hoche, was the cause of his ultimate elevation to 
 the supreme command of the French armies, and 
 placed the crown of France upon his head. For, 
 while the members of the assembly were in a painful 
 state of indecision, an inspiration came to Barras. 
 Turning to his colleagues, he exclaimed : "I have 
 the man we want : he is a little Corsican officer, who 
 will not stand upon ceremony." 
 
 Barras was appointed commander-in-chief, and 
 Bonaparte second in command ; but upon the latter 
 devolved the duty of repelling the oncoming sec- 
 tions. With what energy he did it ; with what skill 
 he posted his troops, defending the salient points of 
 attack ; concentrating at exposed positions, mow- 
 ing down the enraged soldiers of the national guard 
 with his artillery ; all this has passed into history.
 
 166 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 It was the turning-point of his career, the meeting 
 of the ways at which, arrived, he did not hesitate 
 which road he would take. At his orders, came 
 that "whiff of grape-shot" six years delayed from 
 old Broglie's time ; six years too long delayed for 
 the good of royalty which changed the fortunes 
 of France, of the world. In less than an hour of 
 actual fighting he had saved the Convention, had 
 converted the attack into a retreat, into a rabble 
 rout. . . . This was the formidable uprising of the 
 sections against legally-constituted authority, known 
 as the thirteenth Vendemiaire. After it was over, 
 the strange spectacle was presented of each gen- 
 eral in command disclaiming credit for the action. 
 Never before was known such disinterestedness ; 
 for neither was anxious to be known as the spiller 
 of Parisian blood. But the responsibility for the 
 event was saddled upon Bonaparte, who in turn 
 sought to accredit it to the Royalists. However, it 
 was done ; Paris was saved a revolution, and Bar- 
 ras, in a speech before the Convention, said, with 
 reference to Bonaparte: "It is to his able and 
 prompt dispositions that we are indebted for the de- 
 fense of this assembly, around which he had posted 
 the troops with so much skill."* 
 
 *Bourrienne, "Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 167 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 GENERAL BONAPARTE. 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, the defender of the Con- 
 vention, the hero of the thirteenth Vendemiaire, 
 the victor over the Royalist sections, who was he ? 
 Suddenly he had appeared upon the scene of strife, 
 guiding, controlling ; as abruptly, after the deed 
 was done, he had disappeared. But he was not 
 unknown to the Convention, to the members of the 
 Directory, who, even in the turmoil of distracted 
 labors, had kept this young officer of artillery in 
 view. Rather, he had kept himself from being thrust 
 out of sight, had reminded them of his services, had 
 furnished them with a plan for campaigning in Italy, 
 which had commended itself to their best judgment. 
 But who was he, whence had he come ? 
 
 May we be pardoned if we cite what already the 
 whole world knows : the biography in brief of this 
 remarkable man ? 
 
 Born at Ajaccio, island of Corsica, August 15th, 
 1769, Napoleon was six years the junior of Josephine, 
 who was then residing with her parents in the old su- 
 crerie of Sannois-la-Pagerie, in Martinique. As we 
 have already noted, both were born in remote prov- 
 inces of France, in islands held by the force of
 
 168 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 arms, and frequently wrested from their possessors, 
 by the varying fortunes of war. The Bonapartes, 
 like the La-Pageries, were of noble birth, coming 
 from Tuscany ; but at the time their most illustri- 
 ous son was born, were in reduced circumstances, 
 living a retired life on a small estate. The father 
 of Napoleon died while the son was a youth, leaving 
 his wife with a large family ; the oldest, Joseph, 
 being the nominal head, but Napoleon the actual, 
 from his superior force. In 1779, April 25th, Napo- 
 leon was entered at the Royal Military School of 
 Brienne, in France, where he remained five years. 
 In a report of the inspector of the royal military 
 schools, in 1784, is this description of the young 
 student : 
 
 " M. de Bonaparte (Napoleon), born 15th August, 
 1769, height 4 feet, 10 inches, 10 lines ; in the fourth 
 class ; has a good constitution, excellent health ; 
 character obedient, upright, grateful ; conduct, 
 regular ; has always been distinguished for his 
 application to mathematics ; is passably acquainted 
 with history and geography ; not well up in 
 ornamental studies or in Latin, in which he is 
 only in the fourth class. He would make an ex- 
 cellent sailor. He deserves to be passed on to the 
 Military School of Paris." 
 
 At the School of Brienne, he was not a favorite 
 with his companion-students, owing to his reserved 
 disposition and his fierce Corsican nature ; but he 
 was easily recognized as a leader. He enjoyed the 
 society of his elders more than that of his class-
 
 BONAPAUTK,I CONSUL DE LA REP. FRANC 
 
 BONAPARTE, FIRST CONSUL.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 169 
 
 mates, one with whom he particularly delighted to 
 converse being the celebrated Abbe Eaynal, to 
 whom he later dedicated a History of Corsica, with 
 which his leisure hours had been occupied. 
 
 At the age of fifteen he was sent on to the 
 Military College of Paris, in accordance with the 
 recommendation of the inspector, and notwith- 
 standing his deficiency in Latin and the " orna- 
 mental branches." Again, he incurred the ill-will 
 of his fellow-students, as well as of the faculty, 
 by addressing a memorial to one of his superiors, 
 upon the extravagance of the beneficiaries of 
 this college. He recommended that instead of 
 being encouraged in leading luxurious lives, with 
 servants at their command, etc., they should be 
 placed under Spartan regulations, with frugal 
 diet, thus to become hardy and temperate, and 
 good examples to their prospective commands. 
 This recommendation was written at the age of 
 sixteen. In October of the same year Napoleon 
 was appointed second lieutenant, in a brigade of 
 artillery, and sent to Valence, where he remained 
 nearly a year. His father had died that year, in 
 the month of February, at the early age of thirty- 
 eight. 
 
 The mother, left dependent upon her relatives 
 for support, was ever an object of solicitude to 
 Napoleon, upon whom she relied more than upon 
 the eldest son, Joseph. In 1787, he obtained leave 
 to visit her, remaining absent in Corsica for nearly 
 seven months ; returning to France; he obtained
 
 170 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 an extension of leave, and again went to his native 
 island, where he stayed till May, 1788. 
 
 His third return to Corsica was not, it is to be 
 feared, prompted altogether by filial regard, for 
 we find him engaged in revolutionary movements 
 during a good part of his stay, which lasted from 
 September, 1789, to June, 1791. He overstayed his 
 leave some eight months, an absence which was 
 subsequently excused on his pretext of contrary 
 winds. The next year he was not so fortunate as 
 to have his derelictions overlooked, and he was 
 dismissed from the service, for absence without 
 leave, having returned to Corsica in August, 1791, 
 and left in May, 1792 ; all the time being occupied 
 in revolutionary attempts. In June he might 
 have been seen in Paris, impoverished, living in 
 obscure lodgings, out of favor with the administra- 
 tion, through his own fault, and seeking employ- 
 ment. It was while thus disengaged, a rambler 
 through the streets of Paris, that, one day in June, 
 in company with his friend, his former school- 
 mate and future secretary, Bourrienne, he encoun- 
 tered the mob on its way to the attack of the 
 Tuileries. " Let us follow the mob," said Bona- 
 parte to his chum ; and, taking their stand in a 
 position commanding the palace, they saw the dis- 
 graceful scenes enacted that proved the precursors 
 of the royal downfall. They saw the mob enter 
 the palace, saw the king appear at one of the win- 
 dows with the red cap on his head. And Bona- 
 parte indignantly exclaimed, his sympathies with
 
 JOSEPHINE. 171 
 
 the king: "Why have they let in that rabble? 
 They should have swept off four or five hundred of 
 them with the cannon ; the rest would then have 
 set off fast enough." 
 
 He was true to this sentiment, as shown in his 
 subsequent defense of the Convention : of the main- 
 taining of the constituted power, as against the 
 rabble, the canaille of the capital. 
 
 He was in Paris on that fatal tenth of August, 
 when occurred the slaughter of the Swiss guard 
 and the deposition of the king. These events did 
 not seem to affect him so much as his own situa- 
 tion, which was deplorable in the extreme, until, 
 finally, he was reinstated ; not only reinstated, 
 but promoted to the grade of captain, and his 
 back-pay granted, dating from the time of his 
 removal. 
 
 This was the last of August ; in September, he 
 was again in Corsica, to which island he had hur- 
 ried with succor for his family, and also to par- 
 ticipate in another revolutionary attempt. This 
 latter was disastrous, not alone to himself but to 
 his family, for he had declared against Paoli, the 
 hero of Corsica, under whom his father had at one 
 time served as adjutant. A former admirer of the 
 great Corsican, he had turned against him, for 
 reasons which were to him sufficient, but which 
 do not enter into this discussion, except as having 
 a bearing upon his character. As that is not now 
 under review, we will not proceed to details, but 
 merely state that this action of his seems the least
 
 172 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 defensible of any since he had arrived at the age 
 of discretion. The Bonapartes, driven from Cor- 
 sica, landed at Nice, in July, 1Y93, in a condition 
 bordering upon destitution. Napoleon joined his 
 regiment and proceeded against Marseilles and Tou- 
 lon. It is at this latter port that the name of 
 Napoleon Bonaparte appears prominently as one of 
 the officers engaged in the investment of that 
 doomed city. He was placed in command of a divi- 
 sion of artillery ; his genius detected the weak 
 point in the city's defenses ; his plan of attack was at 
 once adopted ; and as the result the city and port 
 were taken. Toulon had been delivered into the 
 hands of the English, by the royalists and moder- 
 ates, as a means of protection against the extrem- 
 ists ; but through the instrumentality of Bonaparte 
 at least, mainly through the adoption of his 
 scheme of attack the English fleet was obliged to 
 leave the harbor. Toulon was left to the mercies of 
 the Republicans, who were determined to make a 
 terrible example of this " nest of traitors." Orders 
 were sent by the Convention to efface Toulon from 
 the earth, together with its inhabitants ; and so far 
 as possible these orders were carried into effect. 
 Against these bloody reprisals Napoleon had the 
 courage to protest, but without avail'; for he was 
 then only Major of Battalion, promoted 19th Octo- 
 ber ; after the taking of Toulon (December 19th), he 
 was provisionally named General of Brigade. 
 
 At Toulon he met Barras and Freron, whom he 
 was to encounter later in Paris, as influential mem-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 173 
 
 bers of the directing powers. They saw him and 
 knew of the great service he rendered their com- 
 manding officer : and what is more, they appreciated 
 his services at something like their full value. He 
 was immediately appointed inspector of the coast de- 
 fenses from the Rhone to the Var, in which service, 
 so congenial to his genius for fortification, he was 
 engaged till the month of April, 1794. He was then 
 for several months with the army of Italy, under 
 General Dumerbion ; in July sent on an impor- 
 tant mission to Genoa, which he accomplished to 
 the entire satisfaction of his superiors. Yet, in 
 August, he was placed under arrest, the ostensible 
 reason being this very mission, which had resulted 
 to the glory of French diplomacy, and was a gain 
 to its strategic knowledge, inasmuch as Napoleon 
 had closely inspected the fortified posts and defen- 
 sive points of Genoa and the country adjoining. 
 But such violent changes had taken place at the 
 center of government, that the armies of France, 
 howsoever remote on its frontiers, could not but feel 
 their influence. The events of the ninth Thermidor 
 had transpired. Robespierre was overthrown ; the 
 younger Robespierre, with whom Napoleon had 
 co-operated in defense of their country, was arrested, 
 sent to Paris, and guillotined. Bonaparte had been 
 intimate with this younger brother of the great 
 Robespierre, had furnished him with the plans of 
 defense and attack which he had successfully used. 
 The natural inference was that he shared the senti- 
 ments also ascribed to the tyrant.
 
 174 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 His principles were fairly set forth in a pamphlet 
 he had written July, 1Y95, called the " Souper de 
 Beaucaire" which was such a pronounced declara- 
 tion of Republican principles that a representative 
 of the Convention had ordered it printed at the public 
 expense. 
 
 This had called the attention of the Convention to 
 the rising young officer of artillery in the South, 
 and made him appear as a man whose opinions were 
 advanced and whose principles were strictly in accord 
 with the Republican doctrine. 
 
 It was a masterly exposition, and one who was 
 not disposed to favor him, declared, "In these con- 
 cise judgments is felt the decision of the master and 
 of the man of war." 
 
 But, notwithstanding Bonaparte's devotion to the 
 Republican idea, and his declaration of alienation 
 from the Robespierrians, he was arrested and thrown 
 into prison, with orders to be reported before the 
 tribunal at Paris. Had he been sent to Paris, there 
 is little doubt that the guillotine would have disposed 
 of this officer of artillery, whose only crime had been 
 that he had obeyed the orders of his superiors, them- 
 selves the victims of the reaction against the terror- 
 ists. The terrorist deputies had been superseded 
 by two others, Albitte and Salicetti, the latter a 
 Corsican and supposed friend of Bonaparte. It was 
 through their instrumentality, and conjecturally 
 owing to the enmity of Salicetti, that the young 
 General of twenty-five was arrested, at the outset of 
 his brilliant career. To these deputies, Bonaparte ad-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 175 
 
 dressed an indignant demand for release, couched in 
 no uncertain language of defiance, and with a ring of 
 true bravery. He was not conscious of having done 
 aught else than his duty, to his country, to his 
 superior officers ; his integrity was his rock of de- 
 fense. 
 
 " You have suspended me from my duties, put me 
 under arrest, and declared me to be suspected. Thus 
 I am disgraced before being judged, or, indeed, 
 judged before being heard. 
 
 " Salicetti, you know me ; and I ask whether you 
 have observed anything in my conduct for the last 
 five years which can afford ground for suspicion ? 
 Albitte, you do not know me ; but you have received 
 proof of no fact against me ; you have not heard 
 me, and you know how artfully the tongue of 
 calumny sometimes works. . . . 
 
 "Must I then be confounded with the enemies of 
 my country ? and ought the patriots inconsiderately 
 to sacrifice a general who has not been useless to the 
 republic ? Ought the representatives to reduce the 
 Government to the necessity of being unjust and 
 impolitic ? Hear me ; destroy the oppression that 
 overwhelms me, and restore me to the esteem of the 
 patriots. An hour after, if my enemies wish for my 
 life, let them take it. I have often given proofs of 
 how little I value it. Nothing but the thought that 
 I may yet be useful to my country makes me bear 
 the burden of existence with courage." 
 
 This was not mere bravado, for Napoleon never 
 shrank from an encounter with the enemy ; he was
 
 176 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 ever in the fore-front of battle. This sharp arraign- 
 ment secured him his release and reinstatement. 
 
 From the middle of September, ITM, to the end of 
 March, 1T95, he was actively engaged superintend- 
 ing the preparation of an expedition for the recovery 
 of Corsica from the English. This expedition most 
 disastrously failed of accomplishing its object, 
 though through no fault of Bonaparte's, and he was 
 ordered to leave the south of France and report at 
 Paris, for transfer to the army of the Vendee, in 
 command of its artillery. He arrived in Paris in 
 May, and in June was ordered to join the army of 
 General Hoche, at Brest ; but disregarded the order, 
 and in August was attached to the Committee of 
 Public Safety, in an advisory capacity. About mid- 
 September he was taken from the list of employed 
 generals, owing to his disobedience of orders to 
 proceed to the post assigned him. This did not 
 dismay him, for the Committee of Public Safety 
 had approved his plan of the Italian campaign, and 
 he was known as one of the most serviceable gen- 
 erals in the armies of the Republic. 
 
 He had made application for and received a large 
 sum for mileage, on his journey from Nice to Paris, 
 and was not in such desperate circumstances as be- 
 fore. A portion of this sum he had transmitted to 
 his mother, at Marseilles, where she was living with 
 her daughters in a condition far removed from 
 affluence. His own prospect and his schemes can- 
 not be better shown than by quoting freely from 
 the letters he wrote his brother Joseph, then resid-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 177 
 
 ing at Genoa. . . . The first of these epistles bear- 
 ing upon this period of Bonaparte's life, is dated : 
 
 "Paris, 23d May, 1795. ... I was yesterday 
 at the estate of Rogny. ... If you wish to make a 
 good bargain it will be well for you to buy it. Some 
 8,000,000 assignats will purchase it ... say 60,000 
 francs from your wife's dowry. This is my desire 
 and my advice. . . . Eegards to your wife, to 
 Desiree, and all the family. ..." 
 
 This plan was not consummated, owing to a repeal 
 of the law by which such properties could be obtained. 
 
 "June 25th. ... I promptly attended to your 
 wife's commission. . . . Desiree asks me for my 
 portrait. I will have it taken. You can give it to 
 her if she still desires it ; otherwise keep it for your- 
 self." 
 
 " July 7th. ... I have received no news from 
 you since you left. Is Genoa, then, the Lethe that 
 divides us ? Because I have not heard from Desiree 
 since she arrived at that city." 
 
 " July 25th. . . . I have been appointed a general 
 in -the Army of the West. My illness keeps me 
 here. I believe you have expressed a desire that I 
 should not speak to Desiree. ... I have sent you 
 letters from Freron and Barras, which will recom- 
 mend you to the charge d'affaires of the republic." 
 
 "July 30th. . . . The plan I have proposed will 
 surely be adopted. If I go to Nice, I will see you 
 and Desiree also. I will place Lucian before I leave. 
 It is probable that you will receive a position as 
 consul in Italy. ..." 
 
 12
 
 178 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 "August 1. ... Peace is made with Spain. . . . 
 My plan for the offensive is adopted. . . . You 
 never speak of Eugenie. . . . My compliments to 
 Julie and also to the silent one (la Silencieuse}." 
 Eugenie Desiree Clary, Joseph's sister-in-law, and 
 then the object of Napoleon's thoughts. 
 
 "August 12th. . . . Fesch seems to wish to return 
 to Corsica. ... It is all the same to him. ... I 
 am little attached to this life. I am constantly 
 surprising myself in the condition of a man on the 
 eve of battle, with a settled conviction that since 
 death is in the end so inevitable, it is folly to be un- 
 easy. All this leads me to brave death and destiny ; 
 and if this continues, my friend, in the end I shall 
 no longer turn when a carriage passes. . . . My 
 reason is sometimes astonished at all this ; but 
 nevertheless this is the effect produced on me by 
 the moral degradation of this land." 
 
 " August 20th. ... I am at present attached to 
 the Topographical Bureau of the Committee, for 
 the direction of the armies, in the place of Carnot. 
 If I like, I can be sent to Turkey by this govern- 
 ment, as General of Artiller}^ to organize the 
 artillery service of the Grand Seigneur, with a suite 
 and flattering titles." It was the dearest wish of 
 Napoleon's heart, at that moment, to be sent to 
 Turkey for the reorganization of the artillery 
 service of the Turks ; he had already sent a memorial 
 to the Committee to this effect ; and at last his 
 wishes seemed about to be gratified. At the very 
 time of his dismissal from the service a recommend-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 179 
 
 ation was made by a branch of the Committee to 
 send him to Turkey with an extensive retinue. But 
 events forestalled this, as his letters show. ..." I 
 fear that they do not wish me to go to Turkey. We 
 shall see. Write me always on the supposition that 
 I am going." 
 
 " August 25th. ... I still hope for a consulship 
 for you in Naples. ... I am overwhelmed with 
 business. ..." 
 
 " September 5th. . . . The Committee think it 
 will be impossible for me to leave (for Turkey) 
 while the war lasts. I am to be reinstated in the 
 artillery, and probably will continue with the Com- 
 mittee. . . . If I remain here it is not impossible that I 
 may commit the folly of marrying. A word to this 
 effect on your part might bring it about. It might 
 perhaps be as well to speak of it to Eugenie's 
 brother ; let me know the result, and all is said that 
 need be." 
 
 " September 6th. . . . Do not fear for me; my 
 friends are all good men, of whatever party. Tell me 
 what you would have me do for you. Try to so ar- 
 range aff airs that my absence will not matter. You 
 know, my friend, that I live only in the pleasure I 
 can give my own. If my hopes are seconded by my 
 usual good- fortune, which has never yet abandoned 
 me, I shall make you all happy and fulfill your 
 desires. It is now necessary that this affair of 
 Eugenie's be terminated one way or the other. I 
 shall await your response with impatience." 
 
 "September 26th. . . . There are at this moment
 
 180 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 some incendiary symptoms, signs of an ebullition ; 
 much heat in the head. It will all be over in a few 
 days ; the moment appears critical ; but the genius 
 of Liberty will never abandon her defenders." 
 
 ' ' October 3d. Night of the 13th-14thVendemiaire " 
 (after the Eoyalist uprising of the sections). . . . 
 "Two o'clock in the morning. ... At last, all is 
 over. My first impulse is to write you the news. 
 The Royalists of the sections became each day more 
 confident. The Convention had ordered the disarma- 
 ment of the Section Lepelletier ; it had repulsed the 
 troops. Menou, who commanded, was, they say, a 
 traitor. . . . The Convention named Barras as 
 Commander-in-Chief of their forces ; they named 
 me second in command. We disposed our troops. 
 The enemy advanced to attack us at the Tuileries. 
 We killed many of them. We ourselves lost thirty 
 killed and some sixty wounded. We have disarmed 
 the sections, and all is tranquil now. My usual 
 luck : did not receive even a scratch. . . . Good 
 fortune is mine. 
 
 ' ' My regards to Eugenie and Julie. " 
 
 In these few words the conqueror of the sections 
 announced to his brother the most important action 
 of his life hitherto. It was the turning-point in his 
 career ; his future was, indeed, assured. 
 
 " October 18th. ... I am now a General of Divi- 
 sion ; second in command in the Army of the Interior; 
 Barras Commander-in-Chief. All goes well. Am 
 exceedingly busy, and cannot now write in detail." 
 
 " November 9th. ... In the midst of my many
 
 JOSEPHINE. 181 
 
 occupations, which leave me but little time, I snatch 
 a moment to write you a word. Fesch, whom I 
 have already instructed, will advise you of every- 
 thing of interest. Adieu. Embrace thy wife and 
 Desiree for me." 
 
 " November 17th. . . . The family shall want for 
 nothing. I have received 400,000 francs for your 
 assignats. . . . Send me more particulars regarding 
 thy wife and Eugenie. . . . Songis is now my aide- 
 de-camp, chief of brigade ; Junot chief of battalion ; 
 Louis, and five others you do not know, are captains, 
 aides-de-camp." 
 
 "December 31st. ... If you are wearied of 
 Genoa, I do not see but you may come to Paris, where 
 I am established ; table and carriage at your disposal. 
 Ozon leaves day after to-morrow, carrying my pres- 
 ents to thy wife. If you do not wish to be consul, 
 come here and choose what would suit you." 
 
 " January llth, 1796. . . . The multiplicity of my 
 duties and the many important affairs that engage 
 my attention, do not permit me to write you often. 
 I am happy here, and contented. I have sent the 
 family 50 60,000 francs, silver and assignats ; have 
 no uneasiness (on their account). Good wishes to 
 Julie. ..." 
 
 "February 7th, 1796. . . . You are sure to be ap- 
 pointed consul to whatever place you wish. Lucien 
 starts to-morrow for the Army of the North. Fesch 
 is here, in a good position. The family need 
 nothing." * 
 
 * These letters are from the " Correspondence du Poi Joseph," 
 published in Paris, 1853.
 
 182 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 This is the last letter of this important period, so 
 critical in the lives of the Bonapartes. They had 
 crossed the Rubicon ; instead of poverty and obscu- 
 rity, they were now, thanks to the genius and 
 the devotion of the son and brother, to bask in the 
 sun of prosperity. 
 
 In these letters, it cannot but be observed, Napo- 
 leon makes no mention of his acquaintance with the 
 Vicomtesse de Beauharnais. There was little need, 
 in fact, to announce all his doings to his brother, for 
 the latter did not by any means stand to him in the 
 character of a mentor. Only those things pertain- 
 ing to their individual affairs, to their family wel- 
 fare, were referred to. There is, until the end of 
 the year 1T95, a constant and tender allusion to 
 Desiree, the lovely sister of Madame Joseph Bona- 
 parte, and with whom Napoleon was undoubtedly 
 at one time somewhat enamored. It has been 
 charged that he had engaged her affections, and 
 that it was understood amongst their acquaintances 
 that they would some time be married. But these 
 letters show that the fault, if there were a fault, 
 was not Bonaparte's. In nearly all there is some 
 message for the "silent one," some reference to an 
 affair which either she did not wish to acknowledge, 
 or Joseph and his wife did not like to encourage. 
 From other letters, of hers, in existence, it would 
 seem that she considered herself the injured one ; 
 but it does not so appear in these unstudied effusions 
 of Bonaparte to his brother. But, if he ever held 
 for her anything more than a transient regard, it
 
 JOSEPHINE. 183 
 
 was soon effaced by his first real passion, that for 
 the fair widow, Josephine de Beauharnais, whose 
 acquaintance was first formed immediately after 
 the thirteenth Vendemiaire.
 
 184 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 MARRIAGE OF JOSEPHINE AND NAPOLEON. 
 
 THE hour had come in which these two children 
 of destiny were to be united. Though born on 
 islands widely separate : one in Corsica, whose rocks 
 are laved by the waters of the Mediterranean ; the 
 other in Martinique, cradled in the warm waves of 
 the Atlantic ; the fates, propitious or otherwise, had 
 brought them together in the mother-land of France. 
 We have seen what were the circumstances of their 
 earlier lives. We have seen with what care Fortune 
 had trained the woman for a future of high em- 
 prise ; had fitted her for companionship with the 
 foremost man of his time. She met Napoleon at 
 the outset of his great career, when the gates were 
 open to success, which he had so long and so vainly 
 stormed. At last, his patience, his persistent wait- 
 ing, his implicit faith in his destiny, were to be 
 rewarded. No longer poor, obscure, a dweller in 
 mean lodgings, a student in garrets, a pleader for 
 the recognition which he knew was his due ; he was 
 the successful commander in favor with the Con- 
 vention, promoted for his bravery and rewarded for 
 his genius in defense of principle. 
 
 He had triumphed over every obstacle : he had
 
 JOSEPHINE. 185 
 
 won victories, not only over the Eoyalist foes of the 
 Convention, but over his lowlier self. From this 
 time he was changed, not only was there a physical 
 change, a transformation, from the untamed, 
 brusque and skeptical artillery officer of unknown 
 origin ; but there was a change in his moral nature, 
 as well. He abandoned the habits of his impecuni- 
 ous youth ; he slid easily into the position he had 
 won with his sword ; he more than filled it ; he 
 looked ever beyond, for something more than the 
 present afforded. While others were content with 
 the temporary rewards of chance or skill, he still 
 schemed and planned ; his eye fixed upon an ulti- 
 mate triumph over every obstacle, in his pathway 
 to the throne of France. 
 
 Immediate promotion had rewarded him for his 
 daring defense of the governing power, and he was 
 now virtually commander-in-chief of the Army of the 
 Interior. As such he had supervision of all Paris ; 
 he carried out the disarmament and surveillance of 
 the sections, and was occupied with his gigantic 
 plans by night and by day. 
 
 Different stories are related of the first meeting of 
 the Vicomtess de Beauharnais and Napoleon Bona- 
 parte. That which has been oftenest told, although 
 in recent times denied, is one that several times re- 
 ceived the endorsement of Napoleon himself, when 
 a prisoner on the rock of St. Helena. Soon after the 
 events of the thirteenth Vendemiaire had transpired, 
 and while Napoleon was engaged in the arduous work 
 of reducing the chaos of revolution to a condition of
 
 186 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 peace, he was approached by a beautiful boy about 
 fourteen years of age, who supplicated the return 
 of his father's sword. This parent had been a 
 general at one time in the service of the republic 
 and had perished on the scaffold. This youth was 
 Eugene de Beauharnais, since the Viceroy of Italy ; 
 thanks to the favor of the man he was then entreat- 
 ing. Touched by the nature of his demand, and the 
 ingenuous charm of the youth, Napoleon at once 
 gave orders that the sword should be restored to his 
 possession. Upon receiving it Eugene burst into 
 tears ; and even the stern general was visibly af- 
 fected. A few days later the mother of the youth, 
 the widow of the general whose sword was reclaimed, 
 came to thank Bonaparte in person. Struck with 
 her appearance, Bonaparte soon returned her visit ; 
 a pleasant acquaintance followed, which ripened 
 into intimacy ; and their marriage was not long 
 delayed.* 
 
 It was a fortunate meeting for Josephine, at this 
 juncture of her affairs ; which, as we have seen, were 
 not too prosperous. 
 
 Having arrived at the grade of General of Divi- 
 sion, Napoleon found himself at last in a position to 
 
 * In the " Memorials of St. Helena," and in the " Recollections of 
 Dr. O'Meara, we find three different allusions to this event. 
 
 The Emperor, recalling, in his captivity, the tenderness that over- 
 came him on seeing the tears of Eugene, said : "I was much moved, 
 and praised and caressed him. Several days after his mother came to 
 pay a visit of thanks. I was impressed by her charm of form and 
 still more by her esprit. This first impression deepened each day we 
 met ; and our marriage was not slow in following."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 187 
 
 marry, and it seems not to have been his fault that 
 he did not espouse Mile. Eugenie-Desiree Clary, his 
 brother Joseph's sister-in-law. There is little doubt 
 of an affection previously existing between them, 
 as shown by the letters of both ; as evidenced in 
 Bonaparte's own letters, which we have quoted, to 
 his brother Joseph. But Eugenie's father, a rich 
 merchant of Marseilles, was opposed to the marriage 
 of his daughter with a poor unknown officer of the 
 artillery. Perhaps he thought one poor Corsican in 
 the family was sufficient, for Joseph was by no 
 means a great success, either as a man of business 
 or later, as the occupant of a throne. So he and 
 his family set themselves against it, with the result 
 that the young people were obliged to submit to 
 their mandate. That Eugenie for a long time cher- 
 ished the image of Napoleon in her heart is at- 
 tested by her own writings ; that Bonaparte also 
 felt an injustice had been done this sweet and attrac- 
 tive girl, is incidentally shown by his subsequent 
 favors to the one she finally married : Bernadotte, 
 who often incurred Napoleon's censure ; but was 
 steadily promoted ; until finally raised to the throne 
 of Sweden. This affair with Eugenie Clary, which 
 might easily have been crowned by marriage, was 
 probably the only instance in which the affections of 
 the great general were seriously engaged, previous 
 to his meeting with Josephine. 
 
 As a youth and in early manhood, he may have 
 indulged in trivial flirtations ; in truth, for so se- 
 rious a nature, he was quite susceptible to the charms
 
 188 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 of the other sex. But, from a French standpoint, 
 he was comparatively virtuous ; his love of study 
 kept him true to his chosen mistress, the Goddess of 
 Science ; his poverty was a barrier between him and 
 temptation. 
 
 He mingled freely in the society of the Directorial 
 salons, meeting there many who were of service to 
 him in many ways ; gleaning from th,e men and 
 women of all parties useful information. He went 
 for recreation, also, for there was a social side to 
 the young General, which his busy life in camp and 
 barrack had not permitted him time to develop. 
 Under the glances of the fair Parisiennes he thawed 
 out sufficiently to be polite, though none of them 
 could penetrate his habitual reserve. Perhaps the 
 Vicomtesse de Beauharnais, who was always so 
 approachable and so gracious, won him to her side 
 unconsciously. She, with the beautiful Madame 
 Tallien, are said to have ruled in the social world, 
 at that time. Strange stories have been related of 
 these two, since, conspicuous in the small world of 
 society, they were also prominent targets for the 
 malice and envy of their associates. It was a 
 strange and cruel fate that condemned such as 
 Josephine, allied by birth and marriage with the 
 noblesse, not only to associate with the murderers 
 of her husband and her friends, but to adorn their 
 triumphs. In doing so, she merely accepted the 
 inevitable ; the old regime was dead ; the new was 
 inchoate ; society was yet seething and bubbling in 
 its witch's caldron. There were curious juxtapo-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 189 
 
 sitions, unaccountable alliances. " One is little 
 inclined to dwell upon the ruling society of this 
 period. It-had neither the dignity of past tradition, 
 nor freedom of intellectual expression." Woman 
 was as yet hardly a factor in the calculations of the 
 ruling class of men. She had escaped with what of 
 life and virtue their magnanimity allowed her ; she 
 was still somewhat the sport of circumstance. It 
 is small wonder, then, that she was evil-spoken of ; 
 that she was lightly accused of being wanton ; as 
 lightly regarded the accusation. 
 
 With Bonaparte's accession to power the feelings 
 of the Clary family in respect to a prospective mar- 
 riage with their daughter, may have changed ; but 
 the sentiments of the future conqueror of Italy and 
 Austria had also undergone a change. 
 
 The name of Desiree was no longer mentioned by 
 him ; since the middle of November, in fact, he was 
 occupied with another ; his heart was possessed by 
 the woman he had met soon after the events of 
 October : he had seen Josephine ! . . . 
 
 We have seen, from his letters of this period to 
 his brother, what was his condition, his ambition, 
 previous to and after the thirteenth Vendemiaire ; 
 that page of his history was written by the same 
 hand that wielded the sword of Arcole and Rivoli. 
 His meeting with Madame de Beauharnais was 
 about the last of October or the first of November, 
 when she first made her appearance in society. 
 
 If one might believe certain letters ascribed to 
 this epoch, but which are without doubt apocryphal,
 
 190 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 the widow of Beauharnais had figured prominently 
 in some of the fetes and reunions which followed 
 the overthrow of the Eevolution and were the diver- 
 sion and scandal of Paris. But as a matter of fact, 
 we fail to find her name mentioned in contempo- 
 raneous annals previous to the opening of the year 
 1796, and we cannot but ascribe to malevolent mo- 
 tives the oft-repeated statement that a woman of 
 her heart, her sensibilities, and above all, her love 
 of the convenances, took part in the festivities that 
 followed so soon after the cruel death of her hus- 
 band. There is no probability whatever that Jose- 
 phine was at all prominent in society before her 
 meeting with Napoleon ; it would have been impos- 
 sible, with the eyes of her children and her husband's 
 family upon her, to have disregarded their wishes 
 or the dictates of her own sensitive nature. With 
 the exception of the time necessary for the trans- 
 action of her business affairs, as at Hamburg, her 
 life was quietly passed in a restricted social circle 
 composed of the few friends the Eevolution had 
 left to her, and those whose acquaintance she had 
 formed in prison. 
 
 Of this number were her aunts, Madame d'Aiguil- 
 lon, Madame Recamier, Madame Chateau-Renard, 
 and Madame Tallien. To the latter, as her savior 
 from the horrors of prison, Josephine ever felt 
 deeply attached, and, unlike many who had been 
 recipients of her favor, always displayed towards 
 her sentiments of the liveliest friendship and grati- 
 tude. For Josephine had, as she has herself said,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 191 
 
 a horror of ingratitude ; she would not dissimulate, 
 even though her friend was proscribed by the Royal- 
 ist leaders of society, and the wife of one of the 
 leaders of the revolutionary reaction. As such, 
 however, Madame Tallien interested her husband 
 in her friend, and secured through him the restitu- 
 tion of some of her property.* 
 
 At the house of Madame Tallien, doubtless, the 
 Vicomtesse met the representative Barras, whom 
 the Ninth Therrnidor had also placed in the fore- 
 front with Tallien and his coadjutors. Respecting 
 the relations presumed to have existed at one time 
 between Barras and the subject of this history, there 
 has not been adduced any evidence that a reputable 
 historian would admit to his pages. What has 
 been asserted has been devoid of proof, and upon 
 the mere word of an envious and disappointed man. 
 Aside from the fact that Mme. de Beauharnais was 
 not indebted to Barras for the restitution of her 
 property, nor for the appointment (as has been 
 alleged) of her future husband to the Italian com- 
 
 * " On 1'appelait ' Notre Dame de Thermidor,' car elle rendait 
 service aux malheureux de tous les partis. Cela n'empecha pas les 
 royalistes, par une injure gratuite et une ingratitude atroce, de la 
 nommer ' Notre-Dame de Septembre,' faisant allusion aux massacres 
 des 2 et 3 Septembre, 1792, pendent lesquels Tallien etait secretaire 
 de la Commune de Paris. Mme. Tallien e"tait recherchee et courtisee 
 a la fois pour elle-meme et pour T influence de son mari dans les 
 affaires ; elle e"tait I'ornement de toutes les fetes et Tame de tous les 
 plaisirs. Elle regnait sans avoir les embarras du trone ; son empire 
 secha bien des larmes, et n'en couta, que je sache, <\ personne." 
 " Thibaudeau, Memoires sur la Convention et la Directoire."
 
 192 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 mand ; she certainly had too great regard for her 
 children, and for the family with which she was 
 allied, to seriously compromise herself with a man 
 like Barras. Neither was the one who aspired at 
 that time to her hand, no matter how blind the love 
 he felt had rendered him, likely to regard without 
 suspicion any act that would indicate undue inti- 
 macy between the one he loved and his superior. 
 Whatever may have been charged to Napoleon, it 
 has not been shown that he lacked in sensibility, 
 nor appreciation of honorable motive. He had, 
 besides, that confidence in himself, that conviction 
 of his own high destiny, which forbade the accept- 
 ance of a favor, or of assistance with the suspicion 
 of indebtedness. 
 
 It was about this time that Josephine left the 
 house she had occupied in the Rue de 1'Universite, 
 to reside in another which she had bought of Talma, 
 the famous actor. She had now arrived at a better 
 fortune ; in addition to what she had brought back 
 from Hamburg she now received more regular re- 
 mittances from her mother, and, thanks to the favor 
 of Tallien, was in the enjoyment of the restituted 
 properties. She was able to assume a certain state 
 in the conduct of her household and the dispensing 
 of her hospitality. Her reunions gathered together 
 many of the friends of former times, who had been 
 dispersed by the Revolution ; here the young General 
 found himself in the midst of the most agreeable 
 company of Paris, and it was not long before he 
 came to pass nearly all his evenings under the
 
 JOSEPHINE. 193 
 
 hospitable roof of her little house in the -Rue 
 Chantereiue. 
 
 He was welcome, yet he was shunned by some 
 and feared ; but it mattered not to him, so the kind 
 hostess had a smile for him. With his ardent 
 nature love made rapid progress ; he soon declared 
 himself. It is not true that his heart was possessed 
 solely by ambition to the exclusion of love ; he was 
 assailed by the most violent passion that ever vexed 
 the heart of man. His letters attest to the depth and 
 sincerity of the passion that had seized him, absorb- 
 ing, profound, idealizing the object of its desires. 
 
 In sooth, from the first moment that Bonaparte 
 had beheld the Vicomtesse de Beauharnais he was 
 fascinated that is the word by that sovereign 
 charm of manner, that mingled grace and dignity, 
 which attracted to her all with whom she came in 
 contact. 
 
 Says Madame de Remusat, in her Memoires : 
 11 Bonaparte was young when he first met Mme. 
 de Beauharnais, who was greatly superior to the 
 rest of the circle in which she moved, both by rea- 
 son of the name she bore, and the elegance of her 
 manners. She attached herself to him and flat- 
 tered his pride ; she procured him a step forward 
 in rank (?) ; he became accustomed to associate the 
 idea of her influence with every piece of good 
 fortune that befell him ; and this superstition, 
 which she kept up very cleverly, exerted great 
 power over him, for a long time. . . . When he mar- 
 ried the Widow Beauharnais, Bonaparte believed 
 
 '3
 
 194 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 that he was allying himself to a very great lady ; 
 his marriage, therefore, was one conquest the 
 more. . . . Yet he had some affection for her, and 
 if he was ever really stirred by any emotion, it was 
 by her and for her." 
 
 This is the admission of a woman who was the 
 recipient of favors from both Josephine and Bona- 
 parte, one who played an important though subor- 
 dinate part in their imperial court, and whose envy 
 was excited by the success of those she would rather 
 have regarded as her inferiors in station. There is 
 little doubt that at first the General was drawn to 
 the Vicomtesse by her social position, the impor- 
 tance of which he may have exaggerated ; though 
 she was allied with two of the most honorable fam- 
 ilies of France, was the widow of one of the most 
 respected generals of the republic, who had also 
 held the office of president of the Assembly at a 
 most critical period of its fortunes, and who had 
 been a welcome guest in the salons of the old 
 regime. Josephine was undoubtedly what would 
 then have been considered a bon parti, for the 
 recently-elevated general of the Army of the Inte- 
 rior, who, having risen to his present position by 
 his unaided sword, and dependent upon it for his 
 future greatness, might perish in the war without 
 attaining to any higher rank than that he then 
 held. On the other hand, it could not have been 
 from interest, merely, that Bonaparte sought the 
 hand of the Vicomtesse in marriage, for he neither 
 knew nor cared what was her fortune.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 195 
 
 A widow of only eighteen months, Josephine had 
 not lost all recollection of her husband's many 
 amiable qualities ; of the promise the future seemed 
 to hold respecting their closer union ; of the anguish 
 and the affectionate solicitude of those last moments 
 of his life, when, with his latest breath, he had 
 commended their children to her care. The pros- 
 pect of another assuming his place in her affections 
 and becoming a second father to his children, was 
 at the outset repugnant to her. Bonaparte prom- 
 ised to love and protect her children as his own ; 
 and this promise no one can accuse him of having 
 forgotten ; he ever held their interests as his own, 
 always manifested for them the tenderest regard, 
 the most earnest solicitude. 
 
 Her family counseled her to accept the General's 
 proposal : her aunt, Mme. de Renaudin, Fanny 
 Beauharnais, and even the old Marquis, her father- 
 in-law. If reasons for her acceptance were want- 
 ing, they were not long forthcoming. This contest 
 between her regard for Alexander's memory and 
 his children, on the one side ; and a sincere love, 
 ardently expressed, on the other, tore her heart with 
 doubts. 
 
 A letter attributed to Josephine, and assigned to 
 this period of her history has been published, as- 
 suming to throw light upon her feelings and 
 motives at this time. But this letter bears every 
 evidence of being a fabrication, it is so altogether 
 different from the chaste style in which Josephine 
 was wont to express herself, treats with such levity
 
 196 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 the memory of her husband and the serious atten- 
 tions of one who would honor her with his hand . . . 
 
 " 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 chil- 
 dren entreat my compliance. Why are you not here 
 to give me your advice at this important juncture : 
 to persuade me that I ought to consent to a union 
 which must put an end to the irksomeness of my 
 present position ? . . . You have met General Bona- 
 parte at my house. Well, it is he who would sup- 
 ply a father's place to the orphans of Alexandre 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 pec- 
 cadilloes. Love, being a kind of worship, requires 
 that one feel very differently from all this ; and 
 hence the need I have for your advice, which might 
 fix the irresolution of my feeble character. . . . 
 
 " 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 mar- 
 riage which he might have contracted ? What shall 
 I then reply ? What shall I do ? I shall weep. . . .
 
 JOSEPHINE. 197 
 
 "Excellent resource, you will say. . . . Barras 
 gives assurance that if I marry the General he will 
 so contrive that he shall be appointed to the com- 
 mand of the Army of Italy. Yesterday, Bonaparte, 
 speaking of this favor, which already excites mur- 
 muring among his fellow-soldiers, said to me : 
 ' Think they, then, I have need of their protection ? 
 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.'" 
 
 In this strain this conjectural letter from the pen 
 of the Vicomtesse continues, bearing on its face the 
 evidence of its falsity.* Josephine has been pe- 
 culiarly unfortunate in her female biographers, 
 writers of memoirs that depend upon the interest 
 attaching to their illustrious subject for their 
 favor with the public. 
 
 Not less mendacious, apparently, are the alleged 
 memoirs of Mile, le Normand, attributed to Joseph- 
 ine herself. From the fabric of fiction it is difficult 
 to extract what may be accepted as true ; but there 
 is, doubtless, somewhat of truth in the body of the 
 book ; though the animus of the author is apparent : 
 to strike, through her heroine, her imperial con- 
 sort, f Thus, credence is given to the statement 
 that Bonaparte was indebted to Barras for his pro- 
 motion ; and the inference is given that it was as 
 
 * "Me"moires de Mine. Ducrest." 
 
 t "Memoires Historique et Secret de 1' Impe'ratrice Josephine ; " 
 par Mile. M. A. le Normand : Paris, 1818.
 
 198 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 the reward for favors already received from Joseph- 
 ine. Under the guise of friendship, the women 
 strike at the hand once stretched forth to their as- 
 sistance ; while ostensibly writing these truthful 
 memoirs of Josephine, they poison the minds of their 
 readers with their base suggestions of intrigue. 
 
 In the Le-Normand memoirs Josephine is made 
 to say : . . . "I now come to the time when my 
 destiny was to change. Since the death of my 
 husband, my heart had dwelt upon those dreadful 
 events which had decimated France and plunged so 
 many families into mourning and oblivion. . . . The 
 image of my lost happiness revealing itself to me as 
 I reflected that M. de Beauharnais had intended 
 again to unite himself to me, seemed, even in the 
 midst of my misfortunes, to betoken a happier 
 future. 
 
 " Happy to be free, I felt a repugnance to con- 
 tracting another marriage. . . . But, being one 
 day on a visit at Mme. Chateau-Renard's I was sit- 
 ting at a window looking at some violets, when 
 suddenly the famous Bonaparte was announced. 
 Why, I was unable to tell, but that name made me 
 tremble ; a violent shudder seized me on seeing him 
 approach. I dared, however, to catch the attention 
 of the man who had achieved so easy a victory over 
 the Parisians. . . . The rest of the company looked 
 at him in silence. I was the first to speak to him. 
 The next day Barras said to me : ' I am about to 
 propose to you, madame, something to your advan- 
 tage. For a long time you have thought only of the
 
 JOSEPHINE. 199 
 
 welfare of others ; it is high time you should be oc- 
 cupied about your own affairs. I want to make 
 you marry the little Bonaparte, whom I have just 
 got appointed general-in-chief, and to whom I have 
 given the business of conquering Italy.' . . . 
 
 " I was surprised at the proposal ; it by no means 
 met my approbation. ' Do you really think of 
 that?' said I to the Director; 'your project is in- 
 conceivable.' . . . We met several times at Tal- 
 lien's ; the more I sought to avoid his presence, the 
 more he seemed to multiply himself in my 
 way. . . . But I consented, at length, to marry 
 the hero who was to conquer so many nations. ... I 
 myself sent to Bonaparte the letter of the Directory, 
 offering him the command of the Army of Italy. . . . 
 He had but a few days to make his preparations for 
 crossing the Alps ; and two days before his depart- 
 ure he received the title of my husband. . . . Bon- 
 aparte left me an honorable title, and a delightful 
 abode at his residence, where I saw constantly the 
 best of company, where I was visited by deputies 
 and generals." 
 
 These memoires were published four years after 
 the death of Josephine and while Napoleon was a 
 prisoner at St. Helena ; his enemies were in power 
 again ; this book was intended as a propitiatory 
 offering to royalty, by an unprincipled and unscrup- 
 ulous woman, Mile. Le-Normand, who was a pro- 
 fessional fortune-teller of Paris. 
 
 We turn with relief to the authentic narrative of
 
 200 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Josephine's life which has been taken as the basis of 
 this history, published some forty years after her 
 death, and written by one who made a careful ex- 
 amination of all available material, in France and 
 in the island of her birth.* 
 
 Josephine was impressed by the ardor of her 
 lover's suit, by his ingenuous affection ; but she 
 doubted her ability, being no longer in her premiere 
 jeunesse, to hold in thrall the genius of one so aspir- 
 ing, and at the same time so much younger than 
 herself. Her first marriage had been at the outset 
 so unhappy, she feared to engage in another con- 
 tract that should fetter the freedom she then enjoyed, 
 and which, though it exposed her to malicious at- 
 tacks, yet had its manifold attractions. But in the 
 end, she submitted, drawn in spite of herself by the 
 magnetic, dominant personality of the young and 
 ardent Napoleon. Once having yielded her consent, 
 she could not but recall, and impart to her affianced, 
 the prediction of the Martinique prophetess, which 
 seemed to confirm her impression that she was in- 
 deed to link her fortunes with the man of destiny. 
 Not all her friends believed that her prospective 
 union was to be a betterment of her fortunes ; many, 
 in fact, averring that the advantage lay with the 
 General of the Convention. 
 
 Having accepted the General's offer, Madame de 
 Beauharnais charged her friend, Mme. Campan, 
 with the disagreeable duty of breaking the news to 
 
 * " Histoire de 1' Impe'ratrice Josephine," par Joseph Aubenas : 
 Paris, 1857.
 
 EUGENIE D^SIREE CLARY.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 201 
 
 her children ; for she shrank from acquainting them 
 with the approaching marriage, knowing full well 
 their reverence for their father's memory and name. 
 Eugene was then at college, and Hortense was at 
 the famous school kept by Madame Campan, which 
 she had entered in August or September, 1795.* 
 
 The union was consummated, after the manner of 
 those revolutionary times, by an appearance before 
 a civil magistrate, on the 9th of March, 1796, in 
 the mayoralty of the second arrondissement of Paris, 
 in which Mme. de Beauharnais then resided. 
 
 Their brief honeymoon was passed in the little 
 house, Rue Chantereine. Twelve days later, Bona- 
 parte was compelled to leave his bride, his new-found 
 happiness, the home to which he had at last attained, 
 and on the 21st of March was on his way to win the 
 imperishable glory which awaited him on the battle- 
 fields of Italy. 
 
 * " Correspondance de Mme. Campan avec la Seine Hortense" . . . 
 "Six mois apres (!' entree d'Hortense a Saint-Germain), Mme. 
 de Beauharnais vint me faire partde son mariage avec un gentilhomme 
 Corse, e"leve de 1'ecole militaire et general. Je fus chargee d'ap- 
 prendre cette nouvelle a sa fille, qui s'affligea longtemps de voir sa 
 mere changer de nom," etc.
 
 202 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE ITALIAN CAMPAIGN. 
 
 ONE object of Bonaparte's desires had been attained, 
 one ambition gratified, but he had not yet scaled the 
 heights of fame. In the marriage-act Napoleon 
 is indicated as General-in-Chief of the Army of 
 the Interior, although he had been nominated to 
 the command of the Army of Italy two weeks be- 
 fore, or on the 22d of February. His commission 
 may not have been signed, or he may not have 
 chosen to assume the title in advance of taking the 
 command. His friends would ascribe such an act 
 to modesty, his enemies to policy ; but whatever 
 the reason, such is the fact. As witnesses to the 
 marriage there were, on the part of Napoleon, the 
 representative Barras, as member of the Directory 
 and chief of the Vendemiaire, and Lemarrois, Bona- 
 parte's aide-de-camp. Several officers served him 
 in this capacity, at that time ; but he had given the 
 preference to Lemarrois, because, it is thought, he 
 had been indirectly instrumental in promoting this 
 marriage, by introducing to the General the young 
 Eugene, on the occasion of his request for his father's 
 sword. Mme. de Beauharnais had, as witnesses, 
 Tallien, to whom and whose wife she was so deeply
 
 JOSEPHINE. 203 
 
 indebted ; and a certain lawyer, Calmelet, an old 
 friend and solicitor of the Beauharnais. 
 
 The names of the contracting parties were re- 
 corded as " Napolione Bonaparte, and Marie- Joseph- 
 Eose de Tascher." The residence of the General is 
 given as Eue d' Anton, which was then, doubtless, 
 his private domicile ; though as military comman- 
 dant his official residence was in the Eue des 
 Capucins. 
 
 Josephine's domicile is entered as at Eue Chan- 
 tereine, in the little house from which, four years 
 later, Bonaparte emerged as the genius of the 18th 
 Brumaire, and the dictator of all France. 
 
 One error in the marriage-act cannot be over- 
 looked, although it may be attributed to gallantry 
 on the part of Napoleon, or negligence of the 
 civil officer, as to their respective ages. The 
 age of Bonaparte is entered as twenty-eight, when 
 he was but twenty-six, seven months ; that of 
 Josephine as the same, when she was really thirty- 
 two and more ; in other words, the general was 
 made two years older and his wife four years 
 younger, than their certificates of birth would 
 warrant. Both may have been sensitive as to the 
 discrepancy in their ages, and doubtless both connived 
 at this innocent deception, which was at most a sop 
 to their vanity. This fiction is said to have been 
 perpetuated so late as 1814, in the Imperial Almanac 
 of that date ; but no one was deceived thereby, and 
 eventually the truth was published. 
 
 Another irregularity in the " act " was the per-
 
 204 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 mitting of the aide-de-camp, Lemarrois, to sign as 
 witness, when he had not arrived at the legal age. 
 Either of these irregularities, it has been declared, 
 would have invalidated the contract, and have made 
 easier for Napoleon the accomplishment of his 
 subsequent plans for divorce, had he been aware of 
 the facts. But, fortunately, nothing untoward 
 occurred to mar their brief day of happiness, before 
 the departure of the groom for his distant fields of 
 glory. 
 
 Before dismissing the events of this most impor- 
 tant period from these pages, let us recur to that 
 appointment of commander-in-chief, which, it has 
 been alleged, Bonaparte received through the favor 
 in which Josephine had been held by Barras. This 
 has been effectually disproven by reference to the 
 records of the time, and the denial of the one man 
 who was then at the head of military affairs in the 
 Directory. It was to that great military genius of 
 the Directory, the upright, unimpeachable Carnot, 
 and not to Barras, that Bonaparte owed this rec- 
 ognition of his merit. This statement was made 
 by Carnot, during his exile in Switzerland, and is re- 
 affirmed in his memoirs * : . . . " It is not true that 
 Barras proposed Bonaparte for the Italian campaign ; 
 it was I, myself. If he had failed, upon my 
 shoulders would have been foisted the responsibility ; 
 but he succeeded, and Barras claims the credit. . . ." 
 There was nothing unusual in the appointment : the 
 
 * " Memoir 'es Historiques et Militaires sur Carnot " : Paris, 1824.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 205 
 
 young General was in constant communication with 
 the Directory, after the 13th Vendemiaire ; for six 
 months he was laboring indefatigably to reorganize 
 the Army of the Interior ; his plans for the Italian 
 campaign had been examined and adopted ; who 
 more likely than he, their author, to succeed in 
 carrying them out ? In truth, who else than he, 
 what genius less than his, could bring about their 
 accomplishment ? 
 
 In short, a concensus of contemporary opinion gives 
 a verdict opposed to the claims of Barras as the dis- 
 coverer of this great military adept and the pro- 
 moter of his fortunes. He was naturally jealous 
 that one nominally second in command should have 
 risen so far above him : envy and malice supplied 
 the weapons. Josephine became the unconscious 
 instrument for attacking and wounding this giant 
 whom he could not overthrow. Bourrienne, who 
 later became the private secretary of Napoleon, and 
 has written his memoirs, which are in the main re- 
 liable, says of the marriage : . . . " One day, at 
 breakfast, Bonaparte called my attention to a young 
 lady who sat opposite to him, and asked what I 
 thought of her. The way in which I answered his 
 question seemed to give him much pleasure. He 
 then talked a great deal to me about her, her family, 
 and her amiable qualities ; he told me that he 
 should probably marry her, as he was convinced 
 that the union would make him happy. I also 
 gathered from his conversation that his marriage 
 with the young widow would probably assist him
 
 206 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 in gaining the objects of his ambition. His con- 
 stantly increasing influence with her had already 
 brought him into contact with the most influential 
 persons of that epoch. . . . He remained in Paris 
 only ten days after his marriage, which took place 
 on the 9th of March, 1796. It was a union in which 
 great harmony prevailed, notwithstanding occa- 
 sional slight disagreements. Bonaparte never, to 
 my knowledge, caused annoyance to his wife."* 
 
 "Madame Bonaparte possessed personal graces 
 and many good qualities. I am convinced that all 
 who were acquainted with her must have felt bound 
 to speak well of her ; to few, indeed, did she ever 
 give cause for complaint. In the time of her great 
 power she did not lose any of her friends, because 
 she forgot none of them. Benevolence was natural 
 to her, but she was not always prudent in its exer- 
 cise. Hence her protection was often extended to 
 persons who did not deserve it. Her taste for 
 splendor and expense was excessive, and this proiie- 
 ness for luxury became a habit which seemed 
 constantly indulged without any motive. What 
 scenes have I not witnessed when the moment for 
 paying the tradesmen's bills arrived. . . She always 
 kept back from Napoleon one-half their claims, 
 and the discovery of this exposed her to new re- 
 proaches. How many tears did she shed which might 
 easily have been spared." . . . 
 
 Meneval, Bourrienne's successor as private 
 
 * " Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte," by Louis Antome Fauvelet 
 de Bourrienne, his Private Secretary.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 207 
 
 secretary to Bonaparte, confirms this testimony to 
 the gentleness and grace of Josephine : . . . " She 
 had the soft abandonment, the supple and elegant 
 movements, and the graceful carelessness of the 
 Creoles. Her temper was always the same. She 
 was gentle and kind, affable and indulgent with 
 every one, knowing no difference with persons. 
 She had neither a superior mind, nor much learn- 
 ing ; but her exquisite politeness, her full acquaint- 
 ance with society, with the Court, and with their 
 innocent artifices, made her always know at need 
 the best thing to say or to do." * 
 
 The women who have left on record their impres- 
 sions, either in contemporary letters or in memoirs 
 
 * Said the observant Talleyrand, when asked about her : . . . 
 " Avait-elle de Vesprit f " Elle s'en passait superieurement 6ien." 
 Says Madame de Remusat: " Without being precisely pretty, she pos- 
 sessed many personal charms : her features were delicate, her ex- 
 pression was sweet ; her mouth was very small, and concealed her 
 bad teeth ; her complexion was rather dark, but with artificial aids 
 she remedied that defect. Her figure was perfect ; her limbs flex- 
 ible and delicate, her movements easy and elegant. La-Fontaine's 
 lines could never have been more fitly applied than to her ' Et la 
 grace, plus belle encore que la beaute! . . . She dressed with perfect 
 taste, enhancing the elegance of whatever she wore. . . . To all 
 her other qualities she added extreme kindness of heart, a remarkably 
 even temper, and great readiness to forget a wrong that had been done 
 her." And Miot de Melito, a partisan of Joseph Bonaparte's, who 
 was not too well disposed towards Josephine: . . . "No woman has 
 united so much kindness to so much of natural grace, or has done 
 more good with more pleasure than she did. She honored me with 
 her friendship, and the remembrance of the benevolence she has 
 shown me, to the last moment of her too short existence, will never 
 be effaced from my heart."
 
 208 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 published after their demise, have been less just to 
 one of their own sex as is most natural than the 
 men. But even those who were devoured with 
 envy at her high position, who were obliged to 
 accept unwillingly subordinate stations in her court, 
 have testified to her unfailing goodness, sweetness 
 of disposition, and her bounty. 
 
 We are not aware of any existing portrait of 
 Josephine, of any bust or drawing, of the period 
 preceding her second marriage, but this portrait- 
 mosaic from the hands of her contemporaries, suf- 
 ficiently limns her features and her characteristics. 
 Her eyes were deep blue, her hair brown, not over 
 luxuriant, her complexion dark, her mouth small, 
 the lips parted in a smile of exceeding sweetness, 
 the nose with arched and sensitive nostrils, and in- 
 clined to retrousse. She was not a beauty, although 
 she had more than fulfilled the promise of her youth, 
 as we have seen her at Martinique, and on her 
 arrival in France. She could not compare in re- 
 spect to mere personal attractions with Mme. Tallien, 
 nor with Napoleon's sister, Pauline, later a reign- 
 ing belle ; but Josephine completely realized one's 
 ideal of an attractive, fascinating woman, with 
 an air of distinction about her that impressed all 
 who met her, particularly Bonaparte, on his first 
 acquaintance, who had from birth a penchant to- 
 wards the aristocracy. 
 
 Such was Josephine at the period when, the bride 
 of Napoleon, she was left alone in Paris to await 
 the tidings from the seat of war. And they came,
 
 209 
 
 hot and fast, one letter sometimes overtaking the 
 other on the road ; letters full of fire and passion, 
 filled with love, with thoughts of her, to the exclu- 
 sion of every other woman, of almost every other 
 theme. Leaving Paris on the twenty-first of March, 
 twenty days passed by before the Directory received 
 any news of their newly-appointed commander of 
 the armies of Italy. 
 
 But missives to his wife came by every post. He 
 was going forth to fight, only that he might win 
 her approval ; to make peace, only that he might 
 the sooner have her with him. Every mile of the 
 road to Italy that he traversed was filled with his 
 laments ; the country was hateful to him, because 
 it stretched, continually broadening, between him and 
 his love. " By what art " (he wrote from the scene 
 of his first triumphs) " have you learned to captivate 
 all my faculties, to concentrate in yourself my whole 
 being ? To live for Josephine. . . . That is the 
 story of my life. I am dying to join you. Fool ! 
 ... I don't see that I am only going farther away. 
 How many lands and countries separate us ! How 
 long before you will read these words, which so 
 feebly express the emotions of the heart over which 
 you reign ! " " To deny Bonaparte's passionate love 
 for Josephine in 1796," says one who met them inti- 
 mately, " would be to deny the evidence." Even Sir 
 Walter Scott, by no means an admirer of Napoleon, 
 grudgingly admits the genuineness of this passion : 
 . . . "A part of his correspondence with his bride 
 has been preserved, and gives a curious picture of a
 
 210 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 temperament as fiery in love as in war. The lan- 
 guage of the conqueror who was disposing states at 
 his pleasure, and defeating the most celebrated 
 commanders of his time, is that of an Arcadian 
 shepherd." And again, Mme. de Remusat : . . . 
 " 1 have seen letters from Napoleon to Mme. Bona- 
 parte, written at the time of the first Italian cam- 
 paign, which are very singular. . . . The writ- 
 ing is almost illegible ; they are ill-spelt ; the style 
 is strange and confused But, there is in them such 
 a tone of passionate feeling ; the expression is so 
 animated, and at the same time so poetical ; they 
 breathe a love so different from mere amours, that 
 there is no woman who would not have prized such 
 letters. . . . They form a striking contrast with 
 the graceful, elegant and measured style of those 
 of his wife." 
 
 "At this time," says another, "Bonaparte was 
 much more in love with his wife than she 'was with 
 him. He adored her ; she was but moderately 
 touched by his fiery transports." 
 
 This, we are constrained to believe, was true at 
 the beginning of their marital relations. Napoleon 
 had won her perforce, as it were ; had compelled 
 her to accept his love, his devotion, his homage, 
 even. She was bewildered by a passion which she 
 did not then understand, which swept her away in 
 an impetuous flood, which brought to her feet the 
 offerings of a heart unsullied, the treasures of a 
 world new-conquered. 
 
 These love-letters of the great General have been
 
 JOSEPHINE. 211 
 
 preserved ; * they attest the most ardent passion, 
 the tenderest devotion. . . . One of the first depicts 
 his despair in glowing colors : . . . " Every moment 
 takes me farther away from you, and every moment 
 I feel less able to endure the separation. You are 
 ever in my thoughts ; my fancy tires itself in trying 
 to imagine your present occupation. If I picture you 
 sad, my heart is wrung and my grief increased. If 
 happy and merry with your friends, I blame you 
 for so soon forgetting the three days' painful sepa- 
 ration ; in that case you are frivolous, not capable 
 of deep feeling. So, as you see, I am hard to 
 please. . . . When I am asked if I have rested well, 
 I cannot answer until a messenger brings me word 
 that you have rested well. The illness or anger of 
 men affect me only so far as I imagine they may 
 have affected you." 
 
 And later in the year, after successive victories 
 have perched upon his banners: . . . " At length, 
 my adored Josephine, I live again. Death is no 
 longer before me, and glory and honor are still in 
 my breast. The enemy is beaten at Arcola. To- 
 morrow we will repair the blunder of Vaubois, who 
 abandoned Rivoli. In eight days Mantua will be 
 ours, and then thy husband will fold thee in his 
 arms, and give thee a thousand proofs of his ardent 
 affection. I shall proceed to Milan as soon as I can : 
 I am a little fatigued. I have received letters from 
 Hortense and Eugene. I am delighted with the 
 
 * " Correspondance Inedite, Offlcielle et Confidentielle, de Napo- 
 leon Bonaparte : " Paris, 1819.
 
 212 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 children. I will send you their letters as soon as 1 
 am joined by my household, which is now somewhat 
 dispersed. . . . We have made five thousand pris- 
 oners and killed at least six thousand of the enemy. 
 Adieu, my adorable one. Think of me often. When 
 you cease to love your Achilles ; when your heart 
 grows cool towards him, you will be very cruel, very 
 unjust. But I am sure you will always continue 
 my faithful mistress, as I shall ever remain your 
 fond lover. Death alone can break the union which 
 sympathy, love and sentiment have formed. Let 
 me have news of your health. ... A thousand and 
 a thousand kisses." 
 
 But, though drawn to Paris by his affections, 
 frenzied by the recollection of his bride of less than 
 two weeks left behind him, his ardor was not 
 quenched, rather stimulated, at the thought of what 
 was before him. He reached his command, finding 
 the army disorganized, spiritless, without shoes, 
 almost destitute of provisions. He at once set about 
 its reorganization, in twenty days had it in condition 
 to march ; within three weeks from leaving Paris 
 had gained his first victory, at Montenotte. The 
 letters he wrote almost daily to his wife were full of 
 love, of passionate devotion : but not a word about 
 his exploits, accomplished or in contemplation. The 
 processes of his mind were conducted in secret : no 
 one but himself was cognizant of his plans, his pro- 
 jected movements. The lover and the militarist are 
 strangely mingled in the same individual. In all 
 his ravings, in all his tender epistles, he confine?
 
 JOSEPHINE. 213 
 
 himself to the expression of his passion. His duty 
 to mistress and to country were things apart. He 
 would not fail one or the other ; he was equally 
 devoted to both ; but neither was entitled to his 
 whole heart. And yet to each he gave the energies, 
 the attention, of his entire being ; there were two 
 men combined in that one entity : the lover, ab- 
 sorbed in his passion ; the warrior, permeated by the 
 love of glory and country. His nature fed upon the 
 material at hand ; he loved with all the intensity of 
 his ardent nature ; he fought with all the energy of 
 one inspired. " Napoleon found the Eepublic 
 abhorrent of her guillotine, loving her army, . . . 
 risen in mad wrath to deliver her from slavery, 
 from invasion, all aroused, enraged, with intense 
 patriotism, impatiently awaiting a leader " who 
 came. . . . All the world loves a lover and a leader. 
 In Napoleon, his soldiers found both combined. 
 Aroused as he was, by love, by thirst for glory, his 
 magnetic presence drew them ; his dominant person- 
 ality impelled them. He took what Republican 
 France had prepared, what she had assembled, 
 took it, rough and inchoate as it was, moulded it, 
 beat it into shape, and hurled it on to victory. 
 
 Who was this newly-risen star, this young gen- 
 eral, sent out to supersede old and tried veterans, 
 who had been unable to make headway against 
 the Austrian armies, at least, of late : Kellerman, 
 Augereau, Massena ? The astonished soldiers asked 
 this question but once ; his own deeds answered it : 
 he was their leader, their born commander ; they
 
 214: JOSEPHINE. 
 
 followed him gladly, and ever to new and newer 
 triumph. A month of silence, during which no 
 tidings reached the impatient Directory from their 
 general. But then there burst upon their aston- 
 ished ears, like a thunder-clap, the victory of Mon- 
 tenotte, gained on the twelfth of April. Scarcely 
 had this message awakened and electrified the capital, 
 than there came another, the victory of Millesimo. 
 next of Dego, then of Mondovi. Four victories in 
 the space of ten days ; the King of Sardinia com- 
 pelled to abandon his Austrian allies and to place 
 all his fortresses at the orders of the French com- 
 mander. Of the first victory, Mme. Bonaparte 
 received the information, in common with all Paris, 
 from the columns of the Moniteur. She had retired 
 with the love-letters of her hero under her pillow, 
 never dreaming that she would awake, next morn- 
 ing, and find his name in every mouth. During 
 the month succeeding the reception of this news, or 
 from the twentieth of April to the twentieth of May, 
 Josephine was the recipient of attentions that would 
 have gladdened the heart of any woman. She was 
 the most famous woman then in France ; the wife 
 of the victorious general, the best-beloved of the 
 most highly-honored man of France. 
 
 While the slow-moving couriers were carrying the 
 tidings to Paris, Napoleon was pushing on ; the 
 tenth of May he forced the passage of the Adda, 
 which gave him Lombardy, and on the fifteenth he 
 entered Milan. His plan of campaign was vindi- 
 cated ; he had fallen upon the enemy from the rear ;
 
 JOSEPHINE. 215 
 
 he had penetrated to the heart of the disputed coun- 
 try, had divided the forces of the Austrians and the 
 Piedmontese. Modena, Naples, Parma, the Pope, 
 all hastened to conclude a peace or beg an armistice. 
 In the Moniteur of the 25th of April appeared the 
 first official report from headquarters, rendered with 
 a dignified simplicity that delighted the Directory. 
 Two days after a second despatch announced an- 
 other victory, and the next day another. Impelled 
 by the popular patriotism, the Directory addressed 
 to their young general its felicitations, in the name 
 of the nation. Carnot,* proud of his protege and 
 delighted that he had been the means of bestowing 
 upon France this new leader, wrote to Bonaparte : 
 " The eyes of all France, of all Europe, are fixed upon 
 you and your army." This was indeed true, for of 
 the other armies of France : of the North, of the 
 
 * Carnot, L. N. M., French statesman and tactician; born 1753 ; 
 in 1791 a deputy ; voted for the execution of Louis XVIth; 1793, head 
 of Committee of Public Safety ; organizer of victory, under whose guid- 
 ance the fourteen armies created by the rising of the nation e*n masse, 
 repelled the Austrians and Prussians, and quelled the Vendean insur- 
 rection. He was so completely absorbed in the defense of his country, 
 that he " was hardly cognizant of the atrocities going on around him ;" 
 1795, took his seat as one of the 500 ; 1796, planned the campaign in 
 Italy, which Bonaparte afterwards changed to his own, taking the 
 material at hand. After the coup d'etat of the 18th Fructidor, con- 
 demned to transportation, but escaped to Switzerland, returning after 
 the 18th Brumaire ; was appointed minister of war in 1800, but was un- 
 able to agree with Bonaparte, and resigned. In Jan., 1814, he rallied 
 to the assistance of Bonaparte, who is said to have remarked," I have 
 known you too late." After the rout of Waterloo, " he alone retained 
 his self-possession." Died 1823. 
 
 President Carnot, assassinated in 1894, was his grandson.
 
 216 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Sambre, of the Rhine, of the Alps, not one but was 
 in a state of inactivity. The joy and gratitude of 
 the people reached its climax when there arrived 
 from the seat of war the intrepid Junot, Bonaparte's 
 aide-de-camp, with twenty-two flags captured in 
 Piedmont. A great festival was arranged which 
 took place in the Luxembourg, and at which the 
 wife of the victorious general was the center of at- 
 traction, the cynosure of every eye. At this Festi- 
 val of the Victories, Madame Bonaparte, who was 
 much admired, shared the scepter of popularity with 
 Mmes. Tallien and Recamier. ' ' Although she was 
 less fresh and brilliant, yet, thanks to the regularity 
 of her features, the wonderful grace of her figure, 
 and her agreeable expression, she too was beauti- 
 ful." 
 
 But two months had passed since Josephine had 
 cast her lot with the obscure general of artillery ; 
 he had departed from her without noise or ostenta- 
 tion, he silently went to take the command assigned 
 him ; with that command he had performed such 
 deeds as attracted the attention of the world ; he 
 was famous among the commanders of the age ; she 
 too shared in the reflected glory of his feats of 
 arms.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 217 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE, RUE CHANTEREINE. 
 
 THE Citizeness Bonaparte, now the adored of the 
 Parisian populace, they lovingly called " Notre 
 Dame des Victoires. Her influence upon the fortunes 
 of her husband was recognized by them as benefi- 
 cent. She was his guiding star. Not alone did she 
 share in his glory ; she had contributed to it ; she 
 was his talisman, his sovereign lady. Never did 
 knight-errant or paladine worship with greater fer- 
 vor at the shrine of his beloved, at the feet of his 
 chosen one cast with greater joy the tokens of his 
 victories. Yet, through it all, she bore herself with 
 sweetest graciousness ; she was unchanged, un- 
 touched by pride or vanity. Her knight had left her 
 in the domicile in which he had first seen his heart's 
 mistress. There she continued to reside, in the little 
 house, Eue Chantereine. 
 
 It no longer exists, this abode of Josephine when 
 she was sole possessor of the heart of Bonaparte ; 
 its very site has been a matter of dispute ; yet how 
 replete with interest its walls would be, could we 
 but view them at the present time ! For here they 
 loved ; at least one was beloved, the other adored. 
 Here they first tasted the sweets of conjugal af-
 
 218 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 faction ; here the first news was brought to Jose- 
 phine of her husband's victories. Alas, that it should 
 have been effaced, that those walls which once en- 
 vironed them in their greatest happiness, should no 
 longer testify, though mutely, to the vanished occur- 
 rences that here transpired ! Later, when Napoleon 
 shall have returned from Italy, the little house will 
 be honored by a change of name ; the street in 
 which it stood be called, instead of Chantereine, la 
 Rue de la Victoire the Street of Victory. 
 
 The house, when Bonaparte first met his future 
 wife in its reception-room, was but scantily fur- 
 nished ; yet everything was tasteful and pretty ; the 
 " furniture of mahogany and the yellow wood of 
 Guadeloupe. The low bed in her small chamber was 
 daintily draped, and the room ornamented with a 
 harp and a marble bust of Socrates. The drawing- 
 room, with the exception of a Renaud piano, was 
 chiefly furnished with mirrors." 
 
 It maybe believed that the turn in Bonaparte's fort- 
 unes enabled his wife to refurnish and adorn their 
 home ; but she did not abandon it for a better and 
 larger house. She was well content with her sur- 
 roundings, though extravagant in dress and in 
 personal adornment. She was too content, in truth, 
 with her home in the Rue Chantereine, and not all 
 the protestations of her lover-husband could for a 
 while move her to go to him. Letter after letter 
 arrived, filled with pictures of his desolate life with- 
 out her, the object of his affections ; of the barren- 
 ness of triumphs which he would fain have her share
 
 JOSEPHINE. 219 
 
 with him. At first she refused to be moved by 
 them, replying coldly or vaguely to his entreaties, 
 until finally his anger, even simulated jealousy, was 
 aroused. He ceased to entreat, he commanded ; 
 and, though reluctantly, and with tears, she finally 
 prepared to journey to Italy. Her indifference 
 seems strange to one unacquainted with her indo- 
 lent nature, her love of ease, her liking for Paris. 
 " Her grief was extreme when she saw that she could 
 no longer postpone her departure. . . She would have 
 given the palace at Milan, that was made ready for 
 her ; she would have given all the palaces in the 
 world for her little house in the Eue Chantereine." 
 Says Marmont : " Bonaparte, however occupied 
 he may have been with his greatness, was continually 
 thinking of his wife. He often spoke to me of her, 
 and of his love, with all the frankness, fire and illu- 
 sion of a very young man." 
 
 Bonaparte constantly carried with him a portrait 
 of Josephine, painted by the artist Isaby, at the time 
 of their marriage. It was then the most precious 
 of his possessions ; he regarded it as his talisman. 
 The glass covering this miniature was broken, by 
 accident, and he regarded this as an omen of evil 
 tidings, saying to Marmont: " My wife is ill, or 
 she is unfaithful ; " in his anxiety and jealousy re- 
 verting at once to the object of his affections ; and 
 not till he had received assurance of her health and 
 safety, by special courier, was his distress allayed. 
 
 " In this love," says another contemporary, 
 " which has been said to be the only one that
 
 220 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 touched his heart, all the fire and flame of his master- 
 ful nature showed itself. " In April he wrote : . . . 
 " 0, my adorable wife ; I do not know what fate 
 awaits me, but if it keeps me longer from you I 
 shall not be able to endure it ; my courage will not 
 hold out to that point. There was a time when I 
 was proud of that courage ; and when I thought of 
 the harm that men might do me, of the lot that my 
 destiny might reserve for me, I looked at the most 
 terrible misfortunes without alarm. But now the 
 thought that my Josephine may be in trouble, that 
 she may be ill ; and above all, the cruel, fatal 
 thought that she may love me less, inflicts my soul 
 with torture, stops the beating of my heart, makes 
 me sad and dejected, robs me of even the courage of 
 fury and despair. I often used to say : Man can do 
 no harm to one who is willing to die ; but now, to 
 die without being loved by you, without this cer- 
 tainty, is the torture of hell. ... It seems to me 
 as if I were choking. My only companion, you 
 who have been chosen by fate to make with me the 
 painful journey of life : the day when I shall no 
 longer possess your heart will be that in which for me 
 the world shall have lost all warmth, all attractive- 
 ness. . . . But I will stop, my own, my soul is sad. 
 I am tired, my mind is exhausted ; I am sick of 
 men : I have good reasons for hating them, for they 
 separate me from my love." 
 
 Lovers are the same the wide world over ; there 
 is a sameness in all love-letters, of whatever race,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 221 
 
 \ 
 
 degree or birth their writer may have been. They 
 are but the vaporings of the passion that, some time 
 or other, seizes upon and possesses all men. They 
 are rarely the genuine expressions of the soul ; 
 rather of the distorted imagination. So far as man's 
 love could be genuine and true, Bonaparte's love 
 was ; for the time he was completely possessed by it. 
 That it came to an end, that he was no longer 
 swayed by the impulse of a fine passion, was a mat- 
 ter of course. But it lasted long for several months. 
 That is a long while, for such a passion and such a 
 man. 
 
 As for Josephine, says one who met them both at 
 this period : " In his presence she seemed to feel 
 more embarrassment and surprise than love. . . . 
 She preferred enjoying her husband's triumphs in 
 Paris, to joining him in Italy. ..." One writer has 
 even said : ... " Josephine found a good deal of 
 amusement in Bonaparte's passion. I can hear her 
 say, with her Creole accent : ' How funny Bonaparte 
 is ! ' This may be an exaggeration, with more or less 
 of malice ; but there is no doubt she was less in love 
 with her husband than he was with her. More 
 than this, it is doubtful if she could understand this 
 passion, so blind, so absorbing ; it must have wea- 
 ried, if it did not even annoy and embarrass her. She 
 had not then awakened to its value, could not under- 
 stand that at her feet was the heart of a man so 
 transcendentally superior to the average of men that 
 his love was to be desired above all treasures of 
 earth and heaven. She awoke, too late, to a reali-
 
 222 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 zation of its worth ; of its surpassing preciousness ; 
 she lived to regret, with tears and remorse, the pass- 
 ing of this passion. . . . Says Madame de Remusat : 
 ... " Possibly the cold reception with which his 
 ardent feelings were met, had its influence upon, and 
 at last benumbed him. Perhaps he would have been 
 a better man, if he had been more, and especially 
 better, loved." Perhaps ; yes, probably ; but it was 
 not her fault that she did not understand. She was 
 light-hearted and even frivolous. She had become 
 accustomed to accepting the homage of men as a 
 passing tribute, merely, to her charms, her position ; 
 not to be taken seriously. But here was a man who 
 had taken her most seriously, who was terribly in 
 earnest, who, having acquired the right to demand 
 her allegiance, did demand it, and more : exacted 
 love in equal measure for his own. No doubt it 
 wearied her, for, though she could return affection, 
 and was sensible to the most generous impulses, she 
 could not rise to the heights of a passion superlative, 
 like this, in its intensity. 
 
 No wonder that he reproaches her with being cold 
 and unresponsive : . . . " Your letters . . . one 
 would think they had been written after we had been 
 married fifteen years. They are full of the friendli- 
 ness and the feelings of life's winter . . . What 
 more can you do to distress me ? Stop loving me ? 
 That you have already done. Hate me ? Well, I 
 wish you would. Everything degrades me except 
 hatred ; but indifference Still, a thousand kisses, 
 tender, like my heart."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 223 
 
 This tension cannot endure, it is impossible that 
 jealousy shall not supervene ; it does ; he threatens 
 her, with all the frenzy of a wronged and outraged 
 lover. "What are you doing? Why do you not 
 come to me ? If it is a lover that detains you, beware 
 Othello's dagger." In his heart he knew it was no 
 lover ; but lovers do not consult their reason ; they 
 cannot ; reason has fled. 
 
 Neither threats nor suspicions moved her until 
 the last moment, when, Junot and her husband's 
 brother, Joseph, united in persuading her to accom- 
 pany them to Italy. She had feigned sickness, had 
 written him of a possible pregnancy as the cause of 
 her delay, at news of which he was filled with re- 
 morse, at the same time with rapture. He wrote to 
 Joseph : . . . . 
 
 " My friend, I am in despair about my wife ; the 
 only creature in the world whom I love is ill, and I am 
 oppressed with the most gloomy forebodings because 
 of her condition. See her, I beseech you, and tell 
 me exactly how she is .... Reassure me, tell me 
 the truth. . . . I am alone, given over to fears and 
 ill-health ; nobody writes to me, and I feel deserted 
 by all, even by you. If my wife is able to stand the 
 journey, I desire that she should come to me, for I 
 need her. I love her to distraction, and I can no 
 longer endure this separation. If she has ceased to 
 love me, my mission on earth is finished. I leave 
 myself in your hands, my best of friends, and I be- 
 seech you to so arrange matters that my courier will 
 not be obliged to remain in Paris more than six
 
 224 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 hours, to hasten his return with the news which 
 will give me new life." 
 
 It was at this time that Bonaparte wrote his wife 
 the longest, the most eloquent, the most passionate 
 of his epistles. It was dated 
 
 TOKTONA,MIDI, le 27 Prairial, An IV. de la Kepublique 
 
 (15th June, 1796). 
 
 " To JOSEPHINE 
 
 " My life is a perpetual nightmare. A black pre- ' 
 sentiment makes even breathing difficult. I am no 
 longer alive ; I have lost more than life, more than 
 happiness, more than peace ; I am almost without 
 hope. I am sending you a courier. He will stay 
 only four hours in Paris, and then will bring me your 
 answer. Write me at least ten pages ; that is the only 
 thing that can console me in the least. You are ill ? 
 You love me ; I have distressed you ; you are with 
 child, and I do not see you. This thought re- 
 proaches me. I have treated you so ill that I do 
 not know how to set myself right again in your 
 eyes. ... I have been blaming you for staying in 
 Paris, and all the time you have been ill. Forgive 
 me, my sweet ; the love with which you have filled 
 me has deprived me of my reason, and I fear I 
 shall never recover it. For it is a malady from 
 which there is no recovery. My forebodings are so 
 gloomy that all I ask is to see you, to press you to 
 my heart for two hours, and that we may die to- 
 gether. . . . Who is taking care of you ? I sup- 
 pose that you have sent for Hortense. I love the
 
 JOSEPHINE. 225 
 
 child a thousand times better, since I think that she 
 may be able to console you a little. As for me, I 
 am without consolation, rest, hope, until I see again 
 the courier whom I am sending to you, and until 
 you explain to me in a long letter just what is the 
 matter with you and how serious it is. 
 
 "If there were any danger I assure you that I 
 should at once leave for Paris. . . . Josephine, 
 how could you allow so long a time to go by 
 without writing me ? Your last brief letter was 
 dated the third of the month (22d May ; doubtless 
 she had written, but her letters had gone astray). 
 However, I carry it with me always in my pocket. 
 Your letters and your portrait are ever before my 
 eyes. 
 
 " I am nothing without you. . . . Ah, Josephine, 
 if you could have known my heart, would you have 
 allowed so long a time to go by before leaving, or if 
 you had not lent ear to those who would detain you ? 
 I suspect all the world ; everybody about you. . . . 
 I calculate that you will leave about the fifth and 
 arrive at Milan on the fifteenth (4th of May and 
 3d of June). 
 
 " Josephine, if you love me, if you believe that 
 everything depends upon your preservation, upon 
 your safe arrival, be very careful of yourself. 
 Travel by short stages ; write me at every stopping- 
 place, and send the letters on in advance. ... I 
 think upon your illness night and day. Without 
 appetite, without sleep, without interest in any- 
 thing : friendship, glory, country ; it is you, you ; 
 
 '5
 
 226 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 and the rest of the world no more exists than if it 
 were annihilated. 
 
 "I value honor for your sake, victory because it 
 gives you pleasure ; if it were not so I should have 
 left all and cast myself at your feet. Sometimes 
 I say : I alarm myself without cause ; she is already 
 on the way. . . . Vain thought ; you are still in 
 your bed, still suffering, more beautiful, more in- 
 teresting, more adorable ; you are pale, your eyes 
 more languishing. . . . Truly fate is cruel, she 
 strikes me through you. 
 
 " In your letter, my friend, take care to assure me 
 that you are convinced that I love you beyond con- 
 ception ; that you are persuaded that all my time is 
 consecrated to you, that not an hour passes without 
 thoughts of you ; that the idea never occurs to me 
 to think of another woman ; that they are all with- 
 out grace, beauty and wit ; that you, you alone, have 
 absorbed all the faculties of my soul . . . that my 
 soul is in your body, and the day in which you 
 shall change, or cease to love me, will be that of 
 my death ; that nature, the earth, is only beautiful 
 because you inhabit it. ... If you believe not all 
 that, if your love is not convinced, affected, then 
 you grieve me, you love me not. . . . There is 
 a magnetic fluid between those who love. (Do 
 not all lovers believe this, and declare that 
 occult influences are exerted for their benefit 
 alone ?) 
 
 " You know that I could not endure the thought 
 of another lover, still less to suffer one to exist : to
 
 JOSEPHINE. 227 
 
 tear out his heart and to see him would be one and 
 the same thing. . . . 
 
 "But I am sure and proud of your love. ... A 
 child as adorable as its mother will be born and will 
 pass several years in your arms. Unlucky I must 
 content myself with a single day. A thousand 
 kisses upon your eyes, upon your lips. . . . Ador- 
 able woman, what is the secret of your influence ? 
 I am very sick on account of your illness ; I have 
 already a burning fever. Do not detain the courier 
 more than six hours, that he may promptly return 
 bearing the cherished letter of my queen. 
 
 "N. B." 
 
 He had written her in April, shortly after de- 
 spatching a letter to his brother Joseph : 
 
 " MY SWEET FRIEND. . . . 
 
 " My brother will hand you this letter. For him I 
 have the liveliest friendship. ... I have written 
 Barras to name him consul in some port of Italy. . . . 
 I recommend him to you. 
 
 "I have received your letter of the 16th and 21st 
 (5th and 10th of April). All the days in which you 
 did not write me : what did you, then ? Yes, my 
 friend, I am not jealous, but sometimes disturbed, 
 Come to me quickly; I warn you, if you delay, 
 you will find me ill. The fatigues and your 
 absence are too much at one time. 
 
 " Your letters are all the pleasure my days contain ; 
 and my happy days are not frequent. Junot goes
 
 228 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 to Paris with twenty-two flags. You ought to 
 return with him, do you understand ? . . . Unhap- 
 piness without remedy, sorrow without consolation, 
 continued suffering and suspense, if I have the mis- 
 fortune to see him return alone, my adorable 
 friend. . . . He will see you, he will breathe the 
 same air with you, perhaps you will accord him the 
 inestimable privilege of kissing your cheek, while I 
 am alone, and far, very far away. But you will 
 return with him, is it not so ? You will soon be 
 here by my side, upon my heart, in my arms. Take 
 wings to thyself, come, come ! But journey slowly ; 
 for the road is long, bad, and fatiguing. ... I 
 have received a letter from Hortense. She is very 
 sweet. I am going to write her. I love her dearly, 
 and I will soon send her the perfumes she wishes. 
 
 "N. B." 
 
 Josephine arrived at Milan the last of June, and 
 was received with the highest honors. She had 
 journeyed in company with Junot and Joseph Bona- 
 parte, and not alone with the former, as the Duchess 
 of Abrantes has stated. This is confirmed by Joseph 
 himself, in his Memoirs. Bonaparte received her 
 with rapture, and it is no figure of speech to say 
 that all Italy was at her feet. But two days they 
 were allowed together, then the young General was 
 obliged to hasten to avert the threatened catastrophe 
 in the field before the advancing Austrian armies. 
 
 But he left his beloved inhabiting a palace, sur- 
 rounded by adoring courtiers ; she who but recently
 
 JOSEPHINE. 229 
 
 had been at the door of want. He left her with the 
 assurance that she fully possessed the heart of this 
 strange lover, who fought as ardently as he loved ; 
 who wrote with one hand the most impassioned 
 love-letters, with the other wielded an invincible 
 sword. Still, she did not yet understand, or fully 
 appreciate, this absorbing passion. We will not dis- 
 cuss the question, whether any woman could have 
 held in thrall the heart of a man so far above his 
 contemporaries, much less a woman whose charms 
 were already fading, whose heart was slow to re- 
 spond to his passionate pleadings. But at this time 
 she possessed it utterly. 
 
 " Once she had arrived at Milan," says Marmont, 
 " General Bonaparte was supremely happy, for 
 then he lived only for his wife. For a long time 
 this had been the case ; never did a purer, truer, 
 or more exclusive love fill a man's heart, or the 
 heart of so extraordinary a man." 
 
 He was, it may be needless to repeat, in the 
 language of a writer of the time, " absolutely 
 faithful to her, and at this time, when all the 
 beauties of Milan were at his feet." We cannot 
 but dissent from the additional comment, that 
 " his loyalty to her was partly a matter of love, 
 partly of calculation." It was all of love, or the 
 signs fail that distinguish dissimulation from recti- 
 tude. 
 
 At first delighted, Josephine soon became extreme- 
 ly bored, not only by the numerous fetes and festi- 
 vals, but by her lover's demonstrative affection.
 
 230 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 She was too kind-hearted and tactful to give out- 
 ward expression to this weariness, but he detected 
 it and it affected him deeply. 
 
 Leaving her safely and magnificently domiciled 
 at Milan, Bonaparte returned to his armies in the 
 field, hurling his commands upon the astonished 
 Austrians before they were aware of his presence. 
 Then followed the victories of Lonato, the last of 
 July and 3d of August ; Castiglione, August 5th. 
 
 In the midst of his superhuman labors he yet 
 found time for a daily love-letter ; the first soon 
 after his departure, the 6th of July : 
 
 "I have whipped the enemy. . . I am dead with 
 fatigue. I pray you leave on receipt of this to meet 
 me at Verona ; I have need of you, for I believe I 
 am going to be very ill. I send a thousand kisses. " 
 
 This letter was written at Roverbella ; he could 
 not await her, and they did not meet ; but his desire 
 to see her continued, as another, dated " Marmirolo, 
 17th July," assures her : 
 
 "I have received your letter, my adorable friend ; 
 it has filled my heart with joy. . . . My felicity is to 
 be near to you. Without ceasing I pass in review 
 the memory of your kisses, your tears, your sweet 
 jealousies ; the charms of the incomparable Josephine 
 have kindled a constant flame in my heart and in 
 my senses. . . . Since I have known you I have adored 
 you every day more and more : this goes to prove
 
 JOSEPHINE. 231 
 
 that La-Bruyere's maxim : Love comes suddenly, is 
 false. . . . Show me some of your faults ; be less 
 beautiful, less gracious, less tender and good ; above 
 all, never be jealous, and never weep, for your tears 
 drive me crazy, they fire my blood. . . . Rest well. 
 Regain your health. Rejoin me as soon as you 
 possibly can, that we may have more happy days 
 together ere death shall part us." 
 
 The day following, another letter, equally filled 
 with solicitude, with laments over her continued 
 absence from his side. 
 
 " I have passed the whole night under arms. . . . 
 I am very uneasy to know how you are, what you 
 are doing. I have been in Virgil's village, on the 
 lake shore, by moonlight, and not a minute passed 
 in which I did not dream of Josephine. . . . The 
 enemy has made a sortie ; we drove them back with 
 a loss of 500 men. I am well. I am all yours and 
 have no pleasure, no happiness, except in your 
 society. ... A thousand kisses, as warm as you are 
 cold." 
 
 As during the course of the siege of Mantua he 
 had visited Virgil's village, " thinking upon his 
 mistress in melancholy revery," so it seems his days 
 were filled with her. Two days later he complains 
 most dolorously that she has not written him during 
 that space of time : . . . " Two days without a 
 letter from you." 
 
 With the same pen that traces his love-sick epistles
 
 232 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 he writes his short, terse, vigorous appeals to the 
 army ; his announcements to the Directory of 
 another victory. Only occasionally does his passion 
 manifest itself in these official communications. In 
 the month of April, in a despatch to Carnot, he 
 thanked him for his attentions to Josephine, recom- 
 mending her to him as a sincere patriot, and " whom 
 I love to madness." Thus he alternates between 
 his love for Josephine and his soldiers ; never neglect- 
 ing the one or the other ; calm, intrepid, wisely 
 directing the vast operations that are to result in 
 the total annihilation of the Austrian armies ; turn- 
 ing from these great schemes to write his absent 
 wife ; upon his heart wearing her letters and her 
 portrait. 
 
 The last of July he arranged for his wife to meet 
 him at Brescia, attending to every detail of her 
 journey with solicitude for her safety ; but a change 
 in Wurmser's movements precipitated Josephine 
 into the midst of the contending armies. She 
 narrowly escaped capture, she witnessed the horrible 
 effects of shot and shell, saw the dead and wounded 
 brought from the field of battle, and at one time 
 was under fire from a hostile fort. After many 
 dangers she reached a place of safety, was joined by 
 her husband in the intervals of his arduous duties, 
 and received from him continued testimonials of 
 his affection. It was at this time that he wrote : 
 
 "Wurmser shall pay dear for the tears he has 
 caused you."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 233 
 
 The tenth of August, after that five-days' cam- 
 paign that made him a marked figure for fame, he 
 recommenced his letters to his wife. They show 
 no diminution of affection, but the same love and 
 tender regard. Writing from Brescia, which he 
 entered in triumph, he says : 
 
 "My first thought on arrival here is to write to 
 you, my adorable Josephine. Your health and your 
 image have been the subject of my thoughts during 
 all the journey thither. I shall not rest until I 
 have received your letters. . . . Adieu, my sweet 
 Josephine ; be careful of your health, and think 
 often, often of me."
 
 234 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 NAPOLEON'S LOVE-LETTERS. 
 
 AFTER having secured the fruits of his recent 
 victories, Bonaparte hastened to Milan, where he 
 passed two happy weeks in the society of his wife. 
 They were lodged in the palace Serbelloni, residence 
 of the duke of the same name, and where they 
 received the tributes and homage of the delighted 
 Italians. Although but recently in desperate straits 
 of poverty, with an army ragged and insufficiently 
 supplied, the fortunes of the French had undergone 
 a most magical change. Bonaparte was surrounded 
 by a brilliant staff of gallant officers : Berthier, 
 Murat, Junot, Duroc, Lemarrois, Sulkowski : Muiron 
 and Elliot, who were soon to fall at Arcola and be 
 replaced by Lavalette and Croisier ; all devoted to 
 their young general and anxious to gain the good 
 graces of his lovely wife. By his side also was the 
 young brother of Napoleon, Louis Bonaparte, as 
 lieutenant in the dragoons, and who was to sustain 
 the most intimate relations with Josephine's family, 
 at a later period, by marriage with her daughter. 
 
 At this time shone forth the genius of Napoleon, 
 as an organizer of victory and government, as a
 
 JOSEPHINE. 235 
 
 reconstructer of society, as a king-maker and civic 
 ruler, which was only surpassed by his genius as 
 a commander of armies. 
 
 In the moral conquest of Italy Bonaparte was 
 ably assisted by his wife, who won the hearts of the 
 people while he fought their battles. He himself 
 has borne testimony to this fact in his famous epi- 
 gram : "I win battles, Josephine wins me hearts." 
 
 But it was not long the happy pair were to enjoy 
 each other's society, for the exigencies of the war 
 called Napoleon again to the field. That he had 
 not allowed his love to weaken him or to cause him 
 to forget the art of winning battles, was soon shown 
 by the victories of Roveredo and Bassano, September 
 4th and 8th, which drove his antagonist into Man- 
 tua, with the shattered remnant of his army. 
 
 There is in existence a letter of Josephine's which 
 is of great value as indicating the relative locations 
 of the members of her family at this period: 
 
 MILAN, 6th September, 1796. 
 
 |M. the Duke of Serbelloni leaves at once for 
 Paris, and he has promised me, my dear Hortense, 
 to call on you the morning after his arrival. He 
 will tell you how often I speak of thee, think of thee, 
 and how much I love thee. Eugene shares with you 
 these sentiments, my dear daughter ; I love you both 
 to adoration. M. Serbelloni will give thee, from 
 Bonaparte and myself, some little souvenirs, for 
 thee, Emilie (daughter of the Marquise Frangoise de 
 Beauharnais) Eugene, and Jerome (the youngest
 
 236 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 brother of Napoleon, who had been placed in the 
 same school with Eugene). 
 
 Kindest remembrances to Mme. Campan, to whom 
 I hope to send some beautiful Italian engravings. 
 Embrace for me my dear Eugene, Emilie and Jerome. 
 Adieu, my dear Hortense, my darling daughter ; 
 think often of thy mamma, write her often. 
 
 " JOSEPHINE BONAPARTE." 
 
 The tenth of September, after the decisive victory 
 over the Austrians, Bonaparte writes to Josephine 
 a brief account of his gigantic labors : "The enemy 
 has lost, my dear friend, some 18,000 men as pris- 
 oners ; the rest are killed or wounded. Wurmser, 
 with a column of 1,500 horse and 5,000 infantry, 
 had no other recourse than to throw himself into 
 Mantua. ... I have been here, my dear Josephine, 
 two days, badly lodged, and very much vexed to be 
 so far from thee, Wurmser is surrounded. . . . 
 The instant this affair is concluded I shall be in thy 
 arms. A million times I embrace thee." 
 
 But enough have been quoted, of these ardent love- 
 epistles from Bonaparte to his wife, to show how 
 absorbing and all -possessing was the love that held 
 him enthralled. He is constantly crying out against 
 her coldness and her neglect ; perhaps with reason, 
 since she doubtless had more time than he to write 
 and did not respond to his numerous communications. 
 Josephine's letters to her husband have not been 
 preserved, and thus it must be mainly upon his own 
 testimony that she is convicted of the charge of
 
 JOSEPHINE. 237 
 
 coldness and indifference. But the fact that she 
 was so acceptable to him when they were together, 
 that she so completely satisfied him by her presence, 
 seems to refute the charge of indifference. He was 
 in love ; love exacts everything, imagines every- 
 thing ; is impatient of delay and vexed by apparent 
 forgetfulness. Still, there was a basis of reason in 
 his complaints ; she was true to her indolent nature ; 
 laissez-faire was her motto, and she was not yet 
 deeply in love ! 
 
 Towards the end of September he wrote a most dol- 
 orous letter, full of complaints of her coldness : . . . 
 " Thy letters are as cold as fifty years of age. . . . 
 Tes lettres sont froides comme cinquante ans ; elles 
 resemblant a quinze ans de menage. On y voit 
 Vamitie et les sentiments de cet hiver de la vie. Fi ! 
 Josephine. . . C'est bien mediant, bien mauvais, 
 bientraitre a vous." . . . etc. 
 
 No one can deny that this young man was then in 
 love ; that his mistress then held exclusive possession 
 of a heart devoted entirely to her service. 
 
 Yet, though inextricably enmeshed in love's net, 
 he was still the formidable enemy of the Austrian 
 armies. Austria put forth all her power to meet 
 and crush him ; he met and vanquished her bravest 
 generals, her most skilled and experienced officers. 
 A new army under Alvinzi, fifty thousand strong, 
 Napoleon met with his forty thousand braves, and, 
 in the desperately-contested battle of Arcola, lasting 
 three days, defeated them. This hardly- won battle
 
 238 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 took place on the 15th, 16th and 17th of November. 
 Bonaparte triumphantly entered Verona, his troops 
 and himself worn out with the fatigue of constant 
 marching and fighting. Yet he allowed little time 
 to elapse before sending a letter to Josephine, dated 
 Verona, 24th November, 1796. . . . "Soon, my dear 
 one, I hope to be in your arms. All is well. Wurai- 
 ser was defeated yesterday under Mantua. Thy 
 husband only needs Josephine's love to make him 
 perfectly happy. " 
 
 Wishing to give her a happy surprise, and having 
 twenty-four hours at his disposal, Bonaparte hast- 
 ened to Milan. His disappointment, his rage, may 
 be imagined, when he found that she had departed 
 for Genoa. Unaware of his intended visit, Josephine 
 had accepted a pressing invitation from the author- 
 ities to visit the city of Genoa, where she was received 
 with a magnificence unsurpassed ; where she was a 
 veritable queen. Napoleon did not reflect that this 
 glorious reception was a tribute to himself, that in 
 honoring the wife of the conqueror, the Genoese 
 were paying the highest compliment to the victorious 
 general. His letters show the spirit in which he 
 took her absence : . . . 
 
 "MILAN, 27th November. 
 
 "I reached Milan; I burst into your room. I 
 had left all to see you, to fold you in my arms. . . . 
 You were not there. . . . You no longer care for 
 your dear Napoleon. ... I shall be here till the 
 ninth, during the day. Do not disturb yourself, 
 nor interrupt your pleasures ; happiness is for you ;
 
 JOSEPHINE. 239 
 
 the world is only too happy to give you pleasure ; 
 and your husband only is very, very unhappy." 
 
 The next day he wrote : . . . "I can easily under- 
 stand that you have no time to write to me. Sur- 
 rounded with pleasures and entertainments, you 
 would do wrong to make the least sacrifice for 
 me. . . . Adieu, adorable woman. Adieu, my 
 Josephine. Let fate concentrate in my heart all 
 the vexations and griefs ; but give, to my Josephine 
 days of prosperity and happiness. Who merits them 
 more than she ? I open my letter to imprint a kiss 
 for thee. 
 
 " Ah, Josephine ! . . . Josephine ! 
 
 "BONAPARTE." 
 
 But he had no time to waste in idle repinings ; leav- 
 ing Milan he hastened again to the field, commencing 
 that series of movements that confounded anew the 
 Austrian armies and culminated in repeated victories 
 for the French. 
 
 The last month of 1796 found another Austrian 
 army in the field, under the General Alvinzi, who 
 was destined to be no more successful in this attempt 
 to combat Napoleon than in the first. 
 
 Bewildered by these successive defeats, yet unwill- 
 ing to acknowledge herself vanquished, Austria 
 hurled this army of 65,000 men upon the general of 
 the Republic. As before, his tactics triumphed ; the 
 valor of his brave soldiers prevailed ; the victory of 
 Rivoli, 14th January, 1797, added another to the 
 list of Bonaparte's unbroken chain of triumphs.
 
 240 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Soon after, Mantua surrendered, and in quick 
 succession came the victories of Faenza, Ancona, 
 Loreto, Tolentino. 
 
 Without allowing his enemies any rest, Bonaparte 
 turned upon the Papal States, and in two weeks 
 forced the Pope to sign a treaty by which the French 
 were enabled to fight the Austrians on their own soil. 
 This was in February. In March, he forced the 
 passage of the Tagliamento (on the nineteenth) ; 
 on the twenty-third he had Trieste in his possession. 
 The first week of April saw the French army on the 
 road to Vienna, and the threat of Bonaparte, that 
 he would dictate terms to the Emperor of Austria 
 in his own capital, likely to be fulfilled. Only the 
 armistice of Leoben, signed on the nineteenth of 
 April, saved the capital from invasion. 
 
 The first week in May war was declared against 
 Venice, and by the middle of that month was oc- 
 cupied, and at the feet of the conqueror ; while 
 Genoa was revolutionized as the Ligurian Republic. 
 The last of June witnessed the proclamation of the 
 Cisalpine Republic, and the French army, in July, 
 retired to rest in the Venetian States. During the 
 progress of the negotiations with Austria, which 
 were slow and tedious, Bonaparte established him- 
 self at Montebello, some leagues distant from Milan. 
 Here, surrounded by the mozt beautiful scenery, 
 attended by beauties of most distinguished rank, 
 who all rendered homage to the honored wife of 
 Bonaparte ; visited by the envoys of Austria, of the 
 Pope, of the kings of Naples and Sardinia ; Bona-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 241 
 
 parte gathered about him such an assemblage as 
 well merited the distinction bestowed by the Ital- 
 ians, who called it the Court of Montebello. 
 
 The charming manners of Bonaparte's wife had 
 won all classes to her and to him ; her fame was 
 already established ; but here she first shone in a 
 little court of her own. Here she should have been 
 happy, if ever ; her health was re-established ; her 
 husband was now with her, and not exposed to the 
 terrible vicissitudes of the camp ; while Eugene 
 had arrived from Paris to rejoin his beloved parent 
 and place himself at the orders of Bonaparte, who 
 ever looked upon and treated him as his own son. 
 Immediately upon his arrival he was appointed aide- 
 de-camp to the general-in-chief, who manifested for 
 him a great attachment, in which he was justified 
 by the boy's many admirable qualities. He was 
 then seventeen years old, of excellent address, loyal, 
 good-hearted, courageous, and from the first was 
 unalterably devoted to his step- father. 
 
 Josephine had somewhat recovered her pristine 
 gayety, and was not so overcome by ennui as in the 
 month preceding, when she wrote to her aunt that 
 she would rather be an obscure dweller in her be- 
 loved Paris, than the recipient of honors in Italy. 
 She was bored to death, but admitted that she had 
 no reason for it ; for, she adds: " I have the most 
 delightful husband, in the world ; there is nothing 
 I desire that is not mine. My wishes are his con- 
 stant care. He is all day in adoration before me, as 
 though I were a divinity." His divinity did not
 
 242 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 appreciate this devotion at its full value, it is feared ; 
 and who can say that her subsequent doubts and 
 jealousies were not well deserved ? Later, a few 
 years, we shall see that the divinities have changed 
 places ; on the conjugal pedestal is another divinity, 
 namely, Napoleon, and before him prostrate in ado- 
 ration, this same Josephine. 
 
 During the time when the Austrians were flying 
 before the redoubtable Bonaparte, and while he was 
 necessarily absent from his wife, he wrote the last 
 of those letters which have given her a place among 
 those beloved of the immortals. 
 
 He was obliged to leave her alone at Bologna, 
 where she became very sad, wishing to rejoin him, 
 despite the fatigues and dangers of the field and 
 bivouac, which she was by no means capable of 
 enduring. 
 
 Napoleon refused to allow her to accompany him, 
 but assured her that she should rejoin him as soon 
 the state of the distracted country would allow ; 
 meanwhile keeping her informed of his movements 
 by daily letters. In one of these he writes : . . . 
 
 " I send you a million kisses. I was never so tired 
 of this detestable war as at this moment. Adieu, 
 my sweet friend ; think of me. " 
 
 The thirteenth of February he adds : 
 
 " I am about setting out to cross the mountains. 
 The very first opportunity, I shall have you with
 
 JOSEPHINE. 243 
 
 me ; that is the most cherished wish of my heart. 
 A thousand and a thousand kisses." 
 
 But in this continued separation from her husband 
 and children, the constant strain upon her feelings, 
 caused by the alarms and uncertainties of the war, 
 plunged Josephine into the deepest melancholy. 
 Bonaparte was distressed at the reception of this 
 news, and on the sixteenth of February, wrote her : 
 
 " You are sad, you are ill, you wish to return 
 to Paris ? Do you not love your friend any more ? 
 This thought makes me very unhappy. My sweet 
 friend, life seems hardly endurable since I have been 
 informed of your sadness. ... I pray you take 
 care of your health, love me as much as I love 
 you, and write me every day. . . . Perhaps I shall 
 soon conclude peace with the Pope, and then I shall 
 be at your side ; this is the most ardent wish of my 
 soul. ... I give you a hundred kisses. . . . Write 
 m by your own hand every day. "... 
 
 This letter was sent by a special messenger ; and 
 three days after he wrote again, this time from 
 Tolentino, to acquaint her that he had signed the 
 treaty with the holy father, and would soon return to 
 her at Bologna. ... He still insisted upon a daily 
 letter from her, and if a clay passed without the ex- 
 pected epistle, he was uneasy and downcast. 
 
 (l Not one word from your hand to-day. Good
 
 244 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 God ! What then have I done ? I think only of you; 
 I love only Josephine ; live only for my wife ; do not 
 I merit better treatment at her hands ? My friend, 
 I entreat you, think often of me and write me every 
 day. You are sick, or you do not love me. Think 
 you my heart is of marble ? . . . You do not know 
 me. I cannot believe it of you, you to whom nature 
 has given wit, sweetness and beauty ; you who alone 
 reign in my heart ; you who well know, without 
 doubt, the absolute empire you have over me. . . . 
 Write me, think of me, and above all, love me. 
 Yours for life. ..." 
 
 This is the last letter of this period written by 
 Bonaparte to his wife ; for he soon rejoined her at Bo- 
 logna, and together they went to Milan, where they 
 passed happy days in loving companionship. After 
 five years of war, the most obstinate of the enemies 
 of France was humbled, and sued for peace at the 
 hands of this young general of twenty-seven years, 
 who at one bound had placed himself above all the 
 great captains of his time. 
 
 It was during the long delay consequent upon the 
 negotiation of the treaty, which was finally signed 
 the lYth October, that Bonaparte planned a diver- 
 sion for Josephine in the trip to Venice. The gov- 
 ernment of Venice had invited him to visit that 
 historic capital ; but for reasons of his own, and of 
 which his wife was not cognizant, he declined. In 
 language which has been attributed to her, she 
 says : " The general well knew how to gild the
 
 JOSEPHINE. 245 
 
 chains which he had imposed with so much good- 
 nature and address, upon those he called his good 
 friends, the Italians. ... I spoke Italian passably 
 enough ; at least to be able to reply to the compli- 
 ments made me, and sometimes to the very weari- 
 some speeches with which they honored the ' First 
 Citoyenne' of the French Republic." Bonaparte's 
 designs were not known to Josephine, as she was 
 not then the depositary of his confidence, and it can- 
 not be declared against her that she lent herself to 
 " gilding the chains " which he was then forging 
 for the unhappy Venetians. She was received 
 everywhere with acclamation, fetes and processions 
 were made in her honor, processions of gondolas on 
 the grand canal. The Venetians threw themselves 
 at the feet of the wife of the conqueror of Italy, 
 hoping to flatter him by these attentions ; at the 
 same time paying a tribute of homage to one who 
 had gained all hearts by her kindness. 
 
 They vied with the Milanese in their endeavors to 
 gratify her every taste, her eveiy ambition ; and 
 had it depended upon Josephine alone, the fate of 
 Venice would have been more fortunate. The 
 sinister designs of her husband were soon made 
 manifest ; but not in time to mar the pleasure of 
 this auspicious journey. 
 
 After the treaty of Campo Formio had been 
 signed, by which Austria ceded immense territory, 
 giving to France a frontier on the Rhine, and secur- 
 ing to Bonaparte the fruits of his numerous vic- 
 tories, Josephine, yielding to a desire to visit the
 
 246 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Holy City, and to see her son, Eugene, who was 
 there on a mission, parted from Bonaparte and 
 went to Eome. 
 
 Her reception there was in accord with her pre- 
 vious treatment, in Milan, in Venice ; and this 
 homage was bestowed as well upon Josephine, the 
 woman of heart and feeling, as upon Madame 
 Bonaparte, the wife of the victorious general. 
 
 By this digression, Josephine was not able to 
 participate in the homeward journey of Napoleon, 
 which was one unbroken series of triumphal proces- 
 sions. For a caprice, some have declared, Josephine 
 thus renounced the triumphant journey across 
 Switzerland and Italy ; but it was rather from a 
 desire to embrace her son, and to behold the glories 
 of the Eternal City. 
 
 Bonaparte left Milan on the 17th of November, to 
 place himself at the head of the congress of Eastadt ; 
 thence he was summoned by the Directory to Paris. 
 Before his departure he sent to France a flag in- 
 scribed upon which was a summary of what had 
 been accomplished in the two years' fighting, in the 
 succession of most splendid victories. Unlike many 
 of his reports from the field, this was no exaggera- 
 tion, but " a striking abridgment of the history of 
 the Italian campaign." . . . 
 
 "Prisoners, 150,000; 170 standards; 550 pieces 
 siege artillery ; 600 field artillery ; 5 pontoon equip- 
 ages ; nine 64-gun ships ; twelve 32-gun frigates ; 
 12 corvettes ; 18 galleys ; . . . Armistice with the 
 King of Sardinia ; convention with Genoa ; armis-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 247 
 
 tice with the Duke of Parma ; armistice with the 
 King of Naples ; armistice with the Pope ; prelimi- 
 naries of Leoben ; convention of Montebello with 
 the republic of Genoa ; treaty of peace with the 
 Emperor of Germany at Campo Formio. Liberty 
 given to the people of Bologna, Ferrara, Modena, 
 Massa- Carrara, La Romagna, Lombardy, Brescia, 
 Bergamo, Mantua, Cremona, part of the Veronese, 
 Chiavana, Bormio, the Valteline, the Genoese, the 
 Imperial Fiefs, the Departments of Corcyra, of the 
 ^SCgean Sea, and of Ithaca. . . . Sent to Paris : 
 all the masterpieces of Michael Angelo, Guercino, 
 Titian, Paul Veronese, Correggio, Albana, the Car- 
 racci, Raphael, and of Leonardo da Vinci." . . . 
 
 As a military commander he had dictated terms 
 to the most powerful nations of Europe ; as a ruler 
 he had prescribed forms of government to nearly 
 all Italy ; he had enriched France with treasures of 
 art and replenished her coffers ; he had made her 
 armies a terror to the world. 
 
 Of his reception in Paris, when the Luxembourg 
 was most magnificently decorated in honor of the 
 occasion ; when the Directory assembled there the 
 beauty and the fashion, the most powerful and the 
 wealthiest, to witness the triumphant return of 
 their famous general, of this ovation to Bonaparte's 
 genius, all the world knows, and we will not repeat 
 what properly pertains to the history of his own life. 
 Josephine was not there to grace the festivities with 
 her presence ; she had voluntarily abstained from 
 accompany ing Bonaparte on his homeward journey ;
 
 248 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 it was not till he had been for eight days established 
 in his house, in the Rue Chantereine, that she re- 
 turned, wearied with the long journey, fatigued 
 with attentions from those who would fain have 
 done her honor ; glad to rest a while in the arms of 
 her hero, and in the little house where they had first 
 tasted the joys of marital affection. 
 
 It was on the 5th of December, 1Y97, that Bona- 
 parte reached his home. He still loved his wife, 
 but his love had cooled ; at least, it was no longer 
 an ardent passion. There had been no indiscretions 
 on her part, as some malicious writers have alleged ; 
 in truth, may we not go further, and deny that 
 there ever was criminal indiscretion on her part 
 during their marital relations ? This, however, is 
 anticipatory of the Egyptian campaign, when they 
 were so long separated, and when, without doubt, 
 Napoleon was guilty of infidelities, in the land of 
 the Pharaohs. 
 
 She had missed the glorious festivities of the 
 Luxembourg, when her husband was so eulogized ; 
 but she was sated with fetes and receptions ; she 
 craved peace and quietude ; she was well content 
 with the retirement of their little house in the Eue 
 Chantereine. It had been refurnished and enlarged, 
 by orders of Josephine, before her departure for 
 Italy, at an expense of many thousand francs ; but 
 it was still an obscure dwelling for one who had 
 brought to his feet the most haughty and powerful 
 of the enemies of France.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 249 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 BONAPARTE IN EGYPT. 
 
 ON the third of January, 1798, a few days after the 
 return of Josephine from Italy, the minister of for- 
 eign affairs, Talleyrand, gave an entertainment that 
 far outshone everything of the kind that had been 
 attempted by the Directory. Although Josephine 
 had missed the festivity of the Luxembourg, she 
 now shared with her glorious husband the honors of 
 this occasion. As an attraction, says an observer of 
 the ceremonies, she was second only to Bonaparte. 
 Talleyrand's ball " was the beginning of the resto- 
 ration ; a revival of the manners and elegance of 
 the old regime ; " and who so fitted as the wife of 
 Bonaparte to lead the people out of the slough of 
 revolutionary manners into the ' light of elegant 
 society ? 
 
 Madame Bonaparte was peculiarly adapted to 
 serve in ameliorating the harsh manners of the 
 society of that period ; but, if we may believe the 
 historians of that time, Napoleon was not. ' ' He was, " 
 says Mme. de Remusat, "deficient in manners and 
 education ; it seemed as if he must have been 
 destined always to live in a tent, where all men are
 
 250 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 equal, or upon a throne, where everything is per- 
 mitted. He did not know how either to enter or 
 leave a room, nor how to make a bow, nor how to 
 sit down properly. His questions were abrupt, and 
 so was his manner of speech. " 
 
 This is shown in his treatment of the celebrated 
 Mme. de Stae'l, who had conceived an enthusiastic 
 admiration for the hero of Italy. Far from recipro- 
 cating this feeling, Napoleon held her in rather 
 light esteem ; her attentions bored and annoyed 
 him. It 'was at that very ball, the story runs, that 
 he so effectually disposed of this ardent admirer and 
 cooled her enthusiasm. 
 
 "General," she said, immediately she had been in- 
 troduced to him, " what woman do you love best ? " 
 
 " My wife." 
 
 "That is natural; but, whom do you esteem 
 most?" 
 
 " That one who is the best housekeeper." 
 
 "Ah, true; but who do you think is the first 
 among women ? " 
 
 "Madame, the one who bears the most children ! " 
 
 There is little wonder that there was ever after an 
 enmity between them ; but Napoleon's subsequent 
 treatment of this talented woman is a foul blot upon 
 his character. 
 
 Either from desire to escape the attentions of the 
 people, or from policy, Bonaparte led a retired life, 
 going only to those entertainments which were the 
 spontaneous offerings of his colleagues and ad- 
 mirers. To the Directory he was an object of sus-
 
 JOSEPHINE IN 1796.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 251 
 
 picion, of envy ; its members saw in this newly - 
 risen star a rival who would soon eclipse their own 
 glory, which after all was but a reflection of his 
 achievements. It is not strange, then, that they 
 should approve and even accelerate his scheme of 
 conquest in the Orient. During the whole Italian 
 campaign they had surrounded him with spies, had 
 watched with burning jealousy his unexampled 
 career of conquest and glory ; had even attempted to 
 thwart his plans for the aggrandizement of France. 
 Napoleon foresaw the decline of his popularity, and 
 resolved upon a campaign that should eventually 
 revive it. " On the night of the tenth Nivose," says 
 his private secretary in his Memoirs, "the Eue 
 Chantereine, in which Bonaparte had a small house, 
 received, in pursuance of a decree of the Depart- 
 ment, the name of Rue de la Victoire. The cries of 
 'Vive Bonaparte,' and the incense so prodigally 
 offered up to him, did not, however, seduce him from 
 his retired habits. Lately the conqueror and ruler 
 of Italy, and now under men for whom he had MO 
 respect, and who saw in him a formidable rival, he 
 said to me one day : ' The people of Paris do not re- 
 member anything. Were I to remain here long, 
 doing nothing, I should be lost .' . . . When I ob- 
 served that it must be agreeable to him to see his 
 fellow-citizens so eagerly running after him, he re- 
 plied : l Bah ! they would crowd as fast to see me if 
 I were going to the scaffold.' He wished to be ap- 
 pointed a Director, but was debarred on account of 
 his age ; and perceiving that the time was not yet
 
 252 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 favorable for such a purpose, he said to me, on the 
 28th January, 1798 : ' Bourrienne, I do not wish to 
 remain here ; there is nothing to do. They are un- 
 willing to listen to anything. I see that if I linger 
 here I shall soon lose myself. Everything wears 
 out here ; my glory has already disappeared. This 
 little Europe does not supply enough of it for me. 
 I must seek it in the East, the fountain of glory.' 
 . . . He revolted at the idea of languishing in idle- 
 ness at Paris, while fresh laurels were growing for 
 him in distant climes. His imagination inscribed 
 in anticipation his name on those gigantic monu- 
 ments which alone, perhaps, of all the creations of 
 men, have the character of eternity. Already pro- 
 claimed the most illustrious of living generals, he 
 sought to efface the rival names of antiquity by his 
 own. If Caesar fought fifty battles, he longed to 
 fight a hundred ; if Alexander left Macedon to pene- 
 trate to the Temple of Ammon, he wished to leave 
 Paris to travel to the cataracts of the Nile. While 
 he was thus to run a race with fame, events would, 
 in his opinion, so proceed in France as to render his 
 return necessary and opportune. His place would 
 be ready for him, and he should not come to claim 
 it a forgotten or unknown man." 
 
 The little house in the Eue Chantereine became 
 the center of unexampled activities : dinners to 
 officials, and headquarters for the general who was 
 about launching himself into an unknown land, for 
 renewed conquest and to reap new laurels. Soon all 
 preparations were made, and, accompanied by his
 
 JOSEPHINE. 253 
 
 wife, Eugene, Bourrienne, Duroc and Lavalette, 
 Bonaparte set out for Toulon. The journey was 
 more dangerous, and fraught with greater perils, 
 than a campaign in the enemy's country, for their 
 coach was nearly wrecked on the road. Josephine 
 had intended to accompany her husband to Egypt, 
 for a sea- voyage had no terrors for one who had 
 already traversed the ocean several times ; and 
 the climate, she argued, could not affect one born 
 beneath a tropical sun. But at Toulon, when about 
 to embark, Napoleon forbade her to leave, and she 
 sought a retreat for a while at Plombieres, to obtain 
 the benefit of its waters. 
 
 The campaign in Egypt, of which all the world 
 knows the minutest details, forms no part of this 
 history ; except for the fact that it was during the 
 absence of Napoleon, and because of it, that occurred 
 the crucial event of their lives. 
 
 Napoleon sailed from Toulon on the nineteenth of 
 May, 1798. He left the magnificent harbor, which 
 he had been instrumental in delivering from the 
 hands of the English in '93, on board the great 
 frigate, "POrient " which was one of the vessels he 
 himself rescued at the time when he was simply an 
 officer of artillery. . . . On the twelfth of June the 
 strong fortresses of Malta were his ; the second of 
 July Alexandria was in his possession ; on the twenty- 
 first the Battle of the Pyramids : " Soldiers, from 
 the summits of these pyramids forty centuries look 
 down upon you ; " on the twenty-third of July the 
 French were at the gates of Cairo.
 
 254 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 The battle of the Nile took place on the first of 
 August, and for a brief period the French rested 
 on their rapidly-gathered laurels. Between the first 
 of March, 1799, and the middle of June, was con- 
 summated the disastrous Syrian campaign. Jaffa 
 was taken, St. Jean d'Acre was invested ; on the 
 16th of April the battle of Mount Tabor. The 
 horrors of this terrible campaign would fill a 
 volume, yet form but an episode in the life of the 
 extraordinary man with whose fortunes are linked 
 those of the one we are following. The siege of 
 Acre was raised on the 22d of May, and the 14th 
 of June Napoleon reached Cairo, with the remnant 
 of his army. In July, the 25th, occurred the 
 terrible battle of Aboukir, by which the Turkish 
 army was annihilated ; but this was little compen- 
 sation for the irreparable loss of the fleet, in the 
 Bay of Aboukir, in the August preceding. 
 
 About this time Bonaparte received the first news 
 from France for several months : that the Austrians 
 had driven the French out of Italy ; Macdonald had 
 been defeated ; Hoche killed and his army beaten ; 
 that France had lost all that he so gloriously gained 
 for her ; that she had been driven back to the con- 
 dition in which he found her three years before. ' 
 
 And besides these accumulated tidings of evil, 
 news came to him of more terrible import than the 
 loss of fleets or armies : which drove to the verge of 
 despair this man hitherto so imperturbable. He 
 had promised Josephine she should follow him to 
 Egypt in the "Pomona," two or three months
 
 JOSEPHINE. 255 
 
 later ; but that frigate was taken by the English, 
 on her return voyage ; and other things conspired 
 to prevent her anticipated departure. That she 
 really believed she should take the voyage, is shown 
 in a letter written by her to Hortense, while at 
 Toulon. While she was at Plombieres she became 
 the victim of an accident that nearly ended her life, 
 and was the cause of her detention there several 
 months. A balcony in which she was sitting gave 
 way and precipitated her to the ground, causing 
 severe injuries. Hortense was summoned to her 
 side, and nursed her mother with assiduous care. 
 In the month of September they left the watering- 
 place for Paris, and, in accordance with the sug- 
 gestions, or the wishes, of Bonaparte, Josephine 
 sought out a desirable country property, to which 
 they might be able to retire from the fatigues of 
 Parisian society. She finally purchased the estate 
 of Malmaison, near the village of Rueil, of M. 
 Lecoulteux, a member of the council of ancients, 
 and paid for it the sum of 160,000 francs, partly 
 from her dowry, and partly from funds furnished 
 by Napoleon. 
 
 Malmaison, though at that time in very bad con- 
 dition, became at once her favorite place of resi- 
 dence, and it is more intimately associated with her 
 later life than any other. She at once took up her 
 abode at Malmaison, alternating between it and her 
 city-house in Chantereine Street. At both places 
 she received the most distinguished company, and 
 endeavored to maintain a little court of the most
 
 256 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 celebrated men and women of the day. Her success 
 in this respect has been chronicled by a contempo- 
 rary, M. Bouilly,* who enumerates such as Bernardin 
 St. Pierre, author of " Paul and Virginia," Arnault, 
 and Legouve, besides the ladies already familiar to 
 us as her friends and associates. She did not forget 
 her duties to her absent spouse, nor the perils which 
 threatened him from the direction of the Directory ; 
 and it was in keeping up her old associations with 
 these men that her own character was com- 
 promised. 
 
 She ably seconded all the attempts of Napoleon's 
 brothers to maintain the popularity of the absent 
 general and to prepare the field for his plowing 
 when he should return. To this end she kept her- 
 self en-rapport with the Directory, attended all their 
 entertainments, and graced by her presence all the 
 official receptions. She especially cultivated the 
 acquaintance and friendship of Madame Gohier, a 
 "lady of austere virtue," wife of one of the most 
 influential of the directors. It was through her 
 intimacy with her and her knowledge of the plans 
 of the Directory, that (it has been conceded) Bona- 
 parte was enabled to combat and overthrow this 
 same Directory, on his return from Egypt. "This 
 woman." says a writer of repute, "in spite of her 
 frivolous appearance, intrigued like an experienced 
 diplomatist. . . . Without Josephine, it is probable 
 that Bonaparte would never have become Emperor. 
 ... It was in vain that he told her not to talk 
 
 * "Memoires et Souvenirs, ou mes Recapitulations."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 257 
 
 politics, or meddle with affairs ; she was still the 
 most efficient aid to his plans, and during his ab- 
 sence she prepared the field on which he was to 
 show himself master." . . . 
 
 Her actions were misconstrued ; she was accused 
 of indiscretions, of levity ; nay more, of infidelity 
 to her husband. These reports were carried to the 
 Bonaparte family, and they, being jealous of 
 Josephine, and anxious to weaken her influence with 
 Napoleon, not only gave them credence, but them- 
 selves intrigued against her. Her name was men- 
 tioned in connection with that of a young man, 
 Charles Bottot, Barras's secretary, who had presumed 
 upon her kindness to him at Milan, and assumed to 
 be the result of more than ordinary interest what 
 was in reality nothing but her universal good-will, 
 as towards all who came within her sphere. He had 
 been despatched by the Directory as a spy upon 
 Bonaparte's movements, and the general, suspecting 
 this, treated him with severity. It was not on 
 account of any intimacy with his wife, at that time, 
 but merely for political reasons, that Bonaparte 
 meditated his arrest. 
 
 "On his return from Italy," says the author of 
 the Memoirs, " Bonaparte's domestic situation gave 
 him some uneasiness. Josephine had kept Bottot 
 attached to her, as he was in the employ of Barras, 
 and knew all the secrets of the Directory. . . . But 
 Madame Bonaparte, though she may have been ex- 
 ceedingly unsteady, was never culpable. On his 
 return, as she had invited certain persons to her 
 17
 
 258 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 house whom he had forbidden her to see, he came 
 to an open rupture with her. In a moment of 
 passion he drove her from the house, and gave the 
 most positive orders that she was not to be re- 
 admitted. In despair, she sought the house of a 
 friend, Madame de Chateau-Renard, who finally 
 succeeded in getting her back unknown to Bona- 
 parte, and who persuaded him to show himself with 
 his wife in the Bois de Bologne that afternoon, and 
 thus stopped the scandal, which was rapidly spread- 
 ing." 
 
 Josephine herself says : " This man, extraordinary 
 in everything, was of a furiously jealous disposition ; 
 often and much did I suffer from his suspicions. I 
 could not see, I could not receive visits from any- 
 body, without being subject to the most unfavorable 
 interpretation. ... I shall always remember those 
 journeys to Italy ; never shall I forget the tears I 
 shed." 
 
 An English author, whose prejudices would not 
 allow him to take a liberal view of Napoleon, but 
 whose estimates are not warped to the extent of 
 condemning all with whom he was connected, says 
 of Josephine at this period : . . . "She is generally 
 charged with levity. . . . I do not pretend to justify 
 her altogether ; but she was skilful enough to profit 
 by the weakness of certain generals, to attach them 
 more thoroughly to her husband's cause. . . . She 
 possessed the nicest tact ; her address was incredible, 
 especially where partisans were to be gained for 
 Bonaparte. She used the ladies of her court to dis-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 259 
 
 cern the most secret particulars. ... In a word, 
 Bonaparte was never so prosperous, and so well 
 served, as during the years he spent with the woman 
 who was always his best and most constant friend. 
 . . . She nattered all parties (as she frankly says 
 in her memoirs), and while she truly delighted in 
 works of benevolence and in alleviating sorrow, she 
 adroitly drew from the noblesse of the ancienne 
 regime most valued and hitherto carefully guarded 
 secrets, which were of the utmost assistance to 
 Napoleon. 
 
 "She was the great compensator between nobility 
 and people. . . . Bonaparte's stay in Egypt began 
 to weary her, for she really loved the man, although 
 she had begun to experience his despotism. She 
 managed his interests in France, and prevented a 
 thousand dangers which menaced them. Indeed, it 
 would have been impossible for Napoleon to re-enter 
 France, had not an attentive and vigilant wife 
 managed to avert the storm which was already 
 gathering over his head in the port of Frejus." 
 
 These quotations show us, it may be assumed, the 
 motive of Josephine in keeping in touch with mem- 
 bers of the Directory. There may have been some 
 secret reason, and there may have been, as many 
 have alleged, a liaison between her and the secre- 
 tary of Barras. But, with all respect for the opinion 
 of those who have made this matter the subject of 
 study, and without presuming to assert that such 
 an event could not have transpired, we would sub- 
 mit that it was extremely unlikely. There was no
 
 260 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 motive for such a course, either in the circum- 
 stances that surrounded her, nor in her own inclina- 
 tions. She was the wife of the most famous man 
 of his times ; she was devotedly loved ; there had 
 heen no rupture between them. Her nature, while 
 it was yielding, still was not passionate ; and she 
 was no longer in the heyday of youth. . . . She had, 
 doubtless, found amusement in the young secretary, 
 who was a Parisian of the type known as the jeunesse 
 doree, light and frivolous, careless and enter- 
 taining ; and she did have reasons that seemed 
 sufficient to her for attaching him to her society. 
 It is not denied that Josephine was vain, that 
 flattery was acceptable to her, that she gratefully 
 inhaled the incense of adulation. In sooth, it had 
 become necessary to her existence, after having been 
 the recipient of such attentions as few women of 
 her time had experienced. 
 
 But, it cannot be proven that she was criminally 
 culpable. Yet, this was the charge made against 
 her, in Egypt, and which Bonaparte first heard, 
 from Junot, during the ill-fated Syrian expedition. 
 Bourrienne, who was most intimate with Napoleon 
 during the Egyptian campaign, has left us a vivid 
 narrative of this affair, which took place in February, 
 1799. " Whilst near the wells of Messoudiah, on 
 our way to El-Arish, I one day saw Bonaparte 
 walking along with Junot, as he was often in the 
 habit of doing. . . . The General's countenance, 
 which was always pale, had, without my being able 
 to divine the cause, become paler than usual.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 261 
 
 There was something convulsive in his features a 
 wildness in his look, and he several times struck his 
 head with his hand. After conversing with Junot 
 about a quarter of an hour, he quitted him and came 
 towards me. ... I advanced towards him, and as 
 soon as we met he exclaimed, in an abrupt and 
 angry tone, ' So, I find I cannot depend upon you. 
 These women Josephine ! If you had loved me 
 you would before this have told me all I have heard 
 from Junot. He is a real friend. Josephine ! And 
 I six hundred leagues from her. You ought to have 
 told me. That she should have thus deceived me ! 
 Woe to them ! I will exterminate the whole race 
 of fops and puppies. As to her : divorce ; yes, 
 divorce ! A public and open divorce ; I must write. 
 I know all. It is your fault. You ought to 
 have told me ! ' These energetic and broken ex- 
 clamations, his disturbed countenance and altered 
 voice, informed me but too well of the subject of 
 his conversation with Junot. I saw that Junot 
 had been drawn into a culpable indiscretion, and 
 that if Josephine had committed any faults he had 
 cruelly exaggerated them. . . . My situation was 
 one of extreme delicacy, but, as some degree of 
 calmness succeeded to this first burst, I replied that 
 I knew nothing of the reports. ... I begged him 
 to consider with what facility tales were fabricated 
 and circulated, and that gossip such as that which 
 had been repeated to him was only the amusement 
 of idle persons, and deserves the contempt of strong 
 minds. I spoke of his glory. . . .
 
 262 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 " ' My glory,' cried he. ' I know not what I would 
 not give, if that which Junot has told me should be 
 untrue ; so much do I love Josephine. If she be 
 really guilty a divorce must separate us forever. I 
 will not submit to be the laughing-stock of all the 
 imbeciles of Paris. I will write to Joseph ; he will 
 get the divorce declared.' "* 
 
 He wrote to his brother Joseph, a letter full of 
 dolor and complaints, beginning " J'ai beaucoup de 
 chagrins domestiques," and alluding, in veiled terms, 
 to the passing of his love for glory, his disappoint- 
 ments, and ennui. 
 
 It has been declared, by writers inimical to Jose- 
 phine, that the " idea of divorce germinated in the 
 hour when his eyes were unsealed and the illusion 
 under which he had lived was dispelled," namely, 
 in Egypt, at the receipt of this report of his wife's 
 alleged infidelity. It has also been claimed that 
 Napoleon himself was true to his wife until this 
 report was received ; that this news caused him to 
 turn to another for that consolation which was 
 denied him in the bosom of his family. But this 
 also is untrue, for his own acts of infidelity antedate 
 the receipt of this information. It is no secret that 
 he had already carried on an open amour with the 
 pretty wife of an officer of his command, and of 
 whom he seemed deeply enamored. He did not 
 need as an excuse the indiscretions of his wife, as 
 reported to him by a pretended friend, and which 
 
 * For another version of this affair, see the " Memoirs of the 
 Duchess d'Abrantes," the wife of Junot.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 263 
 
 Bonaparte was himself slow to believe. This amour 
 was begun in September of the year previous, as 
 Bourrienne relates, and other writers have con- 
 firmed. "About the middle of September of this 
 year (1798), Bonaparte ordered to be brought to the 
 house of Elfy Bey half-a-dozen Asiatic women, 
 whose beauty he had heard highly extolled ; but 
 their ungraceful obesity displeased him, and they 
 were immediately dismissed. A few days after he 
 fell violently in love with Madame Foures, the wife 
 of a lieutenant of infantry. She was pretty, and 
 her charms were enhanced by the rarity of seeing a 
 woman in Egypt who was calculated to please the 
 eye of a European. Bonaparte engaged a house for 
 her adjoining the palace. He frequently ordered 
 dinner to be prepared there, and I used to go there 
 with him at seven o'clock, and leave him at nine. . . . 
 This connection soon became the general subject of 
 gossip at headquarters. Through a feeling of deli- 
 cacy to M. Foures, the General-in-Chief gave him a 
 mission to the Directory. He embarked at Alexan- 
 dria and the ship was captured by the English, who, 
 being informed of the cause of his mission, were 
 malicious enough to send him back to Egypt, instead 
 of keeping him prisoner." * 
 
 * The Duchesse d' Abrantes confirms in every particular the story nar- 
 rated by Bourrienne of the amour between Bonaparte and Mme. 
 Foures ; she appears to think it was an honest love, and treats 
 lightly the feelings of the injured husband, as though it were the 
 best joke in the world. The woman, too, has her sympathy ; but 
 this may be expected from one who writes so lightly of the ante-nup-
 
 264 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Were not this lamentable episode so well authen- 
 ticated, we should hesitate to accept this statement, 
 implicating in a disgraceful amour one who so re- 
 cently was absorbed in a pure and ardent passion. It 
 were futile to inquire the cause of this defection ; it 
 were worse than foolish to ascribe it to the actions 
 of the one he so truly loved. 
 
 Among the many letters ascribed to Josephine is 
 one that bears every evidence of authenticity, in 
 style and sentiment. It was written after the 
 receipt of Napoleon's accusation, and goes far to set 
 her right in the opinion of honest and disinterested 
 individuals. . . . "Can it be possible, my friend; 
 is the letter indeed yours, which I have just received ? 
 Scarcely can I give it credit, on comparison with 
 those others now before me, and to which your love 
 gave so many charms. But my eyes cannot doubt 
 that those pages which rend my heart are too surely 
 yours ; though my soul refuses to admit that yours 
 could have dictated those lines, which, to the ardent 
 joy experienced on hearing from you, have caused 
 to succeed the mortal grief of reading the expres- 
 sions of displeasure, the more afflicting to me that 
 it must have proved a source of anguish to you. 
 
 " I am wholly ignorant in what I have offended, to 
 create an enemy so determined to ruin my repose by 
 interrupting yours ; but surely, it must be a grave 
 
 tial amours and "natural child" of her own husband; and the 
 obtuseness or moral obliquity that sees only with amazement Jose- 
 phine's natural indignation at Junot's flirtation with her own maid, 
 before her face.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 265 
 
 reason which can thus induce some one unceasingly 
 to renew against me calumnies of such a specious 
 nature as to be admitted, even for a moment, by one 
 who hitherto has deemed me worthy of his entire 
 affection and confidence. These sentiments are 
 necessary to my happiness ; and if they are so soon 
 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 by 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 
 became, pursued me everywhere. Such were the 
 causes that prevented apprehension in often meeting 
 you : little did I imagine that I could for a single 
 instant fix your choice. In common with all the 
 world I admired your genius and your talents ; more 
 truly than others did I foresee your coming glory ; 
 but, notwithstanding all this, I was unmoved, lov- 
 ing you only for the services you had rendered to 
 my country. You should have left me to cherish 
 this admiration, and not sought to have rendered 
 it impassioned, by employing those means of pleas- 
 ing which you above all men possess, if so soon after 
 having united your destiny to mine, you were to re- 
 gret the felicity which you alone had taught me to 
 enjoy. 
 
 " Do you believe it possible for me ever to forget 
 your cares and your love ? Think you I can ever
 
 266 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 become indifferent to one who sweetens existence by 
 all that is delightful in passion ? 
 
 "Can I ever efface from my memory your kindness 
 to Hortense, your counsel and example to Eugene ? 
 If this appear to you impossible, how can you 
 suspect me of being interested, for a single moment, 
 in what is alien to you. Oh, my friend, in place of 
 lending ear to imposters, who, from motives which I 
 cannot explain, seek to ruin our happiness, why do 
 you not rather reduce them to silence, by a recital 
 of your benefits to a woman whose character has 
 never incurred the suspicion 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, your conduct, admired as it has 
 been throughout the whole of Europe, has, in my 
 heart, but awakened deeper adoration of the hus- 
 band who made choice of me, poor as I was, and 
 unhappy. Every step which you take but adds to 
 the splendor of the name I bear and is such a 
 moment to be seized to persuade you that I no longer 
 love you ? . . . Yes, my friend, I love you with a 
 sincerity well known, even to those who assert the 
 contrary. . . . 
 
 "It is true I see much company, for every one 
 strives to be foremost in complimenting me on your 
 successes, and I confess I have not the resolution to 
 shut my doors against any one who comes to speak 
 of you. My male visitors are very numerous ; they 
 comprehend your daring achievements better than
 
 JOSEPHINE. 267 
 
 women. . . . Women fail 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 Mmes. d'Aiguil- 
 lon, Tallien, and my aunt. These are my intimates, 
 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 
 had disavowed, and at this moment are sorry for 
 having written them. 
 
 " I tremble when I think of the dangers that 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. . . . 
 
 " Here I receive honors which sometimes cause me 
 embarrassment ; for, I see they displease our au- 
 thorities, who, always distrustful and apprehensive 
 of losing their power, are ever on the watch. Dis- 
 regard these people, you will say ; but, my friend, 
 they will endeavor to hurt you ; they will accuse 
 you of seeking to lessen their power ; and I should 
 grieve to contribute in aught to a jealousy which 
 your triumphs sufficiently justify. When you shall
 
 268 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 return, covered with laurels, good heavens ! what 
 will they not do, if already they are on the rack ? I 
 cannot calculate where their resentment will stop ; 
 but then you will be by my side, and I shall feel 
 secure. . . . 
 
 "I am ever thinking of you; now transporting 
 myself to the time when I shall see you every hour ; 
 now plunged in sorrow at the thought of the space 
 which must elapse before your return ; and when I 
 thus conclude, I begin again. Are these the signs 
 of indifference ? 
 
 " I wish for none others on your part ; and if you 
 feel thus for me, I shall not think myself altogether 
 an object of pity, despite the small slanders which 
 they would fain have me credit respecting a certain 
 fair one, who, they tell me, interests you deeply. 
 
 " Why should I doubt you ? You assure me I am 
 beloved. I judge of you by my own heart, and I 
 believe you. 
 
 " God knows when or where this letter may reach 
 you ; may it restore to you a repose which you ought 
 never to have foregone ; and more than ever give 
 you an assurance that, while I live, you will be dear 
 to me as on the day of our last separation. 
 
 " Farewell, my only friend. Confide in me love 
 me and receive a thousand tender caresses." 
 
 "JOSEPHINE." 
 
 If this letter reached Bonaparte, it is doubtful if 
 he could after that have any credence in the accusa- 
 tion. But when, like a thunderbolt, he launched
 
 JOSEPHINE. 269 
 
 himself upon the coast of France ; when the news 
 reached Josephine that he had landed at Frejus, 
 she was alarmed, and justly. Not that she had 
 been untrue to him ; but because she was aware of 
 the enmity of his brothers, and wished to see him 
 before they should poison his mind afresh. She 
 hastened to meet him, missed him en route, and re- 
 turned to their home to find his door barred against 
 her.
 
 270 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE CONSULATE. 
 
 IT was in March, 1799, that Louis Bonaparte re- 
 turned to France bringing from Egypt good news for 
 Josephine, of Napoleon and her son Eugene. She 
 had good reason to feel proud of her son, for he 
 had borne himself in a manner creditable to himself 
 and to his family, as the son of the Viscount de 
 Beauharnais, and the step-son of the great Bona- 
 parte. He had himself taken one of the five flags 
 captured at Malta ; he was at Bonaparte's side at the 
 entry into A]exandria ; took an active part in the 
 battle of the Pyramids ; and risked his life in Cairo. 
 In the Suez expedition the advance guard was en- 
 trusted to him, and when, on the return, a lieuten- 
 ant's epaulet was given him, he was but eighteen 
 years of age. He was complimented by General 
 Berthier, at the same time, for his bravery and 
 prudence. On the ill-starred Syrian expedition he 
 made several perilous reconnoissances, and was the 
 only officer in the army who penetrated the Arab 
 lines in the valley of Jerusalem and obtained a 
 glimpse of the Holy City. During the siege of Acre 
 he was stunned by the bursting of a bomb, and Bona-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 271 
 
 parte, who was near him, gave utterance to a cry of 
 grief and alarm, believing him killed. Of the eight 
 aides-de-camp on Bonaparte's staff in Egypt, four 
 were killed, and two were wounded. Eugene 
 ever bore himself with a modest air, always gay 
 and cheerful ; he felt for his glorious chief an 
 affection that never changed, a devotion that 
 never faltered ; and Bonaparte, on his side, was 
 deeply attached to him. 
 
 At last, " Eugene, you are going to see your 
 mother." The boy's heart leaped with joy; this 
 was the news that for long months he had anxiously 
 awaited. He had heard the evil reports from France ; 
 it is said that Napoleon had talked with him of the 
 alleged infidelity of his mother ; but, while still loyal 
 to his General, to his step- father, he yet defended 
 his mother, with a boy's belief in her innocence. 
 He was sure that it was only necessary to bring 
 them together, these two, whom he loved with all 
 his soul, to effect a complete reconciliation. 
 
 Says Bourrienne. . . . " The catastrophe of Abou- 
 kir came like a thunderbolt upon the General-in- 
 Chief. In spite of all his energy and fortitude he 
 was deeply distressed by the disasters which now 
 assailed him. To the painful feelings excited by the 
 complaints and dejection of hiscompanions-in-arms, 
 was now added the irreparable misfortune of the 
 burning of the fleet. He measured the fatal con- 
 sequences of this event at a single glance. We were 
 now cut off from all communication with France, 
 and all hope of returning thither except by a degrad-
 
 272 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 ing capitulation with an implacable and hated 
 enemy. Bonaparte had lost all chance of preserving 
 his conquest, and to him this was indeed a bitter 
 reflection. And at what time did this disaster be- 
 fall him ? At the very moment when he was about 
 to apply for the aid of the mother country. 
 
 " The imprudent communications of Junot at the 
 fountains of Messoudiah will be remembered ; but 
 after the first ebullition of jealous rage all traces 
 of that feeling had apparently disappeared. Bona- 
 parte, however, was still harassed by secret suspi- 
 cion. . . . We reached the capital before Josephine 
 returned. The recollection of the past, the ill- 
 natured reports of his brothers, and the exaggera- 
 tion of facts, had irritated Napoleon to the very 
 highest pitch, and he received Josephine with 
 studied coldness, and with an air of the most cruel 
 indifference. He had no communication with her 
 for three days. . . . Reflection, seconded by his 
 ardent affection for Josephine, brought about a 
 complete reconciliation. After these three days of 
 conjugal misunderstanding their happiness was 
 never afterwards disturbed by a similar cause." 
 
 Having landed at Frejus, Bonaparte's journey 
 from that port to Paris was an uninterrupted series 
 of ovations, and the 16th of October he entered the 
 capital to the cries of "Long live the Liberator of 
 France 1 " 
 
 When, two days later, Josephine arrived from 
 her fruitless journey, she found herself debarred his 
 presence. All through the night she lay prostrate
 
 JOSEPHINE. 273 
 
 before his chamber door ; but Bonaparte was obdu- 
 rate ; only finally relenting when Eugene and Hor- 
 tense, whom he so dearly loved, joined their plead- 
 ings to hers. 
 
 Whatever the cause her husband may have 
 thought he had for his cruel course, or from what- 
 ever reason he relented, his forgiveness was full 
 and unquestioning. When his brothers came, next 
 morning, to urge their reasons for a separation 
 from his wife, they found the couple reunited and 
 in full accord. From that time, to the end of their 
 relations as man and wife, Josephine (even her de- 
 tractors admit) led a life against which no one 
 could urge any complaint of indiscretion, even. As 
 the wife of the Consul she was irreproachable. 
 
 Bonaparte forgave, and as well he forgot ; that 
 was a noble trait of his character.* The double 
 standard of morals : one law for woman and 
 
 "* Madame Bonaparte was a prey to great and well-founded uneasi- 
 ness. Whether she was guilty or only imprudent, she was strongly 
 accused by the Bonaparte family, who were desirous that Bonaparte 
 should obtain a divorce. . . . Madame Bonaparte committed a great 
 fault in neglecting at this juncture to conciliate her mother-in-law, 
 who might have protected her against those who sought her ruin, 
 and effected it nine years later. . . . Bonaparte, on his arrival in 
 Paris found his house deserted ; but his mother, sisters and sisters- 
 in-law, in fact every member of his family except Louis, who had 
 attended Madame Bonaparte to Lyons, came to him immediately. 
 The impression made upon him by the solitude of his home and 
 its desertion by its mistress was profound and terrible. . . . From 
 not finding her with his family, he inferred that she felt herself un- 
 worthy of their presence, and feared to meet the man she had 
 wronged." DUCHESSE D'ABBANTES. 
 18
 
 274 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 another for man, prevailed in France at that time 
 as it does to-day. Although Bonaparte was priv- 
 ileged to reproach, to accuse, and finally to mag- 
 nanimously forgive, the wife must not only close her 
 eyes to his own infidelities, but must again submit 
 to be a victim of them. Egypt was of the past ; 
 but other Cleopatras were to be forthcoming. It 
 was not long, in sooth, before Napoleon was indulg- 
 ing in a temporary passion for an Italian singer, of 
 whom he soon tired, and who, some years later, 
 "deployed her charms for the Duke of Wellington." 
 
 Through Josephine, Bonaparte had hoped to draw 
 about him the old nobility of France, and as well to 
 cause disaffection in the ranks of the Eepublicans. 
 To a great extent, she was of service in this re- 
 spect ; though, as he later saw and admitted, he 
 greatly overestimated her prospective influence and 
 her former standing with the noblesse. ' ' Josephine 
 was well qualified to play this role ; she had the 
 necessary ease, eloquence, and grace of manner ; was 
 exceptionally tactful in bestowing a gift or favor, 
 and had a charming fashion of receiving people, ap- 
 pearing at ease in every assemblage." But her rev- 
 olutionary affiliations were at first a drawback to 
 her influence with the nobility ; all her life, indeed, 
 and after her death her memory, was clouded by 
 those " revolutionary affiliations." It was immedi- 
 ately after their reconciliation, that Bonaparte re- 
 ceived the most signal proof of her affectionate 
 interest in his welfare and her influence in promot-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 275 
 
 ing his vast schemes for aggrandizement. It is well 
 known that his return to France was in the further- 
 ance of his determination to overthrow the Direct- 
 ory and establish himself in power as Dictator. It 
 was not long before this was accomplished ; less 
 than three weeks elapsed between the time of his 
 landing at Frejus and his elevation to the supreme 
 command. And it was in this overthrow of the 
 Directory, that the assistance of his wife was in- 
 valuable ; nay, more, without it, some of the ablest 
 historians of France have declared, he could not 
 have succeeded. Josephine proved to him, then, that 
 the intercourse she had so persistently maintained 
 with the members of the Directory (and which was 
 the chiefest of the accusations against her), was 
 entirely in his interest ; while he was absent in 
 Egypt she had, with a prescience that must have 
 come from intuition, kept in touch with his enemies, 
 and had learned not only all their plans, but had 
 conceived means of thwarting them. No sooner 
 had the kiss of reconciliation sealed their pact of 
 mutual confidence, than she unfolded to her lord 
 the information she had gained, during those long 
 days of separation, when she was in semi-seclusion 
 at Malmaison. Bonaparte was astonished, de- 
 lighted ; perchance remorseful, when he thought of 
 the injustice he had done her ; on the part of Jose- 
 phine was naught but joy and purest self-abnega- 
 tion. " Madame Bonaparte," says a contemporary, 
 "was always of service to Bonaparte in his relations 
 with the men of whom he wanted to make use.
 
 276 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 She fascinated every one who came near her, by 
 her exquisite grace and charming courtesy. . . . 
 She was to exercise direct influence on the victims 
 and accomplices of the coup-d'etat on Barras, 
 Gohier, Sieyes, Fouche, Moreau, and Talleyrand." 
 
 And says General Segur : " Nothing was con- 
 cealed from her. In every conference at which she 
 was present, her discretion, gentleness, grace, and 
 the ready ingenuity of her delicate and cool intelli- 
 gence, were of the greatest service. She justified 
 Bonaparte's renewed confidence in her." As con- 
 firmatory of this assertion of her assistance in the 
 weaving of the web around the doomed Directors, 
 her letter to the incorruptible Gohier will be given. 
 It was but a part of Bonaparte's scheme, to draw 
 Gohier away from his allegiance. . . . 
 
 " 17th Brumaire, Tear VIII. 
 
 "My DEAR GOHIER. 
 
 "Will not you and your wife breakfast with us 
 to-morrow, at eight ? Do not fail us ; there are a 
 good many interesting things I should like to talk 
 to you about. 
 
 " Good-bye, my dear Gohier." 
 
 " Believe me, always, 
 
 " Sincerely yours, 
 " LA-PAGERIE BONAPARTE." 
 
 Madame Gohier went, saw the trap, returned to 
 warn her husband but was too late. That was 
 on the eventful morning of the 18th Brumaire, the
 
 JOSEPHINE. 277' 
 
 events of which changed the destinies of France, 
 gave into the hands of Napoleon the reins of govern- 
 ment, bestowed upon him the power that eventually 
 made him master of all France. The particulars of 
 the fateful overturn are part of the history of 
 France. The event was a pivotal point in the fort- 
 unes of Bonaparte, in the destinies of France, of 
 Europe, of the world. 
 
 Bonaparte had indignantly demanded of the rec- 
 reant rulers of the Republic : " What have you done 
 with that France which I left so splendid ? I left 
 you peace, and find you at war ; I left you victory, 
 and I find defeats ; I left you the spoils of Italy, 
 and I find everywhere oppression and misery. What 
 have you done with the hundred thousand French- 
 men, whom you knew, and all of them my com- 
 panions in glory ? " 
 
 " The parts of the great drama which was to be 
 enacted were well distributed," says his secretary, 
 Bourrienne. " During the three days preceding the 
 18th, everybody was at his post. Lucien, with equal 
 activity and intelligence, forwarded the conspiracy 
 in the two councils. Sieyes had the management 
 of the Directory. . . . There was no time to lose ; 
 and Fouche said to me, on the fourteenth, ' Tell your 
 General to be speedy ; if he delays he is lost.' ' 
 
 He did not delay ; the morning of the 18th found 
 him in peril, in the midst of enemies ; the close of 
 day saw him combating them with prospect of suc- 
 cess ; the night witnessed his triumph. 
 
 " At three in the morning I accompanied Bona-
 
 278 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 parte in his carriage to Paris. He was extremely 
 fatigued, after so many trials. A new future was 
 opened before him ; this thought completely ab- 
 sorbed him, and he did not utter a single word during 
 the journey. But when he arrived at his house in 
 the Rue de la Victoire, he had no sooner entered his 
 chamber and wished good-morning to Josephine, who 
 was in bed, and in a state of the greatest anxiety, 
 than he said, before her : ' Bourrienne, I said many 
 ridiculous things?' 'Not so very bad, General.' 
 ' I like better to speak to soldiers than to lawyers. 
 Those fellows disconcerted me. I have not been 
 used to public assemblies ; but that will come in 
 time.' 
 
 "Back in the little house in the Eue de la Vic- 
 toire where he was married, whence he had started 
 for Italy and Egypt, whither he had always re- 
 turned victorious he kissed Josephine, and told 
 her all the incidents of the day. Then he rested for 
 a few hours, and woke up in the morning, the master 
 of Paris and of France." 
 
 The coap-d'etat was accomplished on the 9th 
 and 10th of October, 1799 : a provisionary consulate 
 was formed, consisting of Bonaparte, Sieyes, and 
 Roger Ducos, who took the place of the old Direc- 
 tory. The General and his wife soon established 
 themselves in the Luxembourg, where first Jose- 
 phine experienced that homage of the people which 
 ended only with her death. "It was at the Luxem- 
 bourg, in the salons of which the adorable Josephine 
 so well performed the honors, that the word Madame
 
 JOSEPHINE. 279 
 
 came again into use. This first return to the old 
 French politeness was startling to some susceptible 
 republicans ; but things were carried farther at the 
 Tuileries by the introduction of Votre Altesse, on 
 occasions of state and ceremony, and Monseigneur 
 in the family circle." 
 
 A change was to occur, and the pliant Josephine 
 was selected by her husband to assist him in bringing 
 it about. Most ably she assisted him, and without 
 her he would not have been capable of effecting it. 
 Stern republicanism was to bow before the innovat- 
 ing customs of the ancient court, and Paris was to 
 experience a recrudescence of- royalty ; not at first 
 in name, but in essence. Bonaparte, if we may 
 accept the statements of his secretary, entertained 
 a profound dislike of the sanguinary men of the 
 Revolution, and especially of the regicides ; while 
 Josephine's inclinations were ever towards royalty. 
 The new " Constitution of the year VIII." was soon 
 promulgated ; in December Bonaparte was declared 
 First Consul with Cambaceres second and Lebrun 
 third. The end of this eventful century, the last 
 decade of which had been steeped in blood, had com- 
 prised the most horrible chapter in French history, 
 found a strong hand at the helm of power and prom- 
 ised a return of long-lost prosperity. Napoleon's 
 speech to the Council of the Ancients, on the 9th 
 of November, '99, presaged a recurrence of happier 
 days to this distracted country : . . " Let us not seek 
 in the past examples that may retard our prog- 
 ress. Nothing in history resembles the close of the
 
 280 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 < 
 
 eighteenth century ; nothing in the close of the 
 eighteenth century resembles the present moment ! 
 We demand a Republic, founded upon true liberty. 
 We will have it, I swear it ! " 
 
 The Tuileries was assigned to the First Consul as 
 a place of residence, and on the 18th of February, 
 1800, the transfer was effected in great state, from 
 the Luxembourg to that palace which had been the 
 abode of Louis XVI. and his queen. Upon its 
 walls the word " Republic" was written, that the 
 people might not take alarm at the prospect of their 
 Consul dwelling in a royal residence, yet, at the very 
 first reception held there was visible the difference 
 between republican simplicity and monarchical 
 etiquette. 
 
 After the grand procession to the Tuileries, Bona- 
 parte mounted his horse and reviewed the troops. 
 Josephine and her friends, who already constituted 
 a little court about her, viewing the spectacle from 
 the windows of the palace. That evening, at the 
 banquet and the grand reception, the most beautiful 
 women, the most famous men, assembled to do 
 homage to the conqueror of France and his consort. 
 It was a veritable court presentation, and a good 
 beginning of the road to royalty. Josephine, as 
 usual, charmed all who saw her by her grace and 
 affability, from the moment she appeared, leaning 
 on the arm of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, to the 
 moment of her departure, after an unexampled 
 triumph over the prejudices and passions of that 
 mixed assemblage, where republicanism for the first
 
 JOSEPHINE. 281 
 
 time came into close contact with the ancient no- 
 bility. 
 
 "Mme. Bonaparte," says the Duchessed'Abrantes, 
 who was present, " received us in the most gracious 
 manner ; it was in such cases that she appeared to 
 the utmost advantage. . . . She had already gone 
 through all that a royal novitiate demanded, and it 
 can scarcely be imagined with what ease she stepped 
 into the station of queen." 
 
 Bonaparte established himself in the apartments 
 formerly occupied by the royal family ; Josephine 
 and her own family on the floor below, where she 
 held a separate court of her own. Here she was ap- 
 proached by those who still had hopes of the return 
 of the Bourbons to the throne of France. The cir- 
 cumstance of the marriage of the Dictator of France 
 with one of the ancient aristocracy, and Josephine's 
 notorious attachment for the ancienne regime, gave 
 the Koyalists hope ; they swarmed upon her, and 
 through her sought to approach the First Consul. 
 
 A certain titled lady was sent by the Bourbons to 
 asscertain the sentiments of Josephine regarding the 
 re-establishment of the royal family in power. In 
 drawing a flattering picture of the prospective hon- 
 ors awaiting Napoleon, should he condescend to 
 merge his own glory in that of the legitimate sover- 
 eigns of France, the lady said to Josephine : " We 
 will raise upon the Carrousal a magnificent column, 
 upon which will be a statue of Bonaparte crowning 
 the Bourbons." Josephine repeated this speech to 
 Napoleon, who dryly remarked : " And did you not
 
 282 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 tell them that this magnificent column would have as 
 its pedestal the corpse of the First Consul ? " The 
 pretty Duchess was arrested, and the next night 
 sent over the frontier. Although Bonaparte was 
 willing that Josephine should entertain her friends 
 of the aristocracy, and that it should be understood 
 that she was accessible to them at all times, yet he 
 did not choose she should be made a cat's-paw for 
 royalty. She was the connecting link between the 
 old regime and the new ; she was most useful in the 
 scheme he had formed for the fusion of the aristoc- 
 racy with republicanism ; but could not be used to 
 swerve him from his allegiance to himself. He had 
 not built this great structure for the occupancy of 
 royalism ; although he was careful to let it so ap- 
 pear to their friends. It was not till after Marengo 
 that the royalists were undeceived ; that they saw 
 clearly Bonaparte would turn to his own account 
 this strong centralization of his power ; and then 
 they filled France with assassins and spies. 
 
 Their last hope perished at Marengo. The world 
 was startled by this achievement : when the Great 
 Saint Bernard was scaled, the mighty Alps crossed 
 in safety, and the armies of Napoleon hurled upon 
 the Austrians assembled on the plains of Italy. 
 
 "The incredible difficulties it presented did not 
 daunt the courage of Bonaparte's troops. His gen- 
 erals, accustomed as they had been to brave fatigue 
 and danger, regarded without concern the gigantic 
 enterprise of the modern Hannibal. . . . What 
 little time and how few events sometimes suffice
 
 JOSEPHINE. 283 
 
 to change the destiny of nations ! We left Milan 
 on the 13th of June, Marengo was on the 14th, and 
 on the 15th Italy was ours. A suspension of hostil- 
 ities between the French and Austrian armies was 
 the immediate result of a single battle ; and by 
 virtue of a convention, concluded between Berthier 
 and Melas, we resumed possession of all the fortified 
 places of any importance, with the exception of 
 Mantua. 
 
 "After our return from the battle the popular joy 
 was general and heartfelt, not only among the 
 higher and middle ranks of society, but in all classes ; 
 and the affection evinced from all quarters to the 
 First Consul was unfeigned. In what a tone of sin- 
 cerity did he say to me one day, when returning 
 from a parade : ' Bourrienne, do you hear the accla- 
 mations still resounding ? That noise is as sweet to 
 me as the sound of Josephine's voice. How happy 
 and proud I am to be loved by such a people !' ' 
 
 Moreau's victory of Hohenlinden, in November, 
 completed the humiliation of Austria, who was 
 forced to sue for peace and to break her alliance 
 with England. 
 
 The first year of the new century saw Bonaparte 
 in possession of nearly all the territory France had 
 lost during his absence in Egypt, and his arm's every- 
 where triumphant. He was firmly established in the 
 hearts of the French, and if anything were needed 
 to cement their affection it came in the attempt of 
 the royalist conspirators to destroy him, on the 
 twenty-fourth of December, 1800.
 
 284 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 On the evening of this day the first performance 
 of Haydn's Oratorio, the "Creation," took place at 
 the opera. The First Consul had announced his in- 
 tention of being present, and at the appointed hour 
 he set out in a carriage, with some friends, mem- 
 bers of his staff ; while Josephine, who was to fol- 
 low immediately after, was detained by some trivial 
 circumstance. This detention saved their lives ; as 
 it was, they had a narrow escape, the "infernal 
 machine," as it was called, being exploded between 
 the carriage of the First Consul and her own. The 
 engine of death was in the shape of a watering-cart, 
 loaded with explosives, and of such a deadly charac- 
 ter that the street in which it stood was wrecked, 
 houses destroyed, and many persons killed. Hor- 
 tense, who was in the carriage with Josephine, was 
 cut by flying glass, and entered the theater with 
 blood flowing from her cheek. The escape was most 
 miraculous ; had the two carriages been together, 
 the whole party would have been blown to atoms. 
 Arrived at the theater, Bonaparte entered his box 
 with composure, only the deadly pallor of his coun- 
 tenance showing that anything untoward had oc- 
 curred. His only anxiety was for his wife, and as 
 his aide-de-camp entered, some minutes later, hav- 
 ing gone to inquire as to her safety, the word 
 ' ' Josephine ? " trembled on his lips. Her appearance 
 reassured him, and he then gave his attention to 
 the play. The noise of the explosion startled the 
 immense audience in attendance, and soon the truth 
 was disseminated ; every eye was directed to the box
 
 JOSEPHINE. 285 
 
 where sat the First Consul and his wife, and from 
 two thousand throats came cries of joy and affec- 
 tion ; spontaneous testimonial that he was the pop- 
 ular idol, that his enemies should feel the weight 
 of their vengeance. 
 
 Bonaparte had coolly remarked to his aide-de- 
 camp, when assured of the safety of his family : 
 "Those rascals tried to blow me up; bring me a 
 book of the Oratorio." But he did not allow any 
 time to elapse before setting the police upon the 
 trail of the conspirators, and, though indifferent 
 to death, he was rendered furious at the continued 
 and relentless persecution of his enemies. He re- 
 solved to make an example of them ; the lion in him 
 was aroused ; he pursued and hunted them out with 
 a tenacity of purpose that allowed of no escape. 
 One by one, they were brought to answer for their 
 crimes, and most of them perished upon the scaf- 
 fold. 
 
 During the succeeding four or five years, Napo- 
 leon hardly left the soil of France, but devoted all 
 his energies to the repairing of the terrible ravages 
 made by so many years of war and civil strife. In 
 1801, by the treaty of Luneville with Germany, the 
 left bank of the Rhine was secured to France, also 
 the Austrian Netherlands, and Venice was parti- 
 tioned. During that year treaties were concluded 
 with Spain, with Naples, with the Pope, with Ba- 
 varia, Portugal, Russia, Turkey, and Algiers. Fi- 
 nally, by the treaty of Amiens, peace was declared 
 between France and England, and the First Con-
 
 286 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 sul well earned the title of the " Pacificator." Two 
 years later, in May, 1803, war again broke out be- 
 tween England and France ; the Senate immedi- 
 ately voted to place 120,000 conscripts at the First 
 Consul's orders, and preparations for war were made 
 on a vast scale. Meanwhile, in the year 1801, had 
 occurred the disastrous expedition to Santo Domingo, 
 J>y which General Leclerc, Bonaparte's brother-in- 
 law, and 20,000 men, the flower of the French army, 
 were lost. 
 
 In 1802, Bonaparte was proclaimed Consul for 
 life, and he at last stood alone upon the pinnacle 
 of his glory. 
 
 Another event bearing hard upon the destinies of 
 France, and drawing upon her the observation of the 
 world, was the Concordat with Eome, by which the 
 Koman Catholic religion was restored in France. 
 It is not claimed that the Consul was actuated by 
 religious motives so much as by political. His mo- 
 tives, and the event, are clearly stated by Bour- 
 rienue.* 
 
 * " Relating to the proposition of Bonaparte to make France a Pro- 
 testant country, and change the religion of 30,000,000 people by an 
 Imperial decree, Comte de Narbonne : 
 
 " I will tell you what I will do, Narbonne, I tell you how I will 
 vent my spite on this old fool of a Pope, and the dotards who may 
 succeed him : I will make a schism as great as that of Luther I will 
 make France a Protestant country. ..." 
 
 "Sire, I see difficulties in the way of this project.. In the South, 
 in Vendee, in nearly all the West, the French are bigoted Catholics, 
 and even what little religion remains among us, in our cities and 
 great towns, is of the Roman church."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 287 
 
 On the subject of religion Bonaparte's ideas 
 were very vague. . . . The perpetuity of a name in 
 the memory of man was to him the immortality of 
 the soul. He was perfectly tolerant towards every 
 variety of religious faith. 
 
 The First Consul, taking a superior view of the 
 state of France, considered that the re-establishment 
 of religious worship would prove a powerful support 
 to his government, and he had been occupied, ever 
 since the commencement of 1801, in preparing a 
 concordat with the Pope. It was signed in July of 
 the same year. ... A solemn Te Deum was chanted 
 at the cathedral of Notre Dame, on Sunday, the 
 llth of April. The crowd was immense, and the 
 greater part of those present stood during the cere- 
 mony, which was splendid in the extreme ; but who 
 would presume to say that the general feeling was 
 in harmony with all this pomp ? . . . 
 
 The Consular Court was, in general, extremely 
 irreligious ; nor could it be expected to be otherwise, 
 being composed chiefly of those who had assisted in 
 the annihilation of all religious worship in France, 
 and of men who, having passed their lives in camps, 
 had oftener entered a church in Italy to carry off a 
 painting, than to hear the mass ! . . . On the road 
 from the Tuileries to Notre Dame, Lannes and 
 Augereau wanted to alight from the carriage, as 
 
 " Nevermind, Narbonne, never mind I shall at least carry a large 
 portion of the French people with me I will make a division." 
 
 "Sire, I am afraid that there is not enough religion in all France 
 to stand division."
 
 288 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 soon as they saw that they were being driven to 
 mass, and it required an order from the First Consul 
 to prevent their doing so. They went, therefore, to 
 Notre Dame, and the next day Bonaparte asked 
 Augereau what he thought of the ceremony. "Oh, 
 it was all very fine," replied the General ; "there 
 was nothing wanting, except the million of men 
 who have perished in the pulling down of what you 
 are setting up ! " Josephine, although sharing with 
 Bonaparte his views on religious questions, that is, 
 having no deep convictions on the subject, yet 
 graced by her presence the rood-loft of Notre Dame 
 during the impressive ceremonial. 
 
 In 1803 the civil code was proclaimed, that monu- 
 ment to the genius and energy of Napoleon, which 
 later was perfected, and proclaimed as the " Code 
 Napoleon." Thus these years saw his great mind 
 working in the interests of peace, of religion, of the 
 establishment of the law. This was the most prom- 
 ising period of his career, and his happy consort 
 shared with him the affectionate regard of a con- 
 tented and prosperous people. If ambition had not 
 still pursued him, if the desire for universal con- 
 quest had not taken possession of his mind, if the 
 desire to found a throne and perpetuate his successes 
 in his own name, by a direct heir of his own blood, 
 had not filled his heart, then how different would 
 be the record of his subsequent achievements ! On 
 the day in which Bonaparte was named Consul for 
 life, says his secretary, Bourrienne : " . . . the 
 principal apartments of the Tuileries presented the
 
 JOSEPHINE. 289 
 
 appearance of a fete. This formed a striking con- 
 trast with the melancholy of Josephine, who felt 
 that every step of the First Consul towards the 
 throne removed him farther from her. . . . She 
 had to receive a party, that evening, and, though 
 greatly depressed in spirits, she did the honors with 
 her usual grace." These two, working together, 
 the one for the re-establishment of law and religion, 
 the other for the amelioration of society, have earned 
 the gratitude of regenerated France ; though it is 
 doubtful if this debt has ever been fully recognized. 
 At the outset, there was at the Tuileries neither 
 established etiquette nor ceremonial ; an old coun- 
 sellor of state had the management of the palace 
 assisted by the First Consul's aide-de-camp, and 
 above all by the gallant Duroc. "At that time," 
 says the Duchess d'Abrantes, "vice and disorder 
 were no longer protected by the heads of the State, 
 but levity and immodesty in all that related to the 
 reputation and fate of the female sex, were but too 
 much in vogue at the moment of the Eevolution. 
 ... It is certain that in 1800, when the court of the 
 Tuileries was formed, society wore an appearance 
 of morality and domestic virtue which it had never 
 before displayed in France. The noblesse, or what 
 was at last by general consent denominated the 
 Faubourg St. Germain, was constrained to follow 
 the general current." . . . The emigres, another 
 writer says : "... in spite of their haughtiness, 
 were obliged to draw nearer and nearer to Bona- 
 parte ; but in 1802 they contented themselves with
 
 290 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 paying their court to Josephine. . . . Women like 
 to protect, and to confer rather than receive a kind- 
 ness. It was with keen pleasure that Josephine 
 found herself sought after by people of the old 
 regime, who still refused to bow before her hus- 
 band, and who used to come to call on her, in her 
 apartment on the ground-floor of the Tuileries, at 
 the same time boasting that they had never set foot 
 on the grand staircase of the palace. ... As for 
 Josephine, she was never more at her ease than in 
 the society of the emigres, for with them she felt a 
 harmony of ideas and hopes. . . . Thiers has said 
 that she ought rather to have crushed them beneath 
 the weight of her pride ; but how could she have 
 done this, when she had shared their feelings, their 
 grief, their sufferings, and but for the ninth Ther- 
 midor would have died on the guillotine ? " 
 
 A pretty picture exists of Josephine as she ap- 
 peared at this time, in 1803, at the wedding of 
 Pauline, Bonaparte's sister, and the Prince Borghese. 
 . . . "With her short sleeves, bare arms, and her 
 hair enclosed in a gilt net, the meshes of which met 
 on her forehead, she looked like a Greek statue. 
 The First Consul led her to a mirror, that he might 
 see her on all sides at once, and, kissing her shoulder, 
 said : ' Ah, Josephine, I shall be jealous ; you have 
 some plan in your head. Why are you so beautiful 
 to-day ? ' 'I know that you like to see me in white, 
 and so I put on a white dress ; that is all.' ' Well, 
 if you did it to please me, you have succeeded,' and 
 he kissed her again."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 291 
 
 The same year, 1803, witnessed the triumphal 
 journey of Napoleon and his consort across France, 
 and to Boulogne, where the immense flotilla and 
 armament were gathered for the threatened descent 
 upon the English coast. They were everywhere 
 received with acclamation, at all points welcomed 
 with enthusiasm, and returned to Paris convinced 
 of the entire love and confidence of their subjects. 
 For, subjects they were, even though the imperial 
 crown had not been assumed. The shadows length- 
 ening on the field of war portended an imperial am- 
 bition, the more rigorous etiquette of their court at 
 the Tuileries, augured a return to royalty. 
 
 In order to seek benefit from the waters, 
 Josephine went to Plombieres, while Napoleon rested 
 awhile at Malmaison, from which retreat he wrote 
 his wife the following charming letters : . . . 
 
 " MALMAISON, llth June, 1803. 
 
 "We are somewhat dull here, although the ami- 
 able daughter (Mme. Louis Bonaparte), does the 
 honors of the house marvellously well. I love you 
 as on the first day, because you are good and loving 
 above all else. A thousand sweet messages and a 
 kiss of love. Always thine. 
 
 "June 23d. . . I received your letter, sweet little 
 Josephine. I see with pain that you have suffered 
 on the journey ; but a few days of rest will make 
 you well again. I beg you to believe that nothing 
 is truer than the love I have for my little Jose- 
 phine.
 
 292 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 June 27th. . . . "Your letter, dear little wife, 
 tells me that you are not well. Corvisart says that 
 is a good sign, and that the baths will have the de- 
 sired effect. Still, to know that you are suffering 
 gives me a pain at my heart. Thine for life. 
 
 July 1st. . . . "You do not write me of your 
 health, nor of the effect of the baths. I see that you 
 are expecting to return in a week. That will be a 
 great pleasure to your husband, who is tired of 
 being alone. Believe me, I beg, that I love you, 
 and am very impatient to see you again. Every- 
 thing here is sad without you. 
 
 "NAPOLEON." 
 
 The baths of Plombieres did not have "the de- 
 sired effect," and both husband and wife abandoned 
 hope that an heir could be born of their union. 
 
 In the meantime their enemies were not inactive. 
 The Bourbon conspirators were swarming in the 
 very capital ; the arrest of Pichegru, Moreau, the 
 Chouan Cadoudal, was succeeded by that high- 
 handed capture of the Duke d'Enghien on neutral 
 territory. His arrest, the incarceration in the 
 citadel of Strasbourg, and finally his summary ex- 
 ecution in the moat of Vincennes, form one of the 
 darkest episodes of Bonaparte's career. The murder 
 of the last of the Condes was a blot upon his shield 
 all the subsequent glory of repeated victories could 
 not erase. Yet, Napoleon was driven to desperation 
 by the repeated attempts of the Bourbons upon his 
 life ; he would give them a terrible warning, that
 
 JOSEPHINE. 293 
 
 no life was too sacred to prevent him from achieving 
 his destiny, even though through pools of royal blood. 
 "It is not difficult," writes one, of this dark period, 
 "to picture the distress of Josephine, when she saw 
 her husband and herself so beset with perils. But, 
 with her experience of danger, she kept up a good 
 heart. In the Reign of Terror, and on the evening 
 of the infernal machine, she had seen death near 
 her without a tremor. With all her anxiety, she 
 did not lose her head ; she continued to be amiable 
 and kindly, appeasing and advising her husband. . . . 
 Unfortunately for Napoleon, he refused to listen to 
 Josephine ; in his exasperation he lost all self-con- 
 trol ; he yearned to do something terrible, to strike 
 some strong blow. He represented vengeance, his 
 wife forgiveness. ... At the Tuileries, there was a 
 struggle between anger and pity." 
 
 In this connection, the testimony of a witness to 
 Josephine's agitation is of value : . . . 
 
 " 'Bourrienne,'" exclaimed Josephine, as soon as 
 she perceived me, ' what a dreadful event. . . . Did 
 you but know the state of mind Bonaparte is in ! . . . 
 He avoids, he dreads, the presence of every one. 
 Who could have suggested such an act as this ? . . . . 
 But no reproach can rest upon me, for I did every- 
 thing to dissuade him from this dreadful project. 
 He did not confide the secret to me, but I guessed it, 
 and he acknowledged all. How harshly he repelled 
 my entreaties ! I clung to him. I threw myself 
 at his feet. ' Meddle with what concerns you,' he 
 exclaimed angrily. ' This is not a woman's busi-
 
 294 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 ness. Leave me ! ' And he repulsed me with a 
 violence which he had never displayed since our 
 first interview after your return from Egypt. 
 Heavens ! what will become of us ? ' ' 
 
 This was in March, 1804, only three months before 
 Napoleon was declared Emperor of France. There 
 was little time for gloomy reflection ; events were 
 hastening towards their consummation : towards 
 the crowning of Napoleon and Josephine as supreme 
 rulers of France. 
 
 What were the emotions of Josephine, seeing the 
 approaching event, knowing that she would soon be 
 raised to share with her husband the highest honors 
 that a grateful people could bestow ? Thibadeau 
 has said in his Memoirs. . . . 
 
 "In France and in Europe, everything conspired 
 for the sacrifice of the rights of the people in favor 
 of the First Consul. At court one woman still 
 resisted the mighty current : she alone was not 
 blinded by all the illusions of greatness. She was 
 pursued by the wildest alarm and the gloomiest 
 forebodings. Indeed, Madame Bonaparte perhaps 
 foresaw her fall in her husband's elevation to the 
 throne ; but a delicate instinct, which in woman 
 often takes the place of perspicacity, prevented her 
 seeing without horror a man reigning over the 
 ruins of the republic, who owed to the republic his 
 greatness and glory." 
 
 The Duchess d'Abrantes, who, like Bourrienne, 
 was intimately acquainted with Madame Bonaparte, 
 and a witness of the scenes antecedent to the corona-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 295 
 
 tion, writes, in her Memoirs : . . . " Josephine had 
 no gloomy presentiments, either as regarded herself 
 or Napoleon. She was in excellent spirits, and told 
 me that the emperor had that morning made her 
 try on the crown which next day he was to place on 
 her head in the eyes of France. And she shed tears 
 of joy when she mentioned this." 
 
 It would seem, in fact, that Josephine was not 
 possessed of that perspicacity or prescience, which 
 enabled her to foretell the disastrous termination of 
 the empire ; though she may have had some strong 
 suspicion that the elevation of her husband would 
 have the effect of increasing his ambitions and 
 reflect unhappily upon herself. Bourrienne himself 
 says. . . . 
 
 "Josephine, whose susceptibility appears to me 
 even now excusable, well knew my sentiments on 
 the subject of Bonaparte's founding a dynasty. . . . 
 I remember that one day, after the publication of the 
 parallel of Ca3sar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte, Jose- 
 phine, having entered our cabinet without being 
 announced, approached Bonaparte softly, seated her- 
 self on his knee, passed her hand gently through his 
 hair and over his face, and said to him, in a burst 
 of tenderness : ' I entreat you, Bonaparte, do not 
 make yourself a king. ... It is that wretch Lucien 
 who urges you to it. Do not listen to him.' 
 
 " Bonaparte replied without anger, and even smil- 
 ing as he pronounced the words, ' You are mad, my 
 poor Josephine. It is your old dowagers of the 
 Faubourg St. Germain, who tell you all these
 
 296 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 fables. . . . Come, now, you interrupt me ; leave me 
 alone.' 
 
 " I said to her, one day : ' No sovereign in Europe 
 has so much power as he has. I am sorry for it, 
 Madame, but I really believe that, in spite of your- 
 self, you will be made Queen or Empress.' 
 
 " Madame Bonaparte had allowed me to speak with- 
 out interruption, but when I pronounced the words 
 Queen and Empress she exclaimed : ' My God, Bour- 
 rienne, such ambition is far from my thoughts. 
 That I may always continue the wife of the First 
 Consul is all I desire. Say to him all that you have 
 said to me. Try and prevent him from making 
 himself king. He has so much confidence in you, 
 Bourrienne.'"
 
 JOSEPHINE. 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 "YOUR MAJESTY." 
 
 THE coronation took place on the second of Decem- 
 ber, 1804, in the Church of Notre Dame, which had 
 been newly painted and most magnificently decorated 
 for this great occasion. . . . We have, in the pages 
 of Bourrienne, a concise account of this ceremony, 
 which was witnessed by a prodigious concourse of 
 spectators. 
 
 " The Pope set out from the Tuileries and pro- 
 ceeded along the quay to the archiepiscopal palace, 
 whence he repaired to the choir by a private 
 entrance. 
 
 "The Emperor, with the Empress, went by the 
 Carrousal. . . . The procession, truly a magnificent 
 sight, was opened by the already numerous body of 
 courtiers : next came the marshals of the Empire, 
 wearing their honors ; then the dignitaries and 
 high officers of the Crown ; and lastly the Emperor, 
 in a dress of state. At the moment of his entering 
 the cathedral there was a simultaneous shout of 
 * Vive VEmpereur. ' The procession passed along the 
 middle of the nave and arrived at the choir, facing 
 the high altar. This scene was not less imposing ;
 
 298 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 the galleries round the choir were filled with the 
 handsomest women whom the best company could 
 produce, and most of whom rivaled in the luster 
 of their beauty that of the jewels with which they 
 were covered. 
 
 "His Holiness went to meet the Emperor at a 
 tribune which had been placed in the middle of the 
 choir ; there was another on one side for the Em- 
 press. After saying a short prayer there they 
 returned, and seated themselves on the throne at 
 the end of the church facing the choir, where they 
 heard mass, which was said by the Pope. 
 
 " They went to make the offering, and came back ; 
 they then descended from the platform of the throne 
 and walked in procession to receive the holy unction. 
 The Emperor and Empress, on reaching the choir, 
 replaced themselves at their tribunes, where the 
 Pope performed the ceremony. 
 
 "He presented the crown to the Emperor, who 
 received it, put it himself upon his head, took it 
 off, placed it on that of the Empress, removed it 
 again, and laid it on the cushion where it was at 
 first. A smaller one was immediately put upon 
 the head of the Empress. All the arrangements 
 had been made beforehand ; she was surrounded by 
 her ladies ; everything was done in a moment, and 
 nobody perceived the substitution which had taken 
 place. 
 
 " The procession moved back to the platform, and 
 there the Emperor heard the Te Deum. The Pope 
 himself went thither, at the conclusion of the service,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 299 
 
 as if to say : Ite missa est. The Testament was 
 presented to the Emperor, who took off his glove, 
 and pronounced his oath, with his hand upon the 
 sacred book. 
 
 "He went back to the archbishop's palace by the 
 same way he had come, and entered his carriage. 
 The ceremony was very long ; the procession re- 
 turned by a different route, and it was getting dusk 
 when the Emperor arrived at the Tuileries." 
 
 " The ceremony," saysMme. de Kemusat, another 
 of the spectators, "was grand and impressive. A 
 general movement of admiration was noticed at the 
 moment when the Empress was crowned. She was 
 so unaffected, so graceful, as she advanced towards 
 the altar, she knelt with such simple elegance, 
 that all eyes were delighted with the picture she 
 presented. . . . 
 
 " When, however, she had to walk from the altar 
 to the throne, there was a slight altercation with 
 her sisters-in-law, who, by order of their imperial 
 brother, carried her mantle. Feeling themselves 
 slighted, they bore their burden with such ill-grace 
 that I observed at one moment the new-made 
 Empress could not advance a step. The Emperor 
 perceived this, and spoke a few short sharp words to 
 his sisters, which speedily brought them to reason." 
 
 Perhaps the happiest description of Josephine's 
 participation in the coronation ceremonies is from 
 the pen of another witness, the Duchess d' Abrantes, 
 who says : 
 
 "When the moment arrived for Josephine to take
 
 300 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 an active part in the grand drama, she descended 
 from the throne and advanced towards the altar, 
 where the Emperor awaited her, followed by her 
 retinue of court ladies, and having her train borne by 
 the Princesses Caroline, Julie, Eliza, and Louis. 
 One of the chief beauties of the Empress Josephine 
 was not merely her fine figure, but the elegant turn 
 of her neck, and the way in which she carried her 
 head ; indeed, her deportment altogether was con- 
 spicuous for dignity and grace. I have had the 
 honor of being presented to many real princesses 
 to use the phrase of the Faubourg Saint Germain 
 but I never saw one who, to my eyes, presented so 
 perfect a personification of elegance and majesty. 
 
 " In Napoleon's countenance I could read the con- 
 viction of all I have just said. He looked with 
 an air of complacency at the Empress, as she ad- 
 vanced towards him ; and when she knelt down, 
 when the tears which she could not repress fell upon 
 her clasped hands, as they were raised to Heaven, or 
 rather to Napoleon, both then appeared to enjoy 
 one of those fleeting moments of pure felicity which 
 are unique in a lifetime, and serve to fill up a 
 lustrum of years. The Emperor performed with 
 peculiar grace every action required of him during 
 the ceremony ; but his manner of crowning Joseph- 
 ine was most remarkable ; after receiving the small 
 crown surmounted by the cross, he had first to place 
 it on his own head, and then to transfer it to that of 
 the Empress. When the moment arrived for placing 
 the crown on the head of the woman whom popular
 
 NAPOLEON AT MALMAISON.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 301 
 
 superstition regarded as his good genius, his manner 
 was almost playful. He took great pains to arrange 
 this little crown which was placed over Josephine's 
 tiara of diamonds ; he then put it on, took it off, and 
 finally put it on again, as if to promise her she should 
 wear it gracefully and lightly. My position enabled 
 me fortunately to see and observe every minute 
 action and gesture of the principal actors in this 
 magical scene." 
 
 The coronation was but the final act in the drama, 
 which had been some six months upon the boards ; 
 for it was on the eighteenth of May, preceding, that 
 the Second Consul, Cambaceres, President of the 
 Senate, had come to Saint Cloud to announce to the 
 First Consul and his wife their elevation to the 
 throne, accompanied by all the senators, and escorted 
 by a large body of troops. 
 
 He "made a set speech, and gave Bonaparte, for 
 the first time, the title of 'Your Majesty.' Bona- 
 parte took it calmly, just as though he had borne 
 the title all his life." The Senate then proceeded to 
 the apartment of Madame Bonaparte, who in her 
 turn was proclaimed Empress, and addressed by 
 Cambaceres in the following speech : 
 
 "Madame, the Senate has still an agreeable duty 
 to perform, that of offering to your Imperial Majesty 
 the homage of its respect and the expression of the 
 gratitude of the French people. Yes, Madame, 
 France makes known the good you are never tired 
 of doing. It says that, always accessible to the un- 
 fortunate, you never exercise your influence over
 
 302 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 the head of the State, save to console their misery, 
 and that, to the pleasure of obliging them, your 
 Majesty adds that amiable delicacy which makes 
 gratitude sweeter and the benefit more precious. 
 This happy disposition is a sure token that the name 
 of the Empress Josephine will be the signal of con- 
 solation and hope, and, as the virtues of Napoleon 
 will always serve as an example to his successors to 
 teach them the art of governing nations, so the un- 
 dying memory of your kindness will teach their 
 august companions that the art of drying tears is 
 the surest way of ruling over men's hearts. 
 
 " The Senate congratulates itself on being the first 
 to greet your Imperial Majesty, and he who has the 
 honor to be its spokesman presumes to hope that 
 you will deign to count him among the number of 
 your most faithful servants." 
 
 " To this harangue," says Madame de Kemusat, 
 " Josephine replied with that natural grace which 
 always raised her to the level of any position, how- 
 ever lofty, in which she might be placed. " 
 
 And now she had reached the loftiest position, 
 was at the summit of earthly grandeur ; Josephine, 
 the obscure Creole of Martinique, was now Her 
 Majesty, Empress of all the French. She had been 
 represented as viewing the preparations for the coro- 
 nation with melancholy forebodings ; again, essay- 
 ing a trial of the imperial crown with badinage and 
 laughter. She herself has said : . . . "As wife of 
 the First Consul I was happy, indeed, because I was 
 enabled to render him important services ; but,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 303 
 
 elevated to the rank of Empress, I found all the 
 avenues to the throne so beset by men of every con- 
 dition, and every faction, that I ceased to exert the 
 same empire over Napoleon's mind. 
 
 " But Napoleon began to neglect me. More than 
 one Italian beauty momentarily arrested his gaze. 
 Constancy was not the favorite virtue of the modern 
 Charlemagne. . . . But he was terribly afraid of the 
 influence of women, and ever on his guard against 
 allowing them the slightest dominion over him." 
 
 Josephine was always afraid, and not without 
 reason, that Bonaparte would be carrying on an in- 
 trigue with other women ; and hence arose a kind 
 of restraint, which she manifested whenever a 
 young and pretty woman was presented to her. 
 Her readers, or lectrices were frequently the objects 
 of Napoleon's transient adoration, and for this reason 
 they were constantly being changed. One of them, 
 the young and beautiful Mile. Or. had the har- 
 dihood to repel, or to affect to, this conqueror of 
 so many countries and winner of so great a mul- 
 titude of female hearts. Josephine, who had long 
 suspected a liaison between these two, one day sur- 
 prised her husband at the feet of the lovely lectrice. 
 The young lady was equal to the occasion : 
 " Come," said she to the Empress, as she made her 
 appearance so unexpectedly upon this private stage, 
 "come, and remind your husband, what he has 
 apparently forgotten, that he is that Napoleon 
 whose duty it is to furnish to his people examples of 
 virtue and wisdom." The reader was sent away,
 
 304 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 of course, and was soon after married to a gentle- 
 man of some importance in the military service. 
 Napoleon is said to have exclaimed, when he heard 
 of her marriage, "So much the better. I shall 
 send her husband so far from France that she will 
 be glad to come and humble herself before me, to 
 prostrate herself at my feet, soliciting his return." 
 
 It is doubtful if he uttered this despicable senti- 
 ment ; but if he did, he never carried out the inten- 
 tion, for he was not capable of meanness and petty 
 revenge. We cannot, however, remain blind to his 
 numerous and indiscreet amours, which often took 
 place before the very eyes of the Empress. And 
 what must have been the feelings of his royal con- 
 sort, when Napoleon was thus contravening the 
 canons of his own moral code ? 
 
 We know, from evidence that has been accepted 
 as irrefutable, that she maintained for Napoleon a 
 lasting affection, and which he, in a way, requited. 
 Yet, how numerous were the offenses which he put 
 upon her. ..." Whenever he had a mistress," says 
 Madame de Remusat, "he let her know it, and 
 showed a savage sort of surprise that she did not 
 approve of his indulging in a pleasure which, as he 
 would demonstrate, so to speak, mathematically, 
 was both allowable and necessary to him. ' I am 
 not an ordinary man,' he would say ; ' and the laws 
 of morals and of customs were never made for me.' 
 
 " Such speeches as these, of course, aroused the 
 anger of his wife, and she replied to them with tears 
 and complaints, which her husband would resent
 
 JOSEPHINE. 305 
 
 with the utmost violence. After a while his new 
 fancy would vanish suddenly, and his tenderness 
 for his wife revive. Then he was moved by her 
 grief, and would lavish caresses upon her as un- 
 measured as his wrath had been ; and, as she was 
 very placable and gentle, she was easily appeased." 
 
 Of his rude manners, the same writer gives an 
 illustration ; it was immediately after the death of 
 the Duke d'Enghien, and she, in common with the 
 other ladies of the Court, had been weeping. " Sud- 
 denly fixing a piercing eye upon me, Bonaparte 
 said : ' Why have you no rouge ? You are too pale.' 
 I answered, that I had forgotten it. 
 
 " * What,' said he,' a woman forget to put on her 
 rouge ! ' And then, with a loud laugh, he turned 
 to his wife and added : ' That will never happen 
 to you, Josephine. . . . Two things are very becoming 
 to women : rouge and tears." 
 
 But all the imperial epiosodes were not of a disa- 
 greeable character and only occasionally was the 
 great Bonaparte rude to his wife. 
 
 " ' You are a good woman, to plead for Lucien,'he 
 said to her tenderly one day, then he rose from his 
 chair, took his wife in his arms, and laid her head 
 softly on his shoulder ; and with his hand still rest- 
 ing on the beautiful head, which formed a contrast 
 to the sad, set countenance so near it, he told us 
 that Lucien had resisted all his entreaties," etc. 
 
 " Much has been said about the tyranny, violence 
 of temper, and despotism of Napoleon," wrote the 
 
 Duchess d'Abrantes. " I revere, nay, even wor- 
 20
 
 306 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 ship his memory ; but I am not so absurd as to con- 
 sider him a god. He was a man, and partook of 
 the failings of human nature. Nevertheless, to 
 speak from my own knowledge of his character, 
 and I had the opportunity of knowing him well I 
 must declare my honest conviction that he possessed 
 a noble mind, a heart forgetful of injuries, and a 
 disposition to recommend talent wherever he found 
 it. Perhaps at no period did Napoleon's character 
 appear in so exalted a light as on his elevation to 
 the imperial authority. He had previously been 
 the object of envious hatred, and of base persecu- 
 tion ; but he forgot all when the nation invested 
 him with supreme power. 
 
 " Those who were much about the person of Na- 
 poleon can never forget the splendor which was shed 
 over his features when he smiled ; his eyes then be- 
 came truly fine, their expression softened ; and if 
 the sentiment which produced the smile had any- 
 thing truly noble in it, its effect was infinitely 
 heightened ; it was then that his countenance be- 
 came something more than that of a man. 
 
 After the coronation : 
 
 " Napoleon then addressing Josephine, said, ' I 
 desire you will be dazzling in jewelry and richly 
 dressed ; do you hear ? ' 
 
 " 'Yes,' replied Madame Bonaparte, 'and then you 
 will find fault, perhaps fall into a passion ; or you 
 will erase my warrants of payment from the mar- 
 gins of my bills.' And she pouted like a little girl,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 307 
 
 but with the most perfect good humor. Madame 
 Bonaparte's manners possessed, when she chose it, 
 a seducing charm. Her graciousness might be too 
 general ; but undeniably, she could be, when she 
 chose, perfectly attractive and lovable. When the 
 First Consul announced his wish regarding her 
 toilet she looked at him so prettily, walked towards 
 him with such graceful sweetness, her whole man- 
 ner breathing so evident a desire to please, that he 
 must have had a heart of stone who could resist 
 her. Napoleon loved her ; he drew her close to him 
 and embraced her : . . . ( Certainly, my dear love, 
 I sometimes cancel your warrants of payment, be- 
 cause you are occasionally so imposed upon that I 
 cannot take it upon my conscience to sanction such 
 abuses ; but it is not, therefore, inconsistent to 
 recommend you to be magnificent on occasions of 
 parade. One interest must be weighed against 
 another, and I hold the balance equitably, though 
 strictly.' . . . 
 
 "Madame Bonaparte was an astonishing woman, 
 and must have formerly been extremely pretty, for 
 though now no longer in the first bloom of youth, 
 her personal charms were still striking. Had she 
 but possessed teeth I do not say ugly or pretty, 
 but only teeth she would certainly have outvied 
 nearly all the ladies of the Consular Court. " 
 
 Josephine, says one who was intimately ac- 
 quainted with her mode of life, had what are called 
 habitudes ; her mode of life was always the same. 
 Her habit was to rise at eight in the morning,
 
 308 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 glancing over the papers while her toilet was 
 being performed, and perhaps receiving tradesmen 
 and others not admitted to her salon. 
 
 At noon, breakfast, after conversation in the 
 salon with her guests and dames de service. From 
 breakfast till four o'clock a ride or excursion, and 
 reception of friends. 
 
 From four to five o'clock, rest, in neglige, during 
 which hour, if at all, she received visits from Bona- 
 parte. Then a second toilet, and dinner at six ; 
 Bonaparte rarely staying longer than twenty min- 
 utes at the table. 
 
 In the evening the ministers, marshals, generals, 
 etc., made their calls. If the Emperor came, which 
 was never before nine, he remained not to exceed a 
 quarter-hour, unless he wanted to form a party at 
 whist, at which he was very inattentive, being so 
 much absorbed in other things. This party always 
 consisted of ladies. 
 
 After the game was over he would abruptly leave 
 the salon ; but Josephine would remain until retir- 
 ing-time, though sometimes so fatigued she could 
 not sleep, and often lie awake, conversing with her 
 femme-de-garde till three in the morning. 
 
 "After the adoption of the rigid court etiquette," 
 says Madame de Remusat, " the wife of Napoleon 
 was almost in the same position of dependence as 
 the ladies of her train. In proportion as Bona- 
 parte's affairs increased in magnitude, she became 
 a stranger to them. 
 
 "European politics, the destiny of the world, mat-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 309 
 
 tered little to her ; her thoughts did not reach to 
 heights which could have no influence on her own 
 fate. At this period she was tranquil as to her own 
 lot and happy in that of her children, and she lived 
 a life of peaceful indifference, behaving to all with 
 equal graciousness, showing little or no special 
 favor to any one, but a general good will." 
 
 We cannot allude to the numerous fetes and fes- 
 tivals that followed after the coronation. The city 
 of Paris distinguished itself by presenting to the 
 Empress a magnificent toilet set of gold, accom- 
 panied by a speech from the president of the munic- 
 ipality in which most complimentary allusions were 
 made to the beneficent influence Josephine had 
 always exerted upon the morals of all classes of 
 society since the period of the Revolution. 
 
 But of all the demonstrations of which she was 
 the object, perhaps Josephine was touched the most 
 by that from the people of her natal country, 
 Martinique. Upon the reception of the news, the 
 islanders abandoned themselves to the most joyous 
 demonstrations, giving up an entire week to fetes 
 and thanksgivings. Madame de La-Pagerie was 
 persuaded to emerge from her retreat at Sannois 
 and become the honored guest of the Governor and 
 the admiral of the fleet who had brought the glad 
 tidings to Martinique. Preceded by a numerous 
 cortege and leaning upon the arm of the admiral, 
 Madame de La-Pagerie was conducted to the door 
 of the church of Fort Royal, where she was received 
 by the ecclesiastics and persuaded to take her seat
 
 310 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 upon a dais, like a throne, which had been erected 
 in the choir. 
 
 After she was thus seated in state, the authorities 
 took the oath of allegiance to the Emperor, and a 
 Te Deum concluded the ceremonies. 
 
 The mother of the Empress was then conducted 
 to the house of the Governor, where a banquet was 
 spread with two hundred covers, at the coming on 
 of night. The Governor presented the toast to the 
 Empress: "To her Majesty, the Empress Jose- 
 phine. It was reserved to grace and beauty to 
 share the throne of France with genius and victory." 
 
 The health of Madame de La-Pagerie was : " To 
 the mother of our Empress ; the model of virtues in 
 the colony. France is indebted to her for those 
 which adorn the throne in the person of her august 
 daughter. " 
 
 Returning to Trois Ilets, Madame de La-Pagerie 
 resumed her life of patriarchal simplicity, and 
 never after left her chosen retreat. But the Creoles 
 bestowed upon her the title of the Empress-Mother, 
 and persisted in surrounding her with every atten- 
 tion. 
 
 It was while at the summit of her grandeur that 
 Josephine made a last but ineffectual attempt to 
 draw her mother from her hermitage to join her 
 in France. The addresses of the inhabitants of 
 Martinique reached Josephine just as she was set- 
 ting out with the Emperor for Milan, where the 
 latter was to be crowned King of Italy. 
 
 This first year of the Empire ought to be con-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 311 
 
 sidered the happiest of Josephine's life. She had no 
 desire to share with her husband the crown of Italy, 
 and experienced no chagrin that he set it upon his 
 head alone. Her cup of joy was full when her 
 royal spouse bestowed upon her son Eugene, the 
 title of a Prince of the Empire and Archchancellor 
 of State. And later, another proof was given of 
 the esteem and love Napoleon felt for his step-son 
 in his appointment as Viceroy of Italy. Rendered 
 supremely happy by the elevation of her son to this 
 position, yet made temporarily unhappy at the pros- 
 pect of separation from him, Josephine left Milan 
 three days after the proclamation and entered upon 
 a journey through the chief cities of Italy. She 
 revisited the scenes of her former triumphs, when 
 her husband was making his conquering marches 
 and winning the name that made all Europe tremble, 
 and was everywhere received with enthusiasm. 
 Although contemplating a longer sojourn in this 
 country, their stay was suddenly terminated by the 
 news of another coalition against Napoleon, who at 
 once departed for Paris. 
 
 The Empress returned to the Tuileries where she 
 remained while Bonaparte set in motion the vast 
 enginery of war, preparatory to the invasion of 
 Austria. Josephine detested constraint and for- 
 mality, and, surrounded as she was by the rigid 
 etiquette of the imperial court, she often repeated 
 her favorite complaint : " Alas, how all this wearies 
 me ... I have not a moment to myself. It would 
 be better for me were I the wife of a laborer."
 
 312 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Soon after the coronation, a deputation of dis- 
 tinguished men arrived from her native island, 
 Martinique, to felicitate her on her elevation to 
 supreme power. After an audience with the Em- 
 peror, the deputation presented themselves before 
 their august countrywoman and presented her with 
 the following address : . . . " Madame, the French 
 revere and cherish in your Imperial Majesty, the 
 country in which their august sovereign first saw 
 the light of day, that sovereign who uses her power 
 but to contribute to their happiness. Martinique is 
 proud to have had born within her limits one whom 
 Providence had reserved for such high destinies, and 
 who shows herself so worthy of her honors. This 
 colony is content to shine in the reflected splendor 
 which surrounds her. Its people hear with joy that 
 mildness and beneficence are seated on the throne 
 by the side of your Majesty ; that she is more 
 adorned by her graces than by her crown ; that the 
 advantages which are hers through her high rank, 
 disappear under the charm of her personal qualities : 
 and, much more touched by her goodness than by 
 her grandeur, they offer her this homage, the out- 
 come of the purest sentiment." 
 
 Eeference having been made to the attempts of 
 Josephine to draw her mother from her island home, 
 in this connection, it may be at least relevant to in- 
 troduce a few of her letters, written at various times 
 during the Consulate and the Empire. 
 
 In them all we perceive the loving daughter, the 
 dutiful child, unstained by ambition and unspoiled
 
 JOSEPHINE. 313 
 
 by the exercise of power. The first of this series is 
 dated 
 
 " PARIS, 18th October, 1801. . . . 
 
 " DEAR MAMMA, I send this letter by the frigate 
 which is despatched to Guadeloupe to announce the 
 peace with England. . . . It is a long time, my dear 
 mamma, since we have received news of you ; but 
 we think of you often, and hope you are well. Are 
 you happy, and do you still think of your Yeyette ? 
 
 " Eugene, is lieutenant-colonel in Bonaparte's 
 guard of cavalry ; he often expresses the desire to go 
 to Martinique to see his grandmamma. Hortense is 
 now as large as I am ; she draws very well, and at 
 this moment is painting a picture of Bonaparte tak- 
 ing a walk in the park. This picture she intends 
 for you. 
 
 "Say to my Uncle Tascher, I pray you, that I desire 
 him to come as quickly as possible to Paris, to give 
 Bonaparte information upon Martinique ; he can 
 now come by way of London, as communication is 
 open between France and England. 
 
 "Bonaparte . . . very much desires that you will 
 come to France, if you think you can live in a 
 climate so different from yours. If you can do so, 
 try to arrive in the month of June. You ought to 
 love Bonaparte, for he makes your daughter very 
 happy ; he is good and amiable, in every way a 
 charming man ; and, he loves your Yeyette very, 
 very much. 
 
 " Adieu, my dear mamma ; I love you with all my
 
 314 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 heart ; your grandchildren join me in embracing 
 you. 
 
 U LA PAGERIE-BONAPARTE. 
 
 " Remember me to all my family and friends, and 
 embrace my nurse for me." 
 
 Seven months later, in May, 1802, she writes : . . . 
 
 "MY DEAR MAMMA .... This letter I send by the 
 hand of citizen Bertin. The choice that Bonaparte 
 has made of him as prefect of Martinique, proves 
 the esteem he has for him, and the care he has for 
 the well-being of the colony. Citizen Bertin will 
 give you the latest news about me, and will also 
 give you a gold box, inlaid with diamonds, on which 
 are the portraits of Bonaparte, of myself, and my 
 children. It is a present to you from my husband, 
 who hopes that it will please you, and that you will 
 enjoy it a long time. I also wish to make you a 
 present, my dear mamma, so I send you a beautiful 
 chaplet given me and blessed by the hand of the 
 Holy Father, the Pope. I cannot better prove to 
 him the esteem in which I hold his present, than by 
 giving it to the most virtuous and best of women. . . 
 
 ' ' Bonaparte and I both have the greatest desire that 
 you shall come to live with us. I hope that you will 
 accede to our wishes, and the year will not pass be- 
 fore we shall enjoy this great happiness. I wrote to 
 you at the time of the marriage of your grand- 
 daughter with one of the brothers of Bonaparte.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 315 
 
 He is the fourth brother, and was raised by Bona- 
 parte ; is colonel in a -regiment of dragoons, and is 
 only twenty-three years old. 
 
 "They have been married but four months and 
 already have sweet hopes of an heir. Soon I shall 
 be a grandmother, but that seems to me very 
 pleasant. 
 
 "Write me often and give me news of all the 
 family. 
 
 ' ' Advise my uncle to come to France, and to bring 
 us all his boys. He ought also to send me my god- 
 daughter. I will profit by every occasion, my dear 
 mamma, to write to you, and to renew the assurance 
 of the tender attachment of your daughter. Good- 
 bye, dear and good mother mine. I embrace you 
 with all my heart. 
 
 "LA PAGERIE-BONAPARTE. 
 
 " I relinquish the pen to my children, who wish to 
 write you. Write to Bonaparte, it will please him. 
 Send me all the kinds of American seeds, fruits, 
 sweet potatoes, bananas, oranges, mangos, in fact, 
 every kind you can. . . 
 
 "Kindest remembrances to all friends." 
 
 Six months later, November, 1802. . . . 
 
 " Bonaparte is now visiting Havre, Rouen, in 
 fact, all of Normandy, and I am accompanying him 
 on the journey. Judge of my surprise and pleasure, 
 this morning, to learn that a vessel was about to
 
 316 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 depart for Martinique. My pleasure was all the 
 greater, as there had already set sail two vessels, 
 before I had learned their intention to depart, and 
 therefore could not profit by the occasion to write 
 you. . . . However, Bonaparte, sailing near to them, 
 hailed the captain and told them to give you news 
 of us. I am much happier, my dear mother, to 
 give you this news myself, and to assure you that 
 your children and grandchildren love you very 
 much, have the greatest desire to see you, and that 
 there is but one thing lacking to my happiness, and 
 that is to have you near me. Give me, my dear 
 mother, this satisfaction, and there will be nothing 
 lacking. Sell your property in Martinique, and 
 come buy some in France. You ought to want to 
 live here now, with your children ; you cannot stay 
 there in the colonies, after knowing how much they 
 wish you to be with them. . . . 
 
 " I send you the particulars of the accouchement 
 of Hortense ; three weeks ago she presented us with 
 a beautiful little boy. Bonaparte will have him 
 baptized, on our return, and will stand as god- 
 father, and I as godmother. He will be called 
 Napoleon. Louis Bonaparte wrote you to announce 
 his birth ; he is the happiest of men, to be a father, 
 and above all, of a big boy. It gives me pleasure 
 to tell you that their marriage is a very happy one, 
 and that they love each other very much. 
 
 ' ' By this time my brother-in-law, Jerome Bona- 
 parte, should be with you. I am sure you will like 
 him very much. Please kiss him on one cheek for
 
 JOSEPHINE. 317 
 
 me, and give him a little slap on the other for not 
 having written us. Eugene is with us at Havre, 
 and is very well. Bonaparte has just named him 
 Colonel. Tascher is liked by every one ; he is a 
 model boy, and Bonaparte has placed him in a 
 regiment. He is very happy. You can assure my 
 uncle, that if he were my own child, I could not 
 love him any better than I do dear Tascher. You 
 would do well, my dear mamma, to profit by 
 the vessels which touch at Havre to send me the 
 trees and seeds which I asked you for. Send me 
 every kind possible, even those which come from 
 the woods. I send you the papers, in which you 
 will see the welcome Bonaparte received at Rouen ; 
 it would be difficult to paint the enthusiasm of the 
 people wherever Bonaparte is seen. 
 
 " Adieu, my dear mother ; we embrace you with 
 all our hearts, and we love you always the same." 
 
 The letters during the empire were in no wise 
 different from those of the consulate, as these two, 
 appended, written at intervals of two years, will 
 testify. Like the others, they are extracted from 
 the archives of the La-Pagerie family. 
 
 " PARIS, 30th January, 1805. . . 
 
 " MY DEAR MAMMA I send you news by my 
 cousin, who sails for Martinique. I am sure you will 
 be glad to learn from him everything that concerns 
 the Emperor and interests me. I will not enter 
 into details, but will give them to him to tell you,
 
 318 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 that you may know the many proofs of attachment 
 with which my family is loaded by the Emperor, 
 and the happiness of your daughter. There is 
 nothing he would not do to see you in France, and 
 as well as myself, contribute to make your days 
 peaceful and happy. 
 
 " Make note of this, my dear mamma, and believe 
 that I shall not be truly happy until you have come 
 to share my happiness. 
 
 "Pray remember me to my uncle, and. to my 
 aunt, Mdlle. de La-Pagerie. 
 
 "Write me of everything that concerns you. I 
 shall assume, with pleasure, all the advances you 
 wish to make ; and in this matter, as in all others, 
 I pray you to address me direct, and not the 
 governor or any one else ; it suffices me to know 
 your desires to have them gratified. . . . You have 
 another grandson ; as I have already announced to 
 you, the Princess Louis has given birth to another 
 boy, who will be baptized by the Pope and named 
 by the Emperor. 
 
 "JOSEPHINE. 
 
 " I send you a number of chaplets which have been 
 blessed by the Holy Father." 
 
 It was in the month of May that Napoleon was 
 anointed King of Italy. That summer, the coali- 
 tion between England, Eussia, Sweden, and Austria 
 was formed, by which these nations hoped to hurl 
 
 * " Lettres de Napoleon a Josephine," etc.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 319 
 
 from his throne this monarch who seemed to aim 
 at universal dominion. 
 
 Returning swiftly to France, by the middle of 
 July Bonaparte was at Fontainebleau ; on the 25th 
 of September his army crossed the Rhine ; just a 
 month later, the surrender of Mack, at Ulna, ter- 
 minated this swift and decisive campaign. Almost 
 the same day of the Ulm surrender occurred the 
 battle of Trafalgar, by which the French naval 
 marine was swept from the sea ; but by his achieve- 
 ments on land Bonaparte retrieved his losses on the 
 ocean. 
 
 Dec. 2d, 1805, the terrible battle of Austerlitz 
 swept the Russians and Austrians from his path, 
 the first anniversary of his coronation. Swift was 
 he to avenge the treachery of his enemies ; terrible 
 to punish ; his maneuvers and combinations were 
 the alarm and the admiration of his foes. Yet, 
 fascinating as it might be to follow this genius of 
 battles in his unexampled career of conquest, we 
 must not allow ourselves to be diverted from the 
 object in view : to show Napoleon in his relation to 
 his loving and loyal spouse. 
 
 Josephine accompanied him as far as Strasbourg, 
 in order to be near the scene of conflict, that she 
 might receive quickly the tidings of his victories. 
 For her faith in Napoleon never wavered ; it did 
 not seem to occur to her that he could be other 
 than victorious. She had changed, since the Italian 
 campaign, when, as we have seen, she hesitated 
 long before setting out for the cities of Italy. Now
 
 320 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 she could not be near enough to her husband, could 
 not be satisfied unless permitted to accompany him 
 on all his campaigns. 
 
 Again, there had been a change in Napoleon ; this 
 change we will show in his letters, written in the 
 heat of battle, as during the Italian conquests ; still 
 breathing regard and deep attachment, though not 
 pervaded by the fire of passion, as at that earlier 
 period. The whole world knew of his achievements, 
 many years ago ; former generations followed upon 
 the course of his victories ; but few have been 
 cognizant of the heart-history of this wonderful 
 man and the beloved companion of his agitated life. 
 
 We do not find in these later letters that exuber- 
 ance, that amorous exaggeration, of the first. The 
 lover of twenty-six is now thirty-seven ; the general 
 of the army, then just rising into fame, is now 
 Emperor of France ; his genius has expanded, but 
 his heart is the same. As in Italy, we find the 
 names of his immortal . battle-fields in conjunction 
 with expressions of love and solicitude ; but now 
 they are those made famous by his exploits on this 
 wonderful campaign : Ulm, Austerlitz, Jena, Eylau, 
 Friedland, and Wagram. 
 
 It was on the first of October that Bonaparte 
 took command of his army ; the next day he wrote 
 the first letter to Josephine, from Manheim : "I 
 am still here and in good health. . The grand 
 maneuvers have begun ; the army of Wurtemburg 
 and Baden is now united with mine. I am in 
 good position, and I love thee. . . . NAPOLEON."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 321 
 
 On the fourth of October he writes : "I am at 
 Louisburg. There is nothing new ; my army is on 
 the march ; the weather is superb. I have com- 
 pleted my union with the Bavarian Army. I am in 
 the best of health. I expect in a few days to have 
 something interesting to write you. (As indeed he 
 did have. ) Take good care of thy health, and believe 
 me, ever thine." * 
 
 The next day he writes : . . . " I leave immediately 
 to continue the march. Thou wilt be, my friend, 
 five or six days without news from me; but do 
 not let that trouble thee. Everything is going 
 well and as I expected. I have just assisted at 
 the marriage of the son of the Elector with a 
 niece of the King of Prussia, and I desire to make 
 them a marriage present of some thirty-five or 
 forty thousand francs. Please select it and send by 
 one of my chamberlains when he returns to rejoin 
 me. Adieu, my friend ; I love and embrace thee." 
 
 As the Emperor had announced to Josephine, five 
 or six days passed without news of him ; but then 
 
 * " I never heard of any one tutoyer the First Consul. He did so 
 by many of them, by Junot to the last ; it was only on ascending the 
 throne that he ceased to address them in this familiar style in public. 
 In the cordial intercourse of private friendship he continued to use 
 the pronoun t/jow." Duchesse d' Abrantes. 
 
 [This is the style throughout in Bonaparte's letters to Josephine ; 
 but, as the faniiliar tutoying would seem very strange in English, you 
 has been substituted for thee and thou. 
 
 In the latter letters, however, the familiar style has been preserved 
 in the translation, in order to show Bonaparte's attitude towards his 
 wife that his feelings had not changed.] 
 
 21
 
 322 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 the interruption was explained by the tidings of his 
 successful engagement at Elchingen. He writes 
 from Augsburg : " I am quartered with the old 
 Elector of Treves, who is very well housed. I have 
 been on the move for a week. The campaign has 
 opened auspiciously. I am very well, though it has 
 rained nearly every day. Events have followed one 
 another rapidly. I have sent to France 4,000 
 prisoners and eight flags, and have forty cannon, 
 taken from the enemy. Adieu, my friend, I em- 
 brace thee." 
 
 After the surrender of Ulm : " I am in pretty 
 good health, my good friend. ... I have taken 
 sixty or seventy thousand prisoners, more than 
 ninety flags, and two hundred pieces of cannon. . . . 
 Take good care of thyself. I am a little tired. 
 The weather has been fair the three days past. The 
 first columns of prisoners start to-day for France, 
 six thousand men in each column." 
 
 Having taken her station as near the theater of 
 events as Napoleon would allow her to be, at Stras- 
 burg, Josephine transmitted to her daughter and 
 to Joseph Bonaparte the news received from her 
 husband. She writes to Hortense, on the 22d of 
 October : . . . "I have promised, my dear Hor- 
 tense, to Prince Joseph, who has written me a 
 charming letter, to send a courier with the first 
 news received. M. de Thiars wrote me, by order of 
 the Emperor, all the details of our recent successes, 
 and I immediately transmitted them to Prince 
 Joseph, with the request that he would send to thee
 
 JOSEPHINE. 323 
 
 and to thy husband. To-day I received a letter 
 from the Emperor, which I send to thee, feeling 
 sure that it will give thee the same pleasure as it 
 did me. Kindly preserve it and return to me when 
 I see thee. 
 
 "All of the Emperor's staff are well ; not a single 
 general was wounded, which news you will give to 
 all the ladies whose husbands are in the army. On 
 Thursday they will chant a Te Deum, and the same 
 day I shall give a fete to the ladies of Strasburg. 
 
 ' ' Adieu, my dear Hortense, I love thee with all 
 my heart and embrace thee. A thousand loving 
 messages to thy husband and children." 
 
 Arrived at Munich, where the people received with 
 joy their deliverer, Bonaparte took much-needed 
 repose, and wrote more at length to his wife of the 
 astonishing events of this miraculous campaign. 
 Josephine renewed her entreaties for permission 
 to rejoin him there, but the Emperor declined to 
 allow her to risk the journey. 
 
 " I am very desirous to see thee," he wrote, " but 
 cannot call thee hither until an armistice be con- 
 cluded or we shall have gone into winter quarters. 
 A thousand kisses, my dear friend." 
 
 It was impossible that she should join him, for 
 the army was soon pressing on again ; not long 
 after she received a letter from the Austrian capi- 
 tal, six weeks only after he had quitted the Seine : . . . 
 " I have been here two days, my good friend. I 
 am somewhat fatigued. I have not yet seen the 
 city by day ; we entered in the night. To-morrow
 
 324 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 I receive the notables. Nearly all my troops are 
 beyond the Danube, in pursuit of the Kussians. 
 
 "Adieu, my Josephine ; the first moment I find it 
 possible, I will have thee come to me. A thousand 
 loving messages for thee." 
 
 In this simple language did the conqueror 
 announce to his consort his occupation of the en- 
 emies' capital.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 325 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 AUSTERLITZ TO WAGRAM. 
 
 MASTER of Austria, the Emperor was then able 
 to accede to Josephine's repeated entreaties and 
 allow her to approach somewhat nearer to the seat 
 of war. The 16th November he wrote her to pro- 
 ceed to the capital of Bavaria, where she would find 
 a beautiful palace at her disposal, and would meet 
 with a good reception. 
 
 He promised to rejoin her there as soon as he 
 should have completed his campaign against the 
 Russians ; and, though so occupied with schemes of 
 the greatest magnitude : with one hand fighting the 
 enemies of his country and with the other govern- 
 ing the country of which he was the ruler, he yet 
 found time to write her most minutely respecting 
 her conduct and intercourse with the authorities. 
 She was to remember that the Electrice of Bavaria 
 was a daughter of the King of England, though 
 apparently well disposed, etc. 
 
 " I shall be very glad to see thee, the moment my 
 affairs will permit. I am about leaving for my 
 advance guard. The weather is horrible ; it snows
 
 326 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 continually ; for the rest, everything is going well. 
 Adieu, my good friend. 
 
 " NAPOLEON." 
 
 Josephine did not forget that she was Empress of 
 France, wife of the invincible Napoleon ; and at the 
 Bavarian court she impressed every one with her 
 gentle dignity of character as well as by her grace. 
 Thus she followed after the victorious army, gather- 
 ing up the fruits of battles, cementing the ties new 
 formed and sealing to her and to her spouse the 
 hearts of the vanquished and liberated. 
 
 While Josephine was performing this journey to 
 Munich, occurred the greatest of Bonaparte's 
 triumphs : the victory of Austerlitz. 
 
 Immediately after the battle, while yet the cries of 
 the wounded arose from the smoking field of con- 
 flict, Napoleon wrote to his wife three letters, one 
 after the other, which give sufficient testimony of 
 his affectionate interest in her welfare. 
 
 The first : 
 
 "AUSTERLITZ, 3d December, 1805. 
 
 " I have sent to thee Lebrun, from the field of 
 battle. I have beaten the Kussian and Austrian 
 armies commanded in person by the two Emperors. 
 I am a little fatigued ; I have bivouacked a week 
 in the open air ; to-night I sleep in the chateau of 
 the Prince de Kaunitz. The Russian army is not 
 only defeated, but destroyed. . . . I embrace thee." 
 
 " AUSTERLITZ, 5th December. . . . 
 
 " I have concluded a truce. . The battle of
 
 JOSEPHINE. 327 
 
 Austerlitz is the greatest I have ever fought : forty- 
 five flags, more than one hundred and fifty pieces of 
 cannon, the standards of the Russian guard, twenty 
 generals, thirty thousand prisoners, more than 
 twenty thousand killed : a horrible spectacle. The 
 Emperor Alexander is in despair and has set out for 
 Russia. I met the Emperor of Germany, yesterday, 
 at my bivouac, and conversed with him for two hours ; 
 we are agreed to make peace quickly. ... I look 
 forward with pleasure to the moment when I may 
 join thee. Adieu, my good friend ; my health contin- 
 ues good, and I am very desirous to embrace thee." 
 
 " AUSTERLITZ, 7th December. . . . 
 
 " I have concluded an armistice ; within a week 
 peace will be made. I desire to know if you have 
 reached Munich, and in good health. . . . The 
 Russians have lost immensely : more than twenty 
 thousand killed and thirty thousand prisoners ; 
 their army is reduced two-thirds ; their general- 
 in-chief is killed. I have three thousand wounded 
 and seven or eight hundred killed. I have a little 
 trouble with my eyes, but it will soon pass. . . . 
 Adieu, my friend, I greatly desire to see thee." 
 
 But Josephine was no more prompt in her replies 
 to Napoleon's letters than during the campaign in 
 Italy, and more than twenty days passed without 
 news from her. The Emperor experienced anew 
 the irritations of former times, and wrote her from 
 Brunn, where he was detained while arranging the 
 terms of the peace. . . .
 
 328 . JOSEPHINE. 
 
 " It is a long while since I have received news 
 from thee. Have the fine fetes of Baden, Stuttgart 
 and Munich made thee forget the poor soldiers 
 covered with mud, drenched with rain and blood ? 
 I soon leave for Vienna. We are working hard to 
 accomplish the peace. The Russians have fled to 
 their own country, well beaten and very humiliated. 
 I should like above all things to be near thee. 
 Adieu, my friend ; my eyes are cured." 
 
 The silence of Josephine still continued, and he 
 then addressed one more appeal, in a tone of solemn 
 pleasantry. 
 
 " GREAT EMPRESS, Not a single line from you 
 since your departure from Strasburg. You have 
 visited Baden, .Stuttgart, and Munich, without 
 having written me a word ; that does not show much 
 tenderness or affection. . . . Deign, from the height 
 of your grandeur, to bestow a thought upon your 
 slave. . . . NAPOLEON." 
 
 She certainly owed to him, who had raised her to 
 this height of grandeur, more than this indifference, 
 We cannot believe that she was sensible of his 
 deep devotion, and it cannot be denied that she in a 
 measure merited the fate that later followed her in 
 the act of divorce. Less explicable is the patience 
 of Napoleon with her continued frivolities, than his 
 toleration of them. 
 
 Her excuse, given in a letter which he found 
 awaiting him at Vienna was indisposition ; yet she
 
 JOSEPHINE. 329 
 
 solicited permission to join him in the Austrian 
 capital. 
 
 " I have received thy letter," he promptly answered 
 her, "and note with pain that thou art suffering ; 
 but it is not a good condition in which to make a 
 long journey, at this season. I do not know what 
 I shall do ; it depends upon events. . . . Remain at 
 Munich, amuse thyself : that is not difficult, sur- 
 rounded as thou art by interesting persons and in 
 such a beautiful country. I myself am very much 
 occupied. In a few days I will decide. Adieu, my 
 friend ; a thousand loving and tender messages." 
 
 Soon after, on the 26th of December, the treaty of 
 Presburg was signed, and the Emperor hastened to 
 rejoin the Empress at Munich. Her joy at seeing 
 her royal spouse returned safe from the wars was 
 doubled by his assurance that he intended to solicit 
 the hand of the Princess Augusta, daughter of the 
 Elector of Bavaria, for her son, Eugene. Her own 
 opinion of the Princess was expressed in a letter to 
 Hortense, in which she describes her as of most 
 charming character and beautiful as an angel. The 
 wedding followed in due course, four days after 
 Eugene's arrival from Italy, to which country the 
 young Viceroy soon returned with his beautiful 
 bride. The same day Bonaparte and the Empress 
 started for Paris, where they arrived on the night 
 of the 26th January, 1806. 
 
 Josephine had the pleasure to find there her uncle, 
 the Chevalier, Baron de Tascher, recently arrived 
 from Martinique, and whom she had not seen for
 
 330 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 fifteen years. His sister, Mme. de Benaudin, and the 
 Marquis de Beauharnais, whom she had married 
 late in life, had both deceased during the Consulate. 
 The only one of the old household remaining was 
 the Countess Fanny de Beauharnais, who was pass- 
 ing her old age in the cultivation of the muses. 
 
 The Countess Fanny had a son, the Count Claude, 
 whose daughter, Stephanie, became the protege of 
 Josephine, who had her educated, and for whose 
 future Napoleon provided, by marrying her to the 
 Prince of Baden. 
 
 Stephanie became the spoiled child of the Court ; 
 it is related that the sisters of Napoleon were offended 
 at certain favors bestowed upon her, and especially 
 because she was exempt from standing in their 
 presence. She complained to Napoleon that they 
 would not allow her to be seated, when he said to 
 her : "Well, then, come sit on my knee ; you will 
 not incommode them there." 
 
 She objected to the manner of her marriage with 
 the Prince of Baden, and for a long time treated 
 him with disdain ; but finally left the Court with him 
 and was taken to the home he had provided for her. 
 This was the second alliance Napoleon had con- 
 tracted in behalf of the adopted relatives of his wife ; 
 that of the Viceroy and the Princess of Bavaria was 
 perhaps the only one that had happy issuance. 
 
 The Baron de Tascher died suddenly, a month 
 after the return of Josephine and Napoleon to Paris, 
 surrounded by his children, whom he recommended 
 to the attention of the Emperor.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 331 
 
 The year 1806 witnessed two crowns upon the 
 brows of Bonaparte's brothers : Louis, king of 
 Holland, and Joseph, king of Naples. Dukedoms 
 and principalities were parceled out to the members 
 of his family and his Court, and the imperial 
 authority strengthened by these parvenu princes 
 and their retainers. 
 
 The confederation of the Rhine was formed, with 
 Bonaparte as protector, in July, and the German 
 empire was dissolved in August. 
 
 The departure of Queen Hortense, in June, was 
 a subject of grief to Josephine, who felt for her 
 daughter the liveliest sympathy, and in whose society 
 she spent a great portion of her time. 
 
 For the unhappy issue of the marriage of Hortense 
 with Louis Bonaparte Josephine must have felt 
 somewhat responsible, and possibly remorseful. 
 Both the Empress and the Emperor strove to heal 
 the ever- widening breach between this ill-assorted 
 couple. 
 
 Josephine's letters to her daughter are replete with 
 tenderness and filled with solicitude : 
 
 "Since thy departure," she wrote a month later, 
 "I have been quite ill with fever, but chiefly from 
 chagrin at thy absence. How can I endure this 
 separation from thee, from my daughter, so sweet, 
 so tender and loving as thou, who art the charm of 
 my life ? My God ! I am so sad because I cannot 
 see thee often. And thy health, my dear Hortense, 
 is it good ? If thou art ever sick, let me know at 
 once, and I will hasten to the side of my best-
 
 332 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 beloved. . . . Adieu, my dear Hor tense, my darling 
 daughter ; think often of thy mother, and persuade 
 thyself that never was daughter loved as thou art." 
 
 Hortense had been united in marriage to Louis 
 Bonaparte, on the 7th of January, 1802. Of this 
 union, Bonaparte said at Saint Helena : speaking 
 of Louis and Hortense : " They loved each other 
 when they were married ; they desired to be united : 
 the marriage was also the result of Josephine's 
 intrigues, who found her account in it." 
 
 The Duchess d'Abrantes, who was intimate with 
 her family, pays a well-meant tribute to her char- 
 acter : . . . 
 
 " In September '95, she was entrusted to the care 
 of Madame Campan, formerly a lady-in-waiting to 
 Marie Antoinette, who at that time kept a boarding- 
 school in which were revived all the social and 
 religious traditions of the old regime. . . . Among 
 her companions were Stephanie de Beauharnais, the 
 future Grand Duchess of Baden ; Caroline Bona- 
 parte, future queen of Naples ; Elisa Munroe, 
 daughter of a future president of the United States. 
 . . . She was light-hearted and happy. 
 
 " Bonaparte was as fond of her as though she were 
 his own child. He used to say of her : ' Hortense 
 makes me believe in virtue.' 
 
 "She was likely to fall in love with Duroc ; but 
 was- forced to marry Louis Bonaparte. The civil 
 ceremony took place January 3, 1802, at the Tuileries, 
 in the presence of the Bonaparte and Beauharnais 
 families. Mass was not yet said in this palace, and
 
 JOSEPHINE. 333 
 
 it was in the house in the Rue de la Victoire, where 
 Josephine lived when she married Napoleon, that 
 the marriage took place. 
 
 " A polished and well-conducted education had 
 improved her natural talents ; she drew excellently, 
 sang harmoniously, and performed admirably in 
 comedy. 
 
 " In 1800 she was a charming young girl ; she after- 
 wards became one of the most amiable princesses 
 of Europe. I have seen many, both in their own 
 courts and in Paris, but I have never known one who 
 had any pretensions to equal talents. She was 
 beloved by every one, though of all who surrounded 
 her her mother seemed to be the least conscious 
 of her attractions. . . . Her brother loved her 
 tenderly ; the First Consul looked upon her as his 
 child ; and it was only in that country, so fertile in 
 the inventions of scandal, that so foolish an accusa- 
 tion could have been imagined as that any feeling 
 less pure than paternal affection actuated his con- 
 duct towards her. The vile calumny met with the 
 contempt it merited, and is now only remembered 
 to be confuted. 
 
 "Hortense, in fact, while she was Mademoiselle 
 Beauharnais, regarded Napoleon with respectful 
 awe. She trembled when she spoke to him, and 
 never dared to ask him a favor. When she had 
 anything to solicit she applied to me ; and if I 
 experienced any difficulty in obtaining for her what 
 I sought, I mentioned her as the person for whom I 
 pleaded. 'The little simpleton,' Napoleon would
 
 334 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 say, ' why does she not ask me herself ; is the girl 
 afraid of me?'" 
 
 A new coalition was formed, at the instigation 
 of England, between Russia and Prussia, against 
 France. With his usual promptitude, Napoleon 
 hurled himself against the allied armies, and soon 
 reduced them to the condition of the Russians and 
 Austrians, the year before. He left Saint Cloud 
 on the 25th September, and just a month later he 
 was master of Germany, issuing his commands from 
 its capital. After having installed the Empress at 
 Mayence (for she insisted upon accompanying him 
 to a point as near as possible to the seat of war), 
 Napoleon, 011 the first of October, formally opened 
 the campaign. A week later he wrote : . . . " My 
 friend : All my army is in motion. Everything is 
 going well, and my health is perfect. A thousand 
 kisses and good health." 
 
 On the 13th, in the night, and probably in the 
 midst of those mighty combinations which resulted 
 in the overthrow of the Prussian hosts the next day, 
 at the battle of Jena, he wrote to Josephine : . . . 
 "My good friend, everything is moving well, just 
 as I had expected. With the aid of God, in a few 
 days I will be able to assume a character likely to 
 trouble the poor King of Prussia, whom I pity, as 
 personally he is a good man. The Queen is at 
 Erfurth with the King. If she wishes to witness a 
 battle, she will surely have that dreadful pleasure. 
 I am marvelously well, and have gained flesh, not- 
 withstanding I have traveled at the rate of twenty
 
 JOSEPHINE. 335 
 
 and twenty-five leagues a day, on horseback, in 
 voiture, in every way possible. Ever thine." 
 
 It was the voice of the warrior, of the great 
 captain, in the midst of war's alarms, rejoicing in 
 his strength, performing prodigies of valor and con- 
 founding his enemies by his magnificent combina- 
 tions. 
 
 Two days passed, and then, after the terrible 
 battle, he writes to his Queen of the events of the 
 dreadful day of Jena. . . . 
 
 "JENA, loth October, three o'clock in the morning. 
 
 "My Friend . . . I have accomplished the grand- 
 est of achievements against the Prussians. I gained, 
 yesterday, a great victory. There were 150,000 
 men ; I took 20,000 prisoners, 100 pieces of cannon 
 and flags. I was at one time near the King, whom 
 I just missed capturing, as well as the Queen. We 
 have bivouacked for two days. I was never better. 
 Adieu, my friend ; take care of thy health, and love 
 me." 
 
 The delay in summoning her to join him, gave 
 Josephine occasion to indulge in a fit of jealousy, 
 and she doubtless accused her absent spouse of some 
 indiscretion since he rejoined :..."! have re- 
 ceived thy letter of the 27th of November, by which 
 I see that thy little head is turned. I am reminded 
 of this verse. . . . ' Desir de femme est un feu qui 
 devore '. . . . Please calm thyself. I have already 
 written thee that when winter quarters are estab- 
 lished I will send for thee."
 
 836 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 It having been found impossible to send for the 
 Empress, Napoleon ordered her to return to Paris, 
 and she reached the capital about the last of 
 January, 1807. His letters of this month are loving 
 and frequent, though it was at this time Napoleon 
 met and fell in love with the beautiful Polish 
 woman, the Countess Walewski, who, more than 
 any other, affected his later life. 
 
 Josephine received intimations of this new infatu- 
 ation of the Emperor, which her instinctive jealousy 
 had foreseen, and was rendered extremely uneasy, 
 without being able to combat her unseen foe. 
 
 The winter passed away and the summer ; finally 
 occurred the decisive battle of Friedland, when the 
 Russians were totally defeated. 
 
 It was in January, 1807, that Napoleon met the 
 woman he came nearest to loving after Josephine : 
 the Countess Walewski, whom he first saw when in 
 Poland. He was enamored of her at first sight, 
 but she at first repulsed his advances, and only 
 yielded upon the representation of her friends, and 
 even of her relatives, that she should do so in the 
 interests of Poland. Notwithstanding the harsh- 
 ness of her wooing, she became strongly attached 
 to Bonaparte ; when he returned to Paris she was 
 established there, and bore him a son, on the fourth 
 of May, 1810. In her own country she was regarded 
 as a martyr, a victim for the good of Poland, and 
 was not censured for her infidelity to her husband. 
 She clung to Napoleon's fortunes to the last, visiting 
 him at Elba, having in her company their little son.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 337 
 
 But after his exile to Saint Helena she gave up all 
 hope of meeting him again, and, her first husband 
 being dead, married a certain Count d'Ornano ; but 
 died in December, the same year, 1818. 
 
 This was undoubtedly the grand passion of Napo- 
 leon's later life, and his attachment for its object 
 lasted the longest. It is a sad comment upon his 
 character, that he was never more alive to the great 
 worth of his wife than at this time ; at no time 
 had he seemed so thoroughly attached to her. 
 
 Mme. de Remusat confirms this story of the 
 ' ' Polish lady, " and adds : ' ' This extraordinary woo- 
 ing did not, however, prevent the young lady from 
 becoming attached to the Emperor, for their liaison 
 was prolonged during several campaigns. . . . A son 
 was born, who became the object of the hopes of 
 Poland. ..." etc.* 
 
 The ninth of February, immediately after the 
 terrible battle of Eylau, Napoleon had written to 
 his wife : . . . " My friend, a great battle took place 
 yesterday ; victory rested with me, but I lost much ; 
 the loss of the enemy, which is vastly more than 
 
 * Consult " Napoleon, Lover and Husband," for particulars of this 
 strange affair. 
 
 " The Emperor and all the French officers paid their tribute of 
 admiration to the charms of the fair Poles. There was one whose 
 powerful fascinations made a deep impression on the Emperor's 
 heart. He conceived an ardent affection for her, which she cordially 
 returned. She received with pride the homage of a conquest which 
 was the consummation of her happiness (?) It is needless to name 
 her, when I observe that her attachment remained unshaken amidst 
 every danger, and that at the period of Xapoleon' s reverses she con- 
 tinued his faithful friend. Memoirs of the Duke of Rovigo. 
 
 22
 
 338 JOSEPHINE, 
 
 ours, does not console me. I write these few lipes 
 with my own hand, though I am nearly dead with 
 fatigue, in order to tell thee that I am well, and that 
 I love thee. ... It was a horrible battle ; the coun- 
 try is covered with the dead ; my soul is sick at the 
 sight of so many victims. ... Do not grieve, I pray 
 thee, all will be finished soon, and in the happiness 
 of seeing thee I shall forget all my fatigues." 
 
 The Russians were beaten, but not defeated, and 
 Bonaparte would not leave the field until he had forced 
 a definitive peace. Meanwhile, at Paris, Joseph- 
 ine had, by his orders, carried out her part in the im- 
 perial programme by entertaining at the Tuileries 
 a gay and distinguished company. Hearing that 
 the Empress had visited some of the ateliers and 
 museums without much ceremony, and in a style 
 not comportable to her rank, he wrote her a letter of 
 reproach, in which, for the first time, he makes 
 use of the word you, instead of the thou, which 
 was his custom in familiar intercourse. This lapse 
 from his accustomed tone of tenderness was very 
 afflicting to Josephine, who complained of it, and 
 he redoubled his attentions in the letters follow- 
 ing : "I have received," said he, "thy letter of the 
 5th of April, in which I see with pain that thou art 
 vexed at something I have said. . . . Thy little 
 Creole head is turned, thou art afflicted ! Well, we 
 will say no more about it. . . Thou must not think 
 of coming hither, that is impossible. . . . There are 
 many things I would prefer to war, but duty must 
 be held above everything else. . . . All my life I
 
 JOSEPHINE. 339 
 
 have sacrificed : tranquillity, interest, happiness, to 
 my destiny." 
 
 His destiny; it was ever this implacable " des- 
 tiny," which resounded in the ears of Josephine, fore- 
 boding the fate that was to be hers ! 
 
 He was then deep in his amour with the Countess 
 Walewski, but at this time he wrote to Josephine 
 in a style that reminds one of those letters from 
 Italy, many years before, when he was in the first 
 throes of his passion. Perhaps she was vicariously 
 receiving a love that another was usurping ? It did 
 not deceive her ; but it was accepted as a harbinger 
 of a better understanding. ... "I have received 
 thy letter. I do not know who are the objects of 
 your suspicions. I love only my little Josephine, 
 so good, pouting, capricious, who can quarrel with 
 such grace, even as she does everything ; because 
 she is always amiable, except when she is jealous : 
 then she becomes a little devil." 
 
 But these imaginary evils, conjured up by the jeal- 
 ousy of Josephine, were to give place to real grief, 
 and were swallowed up in the tide of sorrow that 
 swelled the heart of the Empress-mother, in the 
 month of May. For this month, the tidings came 
 that the Prince-royal of Holland, the young Napo- 
 leon, son of Hortense and Louis Bonaparte, had died 
 of croup. 
 
 This promising child, aged but five years, the 
 eldest son of the King and Queen of Holland, was 
 looked upon by Napoleon as the future heir to the 
 throne of France, in default of children by Joseph-
 
 340 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 ine ; and his unexpected demise was the severest 
 blow that could have been given to her hopes of con- 
 tinuance in power as the consort of Napoleon. He 
 had received the name of his august uncle, was his 
 pet and the object of his thoughts, and was greatly 
 beloved by both the Emperor and the Empress. 
 
 Immediately upon receipt of the distressing news, 
 Josephine felt a strong inclination to be near her 
 daughter and at once set out to seek her. On the 
 way, however, she reflected that the Emperor would 
 not sanction her leaving France, during his absence, 
 and so she halted within the frontier, and addressed 
 a touching letter to her daughter, imploring her 
 presence. ..." I have just arrived at the chateau 
 of Lecken, near Brussels, my dear daughter, and 
 here I await you. Come at once to restore me to 
 life ; thy presence is necessary to my existence, and 
 thou shouldst also wish to see thy mother and 
 mingle thy tears with hers. I would continue fur- 
 ther, but fear the Emperor would not approve my 
 leaving the territory of France during his absence. 
 But having come thus far I will await thee here. 
 Adieu, my dear daughter ; I am overcome with 
 fatigue, but above all with grief." 
 
 It was several days before the Queen of Holland 
 could accede to her mother's request and join her, 
 and meanwhile Bonaparte had received the sad in- 
 telligence that deprived him of hope for an heir in 
 the line of descent through Hortense and his brother 
 Louis. 
 
 It was a severe blow to his plans for the Napo-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 341 
 
 leonic succession ; but he rallied from this, as he 
 recovered from every severe misfortune that over- 
 took him ; he wrote to Josephine no less than five 
 consolatory letters, advising her to forget her private 
 griefs in the exigencies of the occasion. . . . 
 
 . . . " I can understand thy grief at the death of 
 the poor Napoleon ; I wish I could be near to thee 
 to assuage thy sorrow. Thou hast had the good 
 fortune to have been exempt from the loss of thy 
 children ; but it is a condition attached to our mis- 
 erable existence. ... I hope to learn that thou hast 
 been rational and art well. Wouldst thou willingly 
 add to my distress ? " 
 
 Hortense arrived at the chateau on the 16th of 
 May, where she found the consolation that only a 
 mother can give. Her grief had petrified her, she 
 was suffering in that stony silence that forebodes 
 the worst ; but upon being received within her 
 mother's arms, and hearing the expressions of ten- 
 derness with which she was received, she burst into 
 tears and her surcharged heart found relief. She 
 threw herself sobbing upon her mother's breast, 
 and the crisis was passed which, the physician had 
 declared, might have terminated her existence. 
 
 The Empress took her sorrowing daughter to 
 Paris, where she strove to divert her from her grief. 
 But she fell into a stupor of melancholy from which 
 it was impossible to rescue her. At this stage, the 
 Emperor wrote her most affectionately to rally from 
 her sorrow and remember that she still owed some- 
 thing to her surviving children and to her family.
 
 342 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 "MY DAUGHTER," wrote Napoleon, from Dantzic, 
 on the second of June, " you have not written me a 
 single word, in your great sorrow. . . . What they 
 tell me, that you love nobody, that you are indiffer- 
 ent to all, I am constrained to believe from your 
 silence. 
 
 " This is not well, Hortense, this is not what 
 you promised. Your son is with you still. Your 
 mother and myself : are we nothing to you ? Adieu, 
 my daughter. Try to be cheerful ; it is necessary 
 to be resigned. . . . My wife is very much distressed 
 at your condition ; do not add to her grief. Your 
 affectionate father, 
 
 " NAPOLEON." 
 
 In the death of the young Napoleon a terrible 
 blow had fallen upon them all ; the last hope of the 
 Napoleonic succession seemed to have perished with 
 him.* 
 
 * "The situation of the Bonaparte family did not favor the establish- 
 ment of the principle of hereditary succession. Napoleon was mar- 
 ried to a woman who could have no children ; his eldest brother, 
 Joseph, had no sons ; his brothers, Lucien and Jerome, had contract- 
 ed marriages which were in his eyes misalliances which could not be 
 pardoned. Louis only was left' to perpetuate the Imperial race, and 
 he through insane jealotfsy refused connivance. His son, Napoleon 
 Charles, born 1802, Oct. 10th, was looked upon as the likely successor 
 until his death put an end to all hopes, 5th May, 1807. An impor- 
 tant effect upon the fortunes of Josephine. Jerome was not quite 
 twenty when he married Miss Patterson. The law of 20th Sept., 
 1792, declared null and void a marriage contracted by a person less 
 than twenty years old, without the consent of both parents. It was 
 in Feb., 1805, that Madame Letitia placed in the hands of a notary a 
 protest against her son's marriage."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 PORTENTS OF DISASTER. 
 
 No one was more keenly conscious of her loss of 
 prestige than Josephine herself. Having lost, by 
 the death of her grandson, the only prop that sup- 
 ported her feeble claim to the throne, and unable to 
 furnish Napoleon the heir he so ardently desired, 
 she now felt that the question of divorce was merely 
 a matter of time. 
 
 While in this state of anxiety tidings arrived of 
 the victory of Friedland, announced to Josephine by 
 a letter from her husband : . . . 
 
 " MY FRIEND, I can write thee but a word, 
 because I am so fatigued. . . . My children have 
 worthily celebrated the anniversary of Marengo. 
 The battle of Friedland will also be celebrated, and 
 redound to the glory of my people. The entire 
 Russian army has been routed : 80 pieces of cannon 
 taken ; 30,000 men captured or killed ; 25 generals 
 filled, wounded or taken ; the Russian guard de- 
 stroyed : This is a worthy sister of Marengo, of 
 Austerlitz, of Jena. The bulletin will give thee 
 the rest. . . . Adieu, my friend, I go to mount my 
 horse. 
 
 "NAPOLEON."
 
 344 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Hortense had been ordered by her physicians to 
 the Pyrenees, for the benefit of the waters there, 
 and thither Josephine despatched an account of the 
 meeting of the two Emperors, of France and Eussia, 
 on the raft in the Meman. 
 
 "I am receiving frequently, my dear Hortense, 
 news from the Emperor. He speaks often of the 
 Emperor Alexander, with whom he is well pleased. 
 He has sent to me two gentlemen who witnessed 
 the late events, and they tell me that the first inter- 
 view was a magnificent spectacle. The Emperor 
 was the first to arrive at the pavilion constructed 
 in the middle of the river ; the two armies were 
 upon the right and the left bank, respectively. . . . 
 They say that at the moment the two Emperors 
 embraced the air was rent with the acclamations of 
 both armies. That which interests me most is that 
 I shall soon see the Emperor. . . . Keep me in thy 
 thoughts, and believe, my dear daughter, in the 
 continued solicitude of thy mother." 
 
 At the treaty of Tilsit, Napoleon may be said to 
 have been at the apogee of his glory and power. 
 Notwithstanding the great events in which he was 
 engaged, which indeed he was shaping, Napoleon 
 did not neglect to write to Josephine frequently. 
 On the same day the treaty was signed, in fact, he 
 despatched a tender epistle to his wife. . . . 
 
 " July 7th, 1807, My friend ; the Queen of Prus- 
 sia dined with me yesterday. . . . She is very ami- 
 able. . . . When you shall have read this letter the
 
 JOSEPHINE. 345. 
 
 peace with Prussia and Russia will have been al- 
 ready concluded, and Jerome recognized as King of 
 Westphalia, with 3,000,000 subjects. This news for 
 thee alone. . . . Adieu, my friend, I love thee, and 
 wish to know that thou art happy. " 
 
 Three weeks later Bonaparte was in Paris, wel- 
 comed by the transports of his loving people. One 
 may imagine the joy of the Empress, after this long 
 and sorrowful separation of ten months. 
 
 Her doubts were set at rest, even though her 
 husband was still filled with thoughts of his high 
 destiny. Destiny, a word he had written more than 
 once. 
 
 But there was no change in his affections ; he 
 still regarded her with tenderness, still surrounded 
 her with every attention ; her jealous sentiments 
 were lulled to rest, she lapsed into a feeling of 
 security. 
 
 After his return from Tilsit the Emperor devoted 
 all his time to the internal affairs of France, and 
 especially to the reorganization of his court. 
 
 Since the fall of the monarchy, some five or six 
 different governments had succeeded ; but neither 
 the horrors of the Revolution nor the rapid march 
 of events during the Consulate and Directory, had 
 effaced from the memory of the people all recollec- 
 tion of the ancient splendors and prestige of the 
 royal court. All the vast energies of the Emperor 
 were now directed to a revival of those courtly 
 customs and usages, by which monarchical institu-
 
 346 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 tions are preserved and entrenched in the regard of 
 the people. 
 
 The throne once firmly established, a natural con- 
 sequence of this restoration was the return to the 
 traditional splendor and brilliant appanage con- 
 sidered necessary to a maintenance of the supreme 
 power. Although the newly-risen court of Napo- 
 leon was ridiculed, and even held up to detesta- 
 tion by the ancienne noblesse, yet there were few 
 who did not hasten to be included in its reorganiza- 
 tion. All-powerful by the greatness of his char- 
 acter, feared on account of his numerous victories, 
 and with a profound understanding of the springs 
 of human motives, Napoleon did not doubt that his 
 court would become firmly established in the re- 
 spect of his people and honored by the presence of 
 the foreign ambassadors. 
 
 Since the establishment of the Consulate, in fact, 
 he had not ceased to gather about him whatever 
 would add to the brilliancy and effect of his sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 We have seen the gradual accretions to his little 
 court, from the modest beginnings at the Luxem- 
 bourg, through the quasi-imperial receptions at the 
 Tuileries and Saint-Cloud, and during the three 
 years just concluded. The first was the formative 
 period, and the second and accomplished achievement 
 terminated at the end of 1807, or at the culmination 
 of his career of glory. 
 
 We may, rather, say that the first full period con- 
 tinued five years, and may be called the reign of
 
 JOSEPHINE. 347 
 
 Josephine ; the following, or the reign of Maria 
 Louisa, from the year 1810 until his fall. 
 
 The period of ascendency was during the reign 
 of Josephine. To her was given the glorious task 
 of restoring to France the usages and traditional 
 manners of royalty. To her tact, her ability, her 
 feminine power of pleasing and reconciling the 
 many incongruous elements of the new court, was 
 due the successful re-establishment of the imperial 
 regime. 
 
 It required all the genius of Napoleon and all the 
 wonderful tact and address of his accomplished 
 consort, to unite the old nobility with the parvenu 
 aristocracy created by Bonaparte. 
 
 His most cherished idea was the fusion of these 
 two elements so opposite in character ; the one 
 founded upon claim of ancient ancestry, the other 
 based upon glorious achievements. That it was 
 accomplished, should redound to the credit of the 
 great man who did it, of the one who thus laid the 
 foundation for the reconciliation of the opposite 
 classes in dismembered France. 
 
 Through the medium of his court, Napoleon 
 bridged the chasm which had so long separated the 
 new France from the old ; hands that had been 
 raised against each other in battle, were now clasped 
 in amity. The result was soon seen in the amelio- 
 ration of manners, in the extinguishment of hates 
 and the fusion of parties. 
 
 There was no longer any pretext for the return 
 of the Bourbons ; for the flower of their aristocracy
 
 348 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 might be found attached to the Court of Napoleon, 
 the glitter and pomp of which were sufficient to 
 satisfy the most exacting Royalist. 
 
 Independently of the great offices filled by Fesch, 
 Berthier, Duroc, Talleyrand, Caulaincourt and Segur, 
 there were appointed twenty court chamberlains, com- 
 prising some of the greatest names in the Empire ; 
 after these came the prefects of the palace, three 
 in number ; an almoner, two equerries, and pages 
 to the number of forty. 
 
 The household of the Empress was composed of 
 the first almoner, a lady of honor, mistress of the 
 robes, and numerous ladies of the palace (dames du 
 palais}, wives of Napoleon's marshals, and some of 
 the old nobility. . . . "Madame Bonaparte," says 
 Mme. de Remusat, one of these same ladies-in-wait- 
 ing, "had her head turned for a time by finding real 
 grandes dames among her ladies-in-waiting." 
 
 An establishment was also created for the mother 
 of Bonaparte, the " Imperatrice-Mere," who was 
 likewise surrounded by aristocratic ladies, both of 
 the old regime and modern creation. 
 
 Regarding the jealousies and the heart-burnings 
 of these grandes dames subjected to attendance 
 upon the "parvenu emperor" and his wife, sisters, 
 and mother, we shall be silent ; several of them 
 have given their plaints to the world : as Mme. de 
 Remusat and the Duchess d'Abrantes, in whose in- 
 teresting na'rratives much of value may be dis- 
 covered. 
 
 After two months' absence from her daughter,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 349 
 
 Josephine visited her at her retreat, finding her 
 composed and in good health. The husband of 
 Hortense left her with the Empress and returned to 
 Holland ; but the Queen did not dare accompany 
 him, fearing the effect of the climate, which she 
 believed had caused the death of her eldest son. 
 
 At the beginning of September, 1807, the court 
 was transported to Fontainebleau, where numerous 
 fetes were given and diplomatic receptions held on a 
 grand scale. ... One of the fetes was given in honor 
 of the marriage of the new king of Westphalia, 
 Jerome Bonaparte, with the Princess Catherine of 
 Wurtemburg. This marriage, which, like that of 
 the Prince Eugene with the Princess of Bavaria, was 
 one of policy, promoted by the ambition of Napoleon, 
 was in the end a happy one ; and neither had occa- 
 sion to regret the event. 
 
 It was while at Fontainebleau that Josephine re- 
 ceived the first intimation that her divorce was any- 
 thing more than a carefully- guarded, secret thought 
 of the Emperor, in the proposition from the wily 
 Fouche, minister of police, that she should sacrifice 
 herself to the glory of France and the best interests 
 of Bonaparte's family. She was amazed, and at 
 first thought this man but an agent of Napoleon's, 
 sent to prepare her for the inevitable change. 
 
 It was true, as he urged, that she had given her 
 husband no heir to the throne ; that there was no 
 prospect favorable to such an event ; that Napoleon's 
 heart was filled with the desire to transmit his 
 throne and his glory to a successor of his own
 
 350 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 blood ; and that his highest ambition would only be 
 gratified by the consummation of his desires in this 
 regard. 
 
 It was soon shown that the officious minister had 
 acted without the sanction, even without the knowl- 
 edge, of his chief ; that he had wished to sound the 
 public opinion upon the subject of divorce and to 
 prepare France for such an event ; and that he had 
 promulgated the idea of an alliance of Napoleon 
 with the Grand-duchess, Catherine of Eussia. He 
 well knew the repugnance of the Emperor to the 
 idea of divorce, and his love for one who had ever 
 been devoted to his best interests. But he conceived 
 the project of forcing his hand, and libeled both 
 parties to this projected separation, by speaking of 
 it as an eventuality likely to occur. 
 
 The Empress, prostrated by this covert attack, 
 had replied that there was no sacrifice she would 
 not make for her husband or for the good of France, 
 but gave way to her grief ; and one day, finding her 
 in tears, Napoleon demanded the cause. 
 
 She told him ; he was furious, and at once com- 
 manded the culpable Fouche to come before him, 
 threatened to deprive him of his position, and his 
 resentment was only calmed by the interposition of 
 his brothers and Murat. 
 
 Fouche had treated his Empress with character- 
 estic ingratitude ; but the result of his machinations 
 was only to cement more firmly the friendship be- 
 tween the royal pair ; not then, at least, was the act 
 of separation to be announced.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 351 
 
 Her happiness now reassured, Josephine was 
 about to send to her aged mother a last and most 
 pressing invitation to join her, when she received 
 the afflicting intelligence of her demise. * 
 
 Thus did joy and sadness alternate in her life ; 
 even the briefest interval of happiness soon gave 
 place to grief. 
 
 The etiquette of the Court forbade her to put on 
 the habiliments of mourning, but she wept in secret 
 for this devoted mother, the last link that united 
 place her to the place of her birth. 
 
 By the orders of Bonaparte, a letter was forwarded 
 to the high officials of Martinique, conveying his 
 thanks for their attentions to Madame de La-Pagerie 
 in her last moments and for their respect to her 
 memory. He also ordered that a piece of marble 
 should be suitably engraved and placed above or 
 near her tomb, to indicate the last resting-place of 
 the mother of the Empress Josephine and mother- 
 in-law of Bonaparte, Emperor of France. 
 
 * Josephine's last letter to her mother. 
 
 " PARIS 17th February, 1807. 
 " MY DEAB MAMMA. 
 
 " I embrace the opportunity afforded by the departure of M. 
 Duquesne to send you a letter and to greet you. My health is good. 
 I returned hither from Mayence the first of the month. The Em- 
 peror is well. I received a letter from him, dated the 1st February, 
 when he was some forty leagues the other side Varsovia, the Kus- 
 sians retreating before him. 
 
 " I had my daughter with me during my stay at Mayence ; but she 
 returned to the Hague, to be with the King. 
 
 " I expect that soon Eugene will present me with a little grandson, 
 as the Princess Augusta is about to be confined, and I am in daily
 
 352 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 At the end of November Bonaparte departed for 
 Italy, refusing the entreaties of Josephine to be al- 
 lowed to accompany him thither ; but making amends 
 for his refusal by bestowing upon her son, the Vice- 
 roy, the title of successor to the crown of Italy. 
 
 This was a tardy sanction of his act of nearly 
 two years before, upon the occasion of Eugene's 
 marriage ; but none the less gratifying to the young 
 Prince and his mother. 
 
 Napoleon returned to Paris in January, 1808, and 
 commenced at the Tuileries those fetes, balls, and re- 
 ceptions that gave such an impulse to trade and air 
 of gayety to the capital. Towards the end of the 
 month another marriage was celebrated : that of 
 the young and beautiful niece of the Empress, Mile, 
 de Tascher, with one of the princes of the Rhine 
 Confederation. 
 
 Scarcely had the attendant fetes been consum- 
 mated, when the trouble began over the succession 
 to the Spanish throne, and Bonaparte hastened with 
 
 expectation of news of the event. ... I will attend to the matter of 
 which you wrote me in your last letters. ... I am only too glad to be 
 useful to our colony and to persons in whom you are interested. 
 Adieu, my dear mamma ; be very careful of your health, which I 
 hope still continues good. This hope only compensates me for not 
 seeing you. Think of me sometimes, and be assured that no one 
 loves you more tenderly than your daughter. . . . 
 
 "JOSEPHINE." 
 
 This letter could not have reached its intended recipient very long 
 in advance of her demise, which occurred in June, the same year. It 
 will be seen that to the last Josephine kept her mother in view, was 
 solicitous as to her welfare, and desirous that she should come to her 
 in France.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 353 
 
 his wife to the Spanish frontier. On this journey 
 Josephine was of incalculable assistance to Napoleon, 
 by her unwearied attendance at fetes and receptions, 
 her tact and adroitness, her pleasing manners. 
 There was no indication of the intentions of Bona- 
 parte in this matter of divorce, though it is possible 
 he had already decided upon its necessity. At 
 Bordeaux, Josephine received intelligence of the 
 birth of a third son to Hortense and Louis, and on 
 the 23d April wrote her an affectionate letter of con- 
 gratulation. Two days after another, in which she 
 assures her daughter of Napoleon's satisfaction that 
 she has become the mother of another boy, instead 
 of a daughter. 
 
 Both the Empress and the Emperor entertained, 
 without doubt, the liveliest hopes that this son 
 might eventually become the hope of the empire. 
 The obstinacy of Louis, in refusing to his brother 
 any voice in his future, was the death of their ex- 
 pectations. 
 
 They returned to Paris in August, both with sad- 
 dened spirits ; for Bonaparte had received intelli- 
 gence of the defeat of his troops in Spain ; and 
 Josephine already felt gnawing at her heart that 
 presentiment of disaster that attended all the oper- 
 ations of Bonaparte in the Spanish peninsula. 
 
 The Emperor believed his presence necessary to 
 the safety of his army in Spain, to avenge this first 
 check to his military fortune ; but he first attended 
 the conference at Erfurth, where he met the 
 Emperor Alexander and the German sovereigns. 
 2 3
 
 354 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 lie wrote to Josephine that he was very much in 
 love with Alexander, and if he were a woman he 
 would surely seek his hand in marriage. This 
 pleasantry was far from agreeable to Josephine, 
 because she had good reason to believe that the 
 Eussian Emperor was desirous to enter into more 
 intimate relations with Bonaparte, through a matri- 
 monial alliance. In fact, rumor had it that he had 
 offered Napoleon the hand of his sister, the Princess 
 Anne, and that the Emperor had not returned a 
 positive answer. 
 
 On his return from Erfurth the Emperor passed 
 a few days in Paris, and then hastened towards 
 Spain, where his presence was most urgently 
 needed. Josephine was filled with apprehension at 
 the outcome of the Spanish wars, and allowed the 
 Emperor to leave her only after her most earnest 
 protest against its continuance. The war in Spain, 
 as history has told us, was the beginning of Bona- 
 parte's downward career. But for Spain, there 
 would not have ensued the Austrian and Kussian 
 complications ; in placing his brother upon the throne 
 of Spain and seeking to maintain him there by the 
 power of bayonets, Bonaparte divided his army, dis- 
 tracted his people, brought down upon himself the 
 vengeance of England, of Portugal, and of Spain. 
 
 Napoleon's letters to his wife are at first filled 
 with the news of continued successes ; one of them 
 will suffice, to show the manner of his correspond- 
 ence, at the opening of the year in which she was 
 driven from the throne of France.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 355 
 
 "3d January, 1809, I have received, my friend, 
 thy letters of the 18th and 21st December. I am 
 pursuing the English, sword in hand. The weather 
 is cold and rigorous, but everything is going well. 
 Adieu, my friend. Always thine. A very happy 
 new year to my Josephine." 
 
 " 9th January, Moustache brings me a letter 
 from thee of the 31st. I see, my friend, that thou art 
 in a most melancholy state. Do not fear, Austria 
 will not declare war against me. If she does, I have 
 150,000 men in Germany and as many more on the 
 Rhine, and 400,000 Germans at call. Russia will 
 not turn against me. The Parisians are crazy, 
 credulous. Everything is going on well. I shall 
 return to Paris just as soon as I think it neces- 
 sary. ... I charge you to be careful what you 
 reveal. . . . But adieu, my friend. My health is 
 good, and I am ever thine." . . . 
 
 Josephine's fears were soon realized and Bona- 
 parte had cause to thank her for her extraordinary 
 prevision. For Austria, though repeatedly beaten, 
 yet never conquered, profiting by the absence of 
 Bonaparte in Spain, took occasion to declare war 
 against her powerful enemy. The Emperor's decis- 
 ion was not more rapid than his movements, and, 
 seeing at once his mistake, he abandoned his Spanish 
 operations and returned to Paris with all speed. 
 
 The 23d of January, he was again in the Tuile- 
 ries ; two months sufficed him to put in operation 
 all the vast enginery of war at his command. 
 Austria soon had cause to repent her hasty decision,
 
 356 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 and to lament her mistake. On the 13th of April 
 Bonaparte left Paris, taking the Empress with him 
 as far as Strasburg, where she had sojourned during 
 the Eussian campaign, four years previously. 
 
 Four days later Bonaparte had established his 
 headquarters, and two days after commenced that 
 short campaign which resulted in making him mas- 
 ter, for the second time, of the capital of Austria. 
 
 Some twenty-five letters, written by Napoleon to 
 his wife, during this campaign, are in existence ; 
 but it is only necessary to quote from a few of them, 
 to show their character. They become shorter and 
 more concise, the farther negotiations proceed with 
 the Court of Austria, and have their value as indica- 
 tions of the writer's feelings at the time. 
 
 In his letter of the 6th of May, alluding to the 
 report that he had been wounded in the heel, he 
 writes : . . . " My friend, I have received thy letter. 
 The ball touched me but did not wound, only just 
 grazing the tendon Achilles. My health is good ; 
 thou art wrong to disquiet thyself. My affairs are 
 in good shape. Ever thine." 
 
 It is well known that Bonaparte was several times 
 wounded (as shown by the scars discovered on his 
 body after his death, at St. Helena), but that he 
 bravely concealed his wounds, fearing the effect 
 they would have upon his soldiers, who believed him 
 invulnerable. 
 
 The capture of Vienna he announced in a few 
 lines, as though it were a foregone conclusion and 
 a matter of course. But the arrival of Prince
 
 JOSEPHINE. 357 
 
 Eugene, with his victorious army, which he knew 
 would be welcome to the mother- heart of Josephine, 
 he described more at length, and bestowed praise 
 upon his adopted son that he was aware would be 
 gratefully received. This letter he sent by special 
 courier, and enclosed a proclamation which he 
 requested her to have translated into French and 
 German, announcing his victories, and have printed 
 for general distribution. 
 
 On the loss of his gallant marshal, the intrepid 
 Lannes, he wrote briefly : . . . " The death of the 
 Duke of Montebello, who was killed this morning, 
 distresses me deeply. If thou canst console his poor 
 wife, please do so. Truly thine." 
 
 Of the victory which Eugene, profiting by the 
 teachings of his adopted father and beloved mentor, 
 had gained over the second Austrian army, Napo- 
 leon wrote to Josephine : . . . 
 
 " I have sent thee a courier to announce that, on 
 the 14th, the anniversary of the battle of Marengo, 
 Eugene won a great victory over the Archduke 
 John, taking 3,000 prisoners, several cannon, and 
 four flags." 
 
 Three weeks later the campaign was ended by the 
 decisive battle of Wagram, and which Bonaparte 
 announced to his wife in the same laconic manner 
 as at Austerlitz, Jena, and Friedland : . . . 
 
 " 7th July, five o'clock in the morning, I have 
 sent you a courier with the good news of 
 the victories of Ebersdorf and Wagram, which 
 latter I gained yesterday. The enemy's army is in
 
 358 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 disorderly flight. Eugene is well. . . . My losses 
 are considerable, but the victory is decisive and com- 
 plete. We have taken more than one hundred can- 
 non, twelve flags, and many prisoners. . . . Adieu, 
 my friend ; I embrace thee. Many loving messages 
 for Hortense." 
 
 On the 13th July, an armistice was concluded, and 
 negotiations entered upon for a peace between the 
 two empires that should be more permanent than 
 any that had preceded. 
 
 While the negotiations for peace were proceed- 
 ing, and which consumed several months, Napoleon 
 resided at Vienna and at Schonbrunn, and Jose- 
 phine, having returned from Strasburg, retired to 
 Malmaison, where she gave herself up to the same 
 gloomy forebodings that had agitated her four 
 years before. 
 
 It was not solely an amour that gave rise to sad 
 reflections now, but a concatenation of events that 
 all pointed to but one solution of the problem of 
 succession to the throne in case of accident to its 
 present possessor. 
 
 The recent narrow escape from death of her royal 
 spouse ; a more recent attempt at assassination ; the 
 necessity for some apparent heir to the throne being 
 in evidence : even the people were seriously debat- 
 ing the probable consequences, should Napoleon fall 
 by a bullet from the enemy or beneath the poignard 
 of the assassin. Wild rumors were in the air, and 
 both Bonaparte and Josephine were cognizant of 
 them and their import.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 359 
 
 Napoleon coolly discussed the probabilities in every 
 event, and calculated the possible advantages result- 
 ing from alliance with one of the royal families. If 
 he should be deprived of life, at this time, it was 
 certain that his dynasty would perish with him ; not 
 one of his brothers could assume and maintain the 
 royal state ; there was no rallying-point for the peo- 
 ple of France, in short, no direct and legitimate 
 heir to the throne. 
 
 It was at this time, while negotiating the peace of 
 Schonbrunn, that the idea of divorce became fixed 
 and Napoleon decided upon a matrimonial alliance, 
 either with the royal house of Austria, or Russia, 
 both of which had been practically offered him. The 
 treaty of peace was signed on the 14th October ; on 
 the 21st the Emperor addressed a note of three lines 
 to Josephine: . . . "My friend, I leave in an 
 hour. I shall arrive at Fontainebleau on the 26th or 
 27th ; meet me there with the ladies of the Court." 
 
 The peace was signed, divorce was decided upon ; 
 Napoleon returned to France, with the plaudits of 
 his people ringing in his ears ; but with the deter- 
 mination to deprive himself of the music of a voice 
 sweeter to him than the acclamations of the multi- 
 tude.
 
 360 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 t 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 DIVORCE. 
 
 EVENTS did not march more rapidly than Napoleon 
 himself. He so hastened his journey, that he arrived 
 at Fontainebleau on the 26th of October, early in 
 the morning, before Josephine and her ladies had 
 even departed from Saint Cloud. 
 
 A messenger was despatched to apprise her of his 
 arrival, and she hastened to meet him ; but his anger 
 was such that at first he avoided her, and for a time 
 was cold and indifferent. ' ' And so you are come, 
 madame," he curtly said. "It is time. I was 
 about setting out for Saint Cloud." 
 
 Josephine burst into tears, when Napoleon's heart 
 relented, and he begged her to forget his rudeness. 
 They were friends again, but between them was a 
 constraint that had never been before. 
 
 A cloud sat upon his brow ; she frequently lapsed 
 into tears ; they avoided that intimate companion- 
 ship which had hitherto been such solace and recrea- 
 tion. 
 
 He had returned triumphant but gloomy, for he 
 had come to the unalterable determination to sever 
 the tie that united them, even though well aware
 
 JOSEPHINE. 361 
 
 that it would break this fond heart which had been 
 devoted to him during the past thirteen years. 
 
 It was his destiny thus he reasoned which com- 
 pelled this separation from one who loved him as a 
 man, and not as sovereign ; who had shared with 
 him the glory of his achievements, who had been 
 the crowning charm of his life. 
 
 It was not new to Josephine : this apparition of 
 divorce ; during several years of her marriage it had 
 shadowed her existence, had presented itself before 
 her in every variety of form. 
 
 It had been urged upon Bonaparte by his family, 
 whose jealousy of Josephine was fntense and ill- 
 coricealed, their antipathy extending even to her 
 children. 
 
 It was urged by them on the return from Egypt, 
 at the beginning of the Consulate for life, preced- 
 ing the Coronation, and after the peace of Tilsit ; 
 but Napoleon had nobly protected his wife. t 
 
 Since, however, the death of the Prince-royal of 
 Holland, or for the two years past, he had enter- 
 tained the suggestion that previously had been 
 indignantly repelled. 
 
 The advances of Eussia at Erfurth had made a 
 vivid impression upon his amour-propre, and may 
 have given him the assurance that no alliance was 
 too lofty for him to aspire to. 
 
 His narrow escape from death, in the last cam- 
 paign, must have brought vividly before him the 
 futility of all his plans, the unstability of his care- 
 fully-builded throne, if he should die without a legit-
 
 362 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 imate successor ; the matrimonial prospects, which 
 it is more than probable were suggested at the sign- 
 ing of the peace of Vienna ; and the certitude that 
 he could never expect an heir from his present union, 
 which another more fortunate might give him ; all 
 these circumstances united to impress upon him the 
 necessity for divorce, as due to his high destiny and 
 the repose of France. 
 
 But the Emperor feared to excite anew the grief 
 and fears of Josephine, and he dreaded to meet her 
 reproaches and her tears. He could not bear to see 
 her suffer, he was pained at sight of her tears ; this 
 man, before whom all Europe was even then in hum- 
 ble obeisance shrank from communicating to her 
 the decision at which he had arrived.* 
 
 * It was wLile Napoleon was at Fontainebleau, before his return 
 to Paris, that Josephine for the first time heard the divorce men- 
 tioned, ; the idea had occurred to the Emperor's mind while he was 
 at Schonbrunn. . . . Napoleon often reflected on the best mode of 
 making this communication to the Empress ; still, he was reluctant to 
 speak to her. ... He was apprehensive of the consequences of her 
 susceptibility of feeling ; his heart was never proof against the shed- 
 ding of tears. He thought, however, that a favorable opportunity of- 
 fered for breaking the subject previously to his quitting Fontaine- 
 bleau. He hinted at it in a few words which he had addressed to the 
 Empress, but he did not explain himself until the arrival of the Vice- 
 roy, whom he had ordered to join him. . . . He was the first person 
 who spoke openly to his mother and obtained her consent for that bit- 
 ter sacrifice. He acted on that occasion like a kind son and a man 
 grateful to his benefactor and devoted to his service, by sparing him 
 the necessity of unpleasant explanations towards a partner whose re- 
 moval was a sacrifice as painful to him as it was affecting. The Em- 
 peror, having arranged whatever related to the future condition of 
 the Empress, upon whom he made a liberal settlement, urged the
 
 JOSEPHINE. 363 
 
 But this suspense could not long endure. One 
 day, the last of November, after a gloomy repast, 
 at which neither spoke, the sword so long suspended 
 above her head fell, and severed the tie that for so 
 many years had held these two together. 
 
 Instinctively apprehending what was to follow, 
 Josephine followed her husband into his cabinet. 
 His look was stern, and her heart quailed before it. 
 But approaching her, he said, with accents of ten- 
 derness, "Josephine, my dear Josephine, you know 
 how much I have loved you ; that to you, to you 
 alone, I owe the little happiness I have experienced 
 in this world. But, Josephine, my destiny is more 
 powerful than my will ; my dearest affections must 
 yield to the interests of France 
 
 "Say no more," faltered the victim of his am- 
 bition; "say no more; I have expected this; I 
 
 moment of the dissolution of the marriage, no doubt because he felt 
 grieved at the condition of the Empress herself, who dined every day 
 and passed her evenings in the presence of persons who were witness- 
 ing her descent from the throne. There existed between him and the 
 Empress Josephine no other bond than a civil act, according to the 
 custom which prevailed at the time of his marriage. Now, the law 
 had foreseen the dissolution of such marriage contracts. A particular 
 day having therefore been fixed upon, the Emperor brought together 
 into his apartments those persons whose ministry was required in 
 this case : . . . The Emperor then declared in a loud voice his in- 
 tention of annulling the marriage he had contracted with Josephine, 
 who was present ; the Empress also made the same declaration, which 
 was interrupted by her repeated sobs. The Prince Arch-Chancellor 
 having caused the article of the law to be read, he applied it to the 
 case before him, and declared the marriage to be dissolved." Mem. 
 of the Due de Kovigo.
 
 364 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 understand, I can appreciate your motives, but, 
 the stroke is not the less mortal." 
 
 She fell to the floor insensible, and the Emperor, 
 alarmed, called the chamberlain of the palace, and 
 the court physician, who bore the Empress to her 
 apartments. Three hours she lay unconscious, and 
 during that time no anxiety was greater than Bona- 
 aparte's, who doubtless felt as keenly as she the fatal 
 thrust that had divided their hitherto united lives. 
 
 Hortense was then at Fontainebleau, and gave 
 to her mother the consolation which she so much 
 needed ; one loving heart, at least, was hers to rest 
 upon. 
 
 Recovered from this first shock, Josephine was 
 no longer the gay and joyous companion of the 
 Emperor, animating by her presence the gloomiest 
 of his melancholy days. She was subdued, grief- 
 stricken, passing whole nights in tears ; yet, in the 
 company of her ladies and at the fetes that suc- 
 ceeded in honor of Napoleon's victories, she conducted 
 herself with dignity and apparent cheerfulness. 
 
 Hortense was with her when the blow descended ; 
 Eugene was summoned from Italy to give the coup- 
 de-grace. 
 
 Both Hortense and Eugene hastened to assure 
 their stepfather that they would thenceforth re- 
 nounce all claim upon his bounty ; that they could 
 not leave their mother's side ; that wherever she 
 should be sent, thither they would accompany her. 
 Napoleon, who loved these children as his own, and 
 earnestly desired their well-being, dissuaded them
 
 JOSEPHINE. 365 
 
 from any step that should lead to separation from 
 his fortunes, and patiently explained to them his 
 reasons, the imperative necessity, for divorce. 
 
 Josephine also added her supplications to her hus- 
 band's, and her children acquiesced in her desires. 
 
 Once more Josephine was to be submitted to the 
 torture of acquiescence in an act that deprived her 
 of imperial favors. 
 
 The day for the official promulgation of the act of 
 divorce was fixed for the 15th of December, on 
 which there were assembled, at the Tuileries, the 
 Empress, Madame-mere, the king and queen of 
 Holland, the king and queen of Westphalia, the 
 king and queen of Naples, the Prince viceroy, the 
 Princess Pauline, the arch-chancellor, Cambeceres, 
 and the secretary of state. 
 
 Josephine was pale and trembling, her children 
 calm, but only suppressing their emotions for their 
 mother's sake. 
 
 Napoleon, standing, his hand holding that of the 
 Empress those hands so soon to be separated for- 
 ever addressed the arch-chancellor, in a voice full 
 of dignity and tenderness, but betraying at times 
 the emotion he would have concealed. . . . 
 
 After alluding to the circumstances calling to- 
 gether such a distinguished assemblage of witnesses, 
 Napoleon said : 
 
 "The political interests of my monarchy, and the 
 desires of my people, which have constantly guided 
 all my actions, require that I should leave behind 
 me, to heirs of my love for my people, the throne
 
 366 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 upon which Providence has placed me. Meanwhile, 
 for many years, I have given up all hopes of chil- 
 dren by my marriage with my well-beloved spouse, 
 the Empress Josephine ; and this it is which induces 
 me to sacrifice the sweetest affections of my heart, 
 to consider only the good of my subjects, and desire 
 a dissolution of our marriage. 
 
 " Arrived now at the age of forty years, I may rea- 
 sonably indulge a hope of living long enough to 
 rear and guide the children with which it may 
 please Providence to bless me. God knows what 
 such a resolution has cost my heart ; but there is no 
 sacrifice, however great, which I would not make, if 
 it be proved to be for the best interests of France. 
 
 "It is my duty to add that, far from having any 
 cause for complaint ; on the contrary, I have noth- 
 ing but praise for the tenderness and devoted 
 attachment of my well-beloved wife. She has en- 
 riched thirteen years of my life ; their remembrance 
 will be forever engraved on my heart. She was 
 crowned by my hand ; she shall always retain the 
 rank and title of Empress ; but, above all, it is my 
 desire that she shall never doubt my feelings to- 
 wards her, nor regard me as other than her best and 
 dearest friend." 
 
 He cast upon his companion a look of tender re- 
 gard, and when he made mention of those happy 
 years they had passed together (too late he acknowl- 
 edged they were the happiest of his life), his eyes 
 filled with tears and his voice failed him, as he 
 closed his remarks.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 367 
 
 Josephine's sweet voice was then heard in re- 
 sponse, in accents that lingered in Napoleon's mem- 
 ory long years after, when an exile on the rock of 
 Saint Helena, giving her assent to the act that 
 deprived her of the highest honor earth could be- 
 stow. 
 
 She declared her willingness to submit to the will 
 of her spouse and the desires of the people, and to 
 give this proof of her attachment and devotion in 
 the greatest sacrifice that could be asked. Her 
 voice failed, and then, after in vain attempting to 
 continue, she handed the paper to the secretary of 
 state, who read it for her, in a voice trembling with 
 emotion. . . . " I owe everything to his bounty ; it 
 is his hand that crowned me, that raised me to the 
 height of the throne. ... I respond to all the senti- 
 ments of the Emperor, in consenting to the dis- 
 solution 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, so evidently 
 raised up by Providence to efface the evils of a ter- 
 rible revolution and restore the altar, the throne, 
 and social order. But the dissolution of my mar- 
 riage will in no respect change the sentiments of my 
 heart ; the Emperor will ever find in me his best 
 and truest friend. I know how much this act, com- 
 manded by policy and such exalted interests, has 
 cost his heart ; but we both glory in the sacrifices 
 which we make to the good of our country." 
 
 Later in the day the decree of the senate, which
 
 368 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 proclaimed the act of marriage dissolved, was signed 
 by the Emperor and Empress, and then Josephine 
 was taken to her apartments, faint with emotion, 
 there to weep in secret over her unhappy fate. 
 
 The Emperor returned to his cabinet, silent and 
 sad, where he for a long time sat in gloomy reflec- 
 tion, his head supported upon his hand. 
 
 The next morning, while the carriages were in 
 waiting to convey the Emperer to the Petit Trianon, 
 whither he had decided to retreat for rest and reflec- 
 tion, he seized his hat and said to his secretary, 
 Meneval, "Come with me." 
 
 lie led the way by the secret passage from his 
 cabinet to the apartment of the Empress. He 
 opened the door ; she Was there, alone, and in tears. 
 At sight of the Emperor she arose and cast herself 
 upon his breast, sobbing as if her heart would break. 
 For a few minutes the unhappy couple stood there, 
 locked in loving embrace, then Bonaparte summoned 
 her attendants, delivered her into their charge, 
 hastily withdrew, entered his carriage, and was 
 whirled away. 
 
 Hortense and Eugene soon after entered the 
 apartment, and finally succeeded in calming the agi- 
 tation of the Empress, who was obliged to prepare 
 for the final farewells. 
 
 For the last time, many of those who had known 
 her at the height of her power, came to bid her 
 adieu, and to solicit the honor of sharing her court 
 at Malmaison. She was affected to tears at this 
 demonstration of affection, but attended to her
 
 JOSEPHINE. 369 
 
 duties with dignity, and in the afternoon, accom- 
 panied by her son and her daughter, set out for 
 Malmaison, bidding an eternal farewell to the 
 scenes of all her glory at the Tuileries. 
 
 For the crown she had lost she felt not the slight- 
 est regret ; for the spouse who had bestowed it her 
 heart was breaking. 
 
 " But if he finds happiness thereby," she said, " I 
 shall never regret the sacrifice I have made." 
 
 The concluding act of this great sacrifice was per- 
 formed in the senate, where high tribute was paid 
 to the Empress. Before the senators assembled, 
 Eugene declared the sentiments that had actuated 
 him and his sister in giving their adhesion to the 
 cause of Napoleon. "My mother, my sister, and 
 myself," he said, " owe everything to the Emperor. 
 He has been to us always a loving father ; he will 
 find in us devoted children and submissive subjects. 
 . . . When my mother was crowned, in the eyes of 
 the nation, and at the hands of her august spouse, 
 she tacitly contracted the obligation to sacrifice her 
 own affections and interests to the interests of 
 France. She has complied, with courage, with 
 nobility, and with dignity. . . . She will view, with 
 feelings of pride and satisfaction, whatever may 
 redound to the happiness of her country and the 
 Emperor." 
 
 In an eloquent harangue, the Count Lacepede de- 
 clared that posterity would ever associate the name 
 of Josephine with the immortal deeds of Napoleon. 
 
 The senate decreed : 
 24
 
 370 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 I. The marriage contract between the Emperor 
 Napoleon and the Empress Josephine is dissolved. 
 
 II. The Empress Josephine shall retain the title 
 and rank of Empress-Queen Crowned. 
 
 III. Her allowance is fixed at an annual payment 
 of two million francs, out of the public treasury. 
 
 IV. Whatever provisions the Emperor shall make 
 in favor of the Empress Josephine, out of the funds 
 of the civil list, shall be obligatory upon his succes- 
 sors. 
 
 The decree of the senate was transmitted to the 
 Emperor and Empress by special messenger, and 
 also two addresses. In the address to the Empress, 
 the senators reaffirmed their appreciation of the 
 sacrifice Josephine had made for France, declaring 
 that history would keep it in eternal remembrance. 
 The people of France had for years revered her 
 many virtues ; they would ever admire the sublime 
 devotion of this last act of hers, which had sealed 
 their love and their respect. 
 
 This was the last public communication received by 
 Josephine from the State ; but it was a convincing 
 testimonial of the regard in which she was held by 
 all ; a flattering tribute to her character ; the cap- 
 stone to the monument raised by her exemplary life. 
 
 To the gift of the senate, was added by Napoleon 
 the extensive property of Malmaison, the chateau of 
 Navarre, and another million from the civil list ; 
 she was also privileged to reside, when in Paris, at 
 the Palace of the Elysee ; thus had the Emperor ful- 
 filled his promise to bestow upon her the magnifi-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 371 
 
 cence that pertained to the high rank to which he 
 had raised her. 
 
 The royal pair had separated, but not yet could 
 they remain apart ; on the very next morning after 
 the removal to Malmaison, Bonaparte sought out his 
 wife, still weeping over her irreparable loss. To- 
 gether they walked the alleys of Malmaison, together 
 talked of the pleasures now forever past ; they were 
 still friends ; no more than that : no longer man 
 and wife, as Napoleon delicately conveyed to her, 
 at meeting and parting, when he took her hand, 
 pressed it, but without embracing her. 
 
 On his return to Trianon, that same evening, he 
 addressed her a letter for her encouragement, full 
 of the tenderness of the happiest days of their 
 union. " My friend, " it began, "I found thee to- 
 day weaker than thou shouldst have been. Thou 
 shouldst show more courage . . . and above all care 
 for thy health, which is so precious to me. . . . 
 Thou canst not doubt my constant and sincere 
 friendship. . . . Adieu, my friend ; sleep well ; 
 dream of me. NAPOLEON. " 
 
 Every day during the month that followed the 
 divorce, the Empress received a letter or a visit 
 from Bonaparte. The courtiers, seeing her still in 
 receipt of imperial favors, and taking their cue from 
 their royal master, thronged the courts of Malmai-. 
 son as of yore. Some, however, came out of regard 
 for their former queen and beloved mistress ; but 
 these were comparatively few, and Josephine was 
 rendered rather sad than happy by their presence.
 
 372 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 The Queen Hortense has published some twenty- 
 three letters, written by Napoleon to Josephine dur- 
 ing the three months intervening between the 
 divorce and his second marriage. They are all of 
 like tender and affectionate nature, and betray the 
 real feelings of the Emperor, clearly showing that 
 the divorce was, as he claimed, demanded by policy, 
 and not by sentiment. 
 
 " I have received thy letter, my friend. Savary 
 tells me that he found thee in tears ; that is bad ; 
 it makes me sad. . . . Sleep well. ... I was very 
 lonely (he wrote after returning to the Tuileries), 
 this great palace is so vast and vacant ; I am sad, 
 not seeing thee." 
 
 The visits to Malmaison were intermitted, and 
 Josephine sadly complained. He wrote : "I wish 
 very much to go to Malmaison, but be calm ; the 
 page told me this morning that thou wert in tears. 
 I dine all alone. Adieu, my friend ; do not ever 
 doubt my feelings towards thee." 
 
 But, notwithstanding all these amicable assur- 
 ances, the report was spread abroad that it was 
 Napoleon's intention to banish his wife far from 
 France. This came to the ears of Josephine, and 
 she demanded of Bonaparte that she be allowed to 
 reside a while in the Elysee ; considering that his 
 consent would be equivalent to a refutation of the 
 charges. This consent he not only freely gave, but 
 sent thither such articles as she had left at the 
 Tuileries, including the magnificent toilet-service 
 of gold, presented to her by the city of Paris ; and
 
 JOSEPHINE. 373 
 
 taking the liveliest interest in fitting up the rooms 
 for her occupation. Her fears were quieted, she 
 saw much more of her friend, during the last of 
 February and the first half of March, and in conse- 
 quence became more tranquil and resigned. 
 
 Possessed of her own means for ascertaining the 
 movements of the Court, Josephine soon became 
 aware of the negotiations which were in progress 
 for the hand of Marie Louise. Whether it was 
 that she did not wish to witness the arrival of her 
 successor to the throne and heart of Napoleon, or 
 that it was in obedience to a request of the Emperor, 
 Josephine applied for leave to retire to her country- 
 seat, the castle of Navarre. This was granted, and 
 to that beautiful but isolated spot she made her 
 retreat, with the members of her little court, a few 
 days before the marriage of Bonaparte with the 
 Austrian Archduchess. 
 
 With the second marriage of Napoleon terminates 
 the life of Josephine as connected with the great 
 man who had showered such favors upon the com- 
 panion of his glorious reign. 
 
 After thirteen years of intimate companionship, 
 after having testified in a thousand ways to the 
 regard and love he had felt for the woman of his 
 first choice, Napoleon had wedded another : young, 
 sweet, naive, who was no more in love with him 
 than was Josephine during the campaign of Italy. 
 
 Napoleon's absorption during the imperial honey- 
 moon, his tender regard for his bride, all the details 
 of this event, so distressing to Josephine, were
 
 374 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 promptly reported at Navarre, where they were 
 commented upon and doubtless exaggerated, to the 
 wounding of her sensitive heart. 
 
 She had courageously renounced her place by his 
 side upon the throne, she had abandoned forever 
 her claims upon him as her spouse ; but she was 
 wounded afresh at the thought of forgetfulness on 
 his part. Her regard for him was unchanged, she 
 had accepted his marriage as but a proof of his 
 integrity of intention ; she had schooled herself to 
 reconcile it with the scheme for securing an heir to 
 the throne. But she had not renounced all claim 
 to his friendship, and when the days passed without 
 an answer to the letter she had written, a few days 
 before leaving Malmaison, she became alarmed. 
 
 Arrived at Navarre and finding the chateau 
 scarcely habitable, she had written to Napoleon for 
 means wherewith to make the indispensable repairs ; 
 in default, for permission to return to Malmaison. 
 No reply being made, as the Emperor was then en- 
 grossed in this new and absorbing passion for Marie 
 Louise, Josephine's fears grew in proportion to the 
 continued silence, and she augured from it a pros- 
 pective exile, not only from Paris, but from her 
 beloved France, as well. She pressed her son to 
 obtain audience of the Emperor, and ascertain if 
 she might return to Malmaison, regarding his reply 
 as the touchstone of his intentions respecting her 
 exile. His reply, according to her all she desired, 
 set her fears at rest, and assuaged her grief. 
 
 This negotiation led to the passage of the three
 
 JOSEPHINE. 375 
 
 letters following, between Josephine and Napoleon, 
 which are the last we shall submit of their long-con- 
 tinued correspondence ; and which present more 
 clearly than anything else their situation and respect- 
 ive sentiments during this first year of their divorce. 
 The first written by Josephine in acknowledg- 
 ment of his favor, and laboriously prepared, doubt- 
 less after consultation with the ladies of her court, 
 affects the official form, which until then had never 
 been used by either, but which she may have con- 
 sidered as demanded by her novel position and the 
 
 silence of the Emperor. 
 
 "NAVARRE, 19th April, 1810. 
 
 " SIRE. ... I have received by the hand of my son 
 the assurance that Your Majesty consents to my 
 return to Malmaison, and grants the advances nec- 
 essary to complete the repairs of the chateau of Na- 
 varre. This double favor, sire, dissipates in great part 
 the uneasiness and fears which the silence of Your 
 Majesty had inspired. I had feared I was entirely 
 banished from your remembrance ; I now see that 
 I am not, and am to-day less unhappy even hap- 
 pier than I had thought it possible to be. 
 
 " I shall leave at the end of the month for Malmai- 
 son, since Your Majesty has no objection. . . . My 
 intention is to reside there a very short time ; then 
 to go away for the waters. But, while I am at 
 Malmaison, Your Majesty may be assured that I 
 shall live as if I were a thousand leagues distant 
 from Paris. . . . 
 
 " I shall not cease to pray for Your Majesty's 
 happiness. JOSEPHINE."
 
 376 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 The Emperor's reply. . . . 
 
 " COMPIEGNE, 21st April, 1810. 
 
 " MY FRIEND : I have received the letter of the nine- 
 teenth ; permit me to say it is in very bad style. I 
 am always the same ; my likes never change. I do 
 not know what Eugene may have said to thee, but 
 I did not write, because thou shouldst have known 
 that I would approve whatever would be agree- 
 able to thee. 
 
 " I see with pleasure that thou art going to Mal- 
 maison, and that thou art pleased ; as for me I shall 
 be happy to receive news from thee and to send thee 
 mine. I say no more, only ask that thou wilt com- 
 pare this letter with thine, and after that I leave to 
 thee to declare which is the most friendly, thine or 
 mine. Adieu, my friend ; take the best care of thy- 
 self, and try to judge impartially. 
 
 " NAPOLEON.'' 
 
 With what happiness Josephine received this 
 tender epistle may be seen by her response, in which 
 her overflowing heart expressed itself. . . . 
 
 " A thousand thousand thanks for not having for- 
 gotten me. My son brought me thy letter. With 
 what ardor I devoured its contents ! . . . There 
 was not a word that did not make me weep ; but 
 these tears were tears of joy, and sweet. . . . 
 
 " I shall be in despair, lest my letter of the nine- 
 teenth shall have displeased thee. I cannot recall 
 exactly my expressions, but I remember the painful
 
 JOSEPHINE. 377 
 
 sentiments that dictated it ; my chagrin at not hav- 
 ing heard from thee. But I knew the reasons for 
 thy silence and I feared to trouble thee with a letter. 
 Thine has been a balm for my hurt. Mayest thou 
 be happy, and receive all thou meritest ; my whole 
 heart wishes it. ... Adieu, my friend ; I thank 
 thee tenderly, as I shall ever love thee. 
 
 "JOSEPHINE." 
 
 Comment upon these letters is unnecessary, nay, 
 superfluous, for they show the existing relations be- 
 tween these two, their mutual affection, the nature 
 of the tie that bound them together, and which 
 naught but death could separate. 
 
 Josephine returned to Malmaison in the first part 
 of May, while the Emperor and his wife were absent 
 on a visit to the departments of the north. 
 
 During his journey Napoleon wrote her briefly : . . 
 "I desire to see thee very much. If thou art at 
 Malmaison at the end of the month, I shall call. . . . 
 Do not doubt my regard for thee." 
 
 The Emperor kept his word, but made the visit 
 in secret, out of regard for his new wife, who was 
 beginning to experience a feeling of jealousy at the 
 frequent communications of her husband with his 
 discarded spouse. 
 
 In a letter to her daughter, Josephine recounted 
 this visit, which was on the twelfth of June. . . . 
 "I had yesterday a very happy day, for the Emperor 
 came to see me. . . . During the time he is here I 
 seem to have the courage to withhold my tears, but
 
 378 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 as soon as he is gone they will burst forth, and I am 
 very unhappy. 
 
 " He was as good and agreeable as usual, and 
 I only hope that he saw in my heart all the ten- 
 derness and devotion with which it is filled for 
 him." 
 
 Josephine soon sought the waters of Aix, where 
 she was informed of the abdication of the King of 
 Holland, and where her daughter, the Queen, soon 
 after joined her, with her two sons. 
 
 During this absence of Josephine from France, 
 the Emperor, as though desirous of honoring her 
 family through her relatives, consummated the mar- 
 riage of the young aide-de-camp, Louis de Tascher, 
 with the Princess Amelia, whose father was a mem- 
 ber of the Rhine Confederation. This union, which 
 became a very happy one, had a sad beginning, in 
 the death of the Princess's mother, from injuries 
 received at the Austrian Ambassador's ball, in July. 
 She survived but a few days, but before her death 
 expressed her satisfaction at the approaching mar- 
 riage of her daughter with the cousin-german of the 
 Empress Josephine. 
 
 But these attentions, and the affection manifested 
 by Napoleon for his f omer wife, aroused the jealousy 
 of Marie Louise, who, whatever her charms of person 
 and character, had not the lofty, self-sacrificing 
 disposition and amiable characteristics of Josephine. 
 
 She could not understand the nature of their 
 friendship, and doubted the evidence that assumed 
 a friendship without love, a strong affection with-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 379 
 
 out compromising attentions, on the one side or the 
 other. 
 
 Notwithstanding the care taken by the Emperor 
 to conceal his visits to Malmaison from the knowl- 
 edge of the Empress, she became aware of them and 
 he was compelled to submit to her reproaches. In 
 order to calm her, the Emperor ceased his visits and 
 discontinued his correspondence ; then there were 
 complaints from the borders of Lake Geneva, where 
 the first wife had established herself for the season. 
 
 Soon after, Bourrienne, writing of this period, 
 says : "I repaired to Malmaison ; I was ushered into 
 the tent drawing-room, where I found Josephine and 
 Hortense. When I entered Josephine stretched out 
 her hand to me saying, 'Ah, my friend.' These 
 words she pronounced with deep emotion, and tears 
 prevented her from continuing. . . . Josephine 
 confirmed what Duroc had told me respecting the 
 two apartments at Fontainebleau ; then, coming to 
 the period when Bonaparte had declared to her the 
 necessity of a separation, she said : . . . ' On the 
 30th of November we were dining together as usual, 
 I had not uttered a word during that sad dinner, and 
 he had broken silence only to ask one of the serv- 
 ants what o'clock it was. As soon as Bonaparte 
 had taken his coffee, he dismissed all the attendants, 
 and I remained alone with him. I saw in the ex- 
 pression of his countenance what was passing in 
 his mind, and knew that my hour was come. He 
 stepped up to me he was trembling, and I 
 shuddered ; he took my hand, pressed it to his heart,
 
 380 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 and after gazing at me for a few moments in silence 
 he uttered these fatal words : " Josephine, my dear 
 Josephine, you know how I have loved you .... 
 To you, to you alone, I owe the only moments of 
 happiness I have tasted in this world. But, Jose- 
 phine, my destiny is not to be controlled by my will. 
 My dearest affections must yield to the interests of 
 France." 
 
 " ' " Say no more," I exclaimed, " I understand 
 you ; I expected this, but the blow is not the less 
 mortal." I could not say another word ; I know not 
 what happened after, I seemed to lose my reason ; I 
 became insensible, and when I recovered I found my- 
 self in my chamber. Bonaparte came to see me in 
 the evening ; and, oh, Bourrienne, how can I describe 
 to you what I felt at the sight of him ; even the 
 interest he evinced for me seemed an additional 
 cruelty. . . . Alas ... I had good reason to fear 
 ever becoming an Empress.' 
 
 " I knew not what consolation to offer to Josephine ; 
 and knowing as I did the natural lightness of her 
 character, I should have been surprised to find her 
 grief so acute, after the lapse of a year, had I not 
 been aware that there are certain chords which, 
 when struck, do not speedily cease to vibrate in the 
 heart of a woman. Though more than a twelve- 
 month had elapsed since the divorce, grief still 
 preyed on the heart of Josephine. ' You cannot con- 
 ceive, my friend,' she often said to me, * all the tor- 
 ments that I have suffered since that fatal day. I 
 cannot imagine how I survived it. And the first
 
 JOSEPHINE. 381 
 
 time he came to visit me after his marriage what a 
 meeting was that ! . . . How many tears I shed ! 
 The days on which he comes are to me days of 
 misery, for he spares me not. How cruel to speak 
 of his expected heir. Bourrienne, you cannot con- 
 ceive how heart-rending all this is to me. Better, far 
 better, to be exiled a thousand leagues from hence. 
 However, a few friends still remain faithful in my 
 changed fortune, and that is now the only thing 
 which affords me even temporary consolation.' 
 
 " The truth is, that she was extremely unhappy, 
 and the most acceptable consolation her friends 
 could offer was to weep with her. Yet, such was 
 Josephine's passion for dress, that after having wept 
 for a quarter of an hour she would dry her tears to 
 give audience to milliners and dressmakers. 
 
 " One day I remember that, taking advantage of 
 the momentary serenity occasioned by an ample 
 display of sparkling gewgaws, I congratulated her 
 upon the happy influence they exercised over her 
 spirits when she said : ' My dear friend, I ought, 
 indeed, to be indifferent to all this ; but it is a habit.' 
 Josephine might have added that it was also an 
 occupation, for it would be no exaggeration to say 
 that if the time she wasted in tears and at her toilet 
 had been subtracted from her short life, its duration 
 would have been considerably shortened." 
 
 And the Duchesse d'Abrantes, at Malmaison 
 " Upon this the Empress drew closer to me she 
 was already very near and, taking both my hands, 
 said, in a tone of grief which is still present to my
 
 382 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 mind after an interval of four-and-twenty years : 
 1 Madame Junot, I entreat you to tell me all you 
 have heard relating to me. I ask it as a special 
 favor you know that they all desire to ruin me, 
 my Hortense, and my Eugene.' 
 
 "She spoke with the greatest anxiety: her lips 
 trembled, and her hands were damp and cold. ' Ma- 
 dame Junot,' she said, ' remember what I say to you 
 this day : remember that this separation will be my 
 death, and it is they who will have killed me. . . . 
 Yet God is my witness that I love him more than my 
 life, and much more than that throne, that crown, 
 which he has given me.' The Empress may have 
 appeared more beautiful, but never more attractive, 
 than at that moment. If Napoleon had seen her 
 then, surely he could never have divorced her. Ah, 
 in summing up the misfortunes of this fatal year, 
 that divorce must be added to render them com- 
 plete. 
 
 "I went again to Malmaison a few days after- 
 wards with my little Josephine, whom her god-mother 
 had desired me to bring ; this time, as I was alone 
 with her, she did not scruple to open all the sorrows 
 of her heart, and she spoke of her grief with an en- 
 ergy of truth quite distressing. She regretted all she 
 had lost ; but it is justice to say that far above all 
 she regretted the Emperor. The attentions of her 
 children in those days of suffering were admirable. 
 
 " The letters which I received from my friends in 
 Paris naturally made mention of the new Empress. 
 The most varied opinions were pronounced upon
 
 JOSEPHINE. 383 
 
 her ; Cardinal Maury sent me a letter in which he 
 said : ' I will not attempt to describe how much the 
 Emperor is attached to our charming Empress. 
 This time he may be said to be really in love ; more 
 truly in love than he ever was with Josephine ; for, 
 after all, he never saw her while she was very young. 
 She was upward of thirty when they were married. 
 But Marie Louise is as young and as blooming as 
 spring. You will be enchanted with her when you 
 see her ' 
 
 In 1812, she writes : " I observed that Josephine 
 had grown very stout since the time of my de- 
 parture for Spain. This change was at once for 
 the better and the worse. It imparted a more 
 youthful appearance to her face ; but her slender 
 and elegant figure, which had been one of 
 her principal attractions, had entirely disappeared. 
 Still, however, she looked uncommonly well, and 
 she wore a dress which became her admirably. 
 Her exquisite and judicious taste in these matters 
 contributed to make her appear young much 
 longer than she otherwise would. . . . The best 
 proof that can be adduced of the admirable taste of 
 Josephine is the marked absence of elegance dis- 
 played by Marie Louise, though both Empresses 
 employed the same milliners and dressmakers, and 
 Marie Louise had a large sum allotted for the 
 expenses of her toilet."
 
 384 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 NAVARRE AND MALMAISON. 
 
 THE Empress could not banish the specter of ex- 
 ile, and she wrote her daughter, after she had re- 
 turned to Paris, to ascertain the Emperor's inten- 
 tions beyond peradventure. Three weeks passed 
 without news from Hortense three months, they 
 seemed to Josephine who wrote to the Queen, from 
 Berne : . . . "Not one word from thee during the 
 twenty days of our separation. What can be the 
 cause of thy silence ? I confess that I am lost in 
 conjecture and do not know what to think. . . . If I 
 do not hear from thee in three days, ... I shall 
 return to Malmaison ; there, at least, I shall be in 
 France ; and if everybody abandons me I will live 
 alone, serene in the consciousness of having sacrificed 
 my own happiness for the good of others." 
 
 This letter was needless, for on the following day 
 came one from Hortense that put an end to all her 
 fears, for it informed her that the Emperor left her 
 entirely free to do as she pleased : to remain in 
 Switzerland, to go to Italy, or to return to Navarre 
 or even to Malmaison. Soon after he wrote her by 
 his own hand, confirming all that had been trans-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 385 
 
 mitted through the Queen. While he advised her 
 to make the journey to Italy, as a distraction, and 
 to see her son, yet he left her at perfect liberty ; 
 counseling her, however, if she wished to return to 
 France, to take up her residence at Navarre, in pref- 
 erence to Malmaison. Upon the reception of this 
 favor, the Empress at once decided to establish her- 
 self at Navarre, and in this beautiful chateau she 
 resided for nearly a year, not even visiting her be- 
 loved Paris during that period. Here she received 
 the intelligence of the birth of an heir to the throne, 
 (20th March, 1811), in a letter from Napoleon him- 
 self. One of her ladies wrote of this event : - 
 
 "We dared not question the Empress, but ob- 
 serving our curiosity she had the condescension to 
 gratify us with a sight of the letter, which consisted 
 of ten or twelve lines, traced on one page, and was, 
 as usual, covered with blots. I do not exactly re- 
 member the commencement, but the conclusion 
 was, word for word, ' This infant, in concert with 
 our Eugene, will constitute our happiness, and that 
 of France.' 'Is it possible,' remarked the Empress, 
 'for one to be more amiable, or could anything 
 be better calculated to soothe whatever might be 
 painful in my thoughts at this moment, did I not so 
 sincerely love the Emperor. This uniting of my son 
 with his own is indeed worthy of him, who when he 
 wills, is the most delightful of men. This it is 
 which has so much moved me.' 
 
 " She presented the messenger with a diamond 
 brooch valued at 5,000 francs, and arranged a 
 25
 
 386 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 splendid fete in honor of the birth of the King of 
 Rome." 
 
 After some months at Navarre, Josephine left 
 that chateau and established herself at Malmaison, 
 where she was surrounded with a brilliant court, 
 little differing in its details from that of her rival at 
 the Tuileries. This court was that of a veritable sov- 
 ereign, yet with less of etiquette than that at the 
 palace ; greater liberty in its members and more of 
 real pleasure in the great affairs of life. The Em- 
 press here abandoned herself to the indulgence of 
 her tastes for natural history, botany, and the 
 arts. She revived the fortunate days of the First 
 Consulate and having at her command three millions 
 of revenue (which she never imagined could be 
 diminished), she indulged her inclinations for charity 
 and benevolence to the full. 
 
 She launched into a course of extravagance that 
 soon plunged her anew into debt, and some time 
 after drew down upon her a well-merited reproof 
 from Napoleon, whose methodical tastes, even in 
 the matter of large expenditures, were outraged at 
 her recklessness. 
 
 He advised her to conduct her affairs with more 
 economy ; to put aside half of the 3,000,000 he allowed 
 her, for the future ; she would then have, in ten years, 
 a reserve of some 10,000,000, with which she could 
 endow her grandchildren, when they married. 
 
 Instead of that, reports constantly reached him 
 that she was again in debt. What should he think 
 of her : in debt, with three millions of revenue ?
 
 JOSEPHINE. 387 
 
 The Empress deserved this reproof ; indeed, it is 
 wonderful, the patience shown towards her follies 
 by her former spouse. But, although she used to re- 
 ceive his scoldings with indifference, at least with 
 only a gush of tears, this letter produced such an 
 effect upon her that she took to her bed, overcome 
 with chagrin. Information of this having been 
 conveyed to Napoleon, he hastened to send her, by 
 a special messenger, a proof of his continued affec- 
 tion, in this, the last, letter contained in the pub- 
 lished memoirs of Queen Hortense. 
 
 " Friday, eight o'clock in the morning, 1813. 
 
 " I send to know the state of thy health, for Hor- 
 tense tells me that yesterday thou wert all day in 
 bed. I am vexed with thee on account of thy debts ; 
 I did not expect thee to spend all thy income ; on 
 the contrary, I had thought thou wouldst put aside 
 at least a million each year, for thy grandchildren, 
 when they married. 
 
 " Nevertheless, do not doubt my friendship for 
 thee, and do not be vexed on account of what I 
 wrote. Adieu, my friend ; let me kriow that thou 
 art better. They tell me that thou art getting as 
 fat as a Normandy farmer's wife. 
 
 " NAPOLEON." 
 
 As early as the year 1800, we have convincing 
 proof of Josephine's senseless extravagance, as shown 
 in this excerpt from Bourrienne. . . . 
 
 " Bonaparte said to me : ' Talleyrand has been
 
 388 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 speaking to me about the debts of my wife. I have 
 the money from Hamburg, ask her the exact 
 amount of her debts ; let her confess all. I wish to 
 finish, and not begin again. But do not pay with- 
 out showing me the bills of those rascals : they are 
 a gang of robbers.' 
 
 " The next morning I saw Josephine. She was at 
 first delighted with her husband's intentions ; but 
 this feeling did not last long. When I asked her 
 for the exact amount of what she owed she entreated 
 me not to press it, but content myself with what 
 she should confess. 
 
 " She said : ' I can never tell all, it is impossible. 
 Do me the service to keep secret what I say to 
 you. I owe, I believe, about 1,200,000 francs, but I 
 wish to confess to only 600,000 ; I will contract no 
 more debts, and will pay the rest, little by little, out 
 of my savings. I said to her : ' Madame, I cannot 
 deceive you respecting the disposition of the First 
 Consul. He believes that you owe a considerable 
 sum, and is willing to discharge it. You will, I 
 doubt not, have to endure some bitter reproaches 
 and a violent scene ; but the scene will be just the 
 same for the whole as for a part. ... As I do not 
 believe he estimates your debts at so high a sum as 
 600,000 francs I can warrant that you will not 
 experience more displeasure for acknowledging to 
 the whole than to the half ; and by doing so you 
 will get rid of them forever.' 
 
 " ' I can never do it, Bourrienne ; I know him ; I 
 can never support his violence.'
 
 JOSEPHINE. 389 
 
 " At last I was obliged to yield to her earnest solic- 
 itation, and promise to mention only the 600,000 
 francs to the First Consul. 
 
 " His anger and ill-humor may be imagined. He 
 strongly suspected that his wife was dissembling in 
 some respect, but he said : ' Well, take 600,000 
 francs, but liquidate the debt for that sum, and let 
 me hear nothing more on the subject. I authorize 
 you to threaten these tradesmen with paying noth- 
 ing, if they do not reduce their enormous charges. 
 They ought to be taught not to be so ready in giving 
 her credit.' Madame Bonaparte gave me all her 
 bills. The extent to which the articles had been 
 overcharged was inconceivable. I observed in the 
 milliner's bill alone thirty-eight new hats, of great 
 price, in one month. There was likewise a charge 
 of 1,800 francs for heron plumes, and 800 francs for 
 perfumes. I asked Josephine whether she wore out 
 two hats in one day ? She objected to this charge, 
 which she called a mistake. ... I availed myself 
 fully of the First Consul's permission, and spared 
 neither reproaches nor menaces. I am ashamed to 
 say that the greater part of the tradesmen were 
 contented with the half of what they demanded. 
 One of them received 35,000 francs for a bill of 
 80,000 ; and he had the impudence to tell me that he 
 had made a good profit, nevertheless. Finally I was 
 fortunate enough after the most vehement disputes, 
 to settle everything for 600,000 francs. Madame 
 Bonaparte, however, soon fell into the same excesses ; 
 but fortunately money became more plentiful.
 
 390 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 "This inconceivable mania for spending money 
 was almost the sole cause of her unhappiness. Her 
 thoughtless profusion occasioned permanent dis- 
 order in her household until the period of Bona- 
 parte's second marriage, when I am informed she 
 became regular in her expenditure." 
 
 Says Bonaparte's second secretary, Meneval, . . . 
 " She had a mania for having herself painted, and 
 gave her portraits to whoever wished for one. . . . 
 The tradesmen never ceased bringing her diamonds, 
 jewels, shawls, and trinkets of all kinds ; she bought 
 everything, without ever asking the price ; and 
 generally forgot what she had purchased. . . . After 
 the divorce, her income, large as it was, was insuf- 
 ficient ; but the Emperor was more compassionate 
 then, and when sending the Comte Mollien to settle 
 her affairs gave him strict orders not to make her 
 weep. . . . The amiable Josephine had not less ambi- 
 tion in small things than her husband had in great. 
 She felt pleasure in acquiring, but not in possess- 
 ing. . . . My intercourse with Josephine was de- 
 lightful, for I never saw a woman who so constantly 
 entered society with such an equable disposition, or 
 so much of the spirit of kindness, which is the first 
 principle of amiability." 
 
 Again, Bourrienne, in the year 1805. "Bona- 
 parte said to me : ' Bourrienne, you must, before I 
 proceed to Italy, do me a service. Go to my wife ; 
 endeavor once more to make her sensible of her mad 
 extravagance. Every day I discover new instances 
 of it, and it distresses me. When I speak to her on
 
 JOSEPHINE. 391 
 
 the subject I am vexed ; I get angry she weeps. I 
 forgive her, I pay her bills, she makes fair prom- 
 ises ; but the same thing occurs over and over 
 again. If she had only borne me a child. It is the 
 torment of my life not to have had a child. I plainly 
 perceive that my power will never be firmly estab- 
 lished until I have one. If I die without an heir, 
 not one of my brothers is capable of supplying my 
 place. All is begun, but nothing is ended. God 
 knows what will happen. Go and see Josephine ; 
 and, do not forget my injunctions.' ... I ac- 
 quainted the Empress with all that the Emperor 
 had said to me. I reminded her of the affair of the 
 1,200,000 francs, which we had settled with half 
 that sum. I even dropped some allusion to the prom- 
 ises she had made. 'How can I help it,' said she. 
 1 Is it my fault ? ' Josephine uttered these words in 
 a tone of sincerity which was at once affecting and 
 ludicrous. . . . ' All sorts of beautiful things are 
 brought to me ; they are praised up ; I buy them I 
 am not asked for the money and all of a sudden, 
 when I have no money, they come upon me with 
 demands for payment. This reaches Napoleon's 
 ears and he gets angry. When I have money, Bour- 
 rienne, you know how I employ it. I give it princi- 
 pally to the unfortunate, and to the poor emigrants. 
 But I will try to be more economical in the future. 
 Tell him so if you see him again. But is it not my 
 duty to bestow as much in charity as I can ? ' . . . " 
 It was in vain that her errors of extravagance 
 were pointed out ; Josephine never reformed in this
 
 392 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 respect, and to the last was a spendthrift of the hard- 
 earned money given her by the people of France. 
 She entirely changed the aspect of the chateau of 
 Navarre, and was continually expending large sums 
 in the embellishment of Malmaison. She had a 
 model sheep- farm and introduced rare varieties of 
 merinos ; a dairy, in charge of Swiss, whom she 
 had brought with her, who lived in a pretty chalet 
 and were clad in their national costume. The gal- 
 lery, the green-house, the botanic garden, the men- 
 agerie : all these received her unwearied attention, 
 and consumed her millions. She was in almost 
 daily consultation with M. Lenoir, on art ; Redoute, 
 the flower-painter ; Isabey, her designer ; and M. 
 Aime Bonpland, the great botanist, celebrated for 
 his voyages in company with Humboldt.* Malmai- 
 son did not lack for company and distinguished 
 guests ; among them Cambaceres, as well as the 
 courtiers of the Tuileries ; for, since the birth of 
 the king of Rome, Marie Louise had lost her jealous 
 fears, and Napoleon frequently inquired of his 
 friends as to news from Josephine. Quick to take 
 this hint, the obsequious courtiers thronged the 
 
 * Malmaison : Fontaine, 1800 : " Madame Bonaparte is much dis- 
 tressed at our making some straight paths ; she wants everything 
 done in the English fashion. . . . Our heresy in regard to the present 
 fashion of gardens has much injured us in her estimation. . . . To 
 speak about order and regularity in a garden was sheer blasphemy. . , . 
 She is ordering some new decorations, and wants us to give our at- 
 tention to the gardens, the waters, the hot-houses, in short, to every- 
 thing which can make this place more agreeable ; for she regards it 
 as her own private property." .
 
 JOSEPHINE. 393 
 
 courts of Malmaison, and swelled the lists of visitors. 
 
 But there was one room rarely exposed to the 
 gaze of the vulgar and frivolous : that last occupied 
 by Bonaparte when there. Everything remained j ust 
 as he had left it : A volume of history, with leaf 
 turned down and a pen beside it ; a map of the world, 
 upon which he used to trace his marches across the 
 enemy's country ; his camp-bed, his arms, his ap- 
 parel hung upon the wall ; all in fact that could re- 
 mind the forsaken wife of him who had been so 
 much to her, and whose loss she so bitterly deplored. 
 
 It is well known that Napoleon often visited 
 Josephine in her retirement at Malmaison ; of one 
 of these visits she says : " He threw himself with 
 transports into my arms ; it seemed impossible to 
 cease gazing upon me, and his look was that of the 
 most tender affection. ' My dear Josephine, I have 
 always loved you ; I love you still. ' ' I endeavored 
 to efface you from my heart,' said I, 'and you again 
 present yourself. All my efforts are useless ; to love 
 you, and to die, that is my fate.' ' 
 
 Madame de Remusat says of Josephine at this 
 time, that she never opened a book, she never took 
 up a pen, and never touched a needle ; and yet, she 
 never seemed in the least bored. This is very evi- 
 dently a malicious slander ; for we have seen that 
 Josephine often used the pen, and freely wrote to 
 her family ; her reading was done by the ladies, her 
 lectrices, paid for that purpose. 
 
 Malmaison itself is a monument to the taste and 
 genius of Josephine, who made it the beautiful re-
 
 394 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 treat that it was. France is indebted to her for many 
 new plants, for many ideas in landscape and floral 
 effects, introduced at this very place, Malmaison. 
 
 After the death of Josephine the estate passed 
 through several hands, finally becoming the prop- 
 erty of the Spanish Queen, Christina, who resided 
 here some seventeen years, and who kept the build- 
 ings in repair and preserved the place somewhat as 
 it was in the time of its original owner. In 1867, 
 Napoleon III. secured possession of Malmaison and, 
 with the co-operation of Eugenie, refurnished the 
 rooms with articles that had belonged to Josephine, 
 his grandmother. During the exposition of that 
 year many visitors came here to pay their tribute of 
 affection to Josephine. But, three years later, dur- 
 ing the Prussian invasion, the barbarous soldiers 
 committed many atrocities, defaced the walls and 
 furniture, destroyed paintings, and left the once- 
 beautiful Malmaison in ruin and neglect. 
 
 To-day, though dismantled and forlorn, Malmai- 
 son is still in evidence : one may stroll through its 
 deserted chambers, be told the spot where Josephine 
 breathed her last ; view the dining-room where she 
 so often graced the hospitable board, and be shown 
 the place where occurred the last parting between 
 Hortense and Napoleon. 
 
 Next to her birthplace, where her happiest years 
 were passed, the lover of Josephine will hold Mal- 
 maison, where Josephine found rest and recreation, 
 where she imprinted her image upon its walls and 
 gardens ; where she sorrowed out her declining years.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 395 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 ELBA AND FONTAINEBLEAU. 
 
 JOSEPHINE had, it is true, accepted her fate, but 
 she lived in the remembrance of happier days, and 
 ever cherished the objects of her tenderness and her 
 regrets. She desired to see the King of Rome, and 
 at last, to gratify her, Napoleon arranged an inter- 
 view at Bagatelle in the Bois de Bologne. At sight 
 of him she could not restrain her tears, and embraced 
 him with all the ardor of a mother long denied ac- 
 cess to her offspring. "Ah, my dear child," she 
 murmured, while raining kisses upon his face, 
 " thou wilt some time know, perhaps, all thou hast 
 cost me." 
 
 The Emperor hastened to end this affecting scene, 
 which was a trial to his patience, and took the little 
 king away. This was their last interview ; he 
 soon departed op the Russian campaign ; already 
 were in motion the events that preceded his last 
 fling at fate, that ended in the final catastrophe. 
 
 We will not recount the horrors of the Russian 
 campaign ; nor the terrible retreat, which began at 
 the ruins of burning Moscow, and finally ended be- 
 fore the walls of Paris, soon to be in the possession 
 of the enemy. This account belongs to the history
 
 396 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 of Napoleon ; but incidentally Josephine is involved 
 in the final overthrow, in the disasters that over- 
 took her country, which crushed the man to whom 
 she was united till death, and in the revolution that 
 hurled him from the supreme power ; for these 
 hastened the close of her own life. 
 
 We know the honorable part taken by her son, 
 the ever-faithful Eugene, in the last retreat : that 
 he bravely performed his duty, and in the face of 
 overwhelming obstacles, extricated the remnant of 
 his army and brought it safe to Italy ; that he re- 
 covered, and first took the field, at Bonaparte's call 
 to arms ; that he won an important victory over the 
 Austrians, and was held by Napoleon worthy to 
 succeed him as his heir. 
 
 One of the last letters written by Josephine was 
 to her son, bidding him hasten to rejoin Napoleon. 
 
 Bonaparte, in the month of February, 1814, seeing 
 France invested on every side, at first resolved to 
 call to his aid Eugene and his army. He wrote to 
 this effect to Josephine, who at once sent to her son 
 a patriotic appeal for his assistance : . . . 
 
 MALMAISON, 9th Feburary, 1814. 
 
 " Do not lose an instant, my dear Eugene, what- 
 ever may be the obstacles, to comply with the 
 Emperor's orders. He has written me on this 
 subject. . . . France above all, France has need of 
 all her children. . . . Come, then, my dear son, 
 hasten, never could thy zeal so well serve the 
 Emperor as now. Every moment is precious. . . .
 
 JOSEPHINE. 397 
 
 " Adieu, my dear Eugene, I have only time to em- 
 brace thee and to repeat : come as quickly as 
 possible. * 
 
 " JOSEPHINE." 
 
 But the repeated successes of both Eugene and 
 Bonaparte caused the latter to send a counter-order, 
 by the hands of Eugene's aide-de-camp, the Count 
 de Tascher, who had come to announce the victory 
 of the Mincio. Eugene was directed to defend the 
 soil of Italy, foot by foot, to retire, only when com- 
 pelled, beyond the Alps, and to retain his title as 
 long as possible to the throne of Italy. 
 
 Bonaparte had proposed at the council of Chatillon 
 to renounce the crown of Italy in favor of his 
 designated heir, the Prince Eugene Napoleon, and 
 to his descendants in perpetuity. 
 
 The struggle again began between the armies of 
 all Europe united against the single army of France, 
 each day rendered more feeble by its very successes. 
 
 But, notwithstanding the prodigies of valor per- 
 formed by the French under the direction of the 
 great captain, whose clairvoyant genius recalled the 
 best days of the Italian campaign, the allied troops 
 continued to advance upon Paris. The 25th of 
 March, in fact, the Emperor of Austria announced 
 his manifesto, in which he declared to the French 
 that the sovereignty of him who had espoused his 
 own daughter was inimical to the peace of Europe 
 and incompatible with the best interests of France. 
 
 The Empress Josephine had decided not to leave
 
 398 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Malmaison until the last moment, for there she was 
 in direct communication with Paris, where her 
 daughter and many friends resided, and whence she 
 could derive the latest intelligence from the Emperor, 
 concerning whose movements she manifested the 
 liveliest anxiety. 
 
 We have, unfortunately, no letters of this critical 
 period that will throw light upon the sentiments of 
 Napoleon and Josephine ; their correspondence was 
 doubtless intermitted by the pressure of affairs. As 
 for Queen Hortense, she was continually passing 
 between Paris and Malmaison, carrying comfort 
 and cheer to her anxious mother, keeping in touch 
 with the court at the Tuileries, gleaning scant news 
 from Marie Louise, who had been appointed regent 
 during the absence of Bonaparte, and from his 
 brother Joseph who was at the head of the govern- 
 ment. 
 
 By the last of March the allied army was close 
 upon Paris, and the inhabitants, notwithstanding 
 their confidence in Bonaparte, were in a tumult. 
 Many believed, with Hortense, that the Emperor 
 would appear in season to effect their deliverance. 
 She herself hastened to the Tuileries to entreat the 
 Empress-regent not to leave Paris at the mercy of 
 their foes ; but too late ; that very afternoon, at an 
 extraordinary council, composed of the regent, the 
 brothers of Napoleon and the ministers of the 
 Empire, it was decided that the defense of the capital 
 was impracticable, and that Marie Louise, the young 
 King of Rome, and the heads of government, should
 
 JOSEPHINE. 399 
 
 retire to Blois. This was in conformity to the orders 
 of Napoleon, before his departure, who feared for 
 the safety of his wife and son, should they fall into 
 the hands of the enemy. 
 
 As soon as she had been informed of this decision, 
 Hortense despatched a courier, at one o'clock in the 
 morning, to warn her mother to prepare at once for 
 departure for Navarre, where she would be less 
 exposed to danger. The next day the enemy entered 
 Paris, close upon the departure of the royal house- 
 hold, and almost at the same hour that Napoleon 
 himself arrived at Fontainebleau. 
 
 Meanwhile, Josephine had acted upon her daugh- 
 ter's advice and had gained in safety the retreat of 
 Navarre, though only after a fright at the prospect 
 of capture by the Cossacks, which must have brought 
 to mind her perils during the first campaign in 
 Italy. 
 
 She remained several days a prey to the most 
 agonizing suspense respecting the fate of her 
 daughter, her son, and of Napoleon. 
 
 France was invaded, humiliated ; the enemy was 
 in possession of the capital ; more than this she 
 knew not ; two days she rested in this cruel state of 
 uncertainty. But on the second of April, she was 
 rejoiced at the arrival of her daughter and her two 
 children, who had twice narrowly escaped capture 
 by the enemy, while on the road to Navarre. From 
 Hortense she learned that her worst fears were 
 realized, as to the capture of Paris ; but from her 
 she received no tidings of Napoleon. Three days
 
 400 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 passed ; all the routes leading from Paris, from 
 Fontainebleau, and from Blois, were in possession of 
 the allies, and all information intercepted. But at 
 last, the fourth night, a courier was announced 
 from Fontainebleau. Josephine was apprised of his 
 arrival, and her heart leaped with joy at the prospect 
 of news from the Emperor. 
 
 "He is alive, then? Tell me!" she demanded 
 of the messenger. She threw a shawl over her 
 shoulders and admitted him at once into her chamber, 
 the tears raining over her face as the courier detailed 
 all the sad occurrences of the past few days : of the 
 projected abdication, of the decree of banishment to 
 Elba. 
 
 "Ah," she sighed; "unhappy Napoleon; exiled 
 to Elba ! If it were not for his wife, I should demand 
 to go with him." 
 
 She envied Marie Louise the privilege she had of 
 sharing his exile ; not doubting her desire to do so, 
 and unable to believe in the perfidy of one who had 
 borne him an heir, and who later dishonored her 
 name and brought reproach upon her royal spouse. 
 
 The grief of Hortense was equally profound ; it 
 was not alone a crown she had lost, a high fortune 
 cast down ; but she lamented the misfortunes of 
 one who had called her daughter, whose regard for 
 her had ever been delicate and tender. Hers was a 
 most unfortunate position : isolated as she was, 
 without a place for retreat ; sharing the odium now 
 attached to the name of Bonaparte, without sharing 
 the affections of any of the family. Her mother's
 
 JOSEPHINE, BY PRUD'HON.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 401 
 
 position was, if anything, more enviable, for the 
 divorce had rendered her free, had detached her from 
 the family which was now so hateful to the 
 returning Bourbons, and she could still reside in 
 France. 
 
 "I have no fortune but my diamonds," she said 
 to a lady of her mother's court ; "I will sell them 
 and with the proceeds I will go to Martinique, to 
 the old plantation belonging to my family, which 
 I visited in my youth and where I passed many 
 happy days. There I will rear my children and be 
 content." 
 
 That she did not accomplish her intention is well 
 known ; and of the career of her youngest son, who 
 become the Napoleon III. of later times, history 
 has informed us. 
 
 A lady of the court was despatched to Paris for 
 intelligence of the Emperor and Eugene ; but for 
 several days the forsaken ones at Navarre were in 
 ignorance of passing events. On the thirteenth of 
 April Josephine was advised of the conclusion of 
 the treaty, signed two days previously at Fontaine- 
 bleau, in which the Emperor renounced all claim to 
 the throne of France and Italy, and adopted Elba 
 for his future sovereignty. 
 
 To the last, he had been thoughtful of those whose 
 elevation was due to him, who would be affected by 
 his downfall, stipulating that all their rights and 
 privileges should be preserved, and their pensions 
 paid. 
 
 Josephine and her family were especially re- 
 26
 
 402 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 membered, her revenue fixed at a million of francs ; 
 her son and daughter secured in a position compat- 
 ible to their former station. 
 
 These stipulations show clearly that he still 
 regarded her with tenderness ; but he departed from 
 Fontainebleau, on the twenty-first of April, without 
 one word of farewell for her whose heart was 
 slowly breaking from love of him, at the castle of 
 Navarre. 
 
 Whilst the Emperor was directing his way to his 
 place of exile, the last week in April, Josephine, 
 yielding to the solicitations of her friends, returned 
 toMalmaison. There she was rejoined by Queen 
 Hortense, who had at first intended to offer her 
 services to Marie Louise ; but being coldly received, 
 had returned to her place of duty by her mother's 
 side. She found a distinguished visitor at Malmai- 
 son, in the person of the Emperor Alexander, who, 
 as soon as he had been apprised of Josephine's return, 
 had hastened to assiire her of his respect, and to 
 extend to her and her children his protection and 
 sympathy. 
 
 Says the Duchess d'Abrantes : " After Bona- 
 parte's abdication ... I went to Malmaison the 
 day after receiving his letter from Fontainebleau. 
 . . . My name was no sooner mentioned to the 
 Empress than she desired I should be admitted. 
 . . . She was still in bed, and stretching out her 
 arms as soon as she saw me she burst into tears and 
 exclaimed : ' Alas, Madame Junot ! Madame Junot ! ' 
 I was deeply affected. I knew how sincerely she
 
 JOSEPHINE. 403 
 
 was attached to the Emperor ; and at this moment 
 every reproach she had to make was cast into the 
 shade by the heavy misfortune which oppressed 
 him. . . . When I told her of my having received 
 a letter from Fontainebleau, she said to me with 
 an eagerness she had never before displayed, ' Oh, 
 I beseech you, do read me that letter ; read the 
 ivhole of it ; I desire to know everything.' The 
 contents were very painful to Josephine's heart, as 
 many passages related to the King of Rome and to 
 Marie Louise. ' What think you of that woman ? ' 
 demanded the Empress, looking at me with a re- 
 markable expression of countenance. ' I, Madame ? 
 What I have always thought, that such a woman 
 should never have crossed the frontiers of France. 
 I say so from the bottom of my heart.' 'Indeed,' 
 said Josephine, fixing on me her eyes bathed in 
 tears, but smiling at the idea that I shared her 
 opinion. 'Madame Junot,' said the Empress, at 
 length, ' I have a great mind to write 'to Napoleon. 
 Would you know the reason ? I wish he would 
 permit my accompanying him to the island of Elba, 
 if Marie Louise should keep away. Do you think 
 she will follow him ? ' 
 
 " 'Quite the contrary ; she is incapable of doing 
 so.' 
 
 " I then observed to her that the Emperor's consent 
 that she should go to the island of Elba was more 
 than doubtful. She seemed astonished. 'Why 
 should he refuse it ? ' ' Because his sisters will 
 assuredly go there, as well as Madame Mere. Let
 
 404 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 your Majesty recollect all you have suffered when 
 seated on the throne of France, in the imperial 
 palace of the Tuileries, when strong in the title of 
 the Emperor's consort. If, when you were sover- 
 eign, Madame, the Emperor's sisters could disturb 
 your repose, what might they not do at the present 
 day?' 
 
 ' ' The Empress fell into a deep meditation, a cir- 
 cumstance of rare occurrence. ' I think you are 
 right,' she said at last; 'I think you are right.' 
 She remained for some time with her head resting 
 upon her hand." 
 
 Viewing them in the relation of wife and daughter 
 of a vanquished sovereign, the Emperor Alexander 
 assured Hortense and Josephine of every attention, 
 and with delicate tact endeavored to mitigate the 
 unpleasant features of their situation. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Empress was gladdened by the 
 arrival of Eugene, from whom she had been a long 
 time separated, and of whom she had heard nothing 
 for many days. She was now happy and content, 
 in the companionship of both her children, whom 
 she entreated not to leave her, unless they would be 
 instrumental in shortening her life. They promised 
 to remain with her to the last, and her only anxiety 
 now was for the Emperor. Eugene had held out 
 to the very end, only surrendering his command 
 when he could do so with honor, and after stipulat- 
 ing for the safety of his officers and soldiers. His 
 conduct had won universal approbation, and no one 
 thought of hindering his journey to France, for the
 
 JOSEPHINE. 405 
 
 honorable purpose of comforting his mother and 
 sister in their unhappy state. 
 
 The Emperor Alexander went to Malmaison for 
 the express purpose of renewing to him the offers of 
 assistance he had made to Josephine and Hortense. 
 The Duke of Orleans, as the old friend of his father, 
 whom Eugene so strongly resembled, was also well 
 disposed towards him ; but, as the adopted son of 
 Napoleon, he was to share in the downfall of his 
 chief. Notwithstanding the active and well-meant 
 efforts of Alexander, who would have restored Eu- 
 gene to his former position, in accordance with the 
 wishes of Napoleon, as expressed in his abdication 
 and at Chatillon, the treaty of Fontainebleau was 
 disregarded. 
 
 Deprived of the prospect of her revenue, and un- 
 der the impression that she was soon to be banished 
 from France, yet Josephine forgot her own troubles 
 in her anxiety for the fate of her children. To 
 secure their welfare, she implored the Emperor of 
 Russia to exert himself in their behalf, as the great- 
 est favor he could bestow upon an abandoned wife 
 and tender mother. 
 
 Of her children, and of the unhappy fate of him 
 who had raised them all to the supremest height, 
 and who would have saved them from participation 
 in his fall, had it been possible, she spoke unceas- 
 ingly. 
 
 On the fifteenth of May, the Empress went to 
 pass a few days at the chateau of Saint-Leu, with 
 Hortense. The Emperor Alexander also visited
 
 406 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 there at the same time, and they went to ride in 
 the woods of Montmorency. On her return to Mal- 
 maison, Josephine felt so fatigued that she retired 
 to her apartment, leaving her daughter to entertain 
 their guests. 
 
 When she had regained the seclusion of her 
 chamber, Josephine threw herself into a reclining 
 chair, in a state of painful melancholy. Her reader, 
 Mile. Cochelet, had accompanied her, and reports in 
 her memoirs the conversation that then ensued. 
 After a short silence the Empress said sadly, " Ma- 
 demoiselle Cochelet, I cannot throw off this distress- 
 ing melancholy which has seized upon me ; I have 
 made every effort to conceal it from my children, 
 but I only suffer the more. I begin to lose all 
 hope. The Emperor of Russia seems to be filled 
 with regard and affection for us, but of what good 
 are his promises to my son, my daughter, and her 
 children ? 
 
 "Is he not in a position to do something for 
 them ? Do you know what will happen when he 
 shall have departed ? The Bourbons will not fulfill 
 their promises ; I shall see my children at their 
 mercy, unhappy ; and I cannot endure this thought. 
 ... I already suffer enough on account of Napo- 
 leon, now stripped of all his greatness, exiled to a 
 distant isle, abandoned by all his friends ; must I 
 now see my children fugitives, at the sport of 
 evil fortune ? . . . I feel that this doubt will kill 
 me." 
 
 The lectrice tried to comfort her by pointing out
 
 JOSEPHINE. 407 
 
 with what assiduity the Emperor of Russia had at- 
 tended upon her and the zeal he had manifested in 
 her children's cause ; but Josephine was not to be 
 deceived ; she felt assured of the enmity of the 
 Bourbons, and above all of the house of Austria.
 
 408 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 DEATH OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 IT is true, as Josephine declared, that the Bour- 
 bons were indebted to the first wife of Napoleon for 
 many and great favors, some of them even for their 
 lives ; yet none of them came near her in her honor- 
 able exile, or manifested an interest in her fate. 
 She was, however, " the only member of the imperial 
 family whose titles and honors were preserved ; " a 
 guard of honor watched around her retreat, and she 
 was surrounded by the most illustrious personages 
 of Europe. "A few days after the Emperor Alex- 
 ander's visit to Marie Louise," says Bourrienne, 
 " he paid his respects to Bonaparte's other wife, 
 Josephine. In this breaking up of empires and king- 
 doms the unfortunate Josephine, who had suffered 
 agonies on account of the husband who had aban- 
 doned her, was not forgotten. One of the first 
 things the Emperor of Russia did on arriving at 
 Paris, was to despatch a guard for the protection of 
 Malmaison. . . . The allied sovereigns treated her 
 with delicacy and consideration. As soon as Alex- 
 ander knew that Josephine had returned to Mal- 
 maison he hastened to pay her a visit. It is not pos-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 409 
 
 sible to be more amiable than he was to her. When, 
 in the course of conversation, he spoke of the 
 occupation of Paris by the allied armies, and of the 
 position of the Emperor Napoleon, it was always in 
 perfectly measured language ; he never forgot for an 
 instant that he was speaking to the wife of a van- 
 quished enemy. 
 
 '' On her side, the Empress did not conceal the ten- 
 der sentiments, the lively affection, she still felt 
 for Napoleon. . . . Alexander certainly had some- 
 thing elevated and magnanimous in his character, 
 which would not permit him to say a single word 
 capable of insulting misfortune ; the Empress had 
 only one prayer to make to him, and that was for 
 
 her children This visit was soon followed 
 
 by another, from the other allied princes. The King 
 of Prussia came frequently, to pay his court to Jo- 
 sephine ; he even dined with her several times at 
 Malmaison ; but the Emperor Alexander came much 
 more frequently. . . . Queen Hortense was always 
 with her mother when she received the sovereigns, 
 and assisted her in doing the honors of the house. 
 The illustrious strangers exceedingly admired Mal- 
 maison, which seemed to them a charming residence, 
 and were particularly struck with its fine gardens 
 and conservatories. . . . 
 
 " From this time, however, Josephine's health visi- 
 bly declined, and she did not live to see Napoleon's 
 return from Elba. She often said to her attendants : 
 ' I do not know what is the matter with me, but at 
 times I have fits of melancholy enough to kill
 
 410 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 me.' ... But, on the very brink of the grave, she 
 retained all her amiability, all her love of dress, 
 and the graces and resources of a drawing-room 
 society." 
 
 We cannot overlook two letters of this period, 
 attributed to Napoleon and Josephine, and which, if 
 genuine, give us a glimpse into the hearts of their 
 illustrious writers : The first, from Napoleon. . . . 
 
 " FONTAIXEBLEAU, 16th April, 1814. 
 
 " DEAR JOSEPHINE, I wrote to you on the eighth 
 of this month, but perhaps you have not received my 
 letter, as hostilities still continue, and it may have 
 been intercepted. At present, communication must 
 be re-established. 
 
 " I have formed my resolution : I will not repeat 
 what I said to you : then I lamented my situation, 
 now I congratulate myself thereon. ... I am no\v 
 free from an enormous weight. My fall was great, 
 but at least it is useful, as men say. In my retreat I 
 shall substitute the pen for the sword. ... I have 
 heaped benefits upon millions of wretches. What 
 have they done in the end for me ? They have all 
 betrayed me. Yes, all. I except from this number 
 the good Eugene, so worthy of you and of me. 
 Adieu, my dear Josephine ; be resigned, as I am, 
 and ever remember him who never forgot, and 
 never will forget you. Farewell, Josephine. 
 
 " P. S. I expect to hear from you at Elba ; I am 
 not very well. 
 
 " NAPOLEON."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 411 
 
 To which Josephine replied, in this, her last com- 
 munication to her exiled friend and former hus- 
 band : 
 
 "SlRE, Now only can I calculate the whole ex- 
 tent of the misfortune of having beheld my union 
 with you dissolved by law ; now indeed do I lament 
 being no more than your friend, who can but 
 mourn over a misfortune great as it is unex- 
 pected. ... I have been on the point of quit- 
 ting France to follow your footsteps, and to 
 consecrate to you the remainder of an existence 
 which you so long embellished. A single motive 
 restrained me, and that you may divine. If I learn 
 that, contrary to all appearances, I am the only one 
 who will fulfill her duty, nothing shall restrain me, 
 and I will go to the only place where henceforth 
 there can be happiness for me, since I shall be able 
 to console you when you are there isolated and un- 
 fortunate. 
 
 " Say but the word, and I depart. Adieu, sire ; 
 whatever I would add would still be too little ; it is 
 no longer by words that my sentiments for you are 
 to be proved, and for actions your consent is nec- 
 essary. 
 
 " JOSEPHINE." 
 
 Although plunged into the profoundest melan- 
 choly, Josephine, in order to reassure her son and 
 daughter, assumed a calmness that was foreign to 
 her feelings. , But she could not conceal from them,
 
 412 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 from the searching eyes of love, her deep distress 
 and increasing grief. A week passed thus ; though 
 amiable and apparently cheerful in the company of 
 her little court, now so sadly diminished, when alone 
 she abandoned herself to tears and sad reflection. 
 In truth, she was hurt to the heart ; her grief had 
 undermined her health ; the sleepless nights of agony 
 had inflamed her blood. She uttered no complaint, 
 she even tried to maintain her old air of cheerful 
 gayety, but her children and her ladies were op- 
 pressed by painful presentiments. 
 
 On Monday, the twenty-third of May, the King 
 of Prussia and his two sons came to dine with her, 
 and Josephine, though for days she had been visibly 
 suffering, received them with her old-time grace, 
 and so successfully maintained the character of 
 agreeable hostess, that they departed in the belief 
 that she was fully recovered. The next day she 
 was obliged to receive the Eussian Grand Dukes, 
 who afterwards went driving with Eugene, while 
 Hortense remained at home with her mother. As 
 the Empress seemed to be suffering from a slight 
 cold, her daughter urged her to retire to her room ; 
 but she declined, and went down to dinner. In the 
 evening, however, after several attempts to rally 
 from the fatigues of the day, she retired to a near 
 apartment, leaving to Hortense the honors of hostess 
 during the stay of the Russian princes. The next 
 morning, when her reader went to her room for the 
 orders of the day, she found the Empress in tears, 
 and holding in her hand a paper, which she held
 
 JOSEPHINE. 413 
 
 out to her, demanding excitedly if her daughter had 
 seen it. "If she has not," she said, "then take 
 good care she does not see it. Read this terrible 
 article, which some one has written, about her poor, 
 dead child. My God ! Is it possible ? Yes, they 
 have dared to ravish the dead, to descend even to 
 the tomb. It is as though the times of the Revolu- 
 tion had returned. Ah me, what infamy ! " 
 
 This anonymous attack upon the honor of her 
 cherished child increased her melancholy, and 
 plunged her into a stupor of grief. She became 
 rapidly worse, and on the morrow, as Hortense 
 entered her chamber at an early hour, she found her 
 breathing with difficulty. Greatly alarmed, she 
 called the court physician, who agreed with her that 
 her mother was suffering from more than a common 
 cold, and assented to a consultation. This Jose- 
 phine opposed, for fear of causing pain to the 
 doctor in attendance ; but, in order to allay her 
 children's fears, promised to keep her bed for the day. 
 
 Eugene was then suffering from fever, and 
 obliged to remain in his room ; but this fact 
 Hortense strove to keep from her mother, and made 
 every preparation for attending both patients, 
 though herself fatigued. 
 
 A relapse occurred on the twenty-seventh, of so 
 alarming a nature that Hortense decided to send to 
 Paris for assistance, when she was informed of the 
 arrival of the first physician of the Emperor Alex- 
 ander's household, with inquiries from his royal 
 master and the information that he himself was to
 
 414 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 dine with them at Malmaison, on the morrow. 
 Josephine at once returned her thanks and began to 
 occupy herself with preparations for entertaining 
 her august visitor, whom she proposed to receive in 
 person.* At the solicitation of Hortense, however, 
 the Russian physician was permitted to have an 
 interview with her mother, and he did not conceal 
 from the daughter that the patient's condition was 
 very serious and demanded immediate and energetic 
 measures. 
 
 A consultation was held, it was declared that the 
 Empress was suffering from a dangerous attack of 
 quinsy ; but, although, the physicians feared it 
 was too late for remedies to be of avail, they con- 
 cealed their worst fears from the watchers, and 
 awaited in anxiety the result. Queen Hortense 
 scarcely left her mother's side, and then only to 
 hasten to Eugene, whose fever had increased to the 
 point of creating great anxiety in his behalf. The 
 Empress, noticing her son's continued absence, was 
 finally informed of his illness, and begged her 
 daughter to bestow her time upon her brother, or at 
 least to seek the rest she so much needed. 
 
 During the night, Josephine sank perceptibly, and 
 the Queen decided to dispatch a messenger to Alex- 
 
 * " After the divorce, at Malmaison, she (Josephine) had the same 
 luxurious tastes, and dressed with as much care, even when she saw 
 no one. On the day of her death, she insisted on being dressed in a 
 very elegant robe de chambre, because she thought that the Emperor 
 of Russia might come to see her. . . . She died covered with ribbons 
 and pale rose satin." Mme. de Remusat.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 415 
 
 ander, requesting him to postpone his visit ; but 
 before the courier could reach Paris, his Majesty 
 arrived at Malmaison, several hours in advance of 
 the hour appointed, having been anxious to learn of 
 the exact condition of the Empress. Hortense in- 
 formed him of her fears, and then had him con- 
 ducted to her brother's chamber, where he passed 
 the day, being rejoined by the Queen at dinner. 
 After the ceremony was over she excused herself 
 and again hastened to her mother's bedside ; but the 
 Emperor remained with Eugene until assured that 
 Josephine was resting easily, and took his departure 
 late in the afternoon. His presence had been con- 
 cealed from Josephine, who, it was feared, would 
 have wished to rise to receive him, and thereby 
 suffer a relapse. Though oppressed by the fatigue 
 of continued watching, Hortense wished to pass the 
 night with her mother, who insisted that she should 
 retire to her own room to rest. One of the ladies 
 in waiting, the Duchess d'Arberg, joined in her en- 
 treaties, promising to inform her if she should be 
 be needed, and the Queen retired, though at a late 
 hour, and only after the assurance that she should 
 be notified of the slightest alarming symptom. She 
 went to her room, but not to sleep, several times 
 rising during the night and seeking the bedside of 
 the patient sufferer. Josephine uttered no com- 
 plaints and did not appear to suffer, except from an 
 increased difficulty of breathing ; but she was wake- 
 ful, and her mind seemed to be wandering amid the 
 scenes of the recent past. She frequently repeated
 
 416 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 in a low tone, as if communing with herself : " Bona- 
 parte . . . Elba . . . Marie Louise." Alarmed 
 at this incoherence, Hortense sought her brother, 
 who, somewhat recovered from his fever, accom- 
 panied her to the Empres's chamber. Their mother 
 was still conscious ; as her children approached the 
 bedside her eyes filled with tears, and she endeavored 
 to stretch forth her arms to embrace them. But 
 those loving arms, so often their refuge in the past, 
 which had ever encircled them, protecting them 
 from the attacks of hate and malice, were now 
 powerless to bestow the last, farewell embrace. It 
 was with difficulty Josephine could speak to them, 
 and her features had so changed, in the short time 
 that had elapsed since they last saw her, that they 
 were forced to recognize the near approach of final 
 dissolution. Oppressed by her emotions, Hortense 
 was obliged to retire from the chamber, while 
 Eugene, summoning all his courage, gathered his 
 mother tenderly in his arms, pressing her head to 
 his breast. There she lay, peacefully, looking the 
 love she could not adequately express in words, 
 while her son scanned the faces of the physicians, 
 to learn if this were, indeed, the last hour of 
 Josephine's fitful existence. They could give him 
 no hope, and intimated that it were well, if she so 
 desired, that she should be provided with the last 
 sacraments. The Queen's chaplain was summoned, 
 and, leaving him to prepare their mother for the 
 viaticum, the son and daughter retired to the 
 chapel, where they knelt in prayer. Soon they re-
 
 JOSEPHINE. 417 
 
 turned to the chamber of death. As they entered, 
 Josephine vainly attempted to embrace them, and 
 made a futile effort to speak. Her features had 
 undergone a mortal change ; it was but too evident 
 that her last hour had arrived, and Hortense, over- 
 come by this conviction, fainted, and was borne 
 from the chamber. Kneeling at his mother's side, 
 Eugene drew her within his embrace, where, a few 
 minutes later, with a last look of love in her glazing 
 eyes, she expired.* 
 
 Imprinting a kiss upon the pallid lips, Eugene 
 gently released the inanimate form, and with trem- 
 bling steps sought his sister, to inform her of their 
 misfortune, and to mingle his tears with hers. The 
 household of Malmaison was plunged into mourn- 
 ing, and as the sad intelligence spread abroad, the 
 people in all places and of all degrees lamented 
 their "good Josephine," whose hold upon their 
 hearts was strong and deep. 
 
 11 In company with Mme. d'Arberg," wrote Mile. 
 Cochelet, " I remained by the side of her whose life 
 had fled, and, thinking to preserve a souvenir of 
 the departed, for those she had loved so well, I cut 
 off a portion of the beautiful tresses, which enframed 
 the face, now so calm, and upon which rested a 
 peaceful smile. . . . 
 
 * The (alleged) last words of Josephine were : 
 
 "At least, I shall die regretted ; I have always desired the happi- 
 ness of France ; I did all in my power to contribute to it ; and I can 
 say with truth, to all of you now present, that the first wife of 
 Napoleon never caused a single tear to flow." 
 
 27
 
 418 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 " It would be impossible to depict the grief of the 
 Prince Eugene, and Queen Hortense, at the loss of 
 this adorable mother, whose life had been one long 
 devotion to them and her family." 
 
 The body of the Empress was embalmed, enclosed 
 in a double casket of lead and mahogany, and 
 exposed upon a catafalque in the grand vestibule, 
 where it was visited by upwards of twenty thousand 
 people. Even gay and frivolous Paris was visibly 
 affected by the sad intelligence of Josephine's 
 death, where it inflicted a painful impression upon 
 all. 
 
 All, sovereigns and foreign princes ; even the 
 royal family of France, sent their condolences to the 
 children of the late Empress. The Emperor Alex- 
 ander, who had intended paying his respects in per- 
 son, learning that Eugene could not attend the 
 obsequies, on account of his illness, sent one of his 
 generals to represent him. 
 
 The last tributes were offered on the second of 
 June, in the church of Rueil, which had been 
 restored by the care of Josephine, and in which she 
 had expressed a wish to be interred. The funeral 
 cortege issued from the great gate of Malmaison 
 and took the road towards Paris, as far as Rueil. 
 The two children of Hortense, one of whom after- 
 wards ascended the throne of France as Napoleon 
 III., were the chief mourners. The honorary pall- 
 bearers were : the Grand Duke of Baden, husband 
 of the Princess Stephanie ; the Marquis de Beau- 
 harnais, brother-in-law to Josephine ; the Count
 
 JOSEPHINE. 419 
 
 Tascher, ex-senator, and the father of the Princess 
 of Baden, the Count de Beauharnais. 
 
 Following them, the officials and ladies of the 
 imperial household, attaches of Prince Eugene, and 
 of Queen Hortense, and many personages of .dis- 
 tinction from the capital, come to testify their 
 respect to one who had won the hearts of all. 
 
 The most affecting testimonial of spontaneous 
 affection was manifested by the concourse of com- 
 mon people, who came from all parts of the sur- 
 rounding country, to look their last upon her who 
 had ever opened her heart to their woes and her 
 purse to the alleviation of their distresses. 
 
 " She expired at noon of Sunday, the 26th of May, 
 in the fifty-third year of her age. Her body was 
 embalmed, and on the sixth day after her death 
 deposited in a vault in the church of Eueil, close 
 to Malmaison. The funeral ceremonies were mag- 
 nificent ; but a better tribute to the memory of 
 Josephine was to be found in the tears with which 
 her children, her servants, the neighboring poor, and 
 all that knew her, followed her to the grave. 
 
 " In 1826 a beautiful monument was erected 
 over her remains by Eugene Beauharnais and his 
 sister, with this simple inscription : . . . 
 
 "To JOSEPHINE. 
 " EUGENE. HORTENSE."
 
 420 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 IN RETROSPECT. 
 
 JOSEPHINE had been in her grave at Rueil nearly 
 a year, when Bonaparte returned from Elba, where 
 he had vainly awaited the arrival of Marie Louise. 
 He found Hortense in Paris, and together they 
 visited Malmaison. During the absence of Eugene, 
 who was detained in Germany, and during the 
 period of Napoleon's absence at Elba, Hortense had 
 been faithful to the imperial fortunes, although she 
 had received some favors from his enemies, the 
 Bourbons. 
 
 They alighted at the gate of Malmaison ; as they 
 entered the vestibule, Napoleon was greatly moved. 
 
 Taking the arm of his adopted daughter, he walked 
 with her in the gardens, through the park, and in 
 the conservatory, conversing of her whose works 
 greeted them from every side, had been the objects 
 of her care. At every turn of walk or alley, at the 
 entrance to every shaded pathway, it seemed to these 
 mourners that she should appear to them, as she had 
 been in life, the animating presence, the soul of life 
 and gayety. Filled with oppressive thoughts, they 
 entered the dwelling and breakfasted in silence,
 
 JOSEPHINE. 421 
 
 Then the Emperor slowly traversed the gallery filled 
 with the pictures Josephine had so carefully collected 
 there ; the many works of art which had been the 
 objects of her jealous care. After inspecting them, 
 Napoleon manifested his desire to visit the chamber 
 in which his wife had died. Hortense was about to 
 accompany him, but he signed her to remain, and 
 alone pursued his way to this well-remembered 
 apartment, which was to him fraught with so many 
 tender memories. He remained a long time beside 
 the bed in which Josephine had breathed her last, 
 lost in reverie, dwelling upon the memory of that 
 one who had once lived with him in intimate com- 
 panionship, then he descended to rejoin Hortense, a 
 prey to emotions which he did not attempt to conceal. 
 That night, again, he was at the Tuileries, where, 
 says Bourrienne, ' ' even more than at Fontainebleau, 
 his mind was flooded by the deep and painful recol- 
 lections of the past. A few nights after his return 
 hither he sent for M. Horan, one of the physicians 
 who had attended Josephine during her last illness. 
 * So, Monsieur Horan, you did not leave the 
 Empress during her malady ? ' * No, Sire.' ' What 
 was the cause of that malady ? ' '' Uneasiness of 
 mind. . . . Grief.' . . . 'What? You believe that ?' 
 (and Napoleon laid a strong emphasis on the word 
 believe, looking steadfastly in the doctor's face). 
 He then asked, ' Was she long ill ? Did she suffer 
 much ? ' ' She was ill a week, Sire, her Majesty 
 suffered little bodily pain.' ' Did she see that she 
 was dying ? Did she show courage ? ' 'A sign her
 
 422 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Majesty made, when she could no longer express 
 herself, leaves me no doubt that she felt her end 
 approaching, she seemed to contemplate it without 
 fear.' 
 
 ' Well, . . . well,' and then Napoleon, much 
 affected, drew close to Monsieur Horan, and added : 
 ' You say that she was in grief, from what did that 
 arise ? ' ' From passing events, Sire, from your 
 Majesty's position last year. ' ' Ah, she used to speak 
 of me, then ? ' 'Very often.' Here Napoleon drew 
 his hand across his eyes, which seemed filled with 
 tears. He then went on : . . . ' Good woman. . . . 
 Excellent Josephine. . . . She loved me truly, she 
 did she not ? ' . . . Ah, she was a French woman.' 
 ' Yes, Sire, she loved you, . and she would . have 
 proven it had it not been for dread of displeasing 
 you, she had conceived an idea.' . . . 'How? . . . 
 What would she have done ? ' 
 
 " She one day said that, as Empress of the French, 
 she would drive through Paris, with eight horses to 
 her coach, and all her household in gala livery, to 
 go and rejoin you at Fontainebleau, and never leave 
 you more." 
 
 "Napoleon again betrayed deep emotion, on re- 
 covering from which he asked the physician the 
 most minute questions about the nature of Jose- 
 phine's disease, the friends and attendants who 
 were around her at the hour of her death, and the 
 conduct of her children." 
 
 Two months later, Bonaparte left Paris for his 
 last campaign, which was to result in death, in
 
 JOSEPHINE. 423 
 
 exile or a crown. He speedily returned, having lost, 
 at Waterloo, all he had staked : crown, country, 
 wife and son. 
 
 Convinced that there was now no alternative to 
 leaving France forever, the Emperor desired to pass 
 the few remaining days of his liberty at Malmaison. 
 Hortense, his ever-faithful friend in misfortune, 
 came to keep him company, almost the sole remain- 
 ing companion of his former greatness. Napoleon 
 remained five days at Malmaison, vainly attending 
 the awakening of the country's dormant patriotism ; 
 he was still ready to attempt again resistance to the 
 invaders. But the interests of France demanded 
 his sacrifice ; not on the field of battle, where he 
 would gladly have died, but as an exile, beyond the 
 borders of the country he had made so great. 
 
 Five days he lived in suspense, surrounded by the 
 evidences of his happier life now past and gone, 
 dwelling upon the scenes of those departed days 
 when at his side walked a loving companion, whose 
 presence was a charm against gloom and melan- 
 choly. 
 
 It was most fitting, that Napoleon should return 
 to this spot, of all others most intimately associated 
 with his happiest moments, to muse upon his van- 
 ished greatness, and pass in review the incidents of 
 his eventful life. 
 
 His career ended here ; at Malmaison the curtain 
 falls before the stage upon which he had performed 
 such glorious feats of arms ; Napoleon the warrior, 
 the king-maker, the conqueror of states and empires,
 
 424 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 before whom the world had trembled, all Europe 
 prostrated herself, is seen here alone, abandoned by 
 all, preparing for flight. At last, it had come to 
 this ! On the twenty-ninth of June, 1815, at mid- 
 day, bidding farewell to Horte'nse, and to such of 
 his friends as remained, Napoleon departed for 
 Rochefort, there hoping to take passage for the 
 United States. Disappointed, betrayed, watched by 
 his relentless foe, who guarded with her ships every 
 avenue of escape, he surrendered to England ; throw- 
 ing himself upon her generosity, to receive his 
 reward at Saint Helena. 
 
 He no longer cherished the delusion, so jealously 
 maintained at Elba, that his wife would rejoin him 
 in captivity ; but Napoleon was well persuaded that, 
 had Josephine been alive, he would not have been 
 forsaken thus. 
 
 Three years after the death of Napoleon, at Saint 
 Helena, the son of Josephine, Eugene, the faithful 
 follower of his adopted father, was laid in the 
 grave. Says Bourrienne : 
 
 " The Viceroy of Italy was in Vienna when Napo- 
 leon returned from Elba, and fell under the suspicion 
 of the allies of having informed the Emperor of 
 their intention of removing him from the island. 
 He was detained in Bavaria by his father-in-law, 
 the King, to whose court he retired, and who, in 
 1817, created him Duke of Leuchtenberg and Prince 
 of Eichstadt. With the protection of Bavaria, he 
 actually succeeded in wringing from the Bourbons 
 some 700,000 francs of the property of his mother.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 425 
 
 A first attack of apoplexy struck him in 1823, and he 
 died from a second in February, 1824, at Munich. 
 His descendants have intermarried into the royal 
 families of Portugal, Sweden, Brazil, Russia and 
 Wurtemburg.' 1 
 
 " Josephine's daughter, Hortense, separated from 
 her husband, Louis Bonaparte, and created Duchess 
 of St. Leu by Louis XVIII., was in Paris, much 
 suspected by the Bourbons, but really engaged in a 
 lawsuit with her husband about the custody of her 
 sons, when Napoleon arrived from Elba. She had 
 to go into hiding when the news of the landing 
 arrived, but her empty house, left unwatched, be- 
 came very useful for receiving the Bonapartists, 
 who wished for a place of concealment, amongst 
 them being, of all people, Fouche ! 
 
 " Hortense was met by Napoleon with some 
 reproaches for accepting a title from the Bourbons, 
 but she did the honors of the Elysee for him ; and 
 it is creditable to both of them, that, braving the 
 vile slanders about their previous intercourse, she 
 was with him to the end ; and that one of the last 
 persons to embrace him at Malmaison before he 
 started for the coast, was his adopted daughter, the 
 child of his discarded wife. 
 
 " Hortense's presence in Paris was thought to be 
 too dangerous, by the Prussian governor, and she 
 was peremptorily ordered to leave . . . and she had 
 to start at the shortest notice on a wandering life 
 to Aix, Baden, and Constance, till the generosity of 
 the small but brave canton of Thurgau enabled
 
 426 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 her to get a resting-place at the Chateau of Arenen- 
 berg. 
 
 "In 1831 she lost her second son, the eldest then 
 surviving, who died from fever in a revolutionary 
 attempt in which he and his younger brother, the 
 future Napoleon III., were engaged. 
 
 "She was able to visit France incognita, and even 
 to see Louis Philippe and his queen ; but her pres- 
 ence in the country was soon thought dangerous, 
 and she was urged to leave. In 1836 Hortense's 
 third and last son, Louis Napoleon, made his at- 
 tempt at an emeute at Strasburg and was shipped off 
 to America by the Government. She went to France 
 to plead for him, and then,- worn out by grief and 
 and anxiety, returned to Arenenberg, which her 
 son, the future Emperor, only succeeded in reach- 
 ing in time to see her die, in October, 1837. 
 
 "She was laid with Josephine at Rueil." 
 
 In the month of August, 1831, a sorrowing woman, 
 an exile from France, which she was then leav- 
 ing, came to and mysteriously entered the little 
 church at Rueil. She was accompanied by a young 
 man who had come with her to pay their last re- 
 spects to the memory of Josephine. The Empress' 
 daughter and grandson prostrated themselves at the 
 foot of her statue which surmounts the tomb, and 
 there remained a long time engaged in prayer. 
 
 " What sorrowful feelings oppressed me," wrote 
 Hortense in her Memoirs, " as I entered this sacred 
 place, as I knelt before the image of my cherished 
 mother ; and the sad thought possessed me that, of
 
 JOSEPHINE. 427 
 
 all she had loved, I was left alone, with my son, 
 isolated from my kindred, and even obliged to fly 
 from the place where she herself reposed. The 
 quantities of flowers which adorned the monument 
 (which my brother and myself had, with so much 
 trouble, obtained permission to raise to her memory) 
 proved to me that she rested in the midst of friends, 
 to whom her memory was still dear ; her daughter 
 alone was forgotten. . . . 
 
 " I paused at the portal of Malmaison, prevented 
 from entering by the orders of the proprietor. . . . 
 But I recalled that here the Emperor had last rested, 
 ere he left France forever. It was here that I was 
 enabled to minister to him in those sad moments, 
 when, abandoned by all, he was plunged into the 
 greatest of his misfortunes. Here I saw him, after 
 Waterloo, still full of courage, and forgetting his 
 own misfortunes in the greater ones which had over- 
 whelmed his country, which he still wished to de- 
 fend. But they feared what they called his chains, 
 and in the name of liberty they delivered them- 
 selves into the hands of their enemies." 
 
 Six years later, in accordance with her last wishes, 
 her remains were placed within the same church at 
 Rueil, where to-day may be seen the monuments 
 inscribed with "HORTENSE" and "JOSEPHINE": 
 names which appeal to all lovers of goodness and 
 truth. 
 
 During his long exile on the rock of Saint Helena, 
 Bonaparte frequently referred to Josephine, and in 
 his Memoirs pays ample tribute to her worth.
 
 428 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 Although he never gave utterance to any doubt 
 respecting his second wife, even if convinced of her 
 perfidy, yet he could not but compare her with 
 Josephine, to the latter's advantage. "Josephine, 
 at least," said he, " would never have abandoned me. 
 I was attached to both my wives ; the one was 
 the votary of art and the graces ; the other was all 
 innocence and simple nature ; and each had a very 
 high degree of merit. . . . The first, at no moment 
 of her life, ever assumed a position or attitude that 
 was not pleasing or captivating ; it was impossible 
 to take her by surprise, or to make her feel the least 
 inconvenience. She employed every resource of 
 art to heighten natural attractions, but with such 
 ingenuity as to render every trace of allurement 
 imperceptible. The other, on the contrary, never 
 suspected that anything was to be gained by inno- 
 cent artifice. 
 
 " The one was always somewhat short of the truth 
 of nature ; the other was altogether frank and open, 
 and was a stranger to subterfuge. The first never 
 asked me for anything, but was always in debt to 
 every one ; the second freely asked whenever she 
 wanted, which, however, very seldom happened, 
 and she never thought of receiving anything without 
 immediately paying for it. 
 
 " Both were amiable and gentle, and strongly at- 
 tached to me. . . . 
 
 " A son by Josephine would have completed my 
 happiness, not only in a political point of view, but 
 as a source of domestic felicity. As a political result
 
 JOSEPHINE. 429 
 
 it would have secured to me the possession of the 
 throne ; the French people would have been as much 
 attached to the son of Josephine as they were to the 
 King of Rome ; and I should not have set my foot 
 on an abyss covered with a bed of flowers. . . . But 
 how vain are all human calculations ! Who can 
 pretend to decide on what may lead to happiness or 
 unhappiness in this life ? Still, I cannot help believ- 
 ing that such a pledge of our union would have 
 proved a source of domestic felicity ; it would have 
 put an end to the jealousy of Josephine, by which I 
 was continually harassed, and which after all was 
 the offspring of policy rather than of sentiment. . . 
 
 "Josephine despaired of having a child, and she 
 in consequence looked forward with dread to the 
 future. She was well aware that no marriage is 
 perfect without children ; and at the time of her 
 second nuptials there was no longer any probability 
 of her becoming a mother. In proportion as her 
 fortune advanced her alarm increased." 
 
 Josephine possessed a perfect knowledge of the 
 different shades of the Emperor's character, and 
 she exhibited the most exquisite tact in turning this 
 knowledge to account. "For example," said the 
 Emperor, ' ' she never solicited any favor for Eugene, 
 or thanked me for any that I conferred on him. 
 She never even showed any additional complaisance 
 or assiduity at the moment when the greatest 
 honors were lavished on him. Her grand aim was 
 to prove that this was my affair, not hers, and that 
 it tended to my advantage.
 
 430 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 " She never failed to accompany me on all my 
 journeys ; neither fatigue nor privation could deter 
 her from following me ; and she employed impor- 
 tunity and even artifice to gain her point. ... If 
 I stepped into my carriage at midnight, to set out 
 on the longest journey, to my surprise I found 
 Josephine all ready prepared, though I had no idea 
 of her accompanying me. 'But, 'I would say to 
 her, ' you cannot possibly go, the journey is too long 
 and will be too fatiguing for you.' 'Not at all,' 
 she would reply. ' Besides, I must set out instantly. ' 
 ' Well, I am quite ready. ' ' But you must take a 
 great deal of luggage. ' ' Oh, no, everything is packed 
 up ; ' and I was generally obliged to yield . In a 
 word, Josephine rendered her husband happy, and 
 constantly proved herself his sincerest friend. At 
 all times and on all occasions she manifested the 
 most perfect submission and devotedness ; and thus 
 I shall never cease to remember her with tenderness 
 and gratitude." * 
 
 It has been said that the life of the Empress 
 Josephine offers little valuable material for history ; 
 but we venture to believe the contrary ; for it can- 
 not, certainly, be unprofitable to study the career 
 
 * " Before Austerlitz," wrote Mme. de Remusat, " the Empress was 
 as fully confident as the wife of Bonaparte would naturally be. 
 Happy to be allowed to accompany him and escape from the talk of 
 Paris, and delighted with the fresh opportunity for display, she 
 looked on a campaign as on a journey, and maintained a composure 
 which, as it could not, by reason of her position, proceed from indif- 
 ference, was a genuine compliment to him whom she firmly believed 
 Fortune would not dare to forsake."
 
 JOSEPHINE. 431 
 
 of one whose life was so eventful, whose character 
 and social influence always rose to the level required 
 by her high destiny. And again : her life is the 
 canvas upon which, in strong relief, we may find 
 projected the character of that great genius with 
 whom her fortune was so intimately associated. In 
 the record of her life we may find that of her 
 glorious consort ; but here we discover, not the 
 Napoleon known to the world of war, to the courtiers 
 and statesmen, but find him dwelling in the inti- 
 macy of his family ; a man of heart, of sensibilities, 
 of domesticity and loving traits, that bind his 
 friends inseparably to him. We find incontestible 
 evidence that Napoleon possessed, what has been 
 denied him by his enemies, the capacity for love and 
 for constant affection. The history of Josephine's 
 life, therefore, is necessary to complete that of 
 Napoleon : to soften the stern and martial figure 
 that shines isolate in his battles ; in fact, to give 
 a human aspect to one who has been declared devoid 
 of the tenderer traits of humanity.* 
 
 But we should note that the grander figure of 
 Bonaparte does not overshadow or efface that of 
 his gentler companion ; far from seeming incongru- 
 ous, in truth, the image of Josephine completely 
 harmonizes with that of the modern Charlemagne. 
 
 His rugged strength is tempered by her elegance, 
 his brusqueness by her sweetness, his wit by her 
 tact, his passion by her mildness. 
 
 To Josephine belongs the signal honor of main- 
 * Aubenas.
 
 432 JOSEPHINE. 
 
 taining herself with credit by the side of this master 
 of Europe, when at the resplendent summit of his 
 ambitions. She does not shine solely in the reflec- 
 tion of his refulgence, but she is held in loving 
 remembrance for her own remarkable personality, 
 her memory still cherished by a nation which knew 
 her only to admire. 
 
 Unlike Napoleon's second wife, Josephine pos- 
 sessed, notwithstanding her amiable and complaisant 
 nature, a strong and vigorous personality ; she has 
 impressed herself upon the life of the times in which 
 she dwelt, upon the attention of those who have 
 succeeded her. 
 
 NAPOLEON JOSEPHINE : these two inseparable 
 names recall two types of character which will 
 be forever popular : in the one will be admired his 
 genius and his grandeur ; in the other her grace and 
 goodness ; but impartial history will place above 
 these attributes, her devotion and abnegation. 
 
 ' ' C'est mon divorce qui m'a perdu, " said Napoleon, 
 when, at Saint Helena, he passed his life in sad 
 review before him, and reflected upon the unhappy 
 consequences of the alliance with the house of 
 Austria. - 
 
 What would he have added could he have had the 
 gift of prescience and have seen into the future ? 
 
 He had sundered the ties that bound him to 
 Josephine, for the ostensible reason that his destiny 
 and his country demanded an heir ; but after the 
 birth of that heir, he lost the crown which was the 
 object of the heritage.
 
 JOSEPHINE. 433 
 
 At the outset Bonaparte had provided, for the 
 safeguard of France and the stability of his dynasty, 
 a royal succession. 
 
 In default of an heir on his part the crown was 
 to pass to his brother Joseph, or to Louis, or to the 
 heir of one of these two brothers. The Emperor 
 and his eldest brother dying without male issue, 
 the crown was to pass to the King of Holland and 
 his descendants. 
 
 Was it not the irony of fate, that the original 
 provision for the royal succession should eventually 
 be fulfilled, and that a son of Louis and grandson 
 of Josephine should occupy the throne, in the person 
 of Napoleon III. ? Providence, or Fate, had recti- 
 fied the great error of Napoleon's life, by carrying 
 out his first intention for the perpetuation of the 
 
 Napoleonic dynasty ! 
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 IINE S PARENTS.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 i. 
 
 English account of the capture of Martinique, 1762. 
 From the " Chronological History of the West Indies," by 
 Captain Thomas Southey : London, 1827. 
 
 " Upon the fifth of January, Rear- Admiral Rodney, with 
 eighteen sail of the line, besides frigates, bombs, and trans- 
 ports, and eighteen battalions of troops, 13,965 men, under 
 the command of Major General Monckton, sailed from 
 Barbados. Admiral Rodney detached five sail of the 
 line to Fort Royal Bay, and ordered one of the ships to hoist 
 a flag similar to his. At the same time, to distract the 
 enemy's attention, five frigates were sent off La Trinite, on 
 the opposite side of the island ; he anchored himself on the 
 8th, in St. Ann's Bay, Martinico. The line-of-battle ships 
 silenced the batteries on that part of the coast, in doing 
 which the " Reasonable" was lost, on a reef of rocks ; her 
 men and stores were saved. The general, however, judg- 
 ing this to be an improper place for landing the troops, 
 sent two brigades, commanded by Generals Haviland and 
 Grant, to the bay of Petit Anse. The troops were landed 
 and marched to the heights opposite Pigeon Island. 
 
 "On the 10th, Captain Hervey, in the " Dragon," silenced 
 a strong fort in Grand Anse, landed his marines and took 
 possession of it, until General Haviland sent Colonel Mel- 
 ville, with eight hundred men, to relieve him. General 
 Haviland, finding the roads impassable for cannon, sent to
 
 436 APPENDIX. 
 
 inform General Monckton that the troops had better be 
 reimbarked. During the night the brigades were attacked, 
 but the assailants were compelled to retreat with loss ; and 
 the troops, after blowing up the batteries at St. Ann's, re- 
 embarked and proceeded to Fort Royal Bay. Various feints 
 were ordered at different parts of the island. 
 
 " Early in the morning of the sixteenth, the ships began to 
 cannonade the batteries in Cas-des-navire Bay. Having 
 silenced them by noon, the troops were landed without loss, 
 and General Monckton formed his army on the heights 
 above the bay, and as soon as the tents could be landed, en- 
 camped there. 
 
 " The general resolved to besiege Fort Royal, and to carry 
 the height of Garnier and Tortueson, which the enemy 
 appeared resolved to defend. The English had to cross a 
 ravine to attack, and to defend them a battery was neces- 
 sary. On the 24th, at day-dawn, Brigadier-General Grant, at 
 the head of the grenadiers, supported by Lord Rollo's brigade, 
 attacked the enemy. At the same time, Brigadier Rufane, 
 with his brigade, reinforced by the marines, marched to 
 attack the redoubts along the shore to the right, one thou- 
 sand seamen, in flat-bottomed boats, rowing up as he 
 advanced ; and another brigade, under Colonel Scott, went 
 to turn the enemy upon their left, which they did ; at the 
 same time the grenadiers were driving all before them. By 
 nine A. M. , Morne Tortueson and all the redoubts and bat- 
 teries with which it was defended, were in possession of the 
 English. The French retired in confusion to Morne Garnier 
 and Fort Royal. Colonel Scott, with Walsh's brigade, 
 advanced on the left and took an advantageous position 
 opposite Morne Garnier ; these were supported by Haviland's 
 corps, and the road between was covered by the marines. 
 
 ' ' Next day, the English began to erect batteries against the 
 citadel of Fort Royal, but were greatly annoyed from Morne 
 Garnier. At f our'p. M. , on the 27th, the French made a furious
 
 APPENDIX. 437 
 
 attack on the posts occupied by the light infantry and Havi- 
 land's brigade ; but were repulsed with great loss, and the 
 English passed the ravine with the fugitives, seized their 
 batteries and took possession of the ground. "Walsh's 
 brigade and the grenadiers under Grant, marched to their 
 assistance when the attack began. By nine P. M. , this very 
 strong post was completely carried. It commanded the 
 citadel, against which their own artillery was turned, the 
 next morning. The French regulars had retired into the 
 town, but the militia dispersed into the country. On the 
 30th, the general ordered Morne Capuchin to be taken, and 
 upon it batteries to be erected about four hundred yards 
 from the fort. The enemy, seeing the preparations for 
 attacking the place, beat the chamade on the evening of the 
 3d of February. Next day the governor surrendered the 
 place by capitulation ; on the 4th of February the gate of 
 the citadel was given up to the English. The garrison, to 
 the number of eight hundred, marched out, next morning, 
 with honors of war. 
 
 " Deputations now arrived from the different quarters of 
 the island desiring a capitulation ; but M. de la Touche, the 
 governor-general, retired with his forces to St. Pierre, which 
 he proposed to defend. . . . Fourteen privateers were found 
 in the harbor of Fort Royal. As the troops were embark- 
 ing to attack St. Pierre, two deputies from de la Touche 
 arrived with proposals for the capitulation of the whole 
 island. On the 14th February the terms were settled, on 
 the 16th the English took possession of St. Pierre, and all 
 the forts, while the governor, with M. Rouille, the lieu- 
 tenant governor, and his staff, with some grenadiers, were 
 embarked for France in transports. 
 
 u The conquest of this island cost the English about four 
 hundred men, including officers, killed and wounded. 
 
 " By the articles of capitulation, all the troops were to be 
 sent to France, at his Britannic Majesty's expense. The
 
 438 APPENDIX. 
 
 request that the ' ' militia and other inhabitants that now 
 make part of the said garrison, may retire to their homes, 
 with their servants, likewise " was granted ; and under this 
 capitulation, M. de Tascher was allowed to leave promptly 
 for his plantation. 
 
 " The islands of St. Lucia, Tobago, and St. Vincent, were 
 taken by the English the same month, and are to-day in 
 British possession." 
 
 1763 " The island of Martinique was infested by ants, to 
 such an extent that it was seriously debated whether it 
 might not have to be abandoned. These ants were supposed 
 to have been brought here in the slave ships from Africa. 
 In Martinico they destroyed all the culinary vegetables ; 
 the quadrupeds were hardly able to subsist ; the largest 
 trees were so infested that even the most voracious birds 
 would not light on them. In short the greatest precautions 
 were requisite to prevent their attacks on men who were 
 afflicted with sores, on women who were confined in child- 
 bed, and on children who were unable to assist themselves." 
 
 II. 
 
 Slaves 1751. "M. Bossu, whose testimony, Mr. Lang 
 says, is of great weight, relates that some French planters 
 force their slaves to such hard labor that they refuse to 
 marry, in order to avoid generating a race of beings to be 
 enslaved to such masters, who treat them, when old and 
 infirm, worse than their dogs and horses. ... I have seen, 
 he adds, a planter, whose name was Chaperon, who forced 
 one of his negroes into a heated oven, where the poor wretch 
 expired ; and, his jaws being shrivelled up, the barbarous 
 owner said : ' I believe the rascal is laughing at me,' and 
 took a poker to stir him up." 
 
 The death penalty was applied for most trivial offences. 
 In Jamaica (English) in quelling an insurrection of the black
 
 APPENDIX. 439 
 
 maroons, " the prisoners were found guilty of rebellion, and 
 put to death by a variety of torments some burned, some 
 fixed alive upon gibbets. One of these lived eight days and 
 eighteen hours, suspended under a vertical sun, without 
 any sustenance, or even water. . . . Two of the ringleaders 
 were hung up alive in irons, on a gibbet erected in the 
 parade of the town of Kingston. Fortune lived seven 
 days, but Kingston survived till the ninth. The morning 
 before the latter expired he appeared to be convulsed from 
 head to foot, and upon being opened after his decease, his 
 lungs were found adhering to the back so tightly that it 
 required some force to disengage them. They behaved all 
 the time with a degree of hardened insolence and brutal 
 insensibility." 
 
 Slaves 1774. A Mr. Jefferys (mentioned in "Southey's 
 West Indies,") saw seven slaves executed at one time in 
 Tobago ; their right arms were chopped off, and they were 
 then dragged to seven stakes and burned to death. One of 
 them, named Chubb, stretched his arm out on the block, 
 and coolly pulled up his sleeve. He would not be drawn, 
 but walked to the stake. One, named Sampson, was hung 
 alive in chains, and was seven days dying. Their crimes 
 were murder and destroying property. 
 
 The Tritri From a colonial law enacted 1763. "All per- 
 sons who shall place cloth in the rivers for the purpose of tak- 
 ing small fish called tritri, shall be subjected to the same 
 penalties as are prescribed for the turning the course of rivers 
 for larger fish : viz. : flogging for slaves, and the pillory for 
 three days ; and of greater punishment in case of repetition. 
 Slaves detected in the act of poisoning rivers for the taking 
 of fish, to be sentenced to the galleys for life." 
 
 1763 10th February A definitive treaty of peace was 
 concluded at Paris, and by article (8) it was declared that 
 the king of Great Britain " shall restore to France the 
 islands of Guadeloupe, Mariegalante, Desirade, Martinico
 
 440 APPENDIX. 
 
 and Belleisle ; and the fortresses of those islands shall be re- 
 stored in the same condition they were in when they were 
 conquered by the British arms," etc. 
 
 III. 
 
 The Great Hurricane : Southey's "West-Indies." 
 
 ' ' 1766. At Martinico, upon the 13th of August, a dreadful 
 hurricane began, at ten P. M., with a gale from the north- 
 west. At midnight the shock of an earthquake added 
 to the horrors of the increased hurricane. At three A. M. , the 
 gale abated, and the streets of St. Pierre appeared covered 
 with ruins. The roads were blocked by trees torn up by 
 the roots ; the rivers had brought down stones of enormous 
 size, and the shore was strewn with wrecks and dead 
 bodies. At five A. M., a water-spout burst upon Mt. 
 Peleus, and overwhelmed the neighboring plains. At six it 
 was quite calm and the sea was smooth. 
 
 ' ' Twenty-eight French and seven English vessels were 
 wrecked, besides twelve passage canoes. Ninety persons 
 perished under the ruins of their own houses, and twice 
 that number were wounded in St. Pierre alone. In going 
 over the island, we shall find nearly the same calamities, 
 and in some places still worse." 
 
 The year 1766 was celebrated for the numerous earth- 
 quakes and hurricanes, throughout the West Indies. 
 
 In the present century, probably the most disastrous 
 hurricane that visited Martinique was in the year 1891, in 
 the month of August. 
 
 The writer of this biography visited the island four 
 months after this terrible event, and was a witness to the 
 distress and destitution throughout the island. It will 
 probably never recover from the blow, and the character 
 of the population has been so affected, by the hegira of the 
 white inhabitants, as to impress even a casual observer.
 
 APPENDIX. 441 
 
 The following account of the hurricane of 1891, is from 
 the Report of the Hon. A. B. Keevil, U. S. Consul : 
 
 "Early on the morning of the 18th of August the sky 
 presented a very leaden appearance, decidedly threatening, 
 with occasional gusts of variable winds, mostly from E. N. E. 
 The temperature was very oppressive during the entire day. 
 The barometer varied only slightly, but was a little higher 
 than usual until afternoon, when it commenced to fall, at 
 first gradually and then very rapidly. 
 
 " It is stated by fishermen who were in the vicinity of the 
 Caraval Rock at ten A. M.. that an immense wave, about 100 
 feet high passed from the direction of St. Lucia, closely 
 followed by another smaller one, although the sea in the 
 vicinity was quite calm at the time. 
 
 The storm struck the east side of the island at about six 
 p. M., rushing through the ravines with terrible force and 
 destroying everything in its path. On the elevated plains 
 the ruin was most complete. One very peculiar feature of 
 the hurricane was the deafness experienced by every one 
 during the storm (possibly the result of the reduced baro- 
 metric pressure) . During the cyclone the wind veered from 
 E. N. E. to S. S. E. , the latter being the most destructive. 
 During the storm there were incessant flashes of sheet light- 
 ning, unaccompanied by thunder, and immediately after the 
 storm there were two distinct shocks of earthquake, at 
 intervals of about five seconds. Early in September I 
 visited Trinite, and all the way the destruction was most 
 complete, the trees and vegetation looking as though there 
 had been a forest fire, although without the charred 
 appearance. The cane suffered least, and the loss, with 
 favorable weather, will not amount to more than one-fifth 
 of its value. The factories and distilleries appear to have 
 been more completely destroyed than other property. 
 
 " The thermometer ranged from 90 to 100 Fahrenheit 
 during the storm. There was a deluge of rain, one account
 
 442 APPENDIX. 
 
 stating that over four inches fell in a few hours that evening. 
 My own residence was unroofed and flooded with water, as 
 was the case with nine-tenths of the buildings in St. Pierre, 
 and throughout the island ; the loss of life was small in St. 
 Pierre, but large in the interior towns, notably in Morne 
 Rouge, where eight in one family lost their lives. The total 
 loss of life, so far as reliable information can be obtained, 
 was 700, and the loss of property was enormous. All the 
 fruit, the main reliance of the laboring class, was destroyed, 
 and prices of provisions have advanced 300 per cent. Every 
 vessel was wrecked or badly damaged, about 50 sail in all. 
 The scene the island presents would be difficult to describe, 
 and the inhabitants are sorely stricken and demoralized. 
 Such a night of terror the imagination can scarcely 
 picture." * 
 
 1770. Of the Creoles, an English writer observes : 
 "We may see a very fine young woman awkwardly 
 dangling her arms with the air of a negro servant, lolling 
 almost the whole day upon beds or settees, her head muffled 
 up with two or three handkerchiefs, her dress loose and 
 without stays. At noon we find her gobbling pepper-pot, 
 seated on the floor, with her sable handmaids around her. In 
 the afternoon she takes her siesta, as usual, while two or 
 three of these damsels refresh her face with the gentle 
 breathings of the fan, and a third provokes the drowsy 
 powers of Morpheus by delicious scratchings on the sole of 
 either foot. When she arouses from sleep her speech is 
 whining, languid and childish. . . . When arrived at mature 
 age, the consciousness of her ignorance makes her abscond 
 from the sight or conversation of every rational creature. 
 Her ideas are narrowed to the ordinary subjects that pass 
 before her : the business of the plantation, the tittle-tattle 
 of the parish, the tricks, superstitions, diversions, and 
 profligate discourses of the black servants, equally illiterate 
 and unpolished. . . .
 
 APPENDIX. 443 
 
 " Whilst (he adds) I render all praise to the Creole ladies 
 for their many amiable qualities, impartiality forbids me to 
 suppress what is highly to their discredit. I mean their 
 disdaining to nurse their own offspring. . . . Numberless 
 have been the poor little victims to this pernicious 
 custom. ..." 
 
 IV. 
 
 1778. December. A most sanguinary contest between 
 the French and the English took place in the island of St. 
 Lucia ; the cannonading must have been heard at Martin- 
 ique .... "The English sailed to the attack from Barba- 
 does, and had nearly reduced the forts. The last French 
 flag in sight among the hills was not struck, when M. 
 d'Estaing, with a large force, hove in sight. Besides his 
 original squadron of 12 heavy line-of -battle ships, he was 
 accompanied by a numerous fleet of frigates, privateers, and 
 transports, with 9,000 troops on board. As the day was 
 far advanced, d'Estaing deferred his operations until the 
 following morning. . . . The British General, Meadows, was 
 in possession of very strong ground ; and his men, though 
 only 1,300 in number, were veteran troops, who had 
 distinguished themselves in America. . . . The French com- 
 mander determined to attack the peninsula by sea and 
 land at the same time, and about 5,000 of their troops 
 advanced, led by the Count d'Estaing, and the Marquis de 
 Bouille, the governor of Martinico. The remainder of the 
 troops were kept to watch General Prescott's brigade, and 
 to check any attempt that might be made to succor General 
 Meadows. . . . On the approach of the columns they were 
 enfiladed with great effect, by the batteries on the south of 
 the bay. Notwithstanding this, they charged with great 
 impetuosity, and were suffered to advance close to the 
 entrenchment when the British line fired but once and then 
 received the enemy on the point of the bayonet. The French ,
 
 444 APPENDIX. 
 
 with great resolution, suffered extremely before they were 
 entirely repulsed. As soon as they could be formed again, 
 the attack was renewed ; they were again repulsed ; and 
 again, the third time, they returned to the charge. But the 
 affair was soon decided : they were totally broken, and 
 retired in the utmost disorder, leaving their dead and 
 wounded on the field, 400 killed and 1,100 wounded, a 
 number considerably superior to the enemy they had attacked. 
 
 M. d'Estaing having rendered himself accountable for the 
 wounded as prisoners of war, he was allowed to have them, 
 and to bury the dead. He remained for ten days afterwards, 
 upon the island, without making any further attempt by 
 sea or by land. On the 28th, he embarked his troops, and 
 on the day following abandoned the island. Before he was 
 out of sight, the Chevalier de Micoud and the principal in- 
 habitants offered to capitulate, arid very favorable terms 
 were granted them. The commandant and garrison were 
 sent to Martinique as prisoners of war to be exchanged, 
 without their arms, and on parole. . . . 
 
 Soon after Count d'Estaing had been repulsed from St. 
 Lucia, Admiral Byron arrived in the West Indies, with 
 such reinforcements as gave the English fleet the superiority, 
 and which determined the commander to attempt the 
 blockade of Fort Royal, where the French ships had 
 rendezvoused. 
 
 But as a large English convoy was then ready to sail for 
 England, Admiral Byron sailed part way with it, with his 
 fleet ; the result being the capture of St. Vincent and Gra- 
 nada, by the French under D'Estaing. . . . 
 
 It was now considered impossible to oppose M. d'Estaing, 
 and a general panic spread through all the British islands. 
 The French admiral, however, contented himself with re- 
 turning the visits he had formerly received at Martinico, by 
 parading for a whole day in sight of St. Christopher's. He 
 afterwards waited to see the French homeward-bound
 
 APPENDIX. 445 
 
 West-India convoy clear of danger, and then proceeded, 
 with about 22 sail-of-the-line and 10 frigates, to the coast of 
 North America." 
 
 This was doubtless the fleet in which Josephine sailed for 
 France in 1779, and after this attention unwittingly be- 
 stowed upon the future Empress of the French, the gallant 
 admiral sailed to the assistance of the Americans. 
 
 1780 Rodney's engagement with the French Admiral 
 Guichen, off Fort Royal. . . . Sir G. B. Rodney's letter to 
 the Admiralty. . . . 
 
 " SANDWICH, FOKT ROYAL BAY, MAETINICO, April 26, 1780. 
 
 ' ' Since acquainting their lordships of my arrival at Bar- 
 badoes and Saint Lucia, and taking upon me the command 
 of his Majesty's ships in that station, the enemy, who had 
 paraded for several days before St. Lucia, with 25 ships of 
 the line, and 8 frigates full of troops, and were in hopes 
 of surprising the island, were disappointed in their views 
 by the good disposition of the troops by General Vaughan, 
 and of the ships by Rear- Admiral Parker. They retired 
 into Fort Royal Bay, a few hours before my arrival at 
 Gros-Ilet Bay, on the 27th of March. 
 
 "As soon as the fleet could be possibly got ready, I de- 
 termined to return their visit, and offer them battle ; and 
 accordingly, on the 2d of April, proceeded with the whole 
 fleet off Fort Royal Bay, where for two days I offered the 
 enemy battle ; the fleet being near enough to count their 
 guns, and at times within random-shot of some of their forts. 
 M. de Guichen, notwithstanding his superior numbers, 
 chose to remain in port. ... In this situation both fleets 
 remained till the 15th inst., when the enemy, with their 
 whole force, put to sea in the middle of the night ; immedi- 
 ate notice of which being given me, I followed them ; and 
 having looked into Fort Royal Bay, and the road of St. 
 Pierre, on the 16th we got sight of them, about eight leagues to 
 the leeward of Pearl Rock. A general chase to the N. W.
 
 446 APPENDIX. 
 
 followed, and at five in the evening we plainly discovered 
 that they consisted of 23 sail-of-the-line, one 50 gun-ship, 
 3 frigates, a lugger and a cutter. . . . When night came 
 I found the fleet in line-of -battle ahead, and ordered the 
 ' ' Venus " and ' ' Greyhound " to keep between his Majesty's 
 and the enemy's fleet, to watch their motions, which was ad- 
 mirably well done by that good and veteran officer, Captain 
 Ferguson. The maneuvers of the enemy during the night 
 indicated a wish to avoid battle ; but I was determined they 
 should not, and therefore counteracted all their motions. . . . 
 " At eleven, next morning, I made the signal to prepare for 
 battle, and at eleven-fifty the signal for every ship to bear 
 down and steer for her opposite in the enemy's line, agree- 
 ably to the 21st article of the additional fighting instruc- 
 tions. Five minutes later I made the signal for battle ; a 
 few minutes after, the signal that it was my intention to 
 engage close, and of course the Admiral's ship to be the 
 example. A few minutes before one P. M. , one of the head- 
 most ships began the action ; atone, the "Sandwich, "in the 
 center, after having received several fires from the enemy, 
 began to engage. I repeated the signal for close action. The 
 action in the center continued till four, when M. Guichen, 
 in the ' ' Couronne, " in which they had mounted ninety guns, 
 the " Triumphant " and the "Fendant," after engaging the 
 'Sandwich " for an hour and a half, bore away. . .. At the 
 conclusion of the battle, the enemy may be said to be com- 
 pletely beaten ; but such was the distance of the van from 
 the rear, and the crippled condition of several ships, partic- 
 ularly of the " Sandwich," which for twenty-four hours was 
 with difficulty kept above water, that it was impossible to 
 pursue them that night without the greatest disadvan- 
 tage. ... To prevent the risk of another action they took 
 shelter under Guadeloupe. ... As I found it was in vain 
 to follow them, with his Majesty's fleet in the condition they 
 were in, and every motion of the enemy indicating their
 
 APPENDIX. 447 
 
 intention of getting into Fort-Royal Bay, Martinico, where 
 alone they could repair their shattered fleet, I thought the 
 only chance of bringing them to action again was to be off 
 Fort Royal before them, where the fleet under my command 
 now is, in daily expectation of their arrival. . . . 
 
 ' ' I cannot conclude without acquainting their lordships 
 that the French admiral, who appeared to be a brave and 
 gallant officer, had the honor to be nobly supported during 
 the whole action. " G. B. RODNEY." 
 
 In this action 120 men were killed and 353 wounded 
 on board the English fleet. Admiral Rodney's action was 
 indecisive, as much from the plan of attack ordered, as he 
 says, by the 21st article of the additional fighting instruc- 
 tions, as from any other reason. The improved plan of 
 attack, which Nelson adopted at Trafalgar, was not then 
 used. . . . 
 
 This battle had an important bearing upon operations in 
 America, it would seem, for " M. de Guichen's fleet was so 
 disabled by its service in the West Indies, that instead of 
 proceeding to North America, as was intended, he made 
 the best of his way with a convoy to Cadiz, to the great 
 disappointment of General Washington." 
 
 Admiral Rodney, being aware of the enemy's designs 
 against New York, as soon as he had received certain infor- 
 mation of de Guichen's departure, himself sailed immediately 
 with eleven sail-of-the-line and four frigates, to New York, 
 and thus, in all probability saved his fleet from being 
 disabled by the hurricane which did such tremendous 
 damage among the islands. 
 
 V. 
 
 1775. " The sympathy of the West Indian colonists with 
 the revolutionary movement in America, is well illustrated 
 by the petition of the Assembly of Jamaica, to his Majesty
 
 448 APPENDIX. 
 
 in favor of the Americans. After professing the greatest 
 loyalty to the mother country, they declare that the most 
 dreadful calamities to their island, and the inevitable 
 destruction of the small sugar colonies, must follow the 
 present unnatural contest with the Americans. They 
 denied that their ancestors, the settlers or conquerors of 
 the colonies, could receive any rights or privileges from 
 their fellow-subjects in England, at the time of their 
 immigration ; the peers could not communicate their 
 privileges, and the people had no rights but those of 
 which the former were equally possessed ; but the Crown, 
 whose prerogatives were totally independent of both for 
 the great purposes of colonization, communicated to all the 
 colonies, though in different degrees, a liberal share of its 
 own royal powers of government. These powers, as well 
 as their original rights and privileges, had been confirmed 
 to them, by every means which could be devised for 
 affording security to mankind : charters, proclamations, 
 prescription, compact, protection, and obedience. From 
 these and other premises, the petitioners declare that the 
 colonists are not the subjects of the people of England, and 
 insist that they have their own rights of legislation ; they 
 deplore, and behold with amazement, a plan almost carried 
 into execution, for reducing the colonies into an abject 
 state of slavery ; and they demand and claim from the 
 sovereign, as the guarantee of their just rights, that no law 
 shall be forced upon them injurious to their rights, as 
 colonists or Englishmen ; and that, as the common parent 
 of his people, his Majesty would become a mediator between 
 his European and American subjects. 
 
 " The West Indian planters, in a petition to the House of 
 Commons, stated that British property then in the West 
 Indies amounted to upwards of $150,000,000 ; that a further 
 property of many millions was employed in the commerce 
 created by the said islands ; and that the whole produce
 
 APPENDIX. 449 
 
 ultimately centered in Great Britain. They showed that the 
 sugar plantations were necessarily dependent upon external 
 support, and that the profits arising from the island in a 
 great measure depended on a free intercourse with North 
 America, from whence they were furnished with the 
 necessaries for the maintenance of their plantations." 
 
 This feeling of sympathy was universal throughout the 
 West Indies, the trade of which was extensive with the 
 American colonies. 
 
 An instance of the manner in which England took 
 reprisal for an alleged violation of the laws of neutrality, is 
 given in the history of the island of St. Eustatius, belonging 
 to the Dutch. In 1777, Sir Joseph Yorke, the English 
 ambassador at the Hague, delivered a memorial to the 
 States-General, in which he declared that the King, his 
 master, had borne with unexampled patience the irregular 
 conduct of the subjects of their High-Mightinesses, in their 
 colony of St. Eustatia, which was carrying on an illicit 
 trade with America. He stated that the governor of St. 
 Eustatia, M. Van Graaf, had permitted the seizure of an 
 English vessel by an American privateer, within cannon- 
 shot of the island ; and that he had returned, from the 
 fortress of his government, the salute of a rebel flag. . . . 
 
 (This is said on good authority, to have been the first 
 salute paid the American flag in a foreign port.) 
 
 Therefore, in his Majesty's name, and by his express 
 order, he demanded from their High-Mightinesses a formal 
 disavowal of the salute by Fort Orange, at St. Eustatia, to 
 the rebel ship, and the immediate recall of the governor. 
 
 The States answered by a counter memorial, complaining 
 of the menacing tone of the English court, and disavowing, 
 in the most express manner, any act or mark of honor, 
 which may have been given by their officers to any vessels 
 belonging to the colonies of America, so far as it might 
 have implied a recognition of American independence. 
 29
 
 450 APPENDIX. 
 
 The English ministry said they were satisfied with this, 
 yet, the English manifesto against Holland, dated December 
 20th, 1780, contained the following assertion : . . . "In 
 the West Indies, particularly at St. Eustatius, every 
 protection and assistance has been given to our rebellious 
 subjects. Their privateers are openly received into the 
 Dutch harbors, allowed to refit there, supplied with arms 
 and ammunition, their crews recruited, their prizes bought 
 in and sold ; and all this in violation of as clear and solemn 
 stipulation as can be made. This conduct, so inconsistent 
 with all good faith, so repugnant to the wisest part of the 
 Dutch nation, is chiefly to be ascribed to the prevalence 
 of the leading merchants of Amsterdam, whose secret 
 correspondence with our rebellious subject was suspected 
 long before it was made known by the fortunate discovery 
 of a treaty with them, signed in September, 1778." . . . 
 
 The ninth of August, preceding, an English squadron had 
 seized some American vessels under the fort of St. Martin's, 
 and threatened to destroy the town if the Dutch made any 
 resistance. The States-General protested solemnly against 
 this violation of their territory, and desired full satis- 
 faction. . . . 
 
 The next link in this chain of events, was forged by Sir 
 George Rodney, who returned from New York with his 
 squadron, the latter part of the year 1780. This rapacious 
 sea-dog had long had his eye upon the rich island of St. 
 Eustatius, and in February, 1781, he and General Vaughan 
 appeared before it, with a summons to the governor to 
 surrender. M. de Graaf, the governor, was then ignorant 
 of the rupture between England and Holland, and at first 
 could not believe that the officer who carried the summons 
 was serious ; but he answered, that being incapable of 
 making any defense, against such a force, he must of 
 necessity surrender it ; only recommending the inhabitants 
 to the known and usual clemency of British commanders.
 
 APPENDIX. 451 
 
 The value of the plunder amounted to above $15,000,000, 
 which Rodney confiscated to the crown. This was exclusive 
 of the shipping then in port, some 250 sail, many richly 
 laden, a Dutch 38-gun frigate, and five smaller vessels of 
 war. All the magazines were bursting with stores, and 
 even the beach covered with tobacco and sugar. 
 
 It was claimed by Rodney, in his defense for attacking a 
 defenseless island before the government was aware of the 
 beginning of hostilities, that it was a nest of smugglers and 
 privateers, and that the American war would have long 
 since been terminated if the rebels had not received 
 assistance from this same island of St. Eustatius. General 
 Vaughan wrote, on the 7th of February, "We took 
 possession of at least 3,000,000 pounds sterling of money. . . . 
 We have continued the Dutch flag, which answers extremely 
 well, as there have been no less than 17 ships come into the 
 port since it was captured." 
 
 " Except for warlike stores, St. Eustatius became one of 
 the greatest auctions that was ever opened in the universe. 
 Invitation was given and protection afforded to purchasers 
 of all nations, and of all sorts. Never was a better market 
 for buyers." 
 
 But the inhabitants were entirely ruined. The island 
 has never recovered from this base attack ; to-day its 
 ruins testify to the complete devastation at the hands of 
 Rodney and Vaughan. 
 
 In this manner had England wreaked her revenge upon 
 another nation for its alleged part in the defense of the 
 American colonies. 
 
 Defeated in America, her fleets resorted to the West 
 Indies, where they vented the spleen of their commanders 
 first upon the Dutch and then the French. 
 
 At this time the Count de Grasse was expected in the 
 West-Indies, with a large fleet, and in April the British 
 squadron under Sir Samuel Hood fell in with the French,
 
 452 APPENDIX. 
 
 off Martinique. But the French Admiral avoided an engage- 
 ment and preserved his forces for the capture of Tobago, 
 which soon followed. 
 
 The ever-alert governor-general of the French Antilles, 
 the Marquis de Bouille, learning that St. Eustatius was 
 feebly garrisoned by its British conquerors, hastily invaded 
 and captured it, without the loss of a man.* The French 
 restored to the Dutch governor his own private property, 
 and confiscated some 2,000,000 francs, said to have been 
 appropriated by Admiral Rodney and General Vaughan. 
 Saba and St. Bartholomew also fell to the French, and 
 later, St. Christopher's, the activity and energy of Bouille 
 and De Grasse proving more than the English could suc- 
 cessfully combat. 
 
 The reprehensible conduct of Rodney and Vaughan were 
 brought to the notice of the British Parliament, and made 
 a subject of official inquiry. Mr. Burke moved that their 
 
 *Bouilld, Francois Claude Amour, Marquis de, French general, 
 born Nov. 19, 1739. "Distinguished himself in the Seven Years' War, 
 was appointed governor of Guadeloupe in 1768, and at the beginning of 
 the American war of independence was governor-general of the French 
 West Indies. He not only preserved them to his country, but took 
 several others from the English, fighting with constant and desperate 
 valor. At the same time he displayed such magnanimity that, on visit- 
 ing England, at the conclusion of peace, he was received with admi- 
 ration. In the first years of the revolution he was in command of the 
 eastern military division of France, and ably contended with great 
 difficulties arising from the rebellious disposition of the popu- 
 lation and the mutinous spirit of the troops. When Louis 
 XVI. projected his flight from France, he consulted Bouille", who 
 entered into the plan and made all the necessary preparations ; but 
 which were rendered futile by the arrest of the king at Varennes 
 (June 21, 1791). Bouilld fled from France, and went afterwards to 
 Russia, later to England, where he wrote his Memoires sur la Revo- 
 lution Franqaise ; London, 1797 ; first published in French, 1801. He 
 died Nov. 14th, 1800."
 
 APPENDIX. 453 
 
 actions were dishonest ; but his motion was rejected, by a, 
 vote of 163 89. 
 
 The fleets of the French and English admirals chased 
 each other to and fro across the Atlantic, now in the West 
 Indies, now on the coast of North America. In June, the 
 Marquis de Bouill6 and Count de Grasse united in an ex- 
 pedition to Tobago, which island they captured with little 
 loss, while Rodney's fleet was at Barbados, within twenty- 
 four hours' sail. The Count afterwards sailed for America, 
 and his participation in the affairs at Yorktown is a matter 
 of history universally known. The French contributed to 
 that memorable investment by which Cornwallis was forced 
 to surrender, and the British arms suffered permanent de- 
 feat on American soil, 37 ships and 7,000 men. The last 
 of November he arrived in the West-Indies, and it was in 
 anticipation of this event that Rear-Admiral Hood left 
 Sandy-Hook, on the llth November, arriving at Barbados 
 the 5th of December, with 17 sail of the line. 
 
 1782. In January, the Marquis de Bouille, landed at St. 
 Christopher's, with 8,000 men, supported by de Grasse with 
 29 sail of the line. After the French troops had effected a 
 landing, the Count was attacked by Sir Samuel Hood, and 
 a desperate naval battle ensued, in which the advantage 
 remained with the French. Sir Samuel withdrew his fleet 
 to Barbados, and the French effected the conquest of the 
 island. The near islands of Nevis and Montserrat shared 
 in the downfall of St. Christopher's, and, of all the British 
 possessions in the Antilles, at the opening of the year 1782, 
 but three islands, Antigua, Barbados and Jamaica, re- 
 mained to them. 
 
 It was a critical time ; the supremacy of Britain in the 
 West-Indies was in danger of being wrested from her, 
 through the bravery and activity of the Marquis de Bouille 
 and the Count de Grasse. Only by a supreme effort, and
 
 454 APPENDIX. 
 
 by means of one of the greatest naval battles of the century, 
 was her prestige restored, 
 
 The Naval Battle between Rodney and the Count de 
 Grasse. Sir George Rodney, with 12 sail of the line, arrived 
 at Barbados, the 19th of February ; Admiral Hood three 
 days later, and also three sail of the line from England. 
 This made Rodney's fleet to consist of 36 sail of the line, 
 with which he cruised to windward of the French islands, 
 hoping to intercept an expected convoy from France. 
 
 The convoy escaped and arrived safely at Fort Royal, so 
 Rodney returned to Gros-Ilet Bay, St. Lucia, to water his 
 fleet and refit. 
 
 In Fort Royal Bay, across the channel, in Martinique, 
 was the fleet of Count de Grasse, consisting of 34 sail of the 
 line, including the magnificent " Ville de Paris," of 110 guns, 
 his flag-ship ; two fifty-gun ships and 13 frigates. 
 
 At daybreak on the 8th of April, the French fleet, with a 
 large convoy under its protection, sailed out of Fort-Royal, 
 with the intention of forming a junction with the Spanish 
 fleet at Hispaniola and Cuba. 
 
 The object of their destination and attack was Jamaica, 
 and aboard the fleet were 5,500 troops. 
 
 Rodney, on the alert for the enemy, at once sailed in pur- 
 suit, and just before nightfall sighted them under the island 
 of Dominica. At daylight next morning, the English fleet 
 was becalmed under that island, but the morning breeze 
 soon enabled the van of the fleet to close with the French 
 center. The action was commenced about nine, by Captain 
 Burnet in the "Royal Oak," seconded by the ''Alfred," 
 and the "Montague.". . . Then began, on the morning of the 
 ninth of April, that decisive and most sanguinary battle, 
 which decided the fate of the French in the Antilles. . . . The 
 whole division was soon engaged. The British van brought 
 to, that it might not be too far separated from the rest of 
 the fleet ; but the French kept under sail, and when they
 
 APPENDIX. 455 
 
 had passed the foremost of their opponents tacked, in suc- 
 cession, and formed again in the rear, continuing this mode 
 of attack. Thus eight sail of the British were engaged by 
 fifteen of the enemy, until the center were able to come into 
 the action. Sir George Rodney, with his seconds, the 
 "Namur,"and the "Duke," all ninety -gun ships, obliged de 
 Grasse to keep at a greater distance during the remainder 
 of the engagement, which continued for nearly two hours 
 afterwards. About twelve, de Grasse stood off to windward 
 and two of his fleet were obliged to put into Guadeloupe. 
 That night the English fleet lay to, to repair damages, and 
 the next day both fleets kept turning to windward, in the 
 channel between Dominica and Guadeloupe. 
 
 On the eleventh the enemy had weathered the island of 
 Guadeloupe, and might have escaped, had not two of the 
 disabled ships fallen astern, and de Grasse gallantly 
 borne down with his whole fleet to their assistance. This 
 rendered a general attack unavoidable, and both fleets were 
 kept in close order during the night. . . . About seven 
 next morning, the hostile fleets met on opposite tacks. 
 Admiral Drake's division led into action ; the English ships 
 ranging slowly up and closely under the enemy's lee, so 
 that every shot told with terrible effect. About noon, of 
 the twelfth, Rodney, in the "Formidable," with the 
 "Namur," "Duke," and "Canada," bore directly, with 
 all sail, athwart the enemy's line, and broke through it, 
 about three ships from the center, where de Grasse com- 
 manded, in the " Ville de Paris." Then Rodney, followed 
 by the ships astern of his division, wore short around ; thus 
 doubling upon the enemy, and closing up with their center, 
 completed the separation of the line, and decided the fort- 
 une of the day. At the time Rodney wore, he made the- 
 signal for the van to tack, which was immediately done by 
 Admiral Drake. The French van bore up, endeavoring to
 
 456 APPENDIX. 
 
 form their broken line ; but the dismay and disorder of 
 their rear was irretrievable. 
 
 The " Ville de Paris," after being much battered, was 
 closely engaged by the " Canada," for nearly two hours ; 
 but would not strike, until the "Barfleur," Sir Samuel 
 Hood, came up ; her she engaged for about a quarter of an 
 hour ; and then, at sunset, she surrendered. 
 
 When the "Ville de Paris," struck, there were only three 
 unwounded men upon her upper deck, the Count de Grasse 
 was one of the three. . . , 
 
 The French fleet was reported to have had 3,000 men 
 killed and wounded. On board the " Ville de Paris," alone 
 400 were said to have been killed. Thirty-six chests of 
 money were found on board her. This great ship was 
 a present from the city of Paris to Louis XV. and 
 was supposed to have cost 176, 000 pounds sterling ; she was 
 " the first first-rate man-of-war ever taken and carried into 
 port by any commander of any nation." 
 
 Five sail of the French line were taken, but the most of 
 them escaped, owing to the English fleet getting becalmed 
 under the lee of Guadeloupe. . . . The English loss amounted 
 to 250 killed and 1050 wounded, including Capt. Blair, of 
 the " Anson," Lord Robert Manners, and Capt. Bayne of 
 the " Alfred." The whole of the battering- cannon and 
 artillery intended for the attack on Jamaica was on board 
 the captured ships. Had the Count de Grasse succeeded in 
 joining the Spanish fleet, the naval force of the two crowns 
 would have amounted to sixty sail of the line upon that 
 station. 
 
 Jamaica was saved, the back of the French fleet broken, 
 and the prizes taken into the harbor of Fort Royal, Jamaica. 
 But the finest of the prizes, including the " Ville de Paris," 
 were lost in a terrible gale, in the summer of that year, 
 1782. 
 
 The brave De Grasse, who had so ably assisted the Ameri-
 
 APPENDIX. 457 
 
 cans, and .by whose active co-operation, Cornwallis was shut 
 up at Yorktown, the year previous, was made captive by 
 the English admiral, and the British fleet was at last tri- 
 umphant. 
 
 He survived this defeat six years, and died in January, 
 1788. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Witchcraft : In the year 1657, a woman was burned for 
 witchcraft who, says the historian Du Tertre, was un- 
 doubtedly guilty. "For it was proved that the moment 
 she touched children against whom she had a grudge, they 
 became languid and died. She sent a sort of caterpillar to 
 the houses of those with whom she quarrelled, which de- 
 stroyed the best of everything they had, while their neigh- 
 bors did not suffer from the pest. She was brought before 
 a judge, who put her in irons and examined her for the 
 marks which he had heard the devil puts upon his own ; 
 but not finding such he delivered her into the hands of a 
 surgeon who proceeded to apply the test by water, said to 
 be efficacious in Germany. 
 
 " They carried her to a river of some depth, near to Carbet, 
 where they stripped her, tied her thumbs to her great toes, 
 and having fastened a rope to her waist, she was pushed 
 into the water and hauled to the deepest part, where she 
 floated like a balloon, without their being able to sink her, 
 although she herself made several efforts to go to the bottom. 
 More than two hundred persons were present at this trial, 
 and would have gone away convinced ; but her tormentor 
 sent a little boy to swim to her, who, having fastened a 
 sewing-needle in her hair, she sank like lead to the bottom, 
 where for the space of a good 'miserere,'' they saw her 
 motionless. Yet, when they took her out of the water, they 
 were obliged to give her something to quench her thirst. . . . 
 These three circumstances : of not being able to sink without
 
 458 APPENDIX. 
 
 a little bit of iron attached, and of being under water 
 without breathing, and without swallowing any water, 
 determined the judge to condemn her to death next day. 
 But during the night her self -constituted judge, proceeding 
 with his plan, burnt her so severely upon the sides and flank, 
 that she died the same night, without having confessed the 
 crime of which she was accused."
 
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