n and a
letter, with which he had been charged for her by the wife of the First
Consul. Great was her astonishment, when she opened the letter, to find
that it was indeed from the wife of the First Consul; no longer
Vicomtesse de Beauharnais, but her dear friend Josephine, who urged her,
with all the warmth of friendship, to pay her an immediate visit at
Paris. "I do long," she added, "to present my husband to you." Such a
tempting invitation was gladly accepted, and she was received with joy
by Napoleon and Josephine. In after years, she constantly recalled to
mind the pleasures of that visit, with mingled feelings of melancholy
and delight. The domestic scene left a lasting impression. Napoleon,
always so fascinating in conversation, made himself delightfully
agreeable to her; he loved to talk with her of her art; and his
originality, enthusiasm, and taste gave an interest to every thing he
said. He had a great admiration for Fox, and expressed a wish to have
his bust. When Mrs. Damer next visited Paris, she brought Fox's bust,
but Josephine's place was occupied by another. The Emperor saw her, and
met her with all the cordiality and kindness which the recollection of
former happy days, and her attachment to Josephine, were sure to
inspire. At parting, he gave her a splendid snuff-box, with his
likeness set in diamonds. The box is now in the British Museum.

It was in her retirement at Navarre that Josephine wept bitterly over
the fallen fortunes of Napoleon. The Russian expedition caused her such
deep inquietude that her health and spirits visibly declined; she saw in
it a disastrous fate for Napoleon, and trembled, too, for the safety of
Eugene, a son so dearly and so deservedly beloved, and who was, if
possible, rendered still more precious, as the especial favorite of
Napoleon, and as having been the means of introducing him to her.
Josephine now scarcely joined her ladies, but would remain for the
length of the day alone in her chamber, by the large travelling-desk
which contained Napoleon's letters. Among these there was one that she
was observed to read over and over again, and then to place in her
bosom; it was the last that she had received; it was written from
Brienne. A passage in it runs thus: "On revisiting this spot, where I
passed my youthful days, and contrasting the peaceful condition I then
enjoyed with the state of terror and agitation to which my mind is now a
prey, often have I addressed myself in