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THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 
There arc hut few events in history more full of pa¬ 
thos than the divorce of the Empress Josephine. The 
Emperor Napoleon I (the Great Emperor), weary of 
incessant wars, thought if he could form a marriage 
alliance with some one of the royal families of Europe 
he might put an end to these conflicts, and perpetuate 
the order of things established in France. For a long 
time he dreaded to speak upon the subject to Jose¬ 
phine. To Cainbaceres, the Arch-Chancellor, he said: 
“ I will have nothing which can resemble a repudi 
ation ; nothing but a dissolution of the conjugal tie, 
founded on mutual consent; a consent itself founded on 
the interests of the empire. Josephine is to be pro¬ 
vided with a palace in Paris, with a princely residence 
in the country, with a superb income, and is to occupy 
the first rank among the princesses, after the future 
Empress. I wish ever to keep her near me as my 
best and most affectionate friend.” 
Josephine became art are of her impending doom, 
and was overwhelmed with grief. At last the fatal 
hour came when the Emperor was to make the 
dreaded announcement to the Empress. It was at the 
Palace of Fontainbleau, the last day of November 
1809. Dark clouds obscured the sky, and a freezing, 
wintry wind moaned through the towers of the castle. 
The Emperor and Empress dined alone. Neither had 
the heart to speak a word. As the attendants retired 
at the close of the repast, at which it was said that 
neither could eat a mouthful, the Emperor, pale and 
trembling, took the hand of Josephine and said: 
‘‘My own dear Josephine, you know how I have 
loved you. It is to you alone that I owe the few mo¬ 
ments of happiness I have known in the world. Jo¬ 
sephine, my destiny is stronger than my will. My 
dearest affections must yield to the welfare of France.” 
The dreadful blow prostrated the Empress, and she 
fell fainting to the floor. The Count de Beaumont 
was called, and, by the aid of the Emperor, Josephine 
was borne, apparently lifeless, to her apartment. 
Queen Ilortense (her daughter) was summoned. 
She said reproachfully to the Emperor : 
“ My mother will descend from the throne as she 
ascended it, in obedience to your will. Her children, 
content to renounce grandeurs which have not made 
them happy, will gladly go and devote their lives to 
comforting the best and most affectionate of mothers.” 
The Emperor sat down and wept bitterly. Then, 
raising his eyes, flooded with tears, he said to Hor- 
tense, whom he loved with parental fondness : 
“Do not leave me, Hortense. Stay by me with 
Eugene. Help me to console your mother, and render 
her calm, resigned, and even happy, in remaining my 
friend, while she ceases to be my wife.” 
Eugene (Josephine’s son) soon came from Italy. He 
immediately repaired to his mothers apartments, and 
clasping her in his arms, they wept in mutual anguish. 
He then entered the cabinet of the Emperor - , and re¬ 
coiling from the cordial embrace with which the Em¬ 
peror would have- greeted him, said : 
“ Sire, permit, me to withdraw from your service.” 
“What!” said the Emperor, sadly, and with deep 
emotion, “ will you, my adopted son, forsake me ?” 
“ Yes, sire,” Eugene firmly replied. “ The son of 
her who is no longer Empress cannot remain Viceroy 
of Italy. I will follow my mother into her retreat. 
She must now find her consolation in her children.” 
The Emperor was deeply move-t. Tears filled his 
eyes. 
“You know,” said he, “the stern necessity which 
compels this measure. Will you forsake me ? Who, 
then, should I have a son, the object of my desires and 
the preserver of ray interests, who will watch over the 
child when I am absent ? If I die, who will prove to 
him a father ?” 
They both then retired to the garden, and, arm in 
arm, for a long time walked up and down one of its 
avenues engaged in earnest conversation. The noble 
Josephine, with a mother’s love, .could not forget the 
interests of her children. She urged Eugene to remain 
faithful to the Emperor. 
“The Emperor,” she said, “is your benefactor, 
Eugene; your more than father. To him you are in¬ 
debted for everything. To him, therefore, you owe 
boundless obedience.” 
A fortnight passed, and the day arrived for the con¬ 
summation of this cruel sacrifice. It was the 15th of 
December. All the members of the imperial family 
were assembled in the grand saloon of the Tuileries. 
An extreme paleness overspread the face of the Em¬ 
peror. In his brief address to the assembled dignita¬ 
ries, he said: 
“The political interests of my monarchy, and the 
wishes of my people, require that I should transmit to 
an heir, inheriting my love for the people, the throne 
on which Providence has placed me. It is this con¬ 
sideration alone which induces me to sacrifice the 
dearest affections of my heart; to consult only the 
good of my subjects, and to desire the dissolution of 
our marriage. God only knows how much such a de¬ 
termination has cost my heart. But there is no sacri¬ 
fice too great for my courage when it is proved to be 
for the interests of France. Far from having any 
cause of complaint, I have nothing to say but in praise 
of the attachment and tenderness of my beloved wife. 
She has embellished fifteen years of my life, and the 
remembrance of them will be forever engraven on my 
heart. Let her never doubt'my affection, or regard 
me but as her best and dearest friend.” 
Josephine then endeavored to read her consent to 
the divorce. But tears blinded her eyes and sobbings 
choked her voice. Sinking into a chair, and handing 
the paper to M. lleynaud, she buried her face in her 
handkerchief. He read a paper containing the follow¬ 
ing statements: “ I respond to all the sentiments of 
the Emperor in consenting to the dissolution of a mar¬ 
riage which is now an obstacle to the happiness of 
France by depriving it of the blessing of being one day 
governed by the descendants of that great man who 
was evidently raised up by Providence to efface the 
evils of a terrible revolution, and to restore the altar, 
the throne, and the social order. But the dissolution 
of my marriage will, in no respect, change the senti¬ 
ments of my heart. The Emperor will ever find in me 
his best friend. I know how much this act, com¬ 
manded by policy and exalted interests, has rent his 
heart. But we both glory in the sacrifices we make 
for the good of the country.” 
Napoleon then embraced Josephine and led her, al¬ 
most fainting, to her apartment, where he left her 
alone with her children. The next day the Senate 
met to sanction the divorce. The Emperor, careworn 
and pale as a statue, leaned against a pillar. A low 
hum of mournful voices alone disturbed the gloomy si¬ 
lence of the room. There was a table in the center of 
the apartment, on which there was a writing appara¬ 
tus of gold. Josephine entered, leaning upon the arm 
of Hortense. Her face was as pale as the muslin 
dress she wore. Her daughter, not possessing the 
fortitude of the mother, was sobbing aloud. The 
whole assembly rose. Tears blinded nearly all eyes. 
Josephine sat down, and, leaning her pallid forehead 
upon her hand, listened to the reading of the act of 
separation. Eugene and Hortense stood by the .side 
of their mother, the daughter weeping convulsively. 
Josephine, as the reading was finished, for a mo¬ 
ment pressed her handkerchief to' her eyes, and then, 
rising, in clear but tremulous tones, pronounced the 
oath of acceptance. She then sat down, and taking 
the pen, signed the deed which sundered the dearest 
ties which can be formed on earth. 
Eugene fell fainting to the floor. His inanimate 
form was borne out of the room by the attendants. 
Josephine retired with her daughter. Night came. 
The Emperor, utterly wretched, had just placed him¬ 
self in the bed from which he had ejected his faithful 
wife, when the door was slowly opened and Josephine 
tremblingly entered. 
Her eyes were swollen and her hair and dress dis¬ 
ordered. She seemed scarcely conscious of what she 
was doiug, as with hesitating, tottering steps she ap¬ 
proached the bed. Then in a delirium of grief, all the 
pent-up love of her heart burst forth, and she threw 
herself on the bed, clasped the neck of the Emperor 
in her arms and exclaimed, “My husband! my hus¬ 
band!” while sobbing as though her heart would 
break. 
Napoleon also wept convulsively. He folded Jo¬ 
sephine in his arms, and assured her of his undying- 
love. For some time they remained in each other’s 
embrace, while mutual words of tenderness were ex¬ 
changed. The valet-de-cliambre , who thus far had 
been present, was dismissed, and for an hour the Em¬ 
peror and Empress continued in this their last private 
interview. Josejdn’ne then parted forever from the 
husband whom she had so long and tenderly loved. 
They remained the best of friends until the death of 
the Empress. And one of the last words of the Em¬ 
peror, as he was dying at St. Helena, was “Jo¬ 
sephine.” 
SMALL TALK. 
Never abuse small talk; nobody does unless he be 
a stranger to its conveniences. Small talk is the small 
change of life; there is no getting on without it. 
There are times when ’tis folly to be wise; when a 
little nonsense is very palatable, and when gravity aud 
sedateness ought to be kicked down stairs. A philoso¬ 
pher cuts a poor figure in the ball-room unless he 
leaves his wisdom at home. Metaphysics is as intru¬ 
sive in the midst of agreeable prattle as a death’s head 
on a festal board. We have met with men who were 
too lofty for small talk. They -would never condescend 
to play with a ribbon or flirt a fan. They were above 
such trifling; in other words, they were above making 
themselves agreeable, above pleasing, and above being 
pleased. They were all wisdom, all gravity, and all 
tediousness, which they bestowed upon company with 
more than Dogberry’s generosity. A man who cannot 
talk has no more business in society than a statue. 
The world is made up of trifles-; and he who can trifle 
elegantly and gracefully is a valuable acquisition to 
mankind. He is a Corinthian column in the fabric of 
society. 
Conversation.—A Celebrated author says: If I 
were to choose the people with whom I would spend 
my hours of conversation, they should be certaiuly 
such as labored no farther than to make themselves 
readily and clearly apprehended, and would have 
patience and curiosity to understand me. To have 
good sense, and ability to express it, are the most 
essential and neccessary qualities in companions. 
When thoughts rise in us fit to utter among familiar 
friends, there nerds but little care in clothing them.” 
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