Empress Josephine: An Historical Sketch of the Days of Napoleon Part 35

He travelled over Mount Cenis to Rastadt, where he found in the crowd of German and French diplomats many generals and learned men, who had come there to see the man whom his very enemies admired, amongst whom he was nearly as popular as with his friends. However, Bonaparte remained but a few days there; for, after having attended the opening of the Congress, he pursued his journey to Paris, where he arrived on the 6th of December.

Josephine, as we have already said, did not accompany her husband to Paris. Before leaving Italy, she desired to accomplish two objects of her heart. She wished to see Rome, the everlasting city of fame and of arts, the city of the ancient G.o.ds, and of the seat of St. Peter; and she wished also to embrace her son Eugene, who was there as an attache of Joseph Bonaparte, the amba.s.sador of the French republic. Wherever she went, she was received with enthusiasm, not only as the wife of Italy's deliverer, but also on account of her personal merits. Through her affability, her amiableness, and her sweet disposition, which shunned every haughty exaltation, and yet was never lacking in dignity or in reserve--through the goodness of her heart, which was ever ready to help the unfortunate--through all those exquisite and praiseworthy qualities which adorned and beautified her, she had won the love and admiration of all Italy; and long afterward, when the deliverer of Italy had become her lord and her oppressor, when she had no longer cause to love Bonaparte, but only to curse him, Italy preserved for Josephine a memory full of admiration and love.

CHAPTER XXIX. DAYS OF TRIUMPH.

On the 5th of December, 1797, Bonaparte returned to Paris; and, a few days after, Josephine arrived also. In her little hotel, in the Street Chautereine, where she had pa.s.sed so many bright and happy days, she hoped, after so many storms and hardships, to enjoy again new and cheerful sunny days of domestic enjoyments--she hoped to rest from all those triumphs which had accompanied at each step both her and her husband.

This hope, however, was not to be realized, for greater triumphs still than those she had enjoyed in Italy awaited Bonaparte in Paris. The days of quietude, and the pleasures of home, which Josephine so much loved, and which she so well understood how to embellish with friendships and joys, were now forever past away. Placed at the side of a hero whose fame already filled all Europe, she could no longer calculate upon living in modest retirement, as she would have wished to do: it was her lot to share his burden of glory, as she also was illumined by its beams.

From this moment nothing of former days remained; all was changed, all was altered by Bonaparte's laurels and victories. He was no more the servant of the republic, he was nearly its master; he had not only defeated Austria in Italy, but he had also defeated in France the Directory, which had sent him as its general to Italy, and which now saw him return home as the master of the five monarchs of France.

Every thing now, as already said, a.s.sumed a new shape: even the house in which they lived, the street in which this house stood, had to be changed. Hitherto this street had been called "Rue Chautereine;" since Bonaparte's return the munic.i.p.ality of Paris gave it the name "Rue de la Victoire," and now to this Street of Victory the people of Paris streamed forth to see the conqueror; to stand there patiently for hours before the little hotel, and watch for the moment when at one of the windows the pale countenance of Bonaparte, with his long, smooth hair, might appear.

Even the little hotel was to be altered. Bonaparte--who, in earlier days, had described, as his dream of happiness, the possession of a house, of a cabriolet, and to have at his table the company of a few friends, with his Josephine--now found that the little house in the Rue de la Victoire was too small for him; that it must be altered even as the street had been. The modest and tasteful arrangements which had sufficed the Widow Josephine de Beauharnais, appeared now to her young husband as insufficient; the little saloon, in which at one time he had felt so happy at the side of the viscountess, was no longer suited to his actual wants. Large reception-rooms and vestibules were needed, magnificent furniture was necessary, for the residence of the conqueror of Italy, in the Rue de la Victoire.

Architects were engaged to enlarge and transform the small house into a large hotel, and it was left to Josephine's taste to convert the hitherto elegant private dwelling into a magnificent residence for the renowned general who had to be daily in readiness to receive official visits, delegations of welcome from the authorities, and the inst.i.tutions of Paris, and from the other cities of France.

For France was desirous to pay her homage to the hero of Arcola, and to celebrate his genius--to wish him prosperity, and to applaud him. The Directory had to adapt themselves to the universal sentiment; to pay their respects to the general with a cheerful mien and with friendly alacrity, while at heart they looked on him with vexation and envy.

Bonaparte's popularity filled them with anxiety and fearful misgivings.

But it was necessary to submit to this; the public sentiment required those festivities in honor of the general of the republic, and the five directors in the Luxemburg had no longer the power to guillotine the public sentiment, the true king of Paris, as once they had guillotined King Louis.

The directors, therefore, inaugurated brilliant festivities; they received the conqueror of Italy in the Luxemburg with great demonstrations of solemnity, in which the Parisians took a part. In the immense court in front of the residence of the directors this celebration took place. In the midst of the open place a lofty platform was erected; it was the country's altar, on which the gigantic statues of Freedom, Equality, and of Peace, were lifted up. Around this altar was a second platform, with seats for the five hundred, the deputies, and the authorities; the standards conquered in the Italian war formed over the seats of the five directors a sort of canopy: they were, however, to them as the sword of Damocles, ready to fall upon them at any moment and destroy them.

The directors, dressed in brilliant antique robes, created no impression, notwithstanding their theatrical splendor, in comparison with the sensation produced by the simple, unaffected appearance of General Bonaparte. He wore the plain green uniform which he had worn at Arcola and Lodi; his suite was limited to a few officers only, who, like himself, appeared in their ordinary uniforms, which they had worn on the battle-field. The two generals, Andreossy and Joubert, carried the standards which the Legislative a.s.sembly, two years before, had presented to the army of Italy, and upon which could now be read the names of sixty-seven battles won.

At one of the windows of the palace of the Luxemburg, Josephine watched this strange celebration, the splendors of which made her heart beat with delight, and filled her eyes with tears of joy. Near her was her daughter Hortense, lately withdrawn from Madame Campan's inst.i.tution, to be with her mother, who, full of ecstasy and pride, gazed at the charming maiden at her side, just blooming into a young lady; and then beyond, at that pale young man with pensive eyes standing near yonder altar, and before whom all the authorities of Paris bowed--who was her husband, her Bonaparte, everywhere conqueror! Before her only was he the conquered! She listened with a happy smile to the long speech with which Talleyrand saluted Bonaparte in the name of his country; she heard how Barras, concealing within himself his jealousy and his envy, welcomed him; how with admiration he praised him; how he said that Nature, in one of her most exalted and greatest moments, had resolved to produce a masterpiece, and had given to the wondering world Bonaparte!

And then, after this affected harangue, Josephine saw how Barras, with tears of emotion, embraced Bonaparte, and how the other Directors of France followed his example. A slight sarcastic smile for a moment played on Josephine's lips, for she well knew how little this friendship and this love of the Directory were to be trusted, how little sincerity was contained in the sentiments which they so publicly manifested toward the conqueror.

With love's anxiety and a woman's instinct, she watched over her hero; she was ever busy to track out the meandering paths of his foes, to destroy the nets wherein they wished to entangle his feet. She had even braved the jealous wrath of Bonaparte when it was necessary to ferret out some intrigue of the Directory. The special spy, whom Barras had sent to Italy to watch the movements of Bonaparte, and to give him early reports of every word, Botot, had been received by Josephine with a friendly smile and with great attention; she manifested toward him a confiding friendship, and thus succeeded in discovering his secret, and behind the seeming friend to unveil the cunning spy of Bonaparte's enemies. She could therefore meet Bonaparte's anger with serene brow and pure conscience; and when he accused her of frivolity and unfaithfulness, she justified herself before him by unveiling the secret schemes and machinations of his foes. And these foes were chiefly the five directors. He therefore knew very well what he was to expect from the embraces, the tears, the kisses of Barras; and the flattering words which he spoke to him in the presence of the Parisians made no impression whatever on Bonaparte's heart.

But the applause with which the people of Paris received him was not deceitful, like that of the Directory; the respect they paid him was not forced, and their applause therefore filled the hearts of Josephine and Bonaparte with joy. Wherever he appeared, he was greeted with loud demonstrations of joy; the poets praised him in their songs, the musicians sang hymns in his honor, and the men of science brought to him proofs of their esteem. The Inst.i.tute of Sciences named him one of their members in the place of Carnot; the painters and architects paid him homage with their works. The renowned painter David requested the honor of taking Bonaparte's portrait, and the general acceded to his wishes because Josephine had promised that the painter's request should be granted. David desired to paint him on horseback near the bridge of Lodi or of Arcola, and he placed before him a sketch he had made for this picture. But Bonaparte rejected it.

"No," said he, "I was not there alone, I conquered only with the whole army. Place me there, quiet and calm, seated upon a fiery horse."

What did Bonaparte mean by this "fiery horse"? Are his words to be understood in all their beauty and simplicity? or did he, by the restless horse, which he so calmly reins in, already think of the republic which, under the guidance of his masterly hand, was one day to be converted into an empire? Who could read the depths of this man's heart, which screened itself so carefully, and whose secrets in regard to the future he dared not divulge even to his beloved Josephine?

The first few weeks after their return from Italy were pa.s.sed away amid festivities and demonstrations of respect. Josephine abandoned herself to this pomp with a high spirit, and with a deep love for enjoyment. Her whole being was thoroughly interpenetrated with the warmth of this new sun, which had risen over her in so wondrous a light, and surrounded her with its l.u.s.trous rays. All these festivities, banquets, representations at the grand opera, and at the Theatre Francais, these public ovations which accompanied Bonaparte at every step, at every promenade, at every attendance at the theatre,--all these marks of honor elated Josephine, filling her with an enthusiastic pride for the hero, the man whom she now loved with all the excitability of a woman's heart, and over whom fame rested as a halo, and which made him appear to Josephine still greater and more exalted. To him alone now belonged her whole heart and being; and now for the first time she experienced those nervous spasms of jealousy which at a later date were to mix so many bitter drops of gall in the golden cup of her greatness.

At the ovations, the tokens of affection on the part of gentlemen delighted her, but she had no thanks for the ladies when, with their enthusiasm, brilliant eyes, bewitching smiles, and flattering words, they endeavored to manifest their adoration and grat.i.tude to the hero of Italy; she could barely keep back her tears when, at the reception which Talleyrand, the minister of foreign affairs, gave to Bonaparte, the beautiful songstress Gra.s.sini appeared, and, with her entrancing voice, sang the fame of the conqueror who had bound captive to his triumphal car, as the most precious booty, the proud songstress herself.

The Directory, however, would have gladly allowed the ladies to take part in this enthusiasm if the men had taken no share in it; but the admiration which they had everywhere manifested so strongly for Bonaparte, had completely overshadowed their own greatness and importance. They were no longer the monarchs of France--Bonaparte alone seemed to be its ruler--and their envious jealousy told them that it would require but a sign from his hand to impart to the French government a new form, to disenthrone the five directors, and to place himself in their position. The sole aim was, therefore, to remove Bonaparte as soon as practicable from Paris, and if possible from France, so as to check his popularity, and to oppose his ever-growing power.

Bonaparte was but little inclined to meet these views of the Directory, and to accept the propositions made to him. He declined at once to go to Rastadt, there to attend to the discussions of the congress, with as much resolution as he had refused to go to Rome to punish the papal government for the enmity it had shown to Prance. He left it to diplomats to prattle in Rastadt over the green-table, and to General Berthier to punish the papal government, and to drive Pius out of the Eternal City, the seat of St. Peter, and erect there the altar of the republic of Rome.

There were greater and loftier aims which Bonaparte now sought--and fame, which he loved quite as much as Josephine did, and was soon to love even more, was enticing him on to paths yet untrodden, where no hero of past ages had sought for it.

In Egypt, near the pyramids of four thousand years, he desired to gather fresh laurels; from thence the astonished world was to hear the wondrous recitals of his victories. His lively fancy already imagined his name written on those gigantic monuments of past ages, the only earthly creations which have in themselves nearly the character of immortality.

With his mighty deeds he wished to surpa.s.s all the heroes of modern times; he desired to rival Caesar and Alexander.

Caesar had won fifty battles, Bonaparte wanted to win a hundred.

Alexander had gone from Macedonia to the temple of Jupiter Ammon, Bonaparte wished to leave Paris to obtain victories at the cataracts of the Nile.

The bitterness which existed between the Directory and Bonaparte was increasing more and more. He no longer spoke to the five monarchs as an obedient, submissive son of the republic; he spoke as their lord and master; he threatened when his will was not obeyed; he was wroth when he met with opposition. And the Directory had not the courage to reproach him for his undutiful conduct, or to enter the lists with him to dispute for the sovereignty, for they well knew that public sentiment would declare itself in his favor, that Paris would side with the general if matters were to come to a crisis between them. It was therefore better and wiser to avoid this strife, and, under some good pretext, remove Bonaparte and open to him some distant pathway to fame, so as to be rid of him.

Egypt was far enough from Paris to give to the Directory guaranties of security, and it fell in with Bonaparte's plans. It was resolved therefore to send an expedition to Egypt, and he was appointed its commander-in-chief.

Bonaparte had directed his eyes to the East when in Pa.s.seriano he was making peace with Austria. In Egypt were the battle-fields which were to surround his name with a fresh halo of glory.

Josephine learned this resolution of Bonaparte with fear and anxiety, but she dared not betray this to any one, since this expedition was to remain a secret to all the world. Only in private could her tears flow, only before Bonaparte could she complain. Once, as she encircled him convulsively with her arms, her mind full of misgivings and her eyes of tears she asked him how many years he thought of remaining in Egypt.

She had put this question only in a jesting form. He took it in full earnestness, and answered:

"Either a few months or six years. All depends upon circ.u.mstances. I must win Egypt to civilization. I will gather there artists, learned men, mechanics of all trades, even women--dancers, songstresses, and actresses. I want to mould Egypt into a second France. One can do a great deal in six years. I am now twenty-nine years old, I shall be thirty-five when I return--that is not old. But I shall want more than six years if I go to India." [Footnote: Bourrienne, vol. ii., p. 49.]

Josephine cried aloud with anguish and horror, and, embracing him in her arms, implored him with all the delicate tenderness of her anxious affection not to thrust her aside, but to allow her to accompany him to Egypt.

But Bonaparte refused, and this time her tears, which he had never before denied, were fruitless. He felt that Josephine's presence would damp his ardent courage, r.e.t.a.r.d his onward march, and that he would not have the necessary fearless energy to incur risks and perils if Josephine were to be threatened by their consequences. He could not expose her to the privations and restless wanderings of a campaign, and his burning love for her was too real for him to yield to her wishes.

Josephine, meanwhile, was not silenced by his refusal; she persevered in her supplications, and Bonaparte, at last softened by her prayers, was obliged to come to terms. It was decided that Josephine should follow him to Egypt, that he would select a place of residence and prepare every thing for her reception there, so that she might without danger or too much inconvenience undertake the journey.

But before commencing such an undertaking, Josephine's health needed recruiting; she was to go to the baths of Plombieres, and Bonaparte was to hold a ship in readiness in Toulon to bring her to Egypt.

The ship which was chosen to transport her was the Pomona, the same in which, when only sixteen years old, she had come from Martinique to France. Then she had gone forth to an unknown world and to an unknown husband; now she was on the same ship to undertake a journey to an unknown world, but it was a beloved husband whom she was going to meet, and love gave her the strength to do so.

Josephine, full of the sweetest confidence that she was soon to follow Bonaparte, and hereafter to see him again, accompanied him to Toulon.

She had the strength to repress her tears as she bade him farewell, and to smile as he entreated her to keep her heart faithful to him.

She showed herself at this separation stronger than Bonaparte himself, for while her eyes were bright with joyous love, his were sad and obscured by tears.

The difference was this: Bonaparte knew that he was bidding farewell to Josephine for long years; she trusted that in a few months she would be reunited to him.

Bonaparte imprinted a last kiss on the lips of Josephine. She embraced him tenderly in her arms, and, to shield herself against the deep anguish of the separation, she cried aloud:

"In three months we meet again! The Pomona, which brought me to France, will bear me back to my hero, to my Achilles! In three months I shall be with you again. You have often called me the star of your fortune. How could this star abandon you when you are going to fight against your foes?"

He gazed at her with a look at once full of deep love and sorrow:

"Josephine," said he, solemnly, "my enemies are neither in Asia nor in Africa, but they are all in France. I leave you behind me in their midst, for you to watch them, and to unravel their schemes. Think of this, and be my strong and prudent wife." [Footnote: Bonaparte's words.--See Le Normand, vol. i., p. 278.]

Deeply moved, he turned away, and hastened from her to the boat that was to bear him to the flag-ship, which was waiting only for the commanding general to come aboard before weighing anchor.