JOSEPHINE.
Josephine, naturally amiable and gentle in disposition, with manners which combined ease and elegance with dignity, possessed a natural aptitude for acquiring feminine accomplishments. She played, especially on the harp, and sung with exquisite feeling. 221 Her dancing is said to have been perfect. An eye-witness describes her light form, rising scarcely above the middle size, as seeming in its faultless symmetry to float rather than to move—the very personation of Grace. She was mistress of the pencil and of the needle. Flowers were her passion; she early cultivated a knowledge of botany. To the empress Josephine Europe is indebted for a knowledge of the Camelia. She read delightfully; the tones of her voice fascinated. “The first applause of the French people,” said Napoleon, “sounded to my ear sweet as the voice of Josephine.”
The companion of her infancy was a mulatto girl, some years older than herself,—her foster-sister, Euphemia,—who never afterwards quitted her patroness, shared in her amusements, and was the companion of her rambles. In one of these an incident occurred, which exercised a lasting influence over her imagination. The particulars were, long afterwards, thus related by herself:—
“One day, some time before my first marriage, while taking my usual walk, I observed a number of negro girls assembled round an old woman, who was telling their fortune. I stopped to listen to her. The sorceress, on seeing me, uttered a loud shriek, and grasped my hand. I laughed at her grimaces, and allowed her to proceed, saying, ‘So you discover something extraordinary in my destiny?’ ‘I do.’ ‘Do you discover traces of happiness, or misfortune?’ ‘Of misfortune, certainly; but of happiness also.’ ‘You take care not to commit yourself, my worthy sibyl; your oracles are not the most clear.’ ‘I am 222 not permitted to make them more so,’ said the woman, raising her eyes in a mysterious manner towards heaven. My curiosity was now awakened, and I said to her, ‘But tell me, what read you in futurity concerning me?’ ‘What do I read? You will not believe me if I tell you.’ ‘Yes, indeed, I assure you. Come, good woman, what am I to hope or fear?’ ‘You insist; listen then. You will soon be married; the union will not be happy; you will become a widow, and then—you will become queen of France! You will enjoy many years of happiness, but you will be killed in a popular commotion.’ The old woman then burst from the crowd, and hurried away as fast as her limbs, enfeebled by age, would permit. I forbade the bystanders to laugh at the prophetess for her ridiculous prediction, and took the occasion to caution the young negro women against giving credit to such pretenders. Henceforth, I thought of the affair only to laugh at it. But afterwards, when my husband had perished on the scaffold, in spite of my better judgment, this prediction forcibly recurred to my mind; and, though I was myself then in prison, the transaction daily assumed a less improbable character, and I ended by regarding the fulfilment as almost a matter of course.”
Nothing at the time seemed less likely than the fulfilment of the prediction. Miss Tascher seemed destined to become the wife of some creole youth, and to pass a tranquil and indolent life on some neighboring plantation. It so chanced, however, that the young Vicompte Alexander de Beauharnais, “who,” in Josephine’s words, “had embraced the new ideas with all the ardor of a very lively imagination,” after 223 serving with distinction in the war of the American revolution, came to Martinico to prove his title to some estates which had fallen by inheritance to himself and his brother. These estates were held on lease by Josephine’s uncle, and an acquaintance between the young people naturally followed. They became mutually attached; but his relatives, who were opposed to the match, interposed obstacles which Josephine surmounted with a gentleness and address hardly to be expected in a girl of sixteen. In 1794, writing to her children, Josephine says, “If to my union with your father I have been indebted for all my happiness, I dare to think and say, that to my own character I owe our union, so many were the obstacles which opposed us. Yet, without any effort of talents, I effected their removal. I found in my own heart the means of gaining the affection of my husband’s relations; patience and goodness will ever in the end conciliate the good-will of others.”
On their arrival in France, in 1779, the youthful pair are said to have created a sensation in society. The manners and accomplishments of Josephine excited admiration in the most polished court in Europe; and the attentions of Marie Antoinette made an impression on her grateful heart which endured through a life, the incidents of which were in such seeming opposition to the interests of the Bourbons. Much of their time, however, was spent on the vicompte’s estates in Brittany; and here were born Eugene, afterwards viceroy of Italy, and Hortense, afterwards queen of Holland.
Every thing gave promise of enduring happiness. 224 But the misconduct of the vicompte destroyed it. Josephine at first complained with gentleness, and sought by increased fondness to win back the waning affections of her husband. Finding this unavailing, she infused into her reproaches a degree of bitterness which alienated completely the affections she was so anxious to gain. A separation was the consequence, and Josephine returned with her children to Martinico.
After an absence of several years, she once again sailed for France, and in circumstances far from affluent. An incident which occurred on the voyage was thus related to the ladies of her court. She had indulged a wish they had expressed to see her jewels. They were spread upon a spacious table, which was covered with them. The brilliancy, the size, and the quantity, of the jewels composing the different sets, were dazzling to the eye. Here were collected the choicest gems of Europe, for all its nations had been eager to heap presents upon the wife of Napoleon. After she had permitted the ladies to examine at leisure these treasures, which almost realized the tales of the “Arabian Nights,” Josephine said to them, “During the first dawn of my elevation, I delighted in these trifles. I grew by degrees so tired of them, that I no longer wear any, except when I am compelled to do so by my station in the world. Trust to me, ladies, and do not envy a splendor which does not constitute happiness. You will be surprised when I tell you that I felt more pleasure at receiving a pair of old shoes, than at being presented with all the diamonds now spread before you.” The ladies smiled at what they considered a mere pleasantry; but Josephine 225 repeated the remark with such earnestness as to induce them to ask for the story. “Accompanied by Hortense, I embarked at Martinico for France. Being separated from my husband, my pecuniary resources were not very flourishing; the expense of my return to France, which the state of my affairs rendered necessary, had nearly drained my purse, and I found great difficulty in providing the indispensable requisites for the voyage. Hortense, who was a smart, lively girl, became a great favorite with the sailors; she entertained them by imitating the songs and dances of the negroes. No sooner did she observe me engaged, than she slipped upon deck, and repeated her little exercises to the renewed delight of all. An old quarter-master was particularly attentive to her, and, whenever he found a moment’s leisure, he devoted it to his little friend, who became much attached to him. This constant dancing and skipping soon destroyed my daughter’s slight shoes. Knowing that she had no other pair, and fearing that I should forbid her going upon deck, if I should discover this defect in her attire, she concealed it. Her bleeding feet one day attracted my notice. I asked, in alarm, if she had hurt herself. ‘No, mamma.’ ‘But your feet are bleeding.’ ‘It really is nothing.’ I insisted upon seeing what was the matter, and found that the shoes were in tatters, and her foot dreadfully torn by a nail. The voyage was not half performed, and there seemed no possibility of procuring a new pair before reaching France. I was quite overcome at the idea of Hortense’s sorrow at being compelled to remain shut up in my little cabin, and to the injury to her health. My 226 tears found a free vent. At this moment our friend the quarter-master appeared. With honest bluntness he asked the cause of our grief. Hortense, sobbing all the while, told him that she could no longer go on deck, because she had no shoes. ‘Is that all?’ said he; ‘I have an old pair somewhere in my chest; I will bring them; you, madam, can cut them to shape, and I will sew them as well as I can. On board ship, you must put up with many things. It is not the place to be too nice and particular.’ He did not wait for my reply, but went in quest of his shoes, which he brought to us with an air of exultation, and offered them to Hortense, who received them with eager delight. We set to work with zeal, and Hortense enjoyed the delight of furnishing the evening’s diversion to the crew. I repeat that no present was ever received by me with more pleasure than this pair of old, coarse, leather shoes.”
The motive of Josephine in returning to France was to be near her husband, who was a prominent actor in the scenes of the French revolution. Knowing the warmth of his political feelings, she trembled for his safety; her past resentment vanished. She sought a reconciliation, which he most cordially desired.
Passing onward in our story, we find Madame de Beauharnais a widow and a prisoner. Her husband, after filling the offices of president of the Convention, and general-in-chief of the army of the Rhine, had, during the reign of terror, perished on the scaffold. On the same day on which this event was communicated to her, she received an intimation to prepare herself for death. But she had found a new source 227 of strength. Her mind, in reverting to past scenes dwelt upon the almost forgotten prophecy of the negress. Her imagination was excited; it began to appear less and less absurd to her, and finally terminated in her almost certain belief. The following relation was made by herself at Navarre:—