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THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.
A favorite amusement of Joseph
ine and the great Napoleon was a
game called “Prisoner” —the same
as what English school boys call
“French and English,” or “deals.”
There is something very striking in
the account of the last opportunity
they had of indulging in this relaxa
tion:
‘ 1 The interval between the fifteenth
of August, and the twenty-seventh of
September was passed chiefly at St.
Cloud, and might be called the last
of Josephine’s happiness in Napo
leon’s society. Only a few days be
fore his departure, Josephine and
Napoleon, with their usual familiars,
played a final game at the favorite
amusement of ‘prisoners.’ It was
quite dark before the party fin
ished and footmen with torches were
in attendance to give light to the
players. The effect could not have
been without interest; the blaze of
thq torches now throwing bold, broad
and rich illumination upon the il
lustrious group as they assembled in
front of the chateau, previous to
each run; again flinging scattered and
flickering lights upon the lawn, the
trees, flowers and rich dresses of the
ladies, as the torch-bearers dispersed
following irregularly the course of
the runners. How closely resembling
the lives of some of the nobles there
—this crossing, commingling, disap
pearing sometimes in light, anon in
darkness; here all started away amid
brightness arid expectation—there a
figure outstripping all others only to
be lost in the gloom. But there was
then no moralizing; all were joyous
and for the moment artless, as if it
had not been a court. Napoleon as
usual fell, though only once, as he
was running for Josephine. Being
thus taken captive, he was placed in
ban, which he broke as soon as he
recovered breath; set again to run
ning, and released empress amid loud
huzzas from his own and shouts of
‘Fair play’ from the opposite
party. Thus ended the last repetition
of youthful sports.”
From what we know of the domes
tic life of Napoleon and Josephine
no doubt can be entertained of his
attachment for that lady, but his
mind was constantly haunted by
dreams of ambition. He panted for
an heir, and wished that the mother
should be eminently illustrious in
point of birth, so that mankind might
be inspired with respect both for him
self and his progeny. Accordingly
in an evil hour, he pitched on a
daughter of the emperor of Austria,
and resolved on divorcing a consort
whose marriage had been crowned by
the pope, who had been the wife of
Napoleon during fourteen whole
years, and could not be separated
from him without a breach of his
own express law prohibiting every
thing of this kind in the imperial
family.
No sooner was this design resolved
upon than the necessity for com
municating the painful fact to Jo
sephine became apparent. The 30th
of November, 1809, arrived, which
Napoleon appears to have destined
for declaring his final determination
to Josephine. She had wept all day;
WATSON’S WEEKLY JEFFERSONIAN.
they were to dine together as us
ual, and to conceal her tears, the em
press wore a large white hat, fast
ened under her chin, which with its
deep front, shaded the whole of the
upper part of the face. Napoleon
also had shown marks of the strong
est agitation; he scarcely spoke to
any one, but with arms folded, con
tinued at intervals to pace his library
alone; from time to time a convulsive
movement, attended with a hectic
flush, passed for an instant across
his features, and at table when he
raised his eye it was only to look by
stealth upon the empress with an ex
pression of the deepest regret. The
dinner was removed untouched —
neither tasted a morsel; and the on
ly use to which Napoleon turned his
knife was to strike mechanically up
on the edge of his glass, which he
appeared to do unconsciously and
as one whose thoughts were painful
ly pre-occupied. Everything during
this sad repast seemed to presage
the impending catastrophe. Even
the officers of the court who were in
attendance stood in motionless ex
pectancy, like men who look upon a
sight they feel portends evil, though
what they know not; not a sound
was heard beyond the noise of plac
ing and removing untasted viands,
and the monotonous tinkling already
noticed; for the emperor spoke only
once to ask a question, without giving
any attention to the reply.
“We dined together as usual,”
says Josephine; “I struggled with
my eyes; I uttered not a single word
during that sorrowful meal, and he
broke silence but once, to ask an at
tendant about the weather. My sun
shine, I saw, had passed away; the
storm burst quickly. Directly after
coffee, Bonaparte dismissed every
once, and I remained alone with
him.”
The evident change in Bonaparte’s
domestic arrangements, which on this
day first took place, seemed to indi
cate to Josephine that her caresses
were no longer indispensable to the
happiness of her husband. She had
risen as usual from table with Na
poleon, whom she slowly followed into
the saloon, and with a handkerchief
pressed upon her mouth, to restrain
the sobbing which, though inaudible,
shook her whole frame. The emper
or having drunk his coffee returned
the cup to the page, an dby a sign in
dicated his wish to be alone, shut
ting with his own hand the door of
the saloon.
We know from Josephine’s own
words what passed during this secret
interview: “I watched in the chang
ing expression of his countenance
that struggle which was in his soul.
At length his features settled into
stern resolve. I saw that my hour was
near; a shuddering horror came over
me. He took my hand and placed
it upon his heart, gazed upon me a
moment, then pronounced these fear
ful words: ‘Josephine! My excel
lent Josephine! thou knowest if I
have loved thee! To thee, to thee
alone, do I owe the only moments of
happiness which I have enjoyed in
this world. Josephine! my destiny
overmasters my will. My dearest af
fections must be silent before the in
terests of France!’ ‘Say no more/
I had still strength sufficient to re
ply: ‘1 was prepared for this, but
the blow is not less mortal.’ More 1
could not utter; I cannot tell what
passed within me. 1 believe my
screams were loud. I thought reason
had fled. I became unconscious of
everything, and on returning to my
senses found I had been carried to
my chamber.”
When Josephine thus fainted, Na
poleon hastily opened the door of
the saloon and called to two individ
uals who had remained in the dining
room. The opening of the door al
lowed them to see the empress on the
floor, insensible yet still speaking in
broken murmur: “0 no! you can
not surely do it! you would not kill
me!” M. de Beaumont entered on
a sign from his master, and lifted
in his arms the hapless Josephine,
now perfectly unconscious of all that
was passing. The emperor himself,
taking a taper from the chimney
piece, lighted the way to the em
press’s sleeping room. Here Napo
leon dismissed both of his compan
ions, and laying the empress on the
bed rang for her women who, on en
tering, found him hanging over her
with an expression of deepest anx
iety.
A RATHER COMMON STORY.
He was killed in the Dalton wreck
a few weeks ago. A head-flagman he
was and as the freight trains crashed
his body was cut into pieces and his
life hurled into the great beyond.
Just a common story, is it not?
Just a common flagman gone, just a
common laborer dead, you say. "Yes,
that is the way the world looks upon
the death of the monotonously com
mon laborer. But of that simple
story the half has not been told and
will never be told just as it is un
known in ten thousand similar cases.
Behind Clyde Colbert in overalls is
the picture of a rare young man, the
throbbing of an earnest heart, the
scintillating of a mind, the strength
of a character even though he was
wearing the “hoddengrey” at the
time of his death. Behind that story
is the common but pitiable struggle
between the nobleness of an ambition
and the cruel hand of Poverty. For
awhile it seemed that ambition was
the conquerer. Only the slow, dead
heave of his will power had sent him
to college. Through the Freshman,
through the Sophomore and half
way through the Junior classes
he worked his way, leaving behind the
brilliant records of high marks made
and medals won. But here father
"died, and poverty called him home
where he donned a pair of overalls
and mounted the top of a box car
as flagman in order to keep the wolf
away. Then came the catastrophe in
his life’s drama, and he died the vic
tim of chance and poverty.
Yes, it is a common story. Noth
ing unusual. But somehow we trust
that the widening thoughts of men
will some day realize that such is not
merely the ordinary, that such is not
the withering of the individual and
the more and the more of the world;
that conditions will be such as to
Tender the individual life free from
the greed of modern commercialism
any that he who believes that life
is more than meat and the body more
than raiment will always have an
opportunity to realize his ideals.
We merely wished to drop these
few lines to that young man’s mem
ory.—Walker County Messenger.
BOYS, POOR AND RIOH.
Principal MacQueary, of the high
schools in St. Louis, delivered an
address before the students of the
University of Chicago a few days
ago, in which he undertook to anal
yze the bad boy. His conclusion was
that there were just as many rich
bad boys as poor bad boys in the
world. “The bad boy,” he said, “is
victim of his environment. Not all
of the bad boys are to be found in
the slum districts. The pampered,
spoiled child of the rich who spends
his time at the race track is just as
much a parasite on society as the bad
boy of the slums. The condition of
the bad rich boy is due to too much
coddling and indulgence.”
Mr. MacQueary’s astute utterance
is equal to saying, in paraphrase of
a popular expression, “Boys is boys,
they are pretty much the same the
world over and in every section of
it. A great writer has said that every
boy is born a barbarian and must be
civilized. The degree of his civiliza
-tion depends on his parents and his
environment. Wealth or comparative
poverty cuts no figure in this matter,
so far as molding the boy’s character
is concerned.
Poorest parents may rear the most
refined sons, or richest parents the
most depraved. Environment and
home influence are the most potent
factors in the formation of charac
ter.
In the slums the necessities of ex
istence may induce the boy to vio
lations of the moral and statute laws.
In the gilded palaces of the rich the
desire for novelty and amusement
may lead the boy to violations of the
moral if not the statute laws byway
of killing time. But human history
has shown that good boys, making
useful men may grow up from either
poor or rich stock. Mere money
counts far less with boys than any
of the other human kinds, consider
ing the boys in themselves and with
out reference to environment. The
healthy boy begins life close to the
earth. He is to a degree savage in
his young nature. While his sister,
very largely, inherits and exemplifies
in her feelings and conduct the soft
ening influences of the ages, the boy
is born to strenuousness and protest
against restraint, and must be edu
cated out of these characteristics. If
his parentage is good—poor or rich
doesn’t matter —and his environments
make the uplift, the rounding of the
plastic boy character goes on rapid
ly. But neither poverty nor wealth,
in itself, makes or develops charac
ter. No boy is good or bad because
he is rich or poor. The boy born to
independence ought really to make
the better citizen, because he has bet
ter opportunities, but there isn’t any
thing to show that that is the case.
In fact, poor boys have achieved the
highest places in American history.
The average boy has gold in his
make-up. The thing to do is to find
and refine it, and not permit it to
become dross from inattention.—Sa
vannah Morning News.
PAGE THREE