JOSEPHINE IN ITALY.
A.D. 1796-A.D. 1797
Marriage of Josephine and Napoleon.--The army of Italy.--Proclamation
of Napoleon.--He is called an ignoramus.--Josephine at Montebello.--
Her popularity.--Pleasure excursions.--Isola Bella.--Anecdote.--Ambition
of Napoleon.--His achievements.--Fears of the Directory.--Description of
Napoleon.--His reserve.--Remark of Josephine.--Secret plans of Napoleon.
--Napoleon's love for Josephine.--Her influence over him.--A young
aid-de-camp.--Affection of the Italians for Napoleon.--Josephine an
ally.--She is at home in every situation.--Unembarrassed air of
Josephine.--She becomes the queen of etiquette.--Josephine an object
of homage.--Her powers of fascination.--Popular enthusiasm.--Affected
seclusion of Napoleon.--He becomes studious.--His laudable emulation.--
His noble ambition.--Napoleon the idol of the army.--Napoleon mounts
guard.--The "Little Corporal."--Triumphal fete.--Song of the soldiers.
--Speech of Barras.--Remarkable contrast.--Josephine the center of
attraction.--Josephine the "Star of Napoleon."--She is a ministering
angel.--Jealousy of Napoleon.--Arts of her enemies to encourage it.--The
"pear" not yet ripe.--Napoleon resolves to go to Egypt.--Magnificence of
his plans.
On the 9th of March, 1796, Josephine was married to Napoleon. The
Revolution had swept away every thing that was sacred in human and
divine institutions, and the attempt had been made to degrade marriage
into a mere partnership, which any persons might contract or dissolve at
pleasure. According to the Revolutionary form, Josephine and Napoleon
presented themselves before a magistrate, and simply announced their
union. A few friends attended as witnesses of the ceremony.
Napoleon had, in the mean time, been appointed commander of the French
forces in Italy. In twelve days after his nuptials, he left his bride
and hastened to the army, then in the lowest state of poverty and
suffering. The veteran generals, when they first saw the pale-faced
youth who was placed over them all, were disposed to treat him with
contempt. Hardly an hour elapsed after his arrival ere they felt and
admitted that he was their master. He seemed insensible to mental
exhaustion, or fatigue, or hunger, or want of sleep. He was upon
horseback night and day. Almost supernatural activity was infused into
the army. It fell like an avalanche upon the Austrians. In fifteen days
after he took command, he proclaimed to his exulting and victorious
troops,
"Soldiers! you have gained in fifteen days six victories, taken
one-and-twenty standards, fifty-five pieces of cannon, many strong
places, and conquered the richest part of Piedmont; you have made
fifteen thousand prisoners, and killed or wounded ten thousand men."
Paris was perfectly intoxicated with the announcement, day after day, of
these brilliant achievements. The name of Napoleon was upon every lip,
and all France resounded with his praises. "This young commander," said
one of the discomfited veteran generals of the Austrian army, "knows
nothing whatever about the art of war. He is a perfect ignoramus. He
sets at defiance all the established rules of military tactics. There is
no doing any thing with him."
Napoleon, after a series of terrible conflicts and most signal triumphs,
drove the Austrians out of Italy, pursued them into their own country,
and at Leoben, almost within sight of the steeples of Vienna, dictated
a peace, which crowned him, in the estimation of his countrymen, with
the highest glory. Josephine now went from Paris to Italy to meet her
triumphant husband. They took up their residence at the Castle of
Montebello, a most delightful country seat in the vicinity of Milan.
And here Josephine passed a few months of almost unalloyed happiness.
The dark and tempestuous days through which she had recently been led,
had prepared her to enjoy most exquisitely the calm which ensued. She
had been in the deepest penury. She was now in the enjoyment of all that
wealth could confer. She had been widowed and homeless. She was now the
wife of a victorious general whose fame was reverberating through
Europe, and her home combined almost every conceivable attraction. She
had been a prisoner doomed to die, and her very jailer feared to speak
to her in tones of kindness. Now she was caressed by nobles and princes;
all the splendors of a court surrounded her, and every heart did her
homage. Josephine presided at all her receptions and entertainments with
an elegance of manner so winning as perfectly to fascinate the Milanese.
"I conquer provinces," said Napoleon of her at that time, "but
Josephine wins hearts." The vicinity of Montebello combines perhaps as
much of the beautiful and the sublime in scenery as can be found at any
other spot on the surface of the globe. Napoleon sympathized most
cordially with Josephine in her appreciation of the beautiful and the
romantic; and though he devoted the energies of his mind, with
unsleeping diligence, to the ambitious plans which engrossed him, he
found time for many delightful excursions with his fascinating bride.
There is not, perhaps, in Italy a more lovely drive than that from
Milan, along the crystal waters of Lake Como to Lake Maggiore. This
romantic lake, embosomed among the mountains, with its densely wooded
islands and picturesque shores, was a favorite resort for excursions of
pleasure. Here, in gay parties, they floated in boats, with well-trained
rowers, and silken awnings, and streaming pennants, and ravishing music.
The island of Isola Bella, or _Beautiful Island_, with its arcades, its
hanging gardens, and its palace of monkish gloom, was Napoleon's
favorite landing-place. Here they often partook of refreshments, and
engaged with all vivacity in rural festivities. It is stated that, while
enjoying one of these excursions, Josephine, with one or two other
ladies, was standing under a beautiful orange-tree, loaded with fruit,
with the attention of the party all absorbed in admiring the beauties of
the distant landscape. Napoleon, unperceived, crept up the tree, and by
a sudden shake brought down quite a shower of the golden fruit upon the
ladies. The companions of Josephine screamed with affright and ran from
the tree. She, however, accustomed to such pleasantries, suspected the
source, and remained unmoved. "Why, Josephine!" exclaimed Napoleon, "you
stand fire like one of my veterans." "And why should I not?" she
promptly replied, "am I not the wife of their commander?"
[Illustration: ISOLA BELLA.]
Napoleon, during these scenes of apparent relaxation, had but one
thought--ambition. His capacious mind was ever restless, ever excited,
not exactly with the desire of personal aggrandizement, but of mighty
enterprise, of magnificent achievement. Josephine, with her boundless
popularity and her arts of persuasion, though she often trembled in view
of the limitless aspirations of her husband, was extremely influential
in winning to him the powerful friends by whom they were surrounded.
The achievements which Napoleon accomplished during the short Italian
campaign are perhaps unparalleled in ancient or modern warfare.
With a number of men under his command ever inferior to the forces of
the Austrians, he maneuvered always to secure, at any one point, an
array superior to that of his antagonists. He cut up four several armies
which were sent from Austria to oppose him, took one hundred and fifteen
thousand prisoners, one hundred and seventy standards, eleven hundred
and forty pieces of battering cannon and field artillery, and drove the
Austrians from the frontiers of France to the walls of Vienna. He was
every where hailed as the liberator of Italy; and, encircled with the
pomp and the power of a monarch, he received such adulation as monarchs
rarely enjoy.
The Directory in Paris began to tremble in view of the gigantic strides
which this ambitious general was making. They surrounded him with spies
to garner up his words, to watch his actions, and, if possible, to
detect his plans. But the marble face of this incomprehensible youth
told no secrets. Even to Josephine he revealed not his intentions; and
no mortal scrutiny could explore the thoughts fermenting in his deep and
capacious mind. His personal appearance at this time is thus described
by an observer of his triumphal entrance into Milan:
"I beheld with deep interest and extreme attention that
extraordinary man who has performed such great deeds, and
about whom there is something which seems to indicate that
his career is not yet terminated. I found him very like his
portrait, small in stature, thin, pale, with the air of
fatigue, but not in ill health. He appeared to me to listen
with more abstraction than interest, as if occupied rather
with what he was thinking of than with what was said to him.
There is great intelligence in his countenance, along with
an expression of habitual meditation, which reveals nothing
of what is passing within. In that thinking head, in that
daring mind, it is impossible not to suppose that some
designs are engendering which shall have their influence
upon the destinies of Europe."
Napoleon was fully confident of the jealousy he had aroused, and of
the vigilance with which he was watched. His caution often wounded
Josephine, as he was as impenetrable to her in reference to all his
political plans as to any one else. While she at times loved him almost
to adoration, she ever felt in awe of the unexplored recesses of his
mind. He appeared frequently lost in thought, and, perfectly regardless
of the pomp and the pageantry with which he was surrounded, he gave
unmistakable indications that he regarded the achievements he had
already accomplished as very trivial--merely the commencement of his
career. She once remarked to a friend, "During the many years we have
now passed together, I never once beheld Bonaparte for a moment at
ease--not even with myself. He is constantly on the alert. If at any
time he appears to show a little confidence, it is merely a feint to
throw the person with whom he is conversing off his guard, and to draw
forth his real sentiments, but never does he himself disclose his own
thoughts."
Napoleon now deemed it expedient to visit Paris; for he despised the
weakness and the inefficiency of those who, amid the surges of the
Revolution, had been elevated there to the supreme power, and already he
secretly contemplated the overthrow of the government, as soon as an
opportunity promising success should be presented. Josephine, with her
children, remained in Milan, that she might continue to dazzle the eyes
of the Milanese with the splendor of the establishment of the Liberator
of Italy, and that she might watch over the interests of her
illustrious spouse.
She gave splendid entertainments. Her saloons were ever thronged with
courtiers, and the inimitable grace she possessed enabled her, with ease
and self-enjoyment, to preside with queenly dignity over every scene of
gayety. She was often weary of this incessant grandeur and display, but
the wishes of her husband and her peculiar position seemed to afford her
no choice. Napoleon unquestionably loved Josephine as ardently as he
was capable of loving any one. He kept up a constant, almost a daily
correspondence with her. Near the close of his life, he declared that he
was indebted to her for every moment of happiness he had known on earth.
Ambition was, however, with Napoleon a far more powerful passion than
love. He was fully conscious that he needed the assistance of his most
accomplished wife to raise him to that elevation he was resolved to
attain. Self-reliant as he was, regardless as he ever appeared to be of
the opinions or the advice of others, the counsel of Josephine had more
influence over him than perhaps that of all other persons combined. Her
expostulations not unfrequently modified his plans, though his high
spirit could not brook the acknowledgment. Hortense and Eugene were
with Josephine at Milan. Eugene, though but seventeen years of age, had
joined Napoleon in the field as one of his aids, and had signalized
himself by many acts of bravery.
In this arrangement we see an indication of the plans of boundless
ambition which were already maturing in the mind of Bonaparte. The
Italians hated their proud and domineering masters, the Austrians. They
almost adored Napoleon as their deliverer. He had established the
Cisalpine Republic, and conferred upon them a degree of liberty which
for ages they had not enjoyed. Napoleon had but to unfurl his banner,
and the Italians, in countless thousands, were ready to rally around it.
The army in Italy regarded the Little Corporal with sentiments of
veneration and affection, for which we may search history in vain for a
parallel. Italy consequently became the base of Napoleon's operations.
There he was strongly intrenched. In case of failure in any of his
operations in Paris, he could retire behind the Alps, and bid defiance
to his foes.
Josephine was exactly the partner he needed to protect these
all-important interests during his absence. Her strong and active
intelligence, her sincerity, her unrivaled powers of fascinating all who
approached her, and her entire devotion to Napoleon, rendered her an
ally of exceeding efficiency. Powerful as was the arm of Napoleon, he
never could have risen to the greatness he attained without the aid of
Josephine. She, at Milan, kept up the splendor of a royal court. The
pleasure-loving Italians ever thronged her saloons. The most illustrious
nobles were emulous to win her favor, that they might obtain eminence in
the service of her renowned spouse. At the fetes and entertainments she
gave to the rejoicing Milanese she obtained access to almost every mind
it was desirable to influence. No one could approach Josephine without
becoming her friend, and a friend once gained was never lost. A weak
woman, under these circumstances, which so severely tested the
character, would have been often extremely embarrassed, and would
have made many mistakes. It was remarkable in Josephine, that,
notwithstanding the seclusion of her childhood and early youth, she ever
appeared self-possessed, graceful, and at home in every situation in
which she was placed. She moved through the dazzling scenes of her court
at Milan, scenes of unaccustomed brilliance which had so suddenly burst
upon her, with an air as entirely natural and unembarrassed as if her
whole life had been passed in the saloons of monarchs. She conversed
with the most distinguished generals of armies, with nobles of the
highest rank, with statesmen and scholars of wide-spread renown, with a
fluency, an appropriateness, and an inimitable tact which would seem to
indicate that she had been cradled in the lap of princes, and nurtured
in the society of courts. It seemed never to be necessary for her to
study the rules of etiquette. She was never accustomed to look to
others to ascertain what conduct was proper under any circumstances.
Instinctive delicacy was her unerring teacher, and from her bearing
others compiled their code of politeness. She became the queen of
etiquette, not the subject.
Thus, while Napoleon, in Paris, was cautiously scrutinizing the state of
public affairs, and endeavoring to gain a position there, Josephine,
with the entire concentration of all her energies to his interests,
was gaining for him in Milan vast accessions of power. She had no
conception, indeed, of the greatness he was destined to attain. But she
loved her husband. She was proud of his rising renown, and it was her
sole ambition to increase, in every way in her power, the luster of his
name. Aristocracy circled around her in delighted homage, while poverty,
charmed by her sympathy and her beneficence, ever greeted her with
acclamations. The exploits of Napoleon dazzled the world, and the
unthinking world has attributed his greatness to his own unaided arm.
But the gentleness of Josephine was one of the essential elements in the
promotion of his greatness. In co-operation with her, he rose. As soon
as he abandoned her, he fell.
Josephine soon rejoined her husband in Paris, where she very essentially
aided, by her fascinating powers of persuasion, in disarming the
hostility of those who were jealous of his rising fame, and in attaching
to him such adherents as could promote his interests. In the saloons of
Josephine, many of the most heroic youths of France were led to ally
their fortunes with those of the young general, whose fame had so
suddenly burst upon the world. She had the rare faculty of diffusing
animation and cheerfulness wherever she appeared. "It is," she once
beautifully remarked, "a necessity of my heart to love others, and to be
loved by them in return." "There is only one occasion," she again said,
"in which I would voluntarily use the words _I will_, namely, when I
would say, '_I will_ that all around me be happy.'"
Napoleon singularly displayed his knowledge of human nature in the
course he pursued upon his return to Paris. He assumed none of the pride
of a conqueror. He studiously avoided every thing like ostentatious
display. Day after day his lieutenants arrived, bringing the standards
taken from the Austrians. Pictures, and statues, and other works of art
extorted from the conquered, were daily making their appearance, keeping
the metropolis in a state of the most intense excitement. The Parisians
were never weary of reading and re-reading those extraordinary
proclamations of Napoleon, which, in such glowing language, described
his almost miraculous victories. The enthusiasm of the people was thus
raised to the highest pitch. The anxiety of the public to see this young
and mysterious victor was intense beyond description. But he knew enough
of the human heart to be conscious that, by avoiding the gratification
of these wishes, he did but enhance their intensity. Modestly retiring
to an unostentatious mansion in the Rue Chantereine, which, in
compliment to him, had received the name of Rue de la Victoire, he
secluded himself from the public gaze. He devoted his time most
assiduously to study, and to conversation with learned men. He laid
aside his military garb, and assumed the plain dress of a member of the
Institute. When he walked the streets, he was seldom recognized by the
people. Though his society was courted in the highest circles of Paris,
his ambition was too lofty to be gratified with shining among the stars
of fashion. Though he had as yet reached but the twenty-sixth year of
his age, he had already gained the reputation of being the first of
generals. He was emulous not only of appearing to be, but also of
actually being, an accomplished scholar. "I well knew," said he, "that
the lowest drummer in the army would respect me more for being a scholar
as well as a soldier."
Napoleon might have enriched himself beyond all bounds in his Italian
campaign had he been disposed to do so. Josephine, at times,
remonstrated against his personal habits of economy, while he was
conferring millions added to millions upon France. But the ambition of
her husband, inordinate as it was, was as sublime an ambition as any one
could feel in view of merely worldly interests. He wished to acquire
the renown of benefiting mankind by the performance of the noblest
exploits. His ultimate end was his own fame. But he knew that the
durability of that fame could only be secured by the accomplishment of
noble ends.
The effeminate figure of Napoleon in these early days had caused the
soldiers to blend with their amazed admiration of his military genius a
kind of fondness of affection for which no parallel can be found in
ancient or modern story. The soldiers were ever rehearsing to one
another, by their night-fires and in their long marches, anecdotes of
his perfect fearlessness, his brilliant sayings, his imperious bearing,
by which he overawed the haughtiness of aristocratic power, and his
magnanimous acts toward the poor and the lowly.
One night, when the army in Italy was in great peril, worn out with the
fatigue of sleeplessness and of battle, and surrounded by Austrians,
Napoleon was taking the round of his posts in disguise, to ascertain
the vigilance of his sentinels. He found one poor soldier, in perfect
exhaustion, asleep at his post. Napoleon shouldered his musket, and
stood sentry for him for half an hour. When the man awoke and
recognized the countenance of his general, he sank back upon the ground
in terror and despair. He knew that death was the doom for such a crime.
"Here, comrade," said Napoleon, kindly, "here is your musket. You have
fought hard and marched long, and your sleep is excusable. But a
moment's inattention might at present ruin the army. I happened to be
awake, and have guarded your post for you. You will be more careful
another time."
At the "terrible passage of the bridge of Lodi," Napoleon stood at one
of the guns, in the very hottest of the fire, directing it with his own
hand. The soldiers, delighted at this very unusual exhibition of the
readiness of their general to share all the toils and perils of the
humblest private in the ranks, gave him the honorary and affectionate
nickname of "The Little Corporal." By this appellation he was afterward
universally known in the army. The enthusiasm of the soldiers invested
him with supernatural endowments, and every one was ready at any moment
to peril life for the Little Corporal.
The government at Paris, rapidly waning in popularity, notwithstanding
their extreme jealousy of the wide-spreading influence of this
victorious general, was compelled, by the spontaneous acclamations of
the people, to give him a public triumph, when the famous treaty which
Napoleon had effected in Italy was to be formally presented to the
Directory. The magnificent court of the Luxembourg was embellished with
the flags of the armies which he had conquered, and the youthful hero of
Lodi, of Arcola, and of Rivoli made his first triumphant appearance in
the streets of Paris. The enthusiasm of the vast concourse of excitable
Parisians overleaped all bounds. The soldiers of the proud army of Italy
sang at their encampments, in enthusiastic chorus, a song in which they
declared that it was high time to eject the lawyers from the government,
and make the Little Corporal the ruler of France. Barras, the friend of
Josephine, who had selected Napoleon to quell the insurrection in Paris,
and who had secured to him the command of the army of Italy, declared in
a eulogistic speech on this occasion that "Nature had exhausted all her
powers in the creation of a Bonaparte." This sentiment was received with
the most deafening peals of applause.
But how like the phantasmagoria of magic has this change burst upon the
bewildered Josephine. But a few months before, her husband, wan and
wasted with imprisonment and woe, had been led from the subterranean
dungeons of this very palace, with the execrations of the populace
torturing his ear, to bleed upon the scaffold. She, also, was then
herself a prisoner, without even a pillow for her weary head, awaiting
the dawn of the morning which was to conduct her steps to a frightful
death. Her children, Hortense and Eugene, had been rescued from
homelessness, friendlessness, and beggary only by the hand of charity,
and were dependent upon that charity for shelter and for daily bread.
Now the weeds of widowhood have given place to the robes of the
rejoicing bride, and that palace is gorgeously decorated in honor of the
world-renowned companion upon whose arm she proudly leans. The
acclamations resounding to his praise reverberate over mountain and
valley, through every city and village of France. Princes, embassadors,
and courtiers obsequiously crowd the saloons of Josephine. Eugene, an
officer in the army, high in rank and honor, is lured along life's
perilous pathway by the most brilliant prospects. Hortense in dazzling
beauty, and surrounded by admirers, is intoxicated with the splendor,
which, like Oriental enchantment, has burst upon her view.
Josephine, so beautifully called "the Star of Napoleon," was more than
the harbinger of his rising. She gave additional luster to his
brilliance, and was as the gentle zephyr, which sweeps away the mists
and vapors, and presents a transparent sky through which the undimmed
luminary may shine. Her persuasive influence was unweariedly and most
successfully exerted in winning friends and in disarming adversaries.
The admiration which was excited for the stern warrior in his solitary,
silent, unapproachable grandeur, whose garments had been dyed in blood,
whose fearful path had been signalized by conflagrations, and shrieks,
and the wailings of the dying, was humanized and softened by the gentle
loveliness of his companion, who was ever a ministering angel, breathing
words of kindness, and diffusing around her the spirit of harmony and
love. Napoleon ever freely acknowledged his indebtedness to Josephine
for her aid in these morning hours of his greatness.
But unalloyed happiness is never allotted to mortals. Josephine's very
loveliness of person and of character was to her the occasion of many
hours of heaviness. No one could be insensible to the power of her
attractions. The music of her voice, the sweetness of her smile, the
grace of her manners, excited so much admiration, invested her with a
popularity so universal and enthusiastic, that Napoleon was, at times,
not a little disturbed by jealousy. Her appearance was ever the signal
for crowds to gather around her. The most distinguished and the most
gallant men in France vied with each other in doing her homage. Some of
the relatives of Napoleon, envious of the influence she exerted over her
illustrious spouse, and anxious, by undermining her power, to subserve
their own interests, were untiring in their endeavors to foster all
these jealousies. Josephine was exceedingly pained by the occasional
indications of her husband's distrust. A word from his lips, a glance
from his eye, often sent her to her chamber with weeping eyes and an
aching heart. An interview with her husband, however, invariably removed
his suspicions, and he gave her renewed assurances of his confidence and
his love.
The plans of Napoleon in reference to his future operations were still
in a state of great uncertainty. His restless spirit could not brook
inactivity. He saw clearly that the time had not yet come in which he
could, with the prospect of success, undertake to overthrow the
Revolutionary government and grasp the reins of power himself. To use
his own expressive language, "The pear was not yet ripe." To one of his
intimate friends he remarked, "They do not long preserve at Paris the
remembrance of any thing. If I remain any length of time unemployed, I
am undone. The renown of one, in this great Babylon, speedily supplants
that of another. If I am seen three times at the opera, I shall no
longer be an object of curiosity. You need not talk of the desire of the
citizens to see me. Crowds, at least as great, would go to see me led
out to the scaffold. I am determined not to remain in Paris. There is
nothing here to be done. Every thing here passes away. My glory is
already declining. This little corner of Europe is too small to supply
it. We must go to the East. All the great men of the world have there
acquired their celebrity. We will go to Egypt."
Such was the grandeur of the dreams of a young man who had not yet
passed his twenty-sixth year. And these were not the musings of a wild
and visionary brain, but the deeply laid and cautiously guarded plans
of a mind which had meditated profoundly upon all probable emergencies,
and which had carefully weighed all the means which could be furnished
for the accomplishment of an enterprise so arduous and so majestic.