The Story of a IVMte Camellia. 263 



and remains a stranger to us always — in spite of its beauty — a cold, indifferent heart 

 — without language — without fragrance. 



The proud camellia will never be the gift of love, like the rose — like the violet 

 and forget-me-not. Beyond the sea lies its home, and it is said that there a gently 

 intoxicating fragrance flows from its leaves, but the chilly breath of the North has 

 made the stranger-plant mute, like so many frail human plants who have been 

 removed from warm, cheerful homes into cool shades or transplanted from their 

 native, tender soil into rocky wastes. 



But it was a woman's hand, under whose tender care the white camellia first saw 

 the light in France and afterwards bloomed in Germany — the small, beautiful hand 

 of the Empress Josephine. 



" Fortunately Malmaison is not destroyed," wrote 'a friend in the spring of 1871. 

 " The accompanying little box contains a white camellia from the greenhouse. It 

 was Josephine's favorite flower, and will bloom anew beneath your warm eyes. I 

 know full well what deep sympathy your heart cherishes for that charming creature, 

 and I sought out that quiet asylum for your sake, almost at the peril of my life. I 

 reached there unobserved and in safety, and am happy to relate some pleasant associ- 

 ations connected therewith. I was permitted to throw only a hurried glance upon 

 all kinds of interesting relics. I saw a small fan with a golden handle, which is said 

 to have been sacred to Josephine's use, and a dress of pale blue silk was shown me, 

 over which the great Corsican had poured the contents of an ink-stand, because the 

 color was distasteful to him — yea, verily, my dear, a real ink-stand ! according to the 

 on dit ; his actions corresponded at all times, to the one described. If a robe of the 

 Empress failed to please him, and was exchanged for another, after which she chanced 

 to reappear in the former proscribed robe — in the face of his first slight gesture of 

 reproof — suddenly and without pity flowed the black, destructive fluid upon it. Just 

 such a dress she wore in her solitude, the dear woman ! how many traces of tears 

 were visible on this rich, elegant dress! She could not certainly have valued that 

 ruined splendor. It was, doubtless, its association with that painful circumstance 

 which made her treasure it even with bitter tears. : 



'• I am glad, moreover, that your favorite was so woman-like in many ways, which 

 you cannot fail to appreciate. For instance, that things of by-gone days were so 

 cherished by her ; of many such, there are still preserved velvets, silks, laces and 

 the like. She also possessed one hundred and fifty real shawls ! ! " 



This woman was truly a flower-fairy with her sensitive heart and liberal hand, 

 whose grace and goodness disarmed the bitterest enemy. Like a gardener, she as- 

 sumed the care of flowers at Malmaison ; her greenhouses and violet-beds were 

 under her special supervision. 



In her days of fortune and splendor, she surrounded herself with violets, those 

 most modest of all flowers — between the peai-ls and jewels of her crown — upon the 

 seams of her trailing, gold-embroidered dresses, everywhere were nestled those deli- 

 cate blossoms. 



Then, when the darkened time of her abandonment came, Josephine nourished as 

 her prerogative, the quiet, stranger-flower, which was as homeless and lonely as 

 herself. 



