Part 30

She had not the least doubt of the success of her errand, which was no less than the attempt to secure Madame de Genlis, who had returned to Paris in pinched circumstances, to come to her magnificent hotel in the Rue St. Dominique, and as a lady, receive for her: in short, put her in the way of learning the old etiquette with which she should honor people who were quite _comme il faut_. And so with pompous brusqueness she announces the object of her visit to Madame de Genlis. She would give her a salary of twelve thousand francs. She would promise not to tyrannize over her, and even if she had a dear friend she also would be welcome. What more could she require?

“Madame, I thank you for your obliging offer, which I have the honor to inform you it is not in my power to accept,” replied Madame de Genlis, rising with the courtly manner of a _grande dame_ of the court of the _Grand Monarque_.

“You refuse it!” cried Madame Privas in astonishment. “Why, I offer much more than you can get for your books. And besides, you would have friends in us;—friends with a fortune of five millions. _C’est beau, ca! eh?_”

“Madame,” replied Madame de Genlis, “I have answered you. It is impossible.”

“Well, adieu then, my _bonne dame_. Privas and I made sure you would jump at the offer. In case you should change your mind, I’ll leave you my address. Write me, if you think better of it.” And with her plumes waving in ruffled pride, and her velvets and satins rustling in their gorgeous costliness, Madame Privas bounced out of the room, forgetting her assumed elegance of manner at the affront offered to her darling dollars.

Josephine’s manners, “_en representation_,” were charming. She appeared a very queen at the emperor’s public receptions. Her air and attitude were dignified, graceful, and yet natural. She conversed with ease and fluency, employing the choicest terms of expression; and the spectator could not resist a pleased astonishment at the gracious bearing which charmed all classes of society, and at her alluring tact which enabled her to address crowds of persons in quick succession, and yet with a pleasing and appropriate word to each, turning with equal ease from a tradesman to a monarch.

The emperor was one day about to undertake some important business, when Josephine besought him to put it off for a time, remarking that it was Friday, which was regarded as an unlucky day. Napoleon replied: “’Tis so perhaps to you, Madame, but it is the most fortunate in my life. I never shall forget that it was the day of our marriage.” The empress was deeply touched at this mark of devotion from her husband, and she ceased to enforce her request.

The time for the coronation ceremony had arrived. Josephine felt the solemnity as well as the grandeur of the occasion, as is evinced from these few lines written to Pope Pius VII. at this time:—

“Ah! truly do I feel, that in becoming empress of the French, I ought also to become to them as a mother at the same time. What would it avail to bear them in my heart, if I proved my affections for them only by my intentions? _Deeds_ are what the people have a right to demand from those who govern them.”

And truly, Josephine exemplified her words by her actions.

On the 2d of December, 1804, all was stir in Paris and the Tuileries from an early hour.

“On this morning, which was to witness the completion of her greatness, Josephine rose about eight o’clock, and immediately commenced her momentous _grande toilette_. The body drapery of the empress was of white satin, beautifully embroidered in gold, and ornamented on the breast with diamonds. The mantle was of crimson velvet, lined with satin and ermine, studded with golden bees, and fastened by an aigrette of diamonds.

“The coronation jewels consisted of a crown, a diadem, and a ceinture. The first used for the actual crowning, and worn only on state occasions, consisted of eight branches, four wrought in palm, and four in myrtle leaves of gold, incrusted with diamonds; round the circlet ran a corded fillet set with eight very large emeralds, and the bandeau which immediately enclosed the head, shone with resplendent amethysts.

“The diadem worn before the coronation, and on the more ordinary state occasions, was composed of four rows of the finest pearls interlaced with foliage of diamonds, the workmanship of which equalled the materials; in front were several brilliants, the largest weighing one hundred and forty-nine grains. The ceinture was of gold, so pure as to be quite elastic, enriched with thirty-nine rose-colored diamonds.

“Napoleon’s coronation robes were equally magnificent. His close dress was of white velvet, embroidered in gold, with diamond buttons; his stockings of white silk, the gussets wrought in gold, harmonized with the buskins of white velvet laced and bordered with gold; his upper garment, as also the short mantle, were of crimson velvet, richly embroidered in gold, with diamond fastenings. This mantle was similar to that of the empress, but much heavier, weighing upwards of eighty pounds.

“‘All very fine, Monsieur le Drôle,’ said Napoleon, to his favorite valet, playfully pinching his ear; ‘all very fine; but we shall see the accounts.’

“At eleven precisely the cavalcade moved from the Tuileries towards Nôtre Dame. The imperial carriage, drawn by eight bays, had been constructed with the entire panelling of glass, a circumstance which accounts for the mistake made by their Majesties, who first seated themselves, like criminals, with their backs to the horses. Josephine was the first to discover this error, which she instantly rectified by lightly assuming the proper position saying at the same time to the emperor:—

“‘_Mon ami_, unless you prefer riding _vis-à-vis_, this is your seat,’ pointing to the rich cushion on the right. Napoleon, laughing heartily at his blunder, moved to the place indicated.

“The procession advanced, attended by ten thousand horsemen, the flower of ‘Gallic chivalry,’ who defiled between double lines of infantry, selected from the bravest soldiers, and extending above a mile and a half; while more than four hundred thousand spectators filled up every space whence a lance could be obtained.

“The thunders of innumerable artillery, the acclamations of the assembled multitude, expressed the general enthusiasm; and, as if to light up the gorgeous spectacle, the sun suddenly broke through the mists which till then had hung heavily over the city. The _cortège_ stopped at the archiepiscopal palace, whence a temporary covered gallery, hung with the banners of the sixteen cohorts of the Legion of Honor, conducted into the interior of the cathedral and to the throne.

“To this latter was an ascent of twenty-two semicircular steps, covered with blue cloth, gemmed with golden bees, and crowded with the grand officers of the empire.

“On the throne itself, hung with crimson velvet, under a canopy of the same, appeared Napoleon, with Josephine on his left, attended by the princesses of the empire, and on his right his two brothers, with the archchancellor and archtreasurer.

“The religious ceremony continued nearly four hours, enlivened by music composed for the occasion, and sung by more than three hundred performers. The martial band was still more numerous, which executed in the intervals marches afterwards adopted and still used in the armies of France.

“Napoleon, in the midst of the ceremony, stood up and laid his hand upon the imperial crown,—a simple diadem of gold wrought into a chaplet of interwoven oak and laurel,—and placed it on his own head. Afterward, Napoleon took the crown destined for the empress, and, first putting it for an instant on his own, placed it upon his consort’s brow, as she knelt before him on the platform of the throne.

“The appearance of Josephine was at this moment most touching. Even then she had not forgotten that she was once an ‘obscure woman’; tears of deep emotion fell from her eyes; she remained for a moment kneeling, with hands crossed upon her bosom, then, slowly and gracefully rising, fixed upon her husband a look of gratitude and tenderness. Napoleon returned the glance. It was a silent but conscious interchange of the hopes, the promises, and the memories of years.

“Cardinal Fesch, as grand almoner of France, now placed the Gospels on the throne; Napoleon stood up, laid his hand on the sacred volume, and in his deep and solemn tones pronounced the oaths with such firmness and elevation of voice, that each word was distinctly heard by the vast assembly.

“Shouts of ‘Long live the emperor! God bless the empress!’ resounded through the cathedral, and were caught and repeated by the multitude without; the organ pealed forth _Te Deum_, and the imposing ceremony was over.

“The _cortège_ re-entered the palace at half-past six in the evening. Josephine retired to her closet to give vent in secret to the fulness of her heart, and to implore the protection of Him by whom kings reign.”

Josephine’s mode of life after she became empress is thus described: “At the Tuileries, at St. Cloud, and during the grand journeys of the court, her habit was to rise at eight in the morning, and commence her toilet. While her hair was being dressed, she would glance over half a dozen journals, and receive her _modistes_, or such other persons as she could not admit into the _salon_. When she was fully dressed, which operation lasted ordinarily about an hour, she would pass into the _salon_ at ten or eleven o’clock, where she found the _dames de service_ and those whom she had invited to breakfast with her. At noon she sat at table at least an hour. Breakfast was in some sort her only meal, for, on leaving her bed, she was in the habit of taking nothing but a cup of tea with a little citron. I do not speak of her breakfasting with the emperor; for he was always so engaged that he scarcely had time to eat. After breakfast, if the weather was good, she would ride out in a calèche, and go to Malmaison or on a hunting party.

“In case she did not go out, she received calls from all such persons as had obtained the promise of a meeting, of which she was advised either by the _dame d’honneur_, or the _chamberlain de service_. These two functionaries could introduce only such persons as the empress was unacquainted with, or knew but slightly, whilst all the ladies who were admitted to her court came whenever they pleased, without a card of invitation, unless there was a concert or a spectacle,—a matter appertaining to the emperor’s chief chamberlain.

“From breakfast until four o’clock, Josephine would receive two or three private visits in her separate apartment, or repose upon a sofa; at four she retired to her cabinet, undressed, went to reading, and took a little refreshment. This lasted till five, when a second toilet commenced. She rarely received a call at this time, because it was the hour at which the emperor came, unless engaged in council.”

M’lle Avrillion, _femme de chambre_ of the Empress Josephine, tells several amusing stories regarding these visits of Napoleon while his wife was making her _grande toilette;_ and the many suggestions he made as to the becomingness of certain attire, and his marked antipathy to some styles. The poor _femme de chambre_ dreaded these visits as much as Josephine enjoyed them, for the emperor would always turn the entire wardrobe topsy-turvy in making the selections of his favorite costumes, and the jewel-caskets would suffer equal disarrangement. On one occasion, when Josephine had unconsciously donned an attire displeasing to the taste of her husband, he ruthlessly spattered ink upon the obnoxious gown, so that the amiable empress was obliged to remove the offending robe, and array herself to please her particular lord.

The emperor and empress usually dined together alone at six o’clock, and afterwards Josephine again entered the _salon_, where she found the _dames de service_. In the evening, the ministers, marshals, generals, and others made their calls. Josephine conversed with ease with every one, now and then playing a game of backgammon or whist. If the emperor came in, which was never before nine o’clock, he remained only about a quarter of an hour, unless he wished to form a party at play, and then he would appoint the persons to compose it. His party always consisted of ladies, never of gentlemen. But woe betide his partner! for such was the preoccupation of his mind that he paid no attention to the card he was playing, and did not notice his mistakes. No one dared to make any remark upon his mode of playing. After going through with this kind of game, the emperor left the apartment, Josephine meanwhile remaining in the _salon_ until it was time to retire.

At Malmaison, the only difference in her mode of life was that she saw somewhat less company, and spent much time in walking through the delightful grounds of this rustic retreat. She had established at Malmaison a botanical garden, a menagerie, and a school of agriculture. Josephine preserved her simple tastes and her love for rural life even after she became empress. One of her greatest delights was the embellishment of her beautiful gardens. She was well versed in botany and natural history, and France and Europe are indebted to her for the camellia. Napoleon’s happiest days were spent at Malmaison; and after the divorce, he continued to visit Josephine at this retreat. He would lead her into the park, remain an hour or two, bring her back to the _salon_, and then get into his carriage. She received him with perfect politeness and dignity of manner, going forward to meet him; and when he left, accompanying him to the door of the vestibule.

The appearance of Josephine after she became empress, is thus described: “Her features were small and finely modelled, the curves tending rather to fulness and the profile inclining to Grecian, but without any statue-like coldness of outline. The habitual character of her countenance was a placid sweetness, which perhaps would have given at first an impression of lack of energy. But this could have been for an instant only, for the real charm of this mild countenance resided in its power of varied expression, changing with each vicissitude of thought and sentiment. ‘Never’ says a very honest admirer, ‘did any woman better justify the saying, The eyes are the mirror of the soul.’ Josephine’s were of a deep blue, clear and brilliant, even imposing in their expression when turned fully upon any one; but in her usual manner they lay half concealed beneath their long and silky eyelashes. She had a habit of looking thus with a mild, subdued glance upon those she loved, throwing into her regard such winning tenderness as might not easily be resisted; and even in his darkest moods, Napoleon confessed its tranquillizing power. Josephine’s long hair ‘was glossy chestnut brown,’ whose sunny richness harmonized delightfully with a clear and transparent complexion and neck of almost dazzling whiteness. Her eyebrows were a shade darker, arching regularly, and pencilled with extreme delicacy. The perfect modulation of her voice constituted one of her most pleasing attractions, and rendered her conversation extremely captivating.”

It was difficult for Napoleon ever to resist the persuasive voice of Josephine.

On the eve of Napoleon’s departure for Germany, in April, 1809, having taken leave of Josephine, she had retired to her apartment, and thrown herself upon her bed in deep distress, because she could not obtain his consent to allow her to accompany him to Strasburg.

The emperor, returning unexpectedly to her room at the last moment, said to Josephine:—

“You have played the part of empress long enough; you must now become again the wife of a general. I leave immediately; you will accompany me to Strasburg.”

Josephine herself thus tells the story:—

“I was not at all prepared for the journey, for only a few days before he had refused to permit me to accompany him on the campaign. At three o’clock in the morning we were travelling speedily on the Alsace road. My husband scarcely gave me time to throw on a night-cloak, and all my women had left the château _en déshabillé;_ so that when morning came, the officers who accompanied us could scarcely preserve their gravity at seeing us in such a plight. Napoleon was extreme in every thing, and it was never until the decisive moment came that he expressed his final resolution. I had been so long accustomed to his singular character, that I ceased to be astonished at the striking contrasts which it exhibited. Our journey was full of gayety; we met sundry original characters on the way, who furnished us abundance of amusement. We arrived at Strasburg. My husband had a secret presentiment that he should return victorious. He said to me, on leaving me:—

“‘Josephine watches over all that I love, and my guardian angel will never cease to utter her prayers for the safety and success of her husband.’

“He knew me well, that mortal whose astonishing destiny had opened to him the road to the most splendid throne on earth. I cherished not a thought, I formed not a wish, which was not directed to his glory. If certain political drones have dared accuse me of levity in my conduct, let those unjust censors remember that it was under the mask of sincere friendship that I sought to overawe certain powerful personages. Had I regarded them with an eye of indifference, they might have surrounded Napoleon with perils from which no human prudence could have rescued him. Often did I, in concert with him, carry on a correspondence. I flattered all parties, for I love to do justice to all. When Napoleon supposed he had grounds of complaint against any of his military officers, I warmly pleaded their cause. He would tell me:—

“‘It depends only on me whether I will be rid of that officer. I have only to pronounce his doom.’

“‘You are right,’ I would reply; ‘you are right; but such language does not become your generous and noble nature.’

“‘And who can oppose me in it!’ was his quick reply.

“‘Yourself, Napoleon. ’Twould arm against your person a multitude of brave men who are necessary to you. Certainly, a great man should fear nothing; but he captivates all hearts when he pardons. The first function of kings and the firmest pillar of a throne is justice.’”

Thus Josephine’s influence was always on the side of mercy and justice. She possessed the most perfect tact, which rendered her address irresistibly winning when partisans were to be gained for Napoleon. She was entirely engrossed in the welfare and glory of him to whom her heart was most unselfishly devoted and loyal. She gained for him friends on every side; as Napoleon himself acknowledged, saying, “I conquer empires; but Josephine wins hearts.” Bonaparte was never so prosperous, so well-served, and so well-beloved, as during the years when he was blessed with the counsels and aided by the adoring love of the faithful woman, who was always his best adviser and most constant friend.

When on one occasion Josephine warned Napoleon to be on his guard against the advice which might be given him by his flatterers, he replied:—

“You are right, Madame, I know how to guard myself against all their influences. You are my _wife_ and _friend_. I want none other. Your lot is bound to mine forever; and woe to that one of us who shall be the first to break our oath.”

And yet in 1809, he could not guard himself against the “bees” of his court, who hummed in his ears:—

“You must separate from the Empress Josephine. A princess of the blood of the Cæsars will esteem it a glory to give heirs to the great Napoleon. Then will his dynasty be established forever.”

The divorce in 1809 was brought about by the joint efforts of all the members of the Bonaparte family, aided by some of Napoleon’s most confidential servants, whom Josephine, either as Madame Bonaparte, or empress, had failed to make her friends, notwithstanding her ceaseless endeavors to harmonize all the hostile elements around her. Even as early as the time when Napoleon was in Egypt, these intriguers first tried to lay snares for the unsuspicious and magnanimous Josephine, and various scandals were originated and reported to the absent Bonaparte.

Junot was made their tool either willingly or unwillingly, and the evil whispers became louder and louder. During the first months of the Egyptian expedition, Bonaparte’s letters to his wife were affectionate and confiding. But the poison was soon at work, and the rumors which Junot had repeated to Bonaparte roused his jealous anger.

Poor Josephine knew naught of these dread scandals, until the letters received from her husband, accusing her of errors of which she was guiltless, stabbed her to the heart. Her appeals against these injurious aspersions were in accordance with her own noble nature. We can only quote a few lines from her letter to Napoleon:—

“Can it be possible, my friend? Is the letter indeed yours which I have just received? Scarcely can I give it credence, on comparing the present with those now before me, and to which your love gave so many charms! My eyes cannot doubt that those pages which rend my heart are too surely yours; but my soul refuses to admit that yours could have dictated those lines, which to the ardent joy experienced on hearing from you have caused to succeed the mortal grief of reading the expressions of a displeasure, the more afflicting to me that it must have proved a source of fearful pain to you.

“I am entirely 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 great 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.

“Oh, my friend! in place of lending an ear to impostors, who, from motives which I cannot explain, seek to ruin our happiness, why do you not rather reduce them to silence by the recital of your benefits to a woman whose character has never incurred the suspicion of ingratitude? On hearing what you have done for me and for my children, my traducers would be silent. Your conduct, admired as it has been throughout the whole of Europe, has in my heart but awakened deeper adoration of the husband who made choice of me, poor as I was, and unhappy. Every step which you take adds to the splendor of the name I bear—and is such a moment seized to persuade you that I no longer love you? What absurdity, or rather what vileness, on the part of your companions, jealous as they are of your marked superiority! I tremble when I think of the dangers which surround 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.”