JOSEPHINE THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL.
A.D. 1799-A.D. 1800
Deplorable condition of France.--The "pear" now ripe.--Evening
party.--Landing of Napoleon at Frejus.--Josephine hastens to meet
him.--They cross each other's path.--Josephine's enemies succeed in
rousing the anger of Napoleon.--Meeting of Josephine and Eugene.--She
is repulsed by Napoleon.--Josephine's prompt obedience.--Napoleon
relents.--The reconciliation.--Napoleon vanquished.--Reception of
Napoleon on his return to France.--He overthrows the Directory.--He
is sustained by the people.--Painful suspense of Josephine.--Napoleon
relieves it.--His usurping ambition.--Remark of the Abbe Sieyes.--
Josephine secures friends to Napoleon.--Residence at the Luxembourg.
--Marriage of Murat and Caroline.--The Tuilleries refurnished.--Napoleon
and Josephine take up their residence in the Tuilleries.--Apartments
of Josephine.--Her dress.--Her social triumph.--Josephine the Queen of
Hearts.--Her varied accomplishments.--Symmetry of her form.--
Attractiveness of her conversation.--Sweetness of Josephine's voice.--
Attractions of Malmaison.--The dangers of greatness.--Josephine's
anxiety and care.--Remark of Napoleon to Bourrienne.
The winter of 1799 opened upon France in the deepest gloom. The French
were weary of the horrors of the Revolution. All business was at a
stand. The poor had neither employment nor bread. Starvation reigned in
the capital. The Austrians had again entered Italy, and beaten the
French at almost every point. No tidings were received from Bonaparte
and the army in Egypt. Rumors of the death of Napoleon and of a
disastrous state of the enterprise filled the city. The government at
Paris, composed of men who had emerged from obscurity in the storms of
revolution, was imbecile and tyrannical in the extreme. The nation was
weary beyond endurance of the strife of contending factions, and
ardently desired some strong arm to be extended for the restoration
of order, and for the establishment of an efficient and reputable
government. "The pear was ripe."
On the evening of the 9th of November, a large and very brilliant party
was assembled in Paris at the house of M. Gohier, president of the
Directory. The company included all the most distinguished persons then
resident in the metropolis. Josephine, being in Paris at that time, was
one of the guests. About midnight, the gentlemen and ladies were
gathering around a supper table very sumptuously spread, when they were
startled by a telegraphic announcement, communicated to their host, that
Bonaparte had landed that morning at Frejus, a small town upon the
Mediterranean shore. The announcement created the most profound
sensation. All knew that Napoleon had not returned at that critical
moment without an object. Many were pale with apprehension, conscious
that his popularity with the army would enable him to wrest from them
their ill-gotten power. Others were elated with hope. Yet universal
embarrassment prevailed. None dared to express their thoughts. No
efforts could revive the conviviality of the evening, and the party soon
dispersed.
Josephine, with the deepest emotion, hastened home, immediately summoned
her carriage, and, taking with her Hortense and Louis Bonaparte, set
out, without allowing an hour for repose, to meet her husband. She was
very anxious to have an interview with him before her enemies should
have an opportunity to fill his mind with new accusations against her.
The most direct route from Paris to Frejus passes through the city of
Lyons. There is another and more retired route, not frequently traveled,
but which Napoleon, for some unknown reason, took. It was a long journey
of weary, weary leagues, over hills and plains. Josephine alighted not
for refreshment or slumber, but with fresh relays of horses, night and
day, pressed on to meet her spouse. When she arrived at Lyons, to her
utter consternation, she heard that Napoleon had taken the other route,
and, some forty-eight hours before, had passed her on the way to Paris.
No words can describe the anguish which these tidings caused her. Her
husband would arrive in Paris and find her absent. He would immediately
be surrounded by those who would try to feed his jealousy. Two or three
days must elapse ere she could possibly retrace her steps. Napoleon
arrived in Paris the 10th of November. It was not until nearly midnight
of the 13th that Josephine returned. Worn out with the fatigues of
traveling, of anxiety, and of watching, she drove with a heavy heart to
their house in the Rue Chantereine.
The enemies whom Josephine had most to fear were the brothers and the
sisters-in-law of Napoleon. They were entirely dependent upon their
illustrious brother for their own advancement in life, and were
exceedingly jealous of the influence which Josephine had exerted over
his mind. They feared that she would gain an exclusive empire where they
wished also to reign. Taking advantage of Josephine's absence, they had
succeeded in rousing Napoleon's indignation to the highest pitch. They
accused her of levity, of extravagance, of forgetfulness of him, and of
ever playing the coquette with all the debauchees of Paris. Napoleon,
stimulated by that pride which led the Roman emperor to say, "Caesar's
wife must not be suspected," threatened loudly "divorce--open and public
divorce." Said one maliciously to him, "She will appear before you with
all her fascinations, explain matters; you will forgive all, and
tranquillity will be restored." "Never! never!" exclaimed the irritated
general, striding to and fro through the room. "I forgive! never! You
know me. Were I not sure of my resolution, I would pluck out this heart
and cast it into the fire."
Such was the mood of mind in which Napoleon was prepared to receive
Josephine, after an absence of eighteen months. Josephine and Hortense
alighted in the court-yard, and were immediately enfolded in the
embraces of Eugene, who was anxiously awaiting their arrival. With
trembling steps and a throbbing heart, Josephine, accompanied by her son
and daughter, ascended the stairs to a small circular family room where
they expected to find Napoleon. He was there with his brother Joseph. As
his wife and her children entered the room, Napoleon glanced sternly at
them, and instantly said to Josephine, in a severe and commanding tone,
almost before she had crossed the threshold,
"Madame! it is my wish that you retire immediately to Malmaison."
Josephine came near falling lifeless upon the floor. She was caught in
the arms of Eugene, who, in the most profound grief, had kept near the
side of his revered and beloved mother. He supported her fainting
steps, as, sobbing with anguish, she silently retired to her apartment.
Napoleon, greatly agitated, traversed the room with hasty strides. The
sight of Josephine had rekindled all his love, and he was struggling
with desperate efforts to cherish his sense of wrong, and to fortify
himself against any return of clemency.
[Illustration: THE INTERVIEW.]
In a few moments, Josephine and Hortense, with Eugene, were heard
descending the stairs to leave the house. It was midnight. For a week
Josephine had lived in her carriage almost without food or sleep.
Nothing but intensity of excitement had prevented her from sinking down
in utter weariness and exhaustion. It was a drive of thirty miles to
Malmaison. Napoleon was not prepared for such prompt obedience. Even his
stern heart could not resist its instinctive pleadings for his wife and
her daughter. He hastened from his room, and, though his pride would not
allow him directly to urge _Josephine_ to remain, he insisted upon
Eugene's returning, and urged it in such a way that he came back,
leading with him his mother and his sister. Napoleon, however, addressed
not a word to either of them. Josephine threw herself upon a couch in
her apartment, and Napoleon, in gloomy silence, entered his cabinet.
Two days of wretchedness passed away, during which no intercourse took
place between the estranged parties. But the anger of the husband was
gradually subsiding. Love for Josephine was slowly gaining strength in
his heart. On the third day, his pride and passion were sufficiently
subdued to allow him to enter the apartment where Josephine and Hortense
had kept themselves secluded, awaiting his pleasure. Josephine was
seated at a toilet table, with her face buried in her hands, and
absorbed in the profoundest grief. On the table were exposed the letters
which she had received from Napoleon during his absence, and which she
had evidently been reading. Hortense was standing silently and pensively
in an alcove by the window, half concealed by the curtain. Napoleon
advanced with an irresolute step, hesitated for a moment, and then said,
"Josephine!" She started up at the sound of that well-known voice, and,
her beautiful countenance all suffused with tears, mournfully exclaimed,
"_Mon ami_," in that peculiar tone, so pathetic, so musical, which
ever thrilled upon the heart of Napoleon. "My friend" was the term of
endearment with which she invariably addressed her husband. Napoleon
was vanquished. He extended his hand to his deeply-wronged wife. She
threw herself into his arms, pillowed her aching head upon his bosom,
and in the fullness of blended joy and anguish wept convulsively. An
explanation of several hours ensued. Every shade of suspicion was
obliterated from his mind. He received Josephine again to his entire
confidence, and this confidence was never again interrupted.
When Napoleon landed at Frejus, he was received with the most
enthusiastic demonstration of delight. There was a universal impression
that the hero of Italy, the conqueror of Egypt, had returned thus
unexpectedly to France for the accomplishment of some magnificent
enterprise; yet no one knew what to anticipate. The moment the frigate
dropped anchor in the bay, and it was announced that Napoleon was on
board, thousands surrounded the vessel in boats, and the air was filled
with enthusiastic acclamations. His journey to Paris was one continued
scene of triumph. Crowds gathered around him at every stopping-place,
intoxicated with joy. The bells rang their merriest peals; the booming
of cannon echoed along the hill sides, and brilliant bonfires by night
blazed upon every eminence. Upon his arrival in Paris, the soldiers,
recognizing their leader in so many brilliant victories, greeted him
with indescribable enthusiasm, and cries of "Vive Bonaparte!" resounded
through the metropolis. His saloon, ever thronged with generals and
statesmen, and all who were most illustrious in intellect and rank,
resembled the court of a monarch. Even the most prominent men in the
Directory, disgusted with the progress of measures which they could not
control, urged him to grasp the reins of power, assuring him that there
was no hope for France but in his strong arm. In less than four weeks
from his arrival in Paris, the execrated government was overturned.
Napoleon, Sieyes, and Ducos were appointed consuls, and twenty-five
members were appointed from each of the councils to unite with the
consuls in forming a new Constitution. One unanimous voice of approval
rose from all parts of France in view of this change. No political
movement could take place more strongly confirmed by the popular will.
Napoleon hastened from the scenes of peril and agitation through which
he had passed in the accomplishment of this change, that he might be the
first to announce to Josephine the political victory he had achieved.
During the perilous day, when, in the midst of outcries, daggers, and
drawn swords, he had been contending with the Council of the Five
Hundred, he could find not even one moment to dispatch a note from St.
Cloud to his wife. The previous day he had kept her constantly informed
of the progress of events. Josephine remained throughout the whole of
the 19th of November, from morning until evening, without sight or
tidings of her husband. She knew that, in the fierce strife of parties
in France, there was no safety for life; and when the darkness of night
settled down around her, and still no word from her Napoleon, her
anxiety amounted almost to distraction. The rumbling of every carriage
upon the pavement--every noise in the streets aroused her hopes or her
fears. Worn out with anxiety, at midnight she threw herself upon her
bed, but not to sleep. Several weary hours of suspense lingered slowly
along, when, at four o'clock in the morning, she heard the well-known
footsteps of her husband upon the stairs.
She sprang to meet him. He fondly clasped her in his arms, and assured
her that he had not spoken to a single individual since he had taken the
oaths of office, that the voice of his Josephine might be the first to
congratulate him upon his virtual accession to the empire of France. An
animated conversation ensued, and then Napoleon, throwing himself upon
his couch for a few moments' repose, gayly said, "Good night, my
Josephine! to-morrow we sleep in the Luxembourg."
The next day the three consuls met in Paris. His colleagues, however,
immediately perceived that the towering ambition of Napoleon would brook
no rival. He showed them the absurdity of their plans, and compelled
them to assent to the superior wisdom of his own. The untiring vigor of
his mind, the boldness and energy of his thoughts, and his intuitive and
almost miraculous familiarity with every branch of political science,
overawed his associates, and the whole power passed, with hardly the
slightest resistance, into his own hands. Immediately after their first
interview, the Abbe Sieyes, who combined great weakness with extensive
knowledge, remarked to Talleyrand and others, "Gentlemen, I perceive
that we have got a master. Bonaparte can do and will do every thing
himself. But," he continued, after a pause, "it is better to submit than
to protract dissensions forever."
In this most astonishing revolution, thus suddenly accomplished, and
without the shedding of a drop of blood, Napoleon was much indebted
to the influence which his wife had exerted in his behalf during his
absence in Egypt. The dinners she had given, the guests she had
entertained in her saloons evening after evening, consisting of the most
distinguished scholars, and statesmen, and generals in the metropolis,
had contributed greatly to the popularity of her husband, and had
surrounded him with devoted friends. Napoleon ever acknowledged his
obligations to Josephine for the essential service she had thus rendered
him.
The next morning Napoleon and Josephine removed from their elegant yet
comparatively plebeian residence in the Rue Chantereine to the palace
of the Luxembourg. This, however, was but the stepping-stone to the
Tuilleries, the world-renowned abode of the monarchs of France. They
remained for two months at the Luxembourg. The energies of Napoleon were
employed every moment in promoting changes in the internal affairs of
France, which even his bitterest enemies admit were marked with the most
eminent wisdom and benevolence. During the two months of their residence
at the Luxembourg, no domestic event of importance occurred, except the
marriage of Murat with Caroline, the sister of Napoleon. Caroline was
exceedingly beautiful. Murat was one of the favorite aids of Bonaparte.
Their nuptials were celebrated with great splendor, and the gay
Parisians began again to be amused with something like the glitter of
royalty.
Each day Napoleon became more popular and his power more firmly
established. Soon all France was prepared to see the first consul take
up his residence in the ancient apartments of the kings of France. The
Tuilleries had been sacked again and again by the mob. The gorgeous
furniture, the rich paintings, and all the voluptuous elegance which the
wealth of Louis XIV. could create, had been thrown into the court-yard
and consumed by the infuriated populace. Royalty itself had been pursued
and insulted in its most sacred retreats.
By slow and cautious advances, Napoleon refurnished these magnificent
saloons. The emblems of Jacobin misrule were silently effaced. Statues
of Brutus and Washington, of Demosthenes, and of others renowned for
illustrious deeds, were placed in the vacant niches, and the Tuilleries
again appeared resplendent as in the days of pristine pride and power.
On the morning of the 19th of February, 1800, all Paris was in commotion
to witness the transfer of the embryo court of the first consul and his
colleagues from the Luxembourg to the Tuilleries. Already the colleagues
of Napoleon had become so entirely eclipsed by the superior brilliance
of their imperious associate that their names were almost forgotten. The
royal apartments were prepared for Napoleon, while those in the Pavilion
of Flora were assigned to the two other consuls. The three consuls
entered a magnificent carriage, drawn by six white horses. A gorgeous
train of officers, with six thousand picked troops in the richest
uniform, surrounded the cortege. Many of the long-abolished usages of
royalty were renewed upon that day. Twenty thousand soldiers, in most
imposing military array, were drawn up before the palace. The moment the
carriage appeared, the very heavens seemed rent with their cries, "Vive
le premier consul!" The two associate consuls were ciphers. They sat at
his side as pages to embellish his triumph. This day placed Napoleon in
reality upon the throne of France, and Josephine that evening moved, a
queen, in the apartments hallowed by the beauty and the sufferings of
Maria Antoinette.
The suite of rooms appropriated to the wife of the first consul
consisted of two magnificent saloons, with private apartments adjoining.
No French monarch ever sauntered through a more dazzling scene than
that which graced the drawing-rooms of Josephine on this occasion.
Embassadors from nearly all the courts of Europe were present. The army
contributed its utmost display of rank and military pomp to embellish
the triumph of its most successful general. And the metropolis
contributed all that it still retained of brilliance in ancestral renown
or in intellectual achievement.
When Josephine entered the gorgeously-illuminated apartments of the
palace, leaning upon the arm of Talleyrand, and dressed in the elegance
of the most perfect simplicity, a murmur of admiration arose from the
whole assembly. She was attired in a robe of white muslin. Her hair
fell in graceful ringlets upon her neck and shoulders. A necklace of
pearls of great value completed her costume. The queenly elegance of
her figure, the inimitable grace of her movements, the peculiar
conversational tact she possessed, and the melody of a voice which, once
heard, never was forgotten, gave to Josephine, on this eventful evening,
a social triumph corresponding with that which Napoleon had received
during the day. She entered the rooms to welcome her guests before her
husband. As she made the tour of the apartments, supported by the
minister, whose commanding figure towered above all the rest, she was
first introduced to the foreign embassadors, and then to others of
distinguished name and note. "Napoleon wins battles, but Josephine wins
hearts." This was the all-appropriate theater for the triumph of
Josephine. Here she was entirely at home. Instinct taught her every
thing that was graceful and pleasing. Etiquette, that stern tyrant so
necessary for the control of common minds, was compelled to bow in
subjection to Josephine, for her actions became a higher law. In the
exuberance of benevolent joy, she floated through this brilliant scene,
wherever she appeared exciting admiration, though she sought only to
diffuse enjoyment.
Josephine was now about thirty-three years of age, and while in
personal charms she retained all the fascination of more youthful
years, her mind, elevated and ennobled by reverses and sufferings most
magnanimously borne, and cultivated by the daily exercise of its rich
endowments, enabled her to pass from the circles of fashion to the
circles of science, from those who thought only of the accomplishments
of the person to those who dwelt in the loftiest regions of the
intellect, and to be equally admired by both.
Her figure appears to have been molded into the absolute perfection of
the female frame, neither too large for the utmost delicacy of feminine
beauty, nor too small for queenly dignity. The exquisite symmetry of her
form and the elasticity of her step gave an etherial aspect to her
movements. Her features, of Grecian outline, were finely modeled, and
through them all the varying emotions of the soul were unceasingly
beaming. No one probably ever possessed in a higher degree this
resistless charm of feminine loveliness. Her eyes were of a deep blue,
and possessed a winning tenderness of expression when reposing upon
those she loved which could not be resisted. Napoleon, even when most
agitated by the conflicts of his stormy life, was speedily subdued by
the tranquilizing power of her looks of love. But the tone and
modulations of her voice in conversation constituted the most remarkable
attraction of this most attractive woman. No one could listen to her
sparkling, flowing, musical words without feeling the fascination of
their strange melody. "The first applauses of the French people," says
Napoleon, "fell upon my ear sweet as the voice of Josephine."
The rural charms of Malmaison, however, exerted a more powerful sway
over both the first consul and his companion than the more splendid
attractions of the Tuilleries. The Revolutionary government had
abolished the Sabbath, and appointed every tenth day for rest and
recreation. Napoleon and Josephine habitually spent this day at
Malmaison. There, in the retirement of green fields and luxuriant
groves, surrounded by those scenes of nature which had peculiar charms
for them both, they found that quiet happiness which is in vain sought
amid the turmoil of the camp or the splendor of the court. Josephine, in
particular, here found her most serene and joyous hours. She regretted
the high ambition of her husband, while, at the same time, she felt a
wife's pride and gratification in view of the honors which were so
profusely heaped upon him. It delighted her to see him here lay aside
the cares of state, and enjoy with her the unostentatious pleasures of
the flower-garden and the farm-yard. And when the hour came for them to
return from their rural villa to their city palace, Napoleon often
said, with a sigh, "Now it is necessary for us to go and put on again
the yoke of misery."
The dangers of greatness soon began to hover around the path of the
first consul. Josephine was continually alarmed with rumors of
conspiracies and plots of assassination. The utter indifference
of Napoleon to all such perils, and his entire disregard of all
precautionary measures, only increased the anxiety of his wife. The road
leading from Paris to Malmaison wound through a wild district, then but
thinly inhabited, and which presented many facilities for deeds of
violence. Whenever Napoleon was about to traverse this road, Josephine
sent the servants of their private establishment to scrutinize all its
lurking-places where any foes might be concealed. Napoleon, though
gratified by this kind care, often amused and good-naturedly teased
Josephine with most ludicrous accounts of the perils and hair-breadth
escapes which he had encountered. She also had large and powerful dogs
trained to guard the grounds of Malmaison from any intrusion by night.
On the evening of the day when Napoleon made his entry into the
Tuilleries, he remarked to Bourrienne, "It is not enough to be in
the Tuilleries, we must take measures to remain there. Who has not
inhabited this palace? It has been the abode of robbers--of the
Convention. There is your brother's house, from which, eight years ago,
we saw the good Louis XVI. besieged in the Tuilleries and carried off
into captivity. But you need not fear a repetition of the scene. _Let
them attempt it with me if they dare._" To all the cautions of his
anxious wife respecting assassination, he ever quietly replied, "My dear
Josephine, they dare not do it."