Part 6 (1/2)
For political purposes, there were many who wished to destroy the influence which Josephine had acquired over the mind of her ill.u.s.trious husband. In the accomplishment of this plan, they endeavored, in every way in their power, to excite the jealousy of Napoleon. The very efforts which Josephine was making to attract the most influential men in Paris to her saloon were represented to him as indications of levity of character, and of a spirit of unpardonable coquetry. The enemies of Josephine had their influential agents in the camp of Napoleon, and with malice, never weary, they whispered these suspicions into his ear.
The jealousy of his impa.s.sioned nature was strongly aroused. In his indignation, he wrote to Josephine in terms of great severity, accusing her of ”playing the coquette with all the world.” She was very deeply wounded by these unjust suspicions, and wrote to him a letter in reply, which, for tenderness and delicacy of sentiment, and the expression of conscious innocence, is hardly surpa.s.sed by any thing which has ever been written. Her letter was intercepted, and Napoleon never saw it. For many months nearly all communication with the army of Egypt was cut off by the vigilance of the English. There were flying reports ever reaching the ear of Josephine of disaster to the army, and even of the death of Napoleon. Josephine was at times in great distress. She knew not the fate of her husband or her son. She knew that, by the grossest deception, her husband's confidence in her had been greatly impaired, and she feared that, should he return, she might never be able to regain his affections. Still, she devoted herself with unwearied diligence in watching over all his interests, and though her heart was often oppressed with anguish, she did every thing in her power to retain the aspect of cheerfulness and of sanguine hope. One of her favorite amus.e.m.e.nts--the favorite amus.e.m.e.nt of almost every refined mind--was found in the cultivation of flowers. She pa.s.sed a portion of every pleasant day with Hortense among the flower-beds, with the hoe, and the watering-pot, and the pruning-knife. Hortense, though she loved the society of her mother, was not fond of these employments, and in subsequent life she never turned to them for a solace. With Josephine, however, this taste remained unchanged through life. She was also very fond of leaving the aristocratic walks of Malmaison, and sauntering through the lanes and the rural roads, where she could enter the cottages of the peasants, and listen to their simple tales of joy and grief. To many of these dwellings her visit was as the mission of an angel. Her purse was never closed against the wants of penury. But that which rendered her still more a ministering spirit to the poor was that her heart was ever open, with its full flood of sympathy, to share the grief of their bereavements, and to rejoice in their joy. When she sat upon the throne of France, and even long after she sank into the repose of the grave, the region around Malmaison was full of recitals of her benevolence. Aristocratic pride at times affected to look down with contempt upon the elevated enjoyments of a n.o.ble heart.
Thus occupied in pleading with those in power for those of ill.u.s.trious birth who had, by emigration, forfeited both property and life; in visiting the sick and the sorrowing in the humble cottages around her; in presiding with queenly dignity over the brilliant soirees in her own saloons, where talent and rank were ever a.s.sembled, and in diffusing the sunlight of her own cheerful heart throughout the whole household at Malmaison, Josephine, through weary months, awaited tidings from her absent husband.
CHAPTER VIII.
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 a.s.sembled 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 sh.o.r.e. 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 embarra.s.sment 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 pa.s.ses 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 pa.s.sed 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 ill.u.s.trious 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.
[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sion 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 antic.i.p.ate. 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 ill.u.s.trious 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, a.s.suring 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 Const.i.tution. 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 pa.s.sed 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.