from the whole assembly. She was attired in a robe of white 
muslin, her pretty hair fell in graceful ringlets upon her lovely 
neck and shoulders, while a magnificent necklace of pearls, 
being of great value, completed her costume. The queenly 
elegance of her figure, the inimitable grace of her movements, 
the peculiar conversational tact she possessed, and the melody 
of a voice which, once heard, never was forgotten, gave to 
Josephine, on this eventful evening, a social triumph corre- 
sponding with that which Napoleon had received during the 
day. 
I can see her at Turin, at the battlefield of Marengo, at 
Milan, Genoa, navigating the Mediterranean, and Mayence; 
I can see her at Munich, being present at the nuptials of Eugene 
and the Prince Royal of Bavaria; finally, I can see her at St. 
Cloud, Versailles, Rambouillet, Fontainebleau, and Spain. 
One beautiful day in 1814, Josephine, the Emperor Alexander, 
and a number of illustrious guests, dined at Malmaison, 
whereupon, in the evening of twilight, the party went out upon 
the beautiful lawn in front of the palace for recreation. Thus, 
Josephine, whose health had become exceedingly precarious 
through care and sorrow, being regardless of herself in devo- 
tion to her friends, took a violent cold, which, upon the follow- 
ing day, became worse. And, without any definite form of 
disease, day after day, she grew more faint and feeble, it 
finally being evident that her last change was at hand. 
May 29, 1814, a tranquil summer’s day was fading away 
into a cloudless, serene, beautiful evening, while the rays of 
the setting sun, struggling through the foliage of the open 
window, shone cheerfully upon the bed where the empress was 
dying; here the vesper songs of the birds, which filled the 
groves of Malmaison, floated sweetly upon the ear, while the 
gentle spirit of Josephine, lulled to repose by these sweet 
anthems, sank into its last sleep. 
The Emperor Alexander, Eugene, and Hortense were beside 
her. Josephine called for a clergyman to administer to her 
the last rites of religion. Just after this solemnity, Eugene 
and Hortense, bathed in tears were kneeling at their mother’s 
side. Josephine, in a state of weakness, beckoned to the 
Emperor to approach her, whereupon she said to him and her 
children: “I have always desired the happiness of France, 
and have always, within my power, to contribute to it; hence, 
I can say with truth, to all of you now present at my last 
moments, that the first wife of Napoleon never caused a single 
tear to flow.” Immediately upon the conclusion of these words, 
she asked for the portrait of Napoleon. When she received it, 
she looked at it long and tenderly, then, fervently pressing it 
in her clasped hands to her bosom, she faintly articulated the 
following prayer: 
29 
