But what contributed more than anything else to the all-pervading charm of the Empress was the ravishing sound of her voice. How many times it has happened to me, as to so many others, to stop suddenly on hearing this voice, solely to enjoy the pleasure of listening to it! Perhaps it could not be said that the Empress was a beautiful woman; but her face, so full of sentiment and kindness, and the angelic grace diffused over her whole person, made her the most attractive of women.

During her residence at Saint-Cloud, Her Majesty habitually rose at nine o'clock, and made her first toilet, which lasted until ten; then she passed into a salon where the persons who had solicited and obtained the favor of an audience were assembled. Sometimes also at this hour and in the same salon, Her Majesty received her purveyors. At eleven o'clock, when the Emperor was absent, she breakfasted with her first lady of honor and some other ladies. Madame de La Rochefoucauld, her first lady of honor, was hump-backed, and so small that when she placed herself at table it was necessary to add to the cushion already on her chair another very thick one of violet satin. Madame de La Rochefoucauld knew how to redeem her physical deformities by her wit, keen and brilliant but a trifle caustic, by the highest breeding, and the most exquisite court manners.

After the breakfast the Empress would have a game of billiards; or, when the weather was fine, she would walk in the garden or the enclosed park. This recreation only lasted a short time, and Her Majesty, on returning to her apartments, employed herself at her embroidery frame in chatting with her ladies, who were also busy with some sort of needlework. When it happened that there were no unexpected visitors, between two and three o'clock the Empress rode out in an open carriage, and on her return the grand toilet was made. Sometimes the Emperor was present at it. Occasionally, also, the Emperor came to surprise Her Majesty in the salon. Then he was always sure to be amusing, amiable, and gay.

Dinner was served at six; but more often than not the Emperor forgot it and kept the table waiting indefinitely. More than one dinner was eaten between nine and ten o'clock in the evening. Their Majesties dined together, either alone or in company with a few guests, princes of the imperial family, or ministers. Unless there were either concert, reception, or play, everybody retired at midnight; then the Empress, who liked to sit up late, played at backgammon with one of the chamberlains. Usually it was the Count de Beaumont who was thus honored.

On hunting days the Empress and her ladies followed the chase in open carriages. There was a costume for that purpose. It was a sort of green riding-habit, with a toque ornamented with white feathers. All the ladies who followed the hunt dined with Their Majesties.

When the Empress came to pass the night in the apartment of the Emperor, I went in, as usual, between seven and eight o'clock in the morning.

It was seldom that I did not find the august pair already awake. The Emperor generally asked me for some tea or an infusion of orange leaves, and rose at once. The Empress would smilingly say to him: "Are you getting up already? Stay a little longer." "Well, are not you sleeping?" His Majesty would answer; then he would roll her up in the coverings, pat her cheeks and shoulders, and laugh as he kissed her.

At the end of a few minutes the Empress would rise in her turn, slip on a morning-gown, and read the journals, or else go down to her apartment by the private stairs. She never left that of His Majesty without addressing me some words, invariably expressive of kindness and the most touching good will.

Elegant and simple in her dress, the Empress submitted with reluctance to the necessity of ostentatious toilets. Jewels were the only things she cared much about; she had always liked them; hence the Emperor gave them to her often and in great abundance. It was a pleasure to her to adorn herself with them, and a still greater one to show them.

One morning when my wife had gone to see her at her toilet, Her Majesty related to her that, when she was newly married to M. de Beauharnais, being enchanted with the ornaments he had given her, she used to carry them in her pockets (pockets were an essential part of women's dress in those days) and display them to her young friends. As the Empress was speaking of her pockets, she ordered one of her ladies to go and find a pair to show to my wife. The lady to whom she addressed herself could hardly repress her longing to laugh at this singular request, and she assured Her Majesty that nothing of the sort was now to be found in her linen-room. The Empress responded regretfully that she was sorry, as it would have given her pleasure to see once more a pair of her old pockets. The years had brought great changes. The jewels of the Empress Josephine could hardly have been contained in the pockets of Madame de Beanharnais, no matter how long and deep they might have been. The jewel-press which had belonged to Queen Marie-Antoinette, and which had never been quite full, was too small for the Empress; and when she wanted one day to show all her ornaments to some ladies who expressed a wish to see them, a large table had to be set up to lay the jewel cases on; and the table not sufficing, several other pieces of furniture were covered with them.

Kind to excess, as everybody knows, sensitive beyond expression, generous to prodigality, the Empress formed the happiness of all who surrounded her. Cherishing her husband with a tenderness which nothing could change, and which was as keen at her last sigh as when Madame de Beanharnais and General Bonaparte made the avowal of their mutual love, Josephine was long the only woman loved by the Emperor, and she deserved to be so always. How touching was the accord of the imperial couple during several years! Full of deference, of attention, and of unreserve for Josephine, the Emperor loved to kiss her neck, her face, to give her little pats and call her any my big dunce. True, this did not prevent his being guilty of some infidelities toward her, but without failing in other respects in his conjugal duties. On her part, the Empress adored him, and tormented herself to find means of pleasing him, of divining his intentions, so as to anticipate his slightest wishes.

At first she made her husband jealous. Strongly prejudiced against her during the Egyptian campaign by indiscreet reports, the Emperor had explanations with the Empress after his return which did not always terminate without cries and acts of violence; but calm was soon restored and seldom disturbed afterwards. The Emperor could not resist such charms and so much sweetness.

The Empress had a prodigious memory, which the Emperor often laid under contribution; she was an excellent musician, played the harp very well, and sang with taste. Her tact was perfect, and she had an exquisite sentiment of what was befitting, and the sanest, most infallible judgment it is possible to imagine; of a temper always sweet and uniform, as obliging to her enemies as to her friends, she restored peace wherever there had been quarrelling or discord. When the Emperor was angry with his brothers or with other persons, as frequently happened, the Empress would say a few words and all would be settled. When she asked a pardon, the Emperor seldom failed to grant it, no matter how serious might have been the fault committed. I could cite many examples of pardons thus solicited and obtained. One fact which is almost personal to me will sufficiently prove that the intercession of this good Empress was all-powerful.

The first valet de chambre of Her Majesty had somewhat overheated himself at breakfast with some friends. The nature of his duties obliged him to assist at meals and to stand behind the Empress in order to change the plates. On this day, excited by the vapors of the champagne he had taken, he unfortunately let drop some offensive words, pronounced it is true in an undertone, but by an unlucky chance overheard by the Emperor. His Majesty gave M. Frère a terrible look which made him sensible of the gravity of his fault, and when dinner was over, the Emperor ordered the imprudent valet's dismissal in a tone which left nothing to be hoped for and admitted of no reply.

M. Frère was an excellent servant, a gentle, upright, and honest man. His present fault was the first of this kind with which he could be reproached, and consequently it deserved some indulgence. Some applications were made to the grand marshal, but he refused his intercession, knowing so well the inflexibility of the Emperor. Several other persons to whom the poor fellow went to beg them to speak for him, answered as the grand marshal had done; so that M. Frère came in despair to bid us adieu. I ventured to undertake his cause; I hoped that by choosing the favorable moment I might succeed in inducing His Majesty to reconsider. The order of dismissal required M. Frère to quit the palace within twenty-four hours; I advised him not to obey, but to remain carefully hidden in his chamber, which he did. That evening, at the couches, His Majesty spoke to me of what had occurred and showed much anger; I thought silence was the most prudent thing for me, and I waited. The next morning, the Empress had the goodness to send me word that she would be present at her husband's toilet, and that if I thought proper to broach the question, she would abet me with all her might. In effect, seeing the Emperor in a rather good humor, I spoke of M. Frère, and depicting to His Majesty the poor man's regrets, I laid before him the reasons which might excuse the levity of his conduct. "Sire," said I, "he is a good man who has no fortune and who supports a numerous family. If he leaves the service of Her Majesty the Empress, no one will believe that it is for a fault due to wine rather than to him, and he will be ruined forever." To these words, as to many other entreaties, the Emperor replied only by interruptions that showed entire aversion to the pardon I was soliciting. Happily the Empress kindly joined me, and said to her husband in her touching and expressive voice: "My dear, if you will forgive him you will please me." Emboldened by this powerful patronage, I began my entreaties anew, to which the Emperor replied brusquely, addressing both the Empress and me: "In a word, you wish it? Well, let him stay, then."

M. Frère thanked me with all his heart; he was hardly able to believe the good news I brought him. As to the Empress, she was made happy by the joy experienced by this faithful servant, who gave her to the end of his life proofs of his entire devotion. I have been assured that in 1814, at the time of the Emperor's departure for the island of Elba, M. Frère was not the last to blame my conduct, the motives of which he did not know. I am unwilling to believe it; for it seems to me that in his place, if I had thought myself unable to defend an absent friend, I should at least have kept silence.

As I have said, the Empress was extremely generous. She distributed a great deal in charity; many émigrés lived solely on her benefactions. She kept up a very active correspondence with the sisters of charity who nurse the sick, and sent them a multitude of things. Her valets were despatched in all directions to carry to the poor the assistance of her inexhaustible beneficence. A great many other persons were sent daily on similar missions, and all these alms, all these multiplied and widely diffused gifts were made of inestimable worth by the grace with which they were offered and the discernment with which they were distributed. I could cite a thousand examples of this delicate generosity.

M. de Beauharnais, at the time of his marriage with Josephine, had a natural daughter named Adèle. The Empress cherished her as if she had been her own child. She took the greatest care of her education, endowed her generously, and married her to a prefect of the Empire.

If the Empress showed so much affection for a child which was not hers, it is impossible to form an idea of her love and devotion for Queen Hortense and Prince Eugène. It is true to say that her children fully returned it, and that never in the world has there been a better or happier mother. She was proud of her two children, and always spoke of them with an enthusiasm which seemed very natural to those who had known the Queen of Holland and the Viceroy of Italy. I have told how, when made an orphan in his tenderest years by the revolutionary scaffold, young Beauharnais had gained the heart of General Bonaparte by coming to ask him for his father's sword. It is also known how this action gave the General a desire to see Josephine, and what resulted from this interview. When Madame de Beanharnais had become the wife of General Bonaparte, Eugène entered the military career, and at once attached himself to the fortunes of his stepfather, who summoned him to his side in Italy in the capacity of aide-de-camp. He was chief of squadron in the chasseurs of the consular guard when, at the immortal battle of Marengo, he shared all the dangers of him who took so much pleasure in calling him his son. A few years later, the chief of squadron had become Viceroy of Italy, heir-presumptive of the imperial crown, a title which in truth he did not long retain, and husband of the daughter of a king.

The Vice-Queen (Auguste-Amélie of Bavaria) was as good and beautiful as an angel. I was at Malmaison one day when the Empress had just received the portrait of her daughter-in-law, surrounded by three or four children, one on her shoulder, the other at her feet, a third in her arms; all of them had angelic faces. On seeing me, the Empress deigned to call me to come and admire this gathering of charming heads. I saw that she had tears in her eyes while talking to me. These portraits were well executed, and I afterwards had occasion to perceive that the resemblances were perfect. Then the question was what toys and rarities to buy for these dear children. The Empress went herself to select the presents she intended for them, and had them packed under her own eyes.

A valet de chambre of the Prince has assured me that at the time of the divorce, Prince Eugène wrote his wife a very melancholy letter. Perhaps he expressed in it some regret for not being the Emperor's adopted son. The Princess answered with tenderness; she said to him, among other things: "It is not the heir of the Emperor that I married, and that I love, it is Eugène de Beanharnais." The Prince read this phrase and several others before the person from whom I have the fact, and who was affected even to tears by them. Such a woman merited more than a throne.

After that event, so terrible to the heart of the Empress, who could never be consoled for it, the excellent princess never left Malmaison again, except to make several journeys to Navarre. Each time that I returned to Paris with the Emperor, I had scarcely arrived when my first care was to go to Malmaison. I seldom carried a letter from the Emperor; he only wrote to Josephine on grand occasions. "Tell the Empress that I am well and that I desire that she may be happy." That was what His Majesty almost always said to me when he saw me about to start. As soon as I arrived, the Empress left everything else to come and talk to me; I often remained an hour, and even two hours, with her; during this time nothing but the Emperor was spoken of; I had to tell her all he had suffered on the journey, if he had been sad or gay, well or ill. She wept over the details I gave her, recommended a thousand precautions for his health and the cares with which she wished me to surround him. Afterwards she would deign to question me about myself, my fate, the health of my wife, her former protégée; then she would dismiss me with a letter for His Majesty, begging me to say to the Emperor how happy she would be if he came to see her.

Before the departure for Russia, the Empress, uneasy about this war, of which she utterly disapproved, again renewed her recommendations. She presented me with her portrait, saying: "My good Constant, I rely on you; if the Emperor were sick you would let me know, wouldn't you? Do not hide anything from me, I love him so!" Assuredly, the Empress had a thousand means of getting news of His Majesty, but I am persuaded that if she had received a hundred letters a day from persons surrounding the Emperor, she would have read and re-read them all with the same avidity.

When I returned to Saint-Cloud or the Tuileries, the Emperor would ask me how Josephine was, and if I had found her gay; he received with pleasure the letters that I brought, and hastened to open them. Every time that, being on a journey or at the campaign in His Majesty's suite, I wrote to my wife, I would speak of the Emperor, and the good princess was enchanted to have my wife show her the letters. Everything, in a word, which had the least relation to her husband interested the Empress to a degree that thoroughly proved the singular tenderness she always felt for him, after as well as before their separation.

Too generous, and unable to adapt her expenses to her resources it often happened that the Empress found herself obliged to send her purveyors away empty-handed on the very days she had herself set for the payment of their accounts. This once came to the Emperor's ears, and there was a very lively discussion on the subject between the two, which ended in the decision that thereafter no merchant or purveyor should come to the château without a letter from the lady of the bedchamber or the private secretary. This well-considered resolution was executed with much exactness up to the time of the divorce. At the close of this explanation the Empress wept a good deal, and promised to be more economical; the Emperor pardoned her, embraced her, and peace was made. This, I think, was the last quarrel of the sort that disturbed the imperial couple.

I have been told that after the divorce, there having occurred a deficit in the budget of the Empress, the Emperor addressed some reproaches to the steward of Malmaison, which very naturally reached Josephine. This good mistress, keenly afflicted by the unpleasantness to which her steward had been subjected, and not knowing how to establish a better state of things, assembled a household council, at which she chose to preside in a linen robe made without any trimmings. This linen robe had been made in a great hurry and was never worn again. The Empress, whom the necessity of giving a refusal always reduced to despair, was continually besieged by merchants who assured her that they had made such or such a thing expressly for her use, and implored her not to send it back, because they would not know where else to place their goods. The Empress kept all they brought; but then followed the necessity of paying for them.

The Empress was always extremely polite toward all the members of her household; it never happened that a reproach fell from her mouth, which opened only to say flattering things. If any one of her ladies gave her cause for dissatisfaction, the only punishment she inflicted was an absolute silence on her own part, which lasted one, two, three, eight days more or less, according to the gravity of the fault. Well, this penalty, so easy in appearance, was cruel to the greater number of them: the Empress knew so well how to make herself beloved!

In the days of the Consulate, Madame Bonaparte often received from cities conquered by her husband, or from persons w ho desired to obtain her good offices with the First Consul, packages of costly furniture and curiosities of every kind, pictures, stuffs, etc. At first, these gifts greatly flattered Madame Bonaparte; she was as pleased as a child to see the cases opened and find out what was inside; she helped herself to unpack and carry all these pretty things. But the packages soon became so considerable, and were so often repeated, that it became necessary to have an apartment to put them in, of which my father-in-law kept the key. There the cases remained intact until it should please Madame Bonaparte to have them opened.

When the First Consul decided to take up his residence at Saint-Cloud, my father-in-law had to leave Malmaison and install himself at the new palace, the master of which wished him to superintend the furnishing. Before departing, my father-in-law rendered an account to Madame Bonaparte of all that he had had in his charge. At this time the cases, which filled two rooms from floor to ceiling, were opened in her presence. Madame Bonaparte was amazed at such riches; it was nothing but marbles, bronzes, and magnificent pictures. Eugène, Hortense, and the sisters of the First Consul had a good share of them; the rest were employed in decorating the apartments of Malmaison.

The taste the Empress had for jewels extended for some time to antique curiosities, engraved stones and medals. M. Denon encouraged this whim, and in the end persuaded the good Josephine that she was a perfect connoisseur in antiques and ought to have a cabinet at Malmaison, with a curator, etc. This proposition, which flattered the self-love of the Empress, was favorably received. The site was chosen, M. de M—— was chosen for curator, and the new cabinet was enriched by levies on the rich furnishing of the apartments of the château. M. Denon, who had given this idea, undertook to make a collection of medals; but this taste, coming so suddenly, vanished as it came; the cabinet was taken to make a company salon, the antiques were relegated to the antechamber of the bath-room, and M. de M——, having no longer anything to take care of, lived habitually at Paris.

Some time after this, two ladies of the palace took the notion to persuade Her Majesty the Empress that nothing would be more beautiful or more worthy of her than a set of assorted antique stones, Greek and Roman. Several chamberlains supported this invention, which did not fail to please Her Majesty; she greatly loved everything which bordered on originality. One morning, therefore, as I was dressing the Emperor, I saw the Empress enter. After some moments of conversation, "Bonaparte," said she, "these ladies have advised me to have a set of antique stones; I have come to beg you to tell M. Denon to choose some very fine ones for me." The Emperor burst into peals of laughter, and at first flatly refused. Then arrived the grand marshal of the palace, whom the Emperor informed of the request presented by the Empress and asked his opinion. The Duc de Frioul found the thing very reasonable and united his persuasions to those of the Empress. "It is an egregious folly," said the Emperor, "but, after all, one must submit to what women desire. Duroc, go to the cabinet of antiques yourself and choose what will be necessary."

The Duc de Frioul soon came back with the most beautiful stones in the collection. The crown jeweller mounted them magnificently; but the weight of the set was enormous, and the Empress never wore it.

Although I may be accused of tiresome repetitions, I will say that the Empress seized with extreme eagerness every opportunity of doing good. One morning when she was breakfasting alone with His Majesty, the cries of an infant were suddenly heard coming from a private staircase. The Emperor became gloomy, he frowned and asked brusquely what this meant. I went to inquire, and I found a newly born baby, carefully and neatly wrapped up, lying in a sort of upright cradle, with its body encircled by a ribbon to which a folded paper was attached. I came back to say what I had seen: "Oh! Constant, bring me the cradle," said the Empress at once. The Emperor at first refused, and expressed his surprise and dissatisfaction that any one should have been able to enter thus into the interior of his apartments. Her Majesty the Empress thereupon observing that it must have been some one belonging to the household, he turned and looked at me as if to ask if it were I who had had this idea. I shook my head in the negative. At this moment the infant began to cry again, and the Emperor could not avoid smiling, even while complaining and saying: "Josephine, send the little monkey away." The Empress, wishing to profit by this return of good humor, sent me for the cradle, which I brought. She caressed the newly born, quieted it, and read the paper, which was a petition from the parents. Then she approached the Emperor and urged him to caress the baby a little also, which he did without requiring too much persuasion; for the Emperor himself liked to play with infants. Finally Her Majesty the Empress, after having placed a roll of napoleons in the cradle, sent the baby to the concierge of the palace, so that it might be returned to its parents.

Here is another of Her Majesty's good deeds; I had the happiness of being a witness of this one also: Some months before the coronation, a little girl of between four and five years had been rescued from the Seine, and a charitable lady, Madame Fabien Pillet, had hastened to give an asylum to the poor orphan. At the time of the coronation, the Empress, being informed of this fact, desired to see the child, and after looking at it compassionately for some moments, and sincerely and gracefully offering her protection to Madame Pillet and her husband, she told them that she would be responsible for the little girl's future; then with that delicacy and that affectionate tone which were natural to her, the Empress added: "Your good action has given you too many rights over the poor little thing for me to prevent you from finishing your good work yourselves. Hence I ask your permission to defray the expenses of her education; but it is you who will put her in a school and watch over her; I will be merely her second benefactress." It was the most touching thing in the world to see Her Majesty, as she uttered these delicate words, pass her hand through the hair of the poor little thing, as she had just called her, and kiss her forehead with motherly kindness. M. and Madame Pillet withdrew, deeply affected by this touching scene.