me too fond of life. Adieu then, thou kind, thou tender husband.
Adieu, friend of my heart. May Heaven prosper you, and may we meet
hereafter. Adieu; perhaps we may never see each other again in this
world. You are away, I wished to hold you fast, and prevent you from
going this morning. But He who is wisdom itself ordains events; we
must submit to them. Least of all should I murmur, I, on whom so
many blessings have been showered, whose days have been numbered by
bounties, who have had such a husband, such a child, such a father.
Oh, pardon me, my God, if I regret leaving these. I resign myself.
Adieu once more, and for the last time, my beloved. Speak of me often
to our son. Let him love the memory of his mother, and let him know
how he was loved by her.
"Your wife, your fond wife,
"THEO.
"Let my father see my son sometimes. Do not be unkind towards him
whom I have loved so much, I beseech you. Burn all my papers except
my father's letters, which I beg you to return to him. Adieu, my
sweet boy. Love your father, be grateful and affectionate to him
while he lives, be the pride of his meridian, the support of his
departing days. Be all that he wishes, for he made your mother happy."
After expressing a wish that she may not be stripped and washed
according to the usual custom, being pure enough to return to dust, she
concludes: "If it does not appear contradictory or silly, I beg to be
kept as long as possible before I am consigned to the earth."
Alston, who survived her but four years, wrote heart-brokenly to her
father: "My boy, my wife, gone both! This, then, is the end of all the
hopes we had formed. You may well observe that you feel severed from
the human race. She was the last tie that bound us to the species. What
have we left? Yet, after all, he is a poor actor who cannot sustain his
hour upon the stage, be his part what it may. But the man who has been
deemed worthy of the heart of Theodosia Burr, and who has felt what
it was to be blessed with such a woman's love, will never forget his
elevation."
ELIZABETH PATTERSON
(MADAME JEROME BONAPARTE)
The city into which Baltimore Town was legislated on the last day
of the year 1796 already fostered within its limits the germ of the
dual life, social and commercial, to which it has owed its subsequent
eminence. Not infrequently, in the days of its inception, the same roof
sheltered drawing-room and warehouse, the earlier merchants deeming
it necessary to keep their growing interests constantly beneath their
personal vigilance. Later, the commercial life crowded out the domestic
life, and merchants built their dwellings--stately bricks or frames,
painted blue, yellow, or white, facing on avenues of locust-trees--in
another part of the town, all bearing quaint evidence of the far-away
ports with which their vessels traded, while the whole town was
permeated with the odor peculiar to shipping districts.
The first theatre troupe that took the town by storm played in one
of the old warehouses, whose walls re-echoed the approbation of the
pleasure-hungry audience, among whom were no fastidious critics to pick
flaws in "King Richard III.," and still less in "A Miss in her Teens,"
which followed.
Baltimore never had the qualms of conscience which afflicted some
of her puritanical sister towns concerning the pleasures in which
she might rightly indulge. She looked out upon life, rather, with a
liberality of mental vision which partook of the breadth of the seas
her merchantmen traversed.
The brick theatre built in 1781 became one of the most revered spots in
the town, and when the actors came her way, Baltimore turned out _en
masse_ to give them royal welcome.
At the close of the Revolutionary War a number of the French officers
of the army and navy who had remained in this country settled in
Baltimore, thereby adding a foreign flavor to the social side of its
existence, which, like that of all the cities and towns of the young
Republic, was characterized more or less by a wholesome simplicity.
In the town, a dozen years before it blossomed into the city, before
its streets were paved, when its only communication with inland towns
was by means of the stage-coach, and three years before Maryland had
ratified the Constitution of the new union of States, there was born
to one of her merchants, William Patterson, a daughter, the repute of
whose beauty was destined to fill two continents, the spicy aroma of
whose wit to penetrate the sacred precincts of imperial throne-rooms,
and the story of whose life to touch the hearts of many generations.
The daughter of one of the self-made men whose sterling qualities
have lent such stability to the industries and development of the
country, who, born of Irish parentage and coming to this country in his
fourteenth year, had carved his own way shrewdly and judiciously to
the position of distinction he held among his fellow-townsmen and the
people of his adopted country, Elizabeth inherited many of his dominant
characteristics. He was estimated to be the wealthiest merchant, and,
with the possible exception of Charles Carroll, the wealthiest man,
in the United States. Her mother, Dorcas Spear, came of good Maryland
lineage, and was a woman of gentle character and cultivated mind.
She superintended for the most part Elizabeth's education, which, if
somewhat erratic, was, nevertheless, superior to that enjoyed by the
average woman of that period. It is said that she acquired an early
familiarity with Rochefoucauld's "Maxims" and committed to memory
Young's "Night Thoughts." Lady Morgan, whose friendship she formed
later in life, realizing the brilliancy of her mind, regretted that its
earlier direction had not been more systematic.
Her father, from his own statement, seems to have looked after the
conduct of his family with the same minute vigilance which he bestowed
upon his financial concerns.
"I always consider it a duty to my family," he said, "to keep them as
much as possible under my own eye, so that I have seldom in my life
left Baltimore either on pleasure or business. Ever since I had a house
it has been my invariable rule to be the last up at night, and to
see that the fires and light were secured before I retired myself, by
which I found little risk from fires and managed to have my family keep
regular hours. What I possess is solely the product of my own labor. I
inherited nothing of my forefathers, nor have I benefited anything from
public favors or appointments."
Strangely similar is the concluding sentiment to that expressed by the
founder of another family on another continent,--Napoleon Bonaparte.
"Sole fabricator of my destiny, I owe nothing to my brothers," said
he, whose fortunes, though he had reared them upon a loftier pinnacle,
were, nevertheless, to be crossed by those of the Patterson family.
The eldest daughter in a family of thirteen children, Elizabeth
Patterson grew up at a period when the beaux of society read
Chesterfield, when no man begrudged the time expended on the profound
and sweeping bow then dictated by gallantry, and when fencing and
dancing formed a part of every gentleman's education.
[Illustration: Elizabeth Patterson
(Madame Jerome Bonaparte)
From portrait by Quinçon]
"She possessed the pure Grecian contour; her head was exquisitely
formed, her forehead fair and shapely, her eyes large and dark, with
an expression of tenderness that did not belong to her character;
and the delicate loveliness of her mouth and chin, the soft bloom of
her complexion, together with her beautifully rounded shoulders and
tapering arms, combined to form one of the loveliest of women." She
had had numerous offers of marriage before she reached her eighteenth
year, her father's wealth and prominence, independent of her own
attractive personality, having insured her social prestige, but as yet
she walked heart whole and fancy free.
In the summer of 1803 Jerome, the youngest brother of Napoleon
Bonaparte, and then less than nineteen years of age, detaching himself
from naval duty in the West Indies and following the bent of his own
inclination, eventually put into the port of New York. Whatever breach
of military discipline this implies will in no way astound those
familiar with Jerome's character.
Too young to have taken part in the struggles that had elevated his
family to such dizzy heights, he yet, at an age most susceptible to the
altered conditions of his life, came into the full enjoyment of all the
advantages they offered. Napoleon was wont to take a humorous rather
than a serious view of this "_mauvais sujet_," as he frequently called
Jerome. Madame Junot relates a characteristic anecdote in her memoirs
which, she says, she had from the Emperor himself. Returning to Paris
after the battle of Marengo, Napoleon was presented with various bills
contracted by Jerome during his absence. One of these, to the amount of
twenty thousand francs, was for a superb shaving set in gold, mother
of pearl, silver, ivory, and costly enamels. It was a work of art, but
of no possible use to Jerome, who, being but fifteen years old, was
without the suggestion of a beard.
To his mother he was an idol, and to the end of her life he was able to
extract from her in generous measure much of that substance which she
expended grudgingly even upon herself.
Enveloped in the glory of a great name, Jerome's advent into the social
current of New York was noised abroad in the few and ordinarily but
little-read newspapers of the day.
By stage the news was brought to Baltimore. The returning coach took
an urgent invitation to Jerome and his suite to visit that city from
Commodore Barney, who had been his recent comrade-in-arms in the West
Indies. They accepted the invitation, and early in September found
themselves the objects of a lavish hospitality.
Shortly after their arrival one of Jerome's suite, General Rewbell,
lost his heart to Miss Henrietta Pascault, one of the belles of the
town, to whom he was, after a brief courtship, married.
At the fall races, which were in progress when he arrived in Baltimore,
Jerome for the first time saw the woman in whose life he was thereafter
destined to play so conspicuous a part. We may well believe that she
was radiantly beautiful in a gown of buff silk with a lace fichu and a
leghorn hat with tulle trimmings and black plumes.
He had already heard of the beautiful Miss Patterson, and had declared
with youthful impetuosity that he would marry her. The fact that she
was aware of his preconceived sentiments gave a piquancy to their
first meeting, which was enhanced by the boyish enthusiasm with which
he referred to her as his "_belle femme_." The coquetry with which
she resisted his too evident admiration had the invariable effect of
further ensnaring his princely affections.
They met frequently in those centres of hospitality, the home of
Samuel Chase, who twenty-odd years before had put his name to the
Declaration of Independence; at "Belvedere," the home of Colonel John
Eager Howard, the hero of Cowpens; at "Greenmount," "Druid Hill," and
"Brooklandwood," where three other afterwards celebrated beauties were
in course of development.
When the festivities in honor of Jerome were at their height, Elizabeth
was borne away to the seclusion of a Virginia estate, under the wing
of a vigilant mother, who rightly interpreted the course of events
and foresaw the obstacles that loomed in the pathway of their happy
termination. There only an occasional echo of the gayety that was rife
at Baltimore reached her, making unbearable that rural quiet, which
means happiness only to a contented mind, and is a veritable torture
to such a restless spirit as ever possessed Elizabeth Patterson. Her
entreaties at length prevailed, and she was brought back to the city,
where, on the 29th of October, to prove how futile the separation had
been, scarcely eight weeks after their first meeting, Jerome procured a
license of marriage.
He was probably remonstrated with by the members of his suite, whose
age and the length of whose friendship made possible that liberty.
Rewbell, in the first flush of his own happy union doubtless gave
Jerome a reckless support that not even the crafty Le Camus could
counterbalance. To such opposition as Elizabeth's family offered, she
replied that she "would rather be the wife of Jerome for one hour than
of any other man for a lifetime."
On Christmas Eve, 1803, Jerome Bonaparte, brother of the man who
five months later declared himself Emperor of France, and Elizabeth
Patterson, daughter of an American merchant, entered into that union
whose subsequent rending was to echo throughout Christendom. The
ceremony was performed in the home of Elizabeth's father, according to
the rites of the Catholic Church, by the Right Reverend John Carroll,
first archbishop of America. It was witnessed by the French Consul at
Baltimore, M. Sotin, Alexander le Camus, who was Jerome's secretary,
and the mayor of Baltimore.
The marriage contract, which was drawn up by Alexander J. Dallas,
afterwards Secretary of the Treasury, bears evidence of the
apprehension felt by Elizabeth's family as to the outcome of this
international union with so youthful a bridegroom.
The dress worn by Elizabeth on her bridal night was of exquisitely fine
white muslin, elaborately embroidered. She said of the gown in after
years that it was one she had frequently worn, as she particularly
desired to avoid anything like vulgar display. "And to tell the truth,"
she added, "there was as little as possible of any gown at all, dress
in that day being chiefly an aid in setting off beauty to advantage,"
which concurs with the statement made by a man who was present at the
wedding, to the effect that he could have put all the clothes worn by
the bride into his pocket.
The honeymoon days of Jerome and Elizabeth were passed at her father's
estate outside of Baltimore, "Homestead." Late in January they were
mingling with the merrymakers one afternoon in Market Street. There
was good sleighing, and the crisp air rang with the joyousness of an
old-time winter. A snowball, sent with the unerring aim and democratic
disregard of a small boy of the town, struck Elizabeth. Jerome was
outraged at the indignity, and offered a reward of five hundred dollars
for the discovery of the youthful miscreant. How trivial seems this
"missile light as air" by comparison with those shafts sped later
by a not less unerring hand, and striking into the very soul of her
womanhood, Jerome making no effort to avert them.
In February this bride and groom of the early century went to
Washington, whither since have wended their way so many happy bridal
couples. Of the journey there, made in a stage-coach, General Samuel
Smith, member of Congress from Maryland, wrote to Mr. William Patterson
describing the runaway of the horses as they entered the city and
Betsy's presence of mind. The driver having been thrown from his seat,
Jerome sprang from the coach with the hope of catching the horses. But
as they still sped on, and her danger increased as they penetrated
towards the centre of the straggling little capital, Elizabeth opened
the door and jumped out into the snow without injury.
While in Washington they were the guests of the French Minister,
General Tureau. Aaron Burr, then Vice-President of the United States,
meeting Elizabeth at this time, wrote to his daughter Theodosia, whom
he thought Elizabeth much resembled, and referred to her as "a charming
little woman with sense, spirit, and sprightliness."
Jerome's thoughts were already turning towards France, where every
effort was being made to bring about his return--alone. While in New
York during the following summer he was made acquainted with the
annulment of his marriage, as follows: "By an Act of the 11 Ventose,
all the civil officers of the Empire are prohibited from receiving
on their registers the transcription of the act of celebration of a
pretended marriage that Jerome Bonaparte has contracted in a foreign
country during the age of minority, without the consent of his mother
and without the publication in the place of his nativity."
In February following the marriage Mr. William Patterson had written
to our Minister at Paris, Robert Livingston, enclosing him letters
from the President and Secretary of State, to be presented to Napoleon
with the hope of obtaining his approval, or at least mitigating any
displeasure the marriage might have caused. "I can assure you," he
wrote to Livingston, "that I never directly or indirectly countenanced
or gave Mr. Bonaparte the smallest encouragement to address my
daughter, but, on the contrary, resisted his pretensions by every means
in my power consistent with discretion. Finding, however, that the
mutual attachment they had formed for each other was such that nothing
short of force or violence could prevent their union, I with much
reluctance consented to their wishes."
He had, moreover, despatched his eldest son, Robert Patterson, to
Paris, to discover which way the wind of the imperial temper blew. As
the matter lay rather outside the pale of usual diplomatic issues,
it required most delicate manipulation, and while young Patterson
received kindly yet cautious expressions of interest and good-will
from Napoleon's brothers, an ominous and forbidding silence enveloped
the First Consul. His indignation increased with Jerome's continued
absence, and when at length he spoke through his Minister of Marine,
it was to bid Jerome, as lieutenant of the fleet, to return to France,
at the same time forbidding all captains of French vessels to receive
on board "the young person to whom Jerome had attached himself."
Through the same channel Napoleon offered his forgiveness to Jerome
on condition that he abandon Elizabeth and return to France, there to
associate himself with his fortunes. Should he persist in bringing her,
she would not be allowed to put foot on French territory. Jerome's
mother wrote to him at the same time, suggesting that he return to
France alone and send his wife to Holland. Robert Patterson, however,
who succeeded admirably in keeping himself posted on the variations in
the attitude of Jerome's family, advised that Jerome should not return
to France without his wife.
Though he made several efforts during the year that followed to return
thither, there is only one on record when it was his purpose to sail
alone.
In September, 1804, General Armstrong sailed from New York to replace
Livingston at Paris. He had agreed with Jerome to take Madame Bonaparte
with him, Jerome himself intending to go on one of the French frigates
then in New York harbor. She could thus, at least, have landed in
France as a member of the family of the American minister, who might
have succeeded in presenting her to Napoleon, with whom she could,
no doubt, have pleaded her cause with more effect than could have
been produced by any amount of diplomatic correspondence or family
intervention. She had the gifts which he most admired in women, great
personal beauty and wit, and though the latter might have been too keen
for his entire appreciation, she no doubt would have been shrewd enough
to temper it to his taste.
She wrote her father from New York, September 5, 1804, of her
disappointment at Armstrong's having sailed without her. The reason
given was that Jerome and Elizabeth had arrived by stage a few hours
after the ship had sailed.
An effort to sail during the following month ended in shipwreck off
Pilot Town, where they were finally landed and temporarily housed by
one of the inhabitants, on whose clothes-line Madame Bonaparte dried
her wardrobe, and from whose hospitable board she enjoyed a dinner
of roast goose with apple-sauce, being in exuberant spirits over her
rescue.
On March 11, 1805, they finally made their departure from Baltimore in
the "Erin," a ship belonging to Mr. Patterson. Though they sailed at an
early hour in the morning, and the arrangements for their departure had
been conducted with much secrecy, General Tureau wrote from Washington
two days later to Mr. Patterson to ask what disposition had been made
of Jerome's four carriage-horses, and to suggest, if they were to be
sold, that he should like to be considered as a purchaser.
The "Erin" reached Lisbon on April 2, whence Jerome wrote in English to
his father-in-law of their safe arrival, and took the opportunity to
express his affection for and gratitude towards his second family. He
spoke of Elizabeth having been very sea-sick, and added,--
"But you know as well as any body that sea-sick never has killed
nobody."
Napoleon's ambassador met the ship upon its arrival, and called upon
Elizabeth to ask what he could do for her, addressing her as Miss
Patterson.
"Tell your master," she replied, "that Madame Bonaparte is ambitious,
and demands her rights as a member of the Imperial family."
She was forbidden to land, and Jerome, taking that farewell of her
which fate had destined should be his last, went overland to Paris,
while the "Erin" sailed for Amsterdam.
On his way to Paris Jerome met General and Madame Junot _en route_
for their new post in Spain. He breakfasted with them and opened his
anxious young heart to them, showing them a miniature of Elizabeth,
from whom, he declared, nothing should ever separate him.
Upon reaching Paris he went at once to Malmaison and sought an audience
with Napoleon, who refused to see him, bidding him write what he wished
to say. He wrote, simply announcing his arrival, and received the
following reply:
"I have received your letter this morning. There are no faults you have
committed which may not be effaced in my eyes by a sincere repentance.
Your marriage is null and void, both from a religious and a legal point
of view. I will never acknowledge it. Write Miss Patterson to return
to the United States, and tell her it is not possible to give things
another turn. On condition of her return to America, I will allow her a
pension of sixty thousand francs a year, provided she does not take the
name of my family, to which she has no right, her marriage having no
existence."
From this position Napoleon never swerved. The annuity was paid to
Elizabeth after her return to America until the fall of the Empire,
and formed the basis of the fortune of one and a half million dollars,
accumulated through a long life of frugality and cautious investment,
of which she died possessed.
The reply of Pope Pius, to whom Napoleon appealed for the annulment of
the marriage, accompanying his request with a costly gold tiara, to the
effect that after mature deliberation he had been able to discover no
grounds on which the marriage could be cancelled, though it chagrined
the Emperor to an extent which he never forgave, did not yet alter the
stand he had taken. When Jerome was finally admitted to his presence,
he greeted him with that magnetic smile whose potency swayed men and
women alike.
"So, sir, you are the first of the family," he said, "who has
shamefully abandoned his post. It will require many splendid actions to
wipe off that stain from your reputation. As to your love-affair with
your little girl, I pay no attention to it."
The "Erin," meanwhile, arrived in the Texel Roads, where, though flying
the flag of a friendly power, and a merchant vessel whose clearance
from Baltimore showed that she carried no guns, she was placed under
guard of two French men-of-war and all communication with the shore
prohibited. Through the intercession of Sylvanus Bourne, our Consul at
Amsterdam, she was permitted at the expiration of a week to depart,
and, bearing her full measure of human desolation, she headed towards
the shores of England. The fame of her fair passenger had preceded her,
and so large a concourse of people had gathered at Dover to witness the
landing of Madame Jerome Bonaparte that Mr. Pitt, then Prime Minister
of England, sent a military escort to protect her from possible
annoyance of a sympathetic though curious throng.
At Camberwell, near London, her son was born on the 7th of July, 1805,
and named Jerome Napoleon.