she departed on her second and last voyage to France, where the remainder of her destiny was to be accomplished. This voyage was a perilous one.

Twice the vessel

had hair-breadth escapes of being run down, and thrice she took fire. A few days after landing in France, the dreadful news reached her of a terrible revolution having broken out in her native island. The negroes had revolted, having first refused to work, and, setting fire to numerous habitations, had murdered such of their unfortunate masters as were obnoxious to them. It may be imagined how such intelligence was calculated to distress the tender heart of Josephine.

A favorable change, meantime, took place in the domestic affairs of Madame de Beauharnais, (her husband had no knowledge of her return,) when an interview was brought about by his father and a madame de Montmorin wife to the governor of Fontainebleau who were both fondly attached to Josephine. The little Hortense, attired in the costume of her mother's native island was first presented to the father: "my child, my child," he exclaimed, catching the little girl to his bosom, "I cannot be mistaken, she is the very counterpart of what I was at seven years old." And he kissed her over and over again. "And our dear mother, will you not see her father?" exclaimed both children, simultaneously throwing themselves into his arms. In another moment the injured and forgiving Josephine was pressed to her beloved' husband's heart!

The march of the revolution was at this time pacing onward with hasty strides, and the viscount de Beauharnais who had lately been promoted to the rank of general, was one of its most determined partisans.

He first became a member of the tiers état, as the commons were called, and voted with the majority of that assembly. He was next appointed president of the National assembly. All know that at this time France was divided into three classes or orders the clergy, the nobility, and the commons or tiers état. At first the commons were the lowest order of the three, but controversies having arisen between them, the tiers état finding the public voice in their favor, seized upon the whole of the authority, assuming at the same time the title of National assembly. General Beauharnais filled the above post at the period of the king's flight to Varennes, on which occasion he displayed the utmost courage and firmness in saving the unhappy monarch from insult. Without compromising either his honor to those in whose employ he acted, or the dignity of the post he occupied, he considered it as a duty to visit and render what assistance he could to his sovereign. He had many private interviews with Louis XVI, and it is, also, well known that more than once his voice was elevated in the cause of royalty. In writing to me of her friends madame' de Beauharnais thus alludes to the part taken by her husband, at that time, in the revolution.

"The most seducing offers have been made to Alexander, but he knows how to resist these flattering illusions of favor, and declines them all. It is time that he is downright fascinated at this glowing prospect of liberty, but his views are as upright, as pure, as honest, and as incorruptible as his noble heart. This is why he only appears in either of the assemblies but in the character of an orator of the second class. His reputation of an honest man will follow him to the last. He seeks no place, for the military career is of all others the best suited to him."

Events now began to move onwards with a terrific speed. Beauharnais sought to withdraw himself from the vortex into which he had plunged headlong, but this was no easy matter. Ostensibly he dared not oppose the faction he had professed to serve, and the fatal 21st of January 1793, still found him belonging to the National assembly. The horrible events of that day, however, opened his eyes to the liberty thirsted for by the French nation. Liberty! alas! to what ignoble deeds is thy glorious name appropriated! More than ever anxious to retreat from the edge of what he now began to call a 'precipice,' general Beauharnais became an object of suspicion, and was, accordingly, arrested, and conveyed to the Luxembourg. Now it was that the real troubles of the unhappy madame de Beauharnais commenced, all that she had previously suffered being nothing in comparison to this dreadful blow-the more dreadful as daily experience showed her how few of those, who, unhappy enough to fall into the grasp of the blood-thirsty wretches that presided over the destinies of

France at that day, were suffered to escape. All her endeavors now tended to mitigate, as much as lay in her power, the sufferings of her husband. She succeeded in obtaining permission to visit him, and on one occasion was suffered to take her children with her.

A few nights previous to her husband's trial, if such a mockery could be so called, madame de Beauharnais was herself arrested and conveyed to the prison of the Carmes. The gallant Beauharnais was brought before the revolutionary tribunal, condemned and expired on the scaffold on the 23rd of July, 1794, having scarcely completed his 34th year.

Poor Josephine was ignorant of her husband having ever been brought to trial; for during the period of her own captivity she had never heard a word of him, until the day after he suffered, when she saw his name among a long list of others in a newspaper. This dreadful shock, although her mind was prepared for it, completely overwhelmned her with grief.

66

Josephine's own escape was very singular. Early on the morning of the 10th Thermidor (28th of July) and five days after her husband's death, the turnkey of the prison entered the chamber occupied by her and several other ladies, and prepared to remove the miserable bed upon which madame de Beauharnais had hitherto slept. To an exclamation of surprise, uttered by one of the ladies, the man replied we want it for a new prisoner, she," nodding towards Josephine, "she is going to be taken to the conciergerie, and, from that, to the guillotine." Hereupon all madame de Beauharnais' companions in misfortune commenced weeping and sobbing violently. It was probably more to divert their attention from the immediate cause of their grief, than from any real hope that she would he spared for the fulfilment of the prophecy, that Josephine is said to have related to them on this occasion the particulars of the famous prediction made to her at Martinico, ending her narrative with:-"you see that not only am I not to be guillotined, but that I am to be one day a CROWNED QUEEN!"

Amongst her fellow prisoners, however, there was one, a madame d'Aguillon, who was not to be so easily consoled. Between this lady and Josephine there existed a strong friendship, cemented no doubt by their mutual sufferings. The idea of her friends being actually under sentence of condemnation, for so she interpreted the turnkey's words, had such an effect upon her, that she nearly fainted. Her companions led her to an open casement, and whilst they gazed through the iron grating, they saw an immense concourse of persons rushing down the street, at she same time that the most tumultuous acclamations filled the air. Eagerly they looked on, straining every nerve to see, or catch a sound, when their attention was suddenly drawn to a female, apparently of the lower class, who was looking up and making the most strange gestures, as if to attract all their notice to herself. When she was certain of having succeeded, she put her two hands to her mouth in order that a sound should be conveyed more distinctly to them, and pronounced one word.-It "Robespierre." She repeated it two or three times, till they made signals that they had heard her, and then drawing her hand quickly across her throat gave them to understand that his head had been taken off. "Robespierre dead!" they all exclaimed, "can it be possible?" It was, possible; and, shortly, their doubts were set at rest, for hearing the gruff voice of one of the turnkeys, in the passage, outside their door, they listened, and heard him give his dog a kick, and bid him with a terrible oath, get out of his way for a Robespierre as he was! "This energetic phrase," as Josephine remarked, "told them they had nothing more to fear, that the tyrant was dead, and that France was saved!"

was

The joyful news spread quickly through the prison. Josephine's bed was restored, and both herself and her companions slept in peace.

On the night after the fall of Robespierre, madame de Beauharnais and her

It appears that several days previous to the one in question, orders had been given for the removal of Madame de Beauharnais, on that very morning, 10th Thermidor, to the Conciergerie. The reason why the order was not attended to was owing to the prodigious number of prisoners that were to be removed. Whether Josephine was forgotten, or left behind intentionally, neither she nor any other person ever knew.

companions were set at liberty. Oh! with what excess of anguish did the devoted wife at that moment lament her husband's untimely fate. "If my dearest Alexander had been spared but these few days more, he too would have been saved!" she cried as she threw herself weeping upon the neck of her friend the duchess d'Aiguillon. "But the oracle would not have been fulfilled!" whispered her friend. "True," she answered, "but my husband's life, before the throne of the universe!"

The widow of general Beauharnais was now restored to her children, and dreadful was the state in which she found them. Her son, her Eugene, of whom she was so proud was working for the miserable pittance that scarcely kept life and soul together. Yes, the son of general Beauharnais was in the employment of a joiner, and his sister Hortense, was suffering the most dreadful privations. Their father's property had become the prey of the spoliators of France. Nothing, nothing, was left. At an immense distance from her own family and without the means of regaining her native island, madame de Beauharnais found herself in the most horrible state of destitution. Her friends even, those to whom she could have applied for assistance, had fled or emigrated, and the few that still remained were like herself reduced to nearly the last frightful state of indigence.

The friend who had madame de Beauharnais' interest at heart, strenuously recommended her cultivating the acquaintance of the celebrated deputy Tallien. This personage, at the period to which we allude, had become all powerful. The energy and courage he displayed on the ninth thermidor will never be forgotten. Madame de Beauharnais found no difficulty in gaining access to him, when she painted to him, in the most glowing colors, her admiration and gratitude for the political' miracles' he had already effected, she concluded by hinting that there was yet much to be done, and after adding that she hoped one day to see her own beloved children re-instated through his means in their father's rights, her kind and benevolent heart pleaded with all the eloquence of which she was mistress, the cause of all those unhappy persons whose parents and friends had, like her own husband, died victims to the popular fury..

Tallien appeared greatly struck at the noble heroism of her conduct, and expressed his admiration of her courage. He advised her, however, to have patience, for he would not conceal from her, he said, that time alone could bring about the great act of retributive kindness which she solicited from him. The deputy Tallien was at this time about to be united to a lovely and amiable Spanish lady, who happened to be one of the most intimate friends of madame de Beaunarnais. At this horrible period, when even the most helpless females were not exempt from the terrors of the prison and the guillotine, this lady had been arrested in one of the provinces, confined for some time in a prison at Bordeaux, and removed from thence to the Petite Force, in Paris. Here she was visited by the monster Robespierre, who tried every means to denounce Tallien (to whom she was supposed to have been attached,) and Isabeau. Finding menaces of no avail, he next tried what could be done by fair means, promising her the immense sum of 300,000 francs and a passport for Spain if she would only conform to his wishes and those of his associates: the alternative to this compliance was death. Madame de Fontenay, for she was then a widow, demanded eight days for reflection. Although confined au secret, she found means of writing a few legible lines on a piece of cambric, and adroitly concealing the writing, in the heart of a cabbage, which she had requested the jailer to bring her to eat, she watched her opportunity when she knew that Tallien would be outside the prison, to throw it to him, from the window, where, it appears, he was in the daily habit of visiting. Tallien judging that the vegetable contained some communication of importance, took it home, and soon became acquainted with its contents. deputy at once began to sound the depth of the abyss upon whose brink he stood, and hastened to accelerate the events of the 9th Thermidor.

The

Of course this ingenious contrivance took time for its completion, and for several days this courageous and devoted woman, who was continually persecuted to sign what was required of her, expected hourly to be dragged to the guillotine.

At length on the 29th of July, (11th Thermidor) the day after the tyrant Robespierre, had expiated his crimes upon that scaffold, to which he had devoted so

many of his brave countrymen, madame de Fontenay was conducted to the bar of the National Convention. Not liking to appear alone, she requested and obtained permission for her friend madame de Beauharnais to accompany her: she was aware of Josephine's incarceration in one of the prisons of the capital. Accordingly, on this aforesaid morning, a guard of soldiers entered the room occupied by the widow and her friends in misfortune, to convey the wretched prisoner to the assembly. No explanation having been made to Josephine, she of course thought she was about to be earried to the guillotine. Her firmness did not however forsake her she took an affectionate leave of her fellow captives, and, with her own hands, cutting off her long hair, she left it with them, charging any one of them that might be fortunate enough to escape the fate that awaited her, to deliver it to her orphan children. No pen could do adequate justice to her feelings on finding her error. The two ladies appeared at the assembly, when the recital of their misfortunes and sufferings caused an honest indignation amongst the more humane members of the Convention. Consolations and promises were eagerly vouchsafed to them, many of which, as is not uncommon on such occasions, were forgotten. The principal, however, was not long delayed. Although both were taken back to their different prisons, they were released that same night. Tallien was almost immediately united to the generous woman who had saved him, and at her earnest entreaty he accorded his most powerful protection to the widow of general Beauharnais. Josephine had, also, at this time the good fortune to find another powerful friend in the celebrated Barras, then one of the five executive directors, and in the course of some months, having received large remittances from her family at Martinico, she was once more placed, if not in affluence at least above the possibility of want. She retired to Fontanebleau, where her time and cares were devoted to the superintendence of the education of her daughter, Hortense de Beauharnais.

At the time of the rising of the national guard against the Convention, Barras had been chosen commander in chief of the army. This director, however, finding himself unequal to the task, confided it in his turn, to three of the most able officers of whom the country could boast; namely: Brune, Moreau, and Bonaparte: the latter was, at that period, only second lieutenant in a regiment of artillery. Every person knows how the young Corsican acquitted himself in the affair of the 13th Vendemiare, we therefore proceed, at once, to his first interview with madame de Beauharnais.

It was, it seems, at the house of a mutual friend that they first met. Bonaparte went in, accidentally, and Josephine afterwards said, that no sooner did she hear his name announced than she started and was seized with a cold shiver that pervaded her whole frame: she was totally unable to account for this emotion. She quickly, however, recovered her presence of mind, and although there were several other persons present, she was the first to engage with him in conversation. They spoke of the events of the 13th Vendemiaire. Madame de Beauharnais made an observation on the regret he must have felt, at being forced to spread consternation as he had through the capital. "If you had had time to reflect for a moment," she said, "upon the dreadful mission that had been entrusted to you, you would have trembled for the consequences that must, necessarily, ensue ?" It is possible, madame," answered Bonaparte, coldly, "mais, que voulez-vous?" These expressive words were accompanied by the usual shrug of the shoulder. "Soldiers," he went on, "are but puppets in the hands of a director: they must move, where and how the government lists all they have to think of is, to obey. The sections, however, have no reason

:

to complain, I spared them: for the most part my cannons were only charged with powder. All I wanted was to give the Parisians a little lesson." The tone of calm immovable sang-froid in which Bonaparte spoke of the late massacre of so many of the unfortunate inhabitants of Paris, before she could reply, completely disgusted madame de Beauharnais. Bonaparte concluded his speech: "These slight skirmishes," added the hero," are no more than the first dawnings of my future glory!" "Ah!" cried madame de Beauharnais, quickly, "if your glory is to be purchased at such a price as that, I would sooner a thousand times that you were counted amongst the victims." Pichegru was present at this conversation, and it was not difficult to perceive by his grave and pensive air that he approved not the sentiments

of the ambitious young soldier. Some one now observed "it appears that a general of division is about to be appointed to the command of the army of the Rhine." "I heard," added another, "that a new army is about to be directed against Italy." Bonaparte testified some surprise at this intelligence. He knew not, then, that the executive directory had decided upon giving him this important command. "Italy!" exclaimed the young hero enthusiastically, "it is a vast and noble field for cultivation, happy he who undertakes it!" then stopping short, as though he had committed an indiscretion, he turned towards the ladies with a smile, and, after an instant, added in a tone of the most exquitite politeness, "ladies, I do not imagine my stay in France will be much longer protracted; I have thoughts of undertaking a pilgrimage to Our Lady of Loretto," and, he added gallantly, with a bow that included all the ladies present, "that, with the intent of making you admire its wonders." In these and similar discourses did the time pass most delightfully and rapidly according to madame de Beauharnais' ideas. Previous to retiring, Bonaparte once more drew the undivided attention of the circle to himself. "I am a stranger," said he "to the crimes of the French revolution. Look upon me, then, I beseech you, but as a soldier of the 13th Vendemiaire; I advised, I executed one of the most complicated, as well as the ablest manoeuvres, but I was forced to employ stratagem. Here was not a war of tactics, but a war of extermination; victims were indispensable, all that lay in my power was to diminish their number." With these concluding words the hero bowed gracefully, and withdrew.

We have already stated that madame de Beauharnais, had two powerful friends in Tallien and Barras; to this we may add that she was also well received by the whole five directors, and in the constant habit of soliciting favors for some or other of the unfortunate emigrants; but in these cases, her first applications were invariably made to Barras.* On the day following that on which she had seen Bonaparte for the first time, she called on Barras, to remind him of some benevolent application she had made, and which he had neglected. "Ah! madam," said the director, "I have been thinking that you, who are so indefatigable in your exertions for the good of others, should bestow some thought upon your own welfare. You are not, I trust, averse to marry, come, what say you to this little Bonaparte? we are going to make him general-in-chief, and he will conquer Italy for us."

Madame de Beauharnais could not conceal her astonishment, at this proposal, to which, however, she was far from assenting.

"What an inconceivable project!" was all she could utter at this moment. "Pray reflect upon it!" returned the director. "Here is a new country for him to conquer,, and i'll answer for it that Bonaparte will speedily make his fortune: he is ambitious, and thirsts after glory. His marriage with you gives him a rank in society, whilst you, on your part, gain a protector for yourself and children. Doubt not, madam, but that our young Corsican, will make a noise in the world, and, more especially, if he has the happiness of forming an alliance with a partner as good and as amiable as yourself. Had I not studied the character of the man, and found him possessed of every quality, public as well as private, it is a step I would by no means have proposed to you. I see not one objectionable point about him, manners, talents, temper, reputation-he possesses all-all in fact that can be desirable to the heart of woman."

"Or rather," timidly advanced Josephine, all that the heart of woman must fear." "Fear!" exclaimed Barras.

But so it was, Barras' proposal to madame de Beauharnais was anything but couleur de rose, she found Bonaparte's manners full of assurance; his pretensions exaggerated; moreover, she thought his temper and character odd and whimsical; in short, after two or three interviews with him, madame de Beauharnais ceased to visit at the house of one of her intimate friends where the general was in the habit

Would it not seem that the young general had a presentiment of the campaign to Egypt, which was not even thought of at this period?

The friendship of this deputy for her, gave rise to some unfounded calumries, which, as they were absolutely false, we pass over in silence.