Empress Josephine: An Historical Sketch of the Days of Napoleon Part 30

He persuaded Josephine to leave him, and to retire into one of the central cities of Italy. She acceded to his wishes, and travelled away toward Florence. But, to reach that city, it was necessary to pa.s.s Mantua, which the French were investing. Her road pa.s.sed near the walls of the besieged city, and one of the b.a.l.l.s, which were whizzing around the carriage, struck one of the soldiers of her escort and wounded him mortally. It was a dangerous, fearful journey--war's confusion everywhere, wild shouts, fleeing, complaining farmers, constant cries of distress, anxiety, and want.

But Josephine had armed her heart with great courage and resolution; she shrank from no danger, she overcame it all; she already had an undaunted confidence in her husband's destiny, and believed in the star of his prosperity.

And this star led her on happily through all dangers, and protected her throughout this reckless and daring journey. Through Bologna and Ferrara, she came at last to Lucca; there to rest a few days from her hards.h.i.+ps and anxieties. There, in Lucca, she was to experience the proud satisfaction of being witness of the deep confidence which had struck root in the heart of the Italians, in reference to the success of the French commander-in-chief. Though it was well known that Wurmser, with a superior force, was advancing against General Bonaparte, and his hungry, tattered troops, and that they were on the eve of a battle which, according to all appearances, promised to Napoleon a complete defeat, and to the Austrians a decisive victory, the town of Lucca was not afraid to give to the wife of Bonaparte a grand and public reception. The senate of Lucca received her with all the marks of distinction shown only to princesses; the senate came to her in official ceremony, and brought her as a gift of honor, in costly gold flasks, the produce of their land, the fine oil of Lucca.

Josephine received these marks of honor with that grace and amiability with which she won all hearts, and, with her enchanting smile, thanking the senators, she told them, with all the confidence of a lover, that her victorious husband would, for the magnificent hospitality thus shown her, manifest his grat.i.tude to the town of Lucca by the prosperity and liberty which he was ready to conquer for Italy.

This confidence was shortly to be justified. No sooner had Josephine arrived in Florence, whither she had come from Lucca, than the news of the victory of the French army, commanded by her husband, reached there also.

Suddenly abandoning the siege of Mantua, Bonaparte had gathered together all his forces, and with them he dealt blow after blow upon the three divisions of the army corps of Wurmser, until he had completely defeated them. The battles of Lonato and Castiglione were the fresh trophies of his fame. On the 10th of August Bonaparte made his victorious entry into Brescia, which only twelve days before he had been suddenly obliged to abandon with his Josephine, to whom he had then been barely reunited, and was still luxuriating in the bliss of her presence.

Bonaparte had fulfilled his word: he had revenged Josephine, and Wurmser had indeed paid dearly for the tears which he had caused Josephine to shed!

But after these days of storm and danger, the two lovers were to enjoy a few weeks of mutual happiness and of splendid triumphs.

Josephine had returned from Florence to Milan, and thither Bonaparte came also in the middle of August, to rest in her arms after his battles and victories.

CHAPTER XXVI. BONAPARTE AND JOSEPHINE IN MILAN.

The days of armistice which Bonaparte pa.s.sed in Milan were accompanied by festivities, enjoyments, and triumphs of all kinds. All Milan and Lombardy streamed forth to present their homage to the deliverer of Italy and to his charming, gracious wife; to give feasts in their honor, to praise them in enthusiastic songs, to celebrate their fame in concerts, serenades, and illuminations.

The palace Serbelloni served Italy's deliverer once more as a residence, and it was well calculated for this on account of its vastness and elegance. This was one of the most beautiful buildings among the palaces of Milan. Over its ma.s.sive lower structure, and its rez-de chaussee of red granite, sparkling in the sun with its play of many colors, arose bold and steep its light and graceful facade. The interior of this beautiful palace of the Dukes of Serbelloni was adorned with all the splendors which sculpture and painting gathered into the palaces of the Italian n.o.bility.

In those halls, whose roofs were richly decorated and gilded, and supported by white columns of marble, and whose walls were covered with those splendid and enormous mirrors which the republic of Venice alone then manufactured; and from whose tall windows hung down in long, heavy folds curtains of purple velvet, embroidered with gold, the work of the famous artisans of Milan--in those brilliant halls the happy couple, Bonaparte and Josephine, received the deputies of applauding Italy and the high aristocracy of all Lombardy.

An eye-witness thus describes a reception-evening in the Serbelloni palace: "The hall in which the general received his visitors was a long gallery divided by marble columns into three smaller rooms; the two extreme divisions formed two large drawing-rooms, perfectly square, and the middle part.i.tion formed a long and wide promenade apartment. In the drawing-room, into which I entered, was Madame Bonaparte, the beautiful Madame Visconti, Madame Leopold Berthier, and Madame Ivan. Under the arches, at the entrance of the middle room, stood the general; around him, but at a distance, the chiefs of the war department, the magistrates of the city, with a few ministers of the Italian governments, all in respectful att.i.tude before him. Nothing seemed to be more striking than the bearing of this little man among the dignitaries overawed by his character. His att.i.tude had nothing of pride, but it had the dignity of a man conscious of his worth, and who feels that he is in the right place. Bonaparte tried not to increase his stature, so as to be on the same level with those around him; they already spared him that trouble, and bowed to him. None of those who conversed with him appeared taller than he. Berthier, Silmaine, Clarke, Augerean, awaited silently till he should address them, an honor which this evening was not conferred upon all. Never were headquarters so much like a court: they were the prelude to the Tuileries." [Footnote: Arnold, "Souvenirs d'un s.e.xagenaire," vol. iii., p. 10.]

To Milan came the amba.s.sadors of princes, of the free cities, and of the Italian republics. They all claimed Bonaparte's a.s.sistance and protection; they came bearers of good-will, of utterances of hope and fear, and expecting from him help and succor. The princes trembled for their thrones; the cities and republics for their independence; they wanted to conciliate by their submission the general whose sword could either threaten them all or give them ample protection. Bonaparte received this homage with the composure of a protector, and sometimes also with the proud reserve of a conqueror.

He granted to the Duke of Parma the protection which he had sought, and permitted him to remain on his territory as prince and ruler, though the strongest expostulations had been made to Bonaparte on that point.

"He is a Bourbon," they said; "he must no longer rule."

"He is an unfortunate man," replied Bonaparte, proudly; "it is not worth while to attack him. If we leave him on his lands, he will rule only in our name; if we drive him away, he will be weaving intrigues everywhere.

Let him remain where he is, I wish him no wrong; his presence can be useful, his absence would surely he hurtful."

"But he is a Bourbon, citizen general, a Bourbon!" exclaimed Augereau, with animation.

Bonaparte's countenance darkened, and his brow was overspread with frowns. "Well, then," cried he, with threatening tone, "he is a Bourbon!

Is he therefore by nature of so despicable a family? Because three Bourbons have been killed in France, must we therefore hunt down all the others? I cannot approve of proscriptions which thus fall upon a whole family, a whole cla.s.s of people. An absurd law has prohibited all the n.o.bles from serving the republic, and yet Barras is in the Directory, and I am at the head of the army in Italy. We are consequently liable to punishment in virtue of your absurd and cruel system! Hunt down those who do wrong, but not ma.s.ses who are innocent. Can you punish Paris and France for the crimes of the sans-culottes? The Bourbons are, it is said, the enemies of freedom; they have been led to the scaffold under the action of a right which I do not acknowledge. The Duke of Parma is weak, and a poltroon,--he will not stir. His people seem to love him, for we are here, and they rise not, they utter no complaint. Let him, then, continue to rule as long as he pays all that I exact from him."

[Footnote: Napoleon's words.--See Hazlitt, "Histoire de Napoleon," vol.

v., p. 1.]

Thanks to the good-will and protection of the republican general, the Duke of Parma remained on his little throne--on the same throne which was one day to be to Napoleon's second wife a compensation for her lost imperial crown. The Empress of France was to become a d.u.c.h.ess of Parma; and now to her husband, the present general of the republic, the actual Duke of Parma was indebted that his little dukedom was not converted into a republic.

It is true that the duke had to pay dearly for the protection which Bonaparte granted. He had to pay a war-subsidy of two million francs, and, besides, give from his collection his most beautiful painting, that of St. Jerome by Correggio, for the Museum of the Louvre in Paris.

[Footnote: This splendid picture is now in the Vatican at Rome.] The duke, as a lover of art, was more distressed at the loss of this picture than at the enormous contribution he had to pay; for he soon caused the proposition to be made to General Bonaparte, to redeem from the French government that painting, for the sum of two hundred thousand francs, a proposition which Bonaparte, without any further consultation with the authorities in Paris, rejected with some degree of irritation.

The Duke of Parma remained therefore the sovereign of his duchy, because it so pleased Bonaparte; but Bonaparte was led into error when he thought that, as his people rebelled not, they therefore loved their duke, and were satisfied with him. The women and the priests controlled entirely the feeble duke; and not only the people, but the better cla.s.ses and the aristocracy, submitted to all this with great unwillingness. Once, when Joseph Bonaparte, whom the French republic had sent to give a.s.surance of protection and recognition to the little Duke of Parma, was walking with a few cavaliers in the gardens around the duke's palace in Colorno, he expressed his admiration at the symmetry and beauty of the buildings.

"That is true," was the answer, "but just look at the buildings of the neighboring cloister! do you not see how superior that dwelling is to that of the sovereign? Wretched is the country where this can take place!" [Footnote: "Memoires du Roi Joseph," vol. i., p. 65.]

Even the representatives of the republic of Venice came to Bonaparte.

They came not only to secure his friends.h.i.+p, but also to complain that the French army, in its advance upon Brescia, had done injury to the neutral territory of Venice.

Bonaparte directed at them a look of imperious severity, and, instead of laying stress on their neutrality, he asked in a sharp tone, "Are you for us, or against us?"

"Signor, we are neutral, and--"

"Do not be neutral," interrupted Bonaparte, with vehemence, "be strong, otherwise your friends.h.i.+p is useful to none."

And, with imperious tone, he reproached them for the vacillating, perfidious conduct which, since 1792, had been the policy of Venice, and he threatened to punish and destroy that republic if she did not immediately prove herself to be the loyal friend of the French.

While Bonaparte used the few short weeks of rest to bring Italy more and more under the yoke of France, it was Josephine's privilege to draw to herself and toward her husband the minds of the Italians, to win their hearts to her husband, and through him to the French republic, which he represented. She did this with all the grace and affability, all the genial tact and large-heartedness of a n.o.ble heart, which were the attributes of her beautiful and amiable person. She was unwearied in well-doing, in listening to all the pet.i.tions with which she was approached; she had for every complaint and every request an open ear; she not only promised to every applicant her intercession, but she made him presents, and was ever ready, by solicitations, flatteries, and expostulations, and, if necessary, even with tears, to entreat from her husband a mitigation of the punishment and sentence which he had decided upon in his just severity; and seldom had Bonaparte the courage to oppose her wishes. These were for Josephine glorious days of love and triumph. She depicts them herself in a letter to her aunt in plain, short words.

"The Duke de Serbelloni," writes she, "will tell you, my dear aunt, how I have been received in Italy; how, wherever I pa.s.sed, they celebrated my arrival; how all the Italian princes, even the Duke of Tuscany, the emperor's brother, gave festivities in my honor. Well, then, I would prefer to live as a plain citizeness of France. I like not the honorable distinctions of this country. They weary me. It is true, my health inclines me to be sad. I often feel very ill. If fate would bring me good health, then I should be entirely happy. I possess the most amiable husband that can be found. I have no occasion to desire anything. My wishes are his. The whole day he is wors.h.i.+pping me as if I were a deity; it is impossible to find a better husband. He writes often to my children--he loves them much. He sent to Hortense, through M.

Serbelloni, a beautiful enamelled repeating watch, ornamented with fine pearls; to Eugene he sent also a fine gold watch." [Footnote: Aubenas, "Histoire de l'Imperatrice Josephine," vol. i., p. 349.]

But soon these days of quietness and happiness were to be broken; the armistice was drawing to a close, when, with redoubled energy, Bonaparte, who had received from the government the wished-for re-enforcements, longed to resume the war with Austria, which on her side had sent another army into Italy, under General Alvinzi, to relieve Mantua, and to deliver Wurmser from his peril.

On the 13th of August Bonaparte left Milan and returned to Brescia, where he established his headquarters, and where, with all the speed and restlessness of a warrior longing for victory, he made his preparations for the coming conflict.

But amid the anxieties, the cares, the chances of this new campaign, his heart remained behind in Milan with his Josephine; when the general began to rest, the lover began to breathe. No sooner were the battle-plans, the fight, the preparations and the dispositions accomplished, than all his thoughts returned to Josephine, and he had again recourse to his written correspondence with his adored wife; for although he longed so much to have her with him, yet he was unwilling to occasion her so much inconvenience and so many privations.

Bonaparte's letters are again way-marks during his glorious path of victory and triumph, while he was over-running Italy with wondrous rapidity--but, instead of relating these conquests, we turn to his letters to Josephine. Already, on his way to Brescia, he had written her several times. The very day after reaching there, after having made the necessary military arrangements, Bonaparte wrote to her:

"BRESCIA, the 14th Fructidor, Year IV. (August 31, 1795).

"I am leaving for Verona. I have hoped in vain to receive a letter from you; this makes me wretched and restless. At the time of my departure, you were somewhat suffering; I pray you, do not leave me in such a state of disquietude. You had promised me a greater punctuality; your tongue, then, chimed in with your heart...; you, whom Nature has gifted with a sweet disposition, with joyousness, and every thing which is agreeable, how can you forget him who loves you so warmly? Three days without a letter from you! I have during that time written to you several.

Separation is horrible; the nights are long, tiresome, and insipid; the days are monotonous."

"To-day, alone with thoughts, works, men, and their destructive schemes, I have not received from you a single note that I can press to my heart."

"Headquarters are broken up; I leave in one hour. I have this night received expresses from Paris; there was nothing for you but the enclosed letter, which will afford you some pleasure."

"Think on me; live for me; be often with your beloved, and believe that there is for him but one sorrow; that he shrinks only from this--to be no more loved by his Josephine. A thousand right sweet kisses, right tender, right exclusive kisses."

"BONAPARTE."

Three days after he tells her that he is now in the midst of war operations; that hostilities have begun again, and that he hopes in a few days to advance upon Trieste. But this occupied his mind less than his solicitude for Josephine. After a short paragraph on his military affairs, he continues:

"No letter from you yet; I am really anxious; but I am a.s.sured that you are well, and that you have made an excursion on the Como Lake. Every day I wait impatiently for the courier who is to bring me news from you; you know how precious this is to me. I live no longer when away from you; the joy of my life is to be near my sweet Josephine. Think of me; write often, very often; this is the only remedy for separation; it is cruel, but I trust it will soon be over."

"BONAPARTE."