The Empress brought her daughter Hortense and her grandson Napoleon Louis, a boy a little over two, back to Paris with her, but she had not long the consolation of their presence; before the end of May Hortense was obliged to leave for Cauterets to repair her shattered health. Her mother wrote to her from Saint Cloud, May 27: "I have wept much since your departure; this separation is very painful for me, and the only thing that could enable me to bear it would be the certainty that you are getting some good from your trip. I have heard of you from Madame de Broc. I beg of you to thank her for this attention and to ask her to write to me when you are unable. I heard news, too, of your son; he is at Laeken, very well, and awaits the King's arrival. The Emperor has written to me again; he shares our sorrow. I needed this consolation, the only one I have received since your departure. I am always alone, every moment recalls our loss, my tears never cease flowing. Good by, my dear daughter, take care of yourself for your mother's sake, who loves you most tenderly."

Napoleon, who forbade his wife and daughter-in-law to be gloomy,—an order more easily given than obeyed,—thought their mourning excessive. His expressions of sympathy were very singular. He wrote from Finkenstein to Queen Hortense, May 20, 1807:—

"MY DAUGHTER: Everything I hear from The Hague tells me you are not reasonable. However legitimate your grief, it should have some bounds. Do not ruin your health; seek some distractions, and remember that life is so full of dangers and evils that death is not the worst thing that can befall one." In his letter of May 24 to the Empress, the Emperor spoke of the unhappy Queen with a severity that amounted to brutality: "Hortense is unreasonable and does not deserve to be loved since she does not love any one but her children. Try to calm her and do not make trouble for me. For every hopeless evil, consolation must be found." He wrote to her again, May 26: "I have your letter of the 16th. I am glad Hortense has gone to Laeken. I am sorry to hear what you say about the sort of stupor she is in. She might show courage and self-control. I can't understand why she should be sent to the baths; she could find more distractions in Paris. Control yourself; be cheerful, and keep well. My health is excellent. Good by. I stare your sufferings, and am sorry not to be with you."

In her bitter grief Hortense lacked courage to write to the Emperor, who was annoyed by her silence. "My dear," he wrote to Josephine, June 2, "I hear that you have arrived at Malmaison. I have no letters from you. I am vexed with Hortense; she has not written me a word. All you tell me about her distresses me. Why could you not distract her a little? You are always in tears! I hope you will show some self-control, that I may not find you sad. I have been for two days at Dantzic; the weather is fine; I am well. I think of you more than you think of an absent man. Good by; much love. Forward to Hortense this letter." This is the severe epistle which Josephine was bidden to send to Hortense:—

"June 2. MY DAUGHTER: You have not written me a word in your great and natural grief. You have forgotten everything, as if you had not still losses to endure. I hear that you love nothing, are indifferent to everything; this is plain from your silence. That is not right, Hortense. It is not what you promised us. Your son was everything for you? Are your mother and I nothing? Had I been at Malmaison I should have shared your sorrow, but I should have wanted you to listen to your best friends. Good by, my daughter; be cheerful; you must be resigned. My wife is much distressed at your condition; do not give her further pain. Your affectionate father."

It is easily seen that such letters were ill adapted to allay the anguish of an inconsolable mother mourning for her child.

Josephine's letters to her daughter showed very different feelings. The kind Empress did her best to persuade her that the Emperor sympathized with her grief. She wrote from Saint Cloud, June 4: "Your letter, my dear Hortense, gives me much consolation, and what I hear from your ladies about your health makes me easier. The Emperor was much distressed, in every letter he tries to give me courage, but I know that this unhappy event was a great blow to him. The King arrived at Saint Len last evening; he has sent me word that he meant to call on me to-day, and he must leave the boy here during his absence. You know how much I love the child, and how careful I shall be of him. I want the King to take the same route as you; it will be a consolation for you both to meet. All his letters since you left are full of love for you. He has too tender a heart not to be touched. Good by, my dear daughter; take care of your health; mine will improve only when I don't have to suffer for those I love." This letter shows all the kindness and gentleness of Josephine's character. She was conciliating and benevolent, and did her best to smooth over Napoleon's blame and to reconcile Hortense with her husband. She wrote again from Saint Cloud, June 11: "Your boy is very well, and amuses me a great deal; he is so gentle; I think he has all the ways of the poor boy we mourn." Josephine understood consolation better than the Emperor.

What could be more touching, more maternal, than this letter from the Empress? "Your letter moved me deeply; I see your grief is ever fresh and I perceive this better by my own sufferings. We have lost what was most worthy to be loved; my tears flow as they did the first day. Those regrets are too natural to be repressed by reason, although it should moderate them. You are not alone in the world. You have left a husband, an interesting child, and you are too tender for that to be strange and indifferent to you. Think of us, my dear daughter, and let this calm your natural sorrow. I rely on your love for me and on your reasonableness. I hope that the trip and the waters will do you good. Your son is very well, and is charming. My health is a little better, but you know it depends on yours. Good by. Many kisses."

The character of this loving mother and grandmother manifests itself in every one of her letters. Her style was simple and affectionate, like herself. Her letters, full of the gentlest, best, and most touching feeling, might make one say, "The style is the woman."

While Josephine and Hortense were weeping, Napoleon was bringing a terrible campaign to a brilliant end. June 15 he thus announced to his wife the great victory of Friedland: "My dear: I write but a word, for I am very tired; I have been bivouacking for several days. My children have been worthily celebrating the battle of Marengo. The battle of Friedland will be quite as famous and glorious for my people. The whole Russian army routed; eighty cannon; thirty thousand men captured or killed; twenty-five Russian generals killed, wounded, or captured; the Russian Guard wiped out; it is a worthy sister of Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena. The bulletin will tell you the rest. My losses are not serious; I succeeded in outmanoeuvring the enemy. Be calm and contented. Good by, my dear, my horse is waiting." The next day he wrote another letter to Josephine: "My dear, yesterday I sent Moustache to you with news of the battle of Friedland. Since then, I have continued to pursue the enemy, KÖnigsberg, a city of eighty thousand inhabitants, Is in my power, I have found there many cannon, stores, and finally sixty thousand muskets just come from England. Good by, my dear, my health is perfect, although I have a cold from the rain and cold of the bivouac. Be cheerful and contented. Ever yours." From Tilsitt Napoleon wrote to his wife, June 19: "I have sent Tascher to you to allay your anxiety. Everything goes on admirably here. The battle of Friedland decided everything. The enemy is confounded, cast down, and extremely enfeebled. My health is excellent, my army superb. Good by; be cheerful and contented." Be cheerful and contented—he was always saying it.

June 25, at one in the afternoon, a great sight was to be seen in the middle of the Niemen. A raft had been placed midstream in plain view from both banks of the river. All the rich stuffs that could be found in the little town of Tilsitt had been taken to make a pavilion on a part of this raft for the reception of the Emperors of France and Russia. From one bank Napoleon embarked with Murat, Berthier, BessiÈres, Duroc, and Caulaincourt; and from the other, Alexander, with the Grand Duke Constantine, Generals Bennigsen and Ouvaroff, the Prince of Labanoff, and the Count of Lieven. The two armies were drawn up on the two banks, and the country people of the neighborhood were present to watch one of the most memorable interviews known to history. When they reached the raft, the two sovereigns, who had just been fighting so bitterly, and had sent so many thousand men to death, fell into each other's arms with emotion. The same day Napoleon wrote to Josephine: "I have just seen the Emperor Alexander, and am much pleased with him; he is a very fine-looking, good young Emperor; he has more intelligence than is generally supposed. He is going to move into Tilsitt to-morrow. Good by; keep well and be contented. My health is excellent." The two monarchs became very intimate. "My dear," Napoleon wrote to his wife July 3, "M. de Turenne will give you all the details about what is going on here; everything is moving smoothly. I think I told you that the Emperor of Russia drank to your health with great kindness. He and the King of Prussia dine with me every day. I want you to be contented. Good by; much love." And July 6: "I have yours of June 25. I am sorry you are so egoistic, and that my success gives you no pleasure. The beautiful Queen of Prussia is to dine with me to-day. I am well and anxious to see you again when fate permits. Still it will probably be soon."

The Queen of Prussia was one of the most beautiful and most brilliant women of her time. An hour after her arrival at Tilsitt, Napoleon called on her, and that evening, when she came to dine with him, he went to the door of the house in which he lived to receive her with all respect. But in spite of all her efforts to modify the conditions of the peace imposed on Prussia, her gracious and obstinate endeavors were fruitless. Napoleon, July 7, thus described to Josephine the dinner of the evening before to the charming Queen: "My dear, the Queen of Prussia dined with me yesterday. I was obliged to refuse her some concessions she wanted me to make to her husband; but I was polite, and also kept to my plan. She is very amiable. When I see you I will give you all the details which would be too long to write now. When you read this letter, peace will have been concluded with Russia and Prussia, and Jerome will have been recognized as King of Westphalia with a population of three millions. This piece of news is for you alone. Good by, my dear; I want to hear that you are contented and cheerful." The story runs that the Queen of Prussia, who held a beautiful rose in her hand, offered it to Napoleon, saying with a gracious smile: "Take it, Sire, but in exchange for Magdeburg." The hero of Jena made a mistake not to make the exchange. He did too much or too little for the Prussian monarchy. Since he could not or would not wipe it out, he ought to have let it live, and become a friendly power. Who can tell? Perhaps his acceptance of the rose would have warded off many acts of vengeance, many disasters. On such slight things does the world's destiny depend!

Josephine wrote to her daughter from Saint Cloud, July 10: "I often hear from the Emperor, who speaks a great deal about the Emperor Alexander, with whom he seems well satisfied. He sent M. de Monaco and M. de Montesquiou to give me details of all they had seen. They say the first view was a magnificent sight. The two armies were on the two banks of the Niemen. The Emperor was the first to arrive at a raft built in the middle of the river; the Emperor Alexander's boat found some difficulty in approaching, which gave him a chance to speak of his eagerness thwarted by the stream. They tell me that when the two Emperors kissed, wide-spread applause arose from both banks. What most interests me in all this good news is my hope of soon seeing the Emperor again. Why is this happiness troubled by sad memories that can never be destroyed? Your boy is perfectly-well; his complexion has entirely changed. I hope the waters will do both you and the King good; remember me to him, and believe in my constant love."

Before leaving Tilsitt, where he had signed a glorious peace, Napoleon had the bravest soldier of the Russian Guard presented to him, and he gave him the eagle of the Legion of Honor. He gave his portrait to Platou, the hetman of the Cossacks, and some Baschirs gave him a concert after the custom of their country. July 9, at eleven in the morning, wearing the grand cordon of Saint Andrew, he called on the Emperor Alexander, who wore the broad ribbon of the Legion of Honor, The two sovereigns passed three hours together, then mounted their horses, and rode towards the Niemen. Then they got down and embraced for the last time. The Czar then embarked, and Napoleon waited on the river-bank until his new friend had landed on the other shore. He returned to KÖnigsberg and from there to Dresden, whence he wrote to Josephine, July, 18: "My dear, I reached here yesterday afternoon at five, very well, though I had been posting one hundred hours without stopping. I am staying with the King of Saxony, whom I like very much. I have more than half my journey to you behind me. I warn you that I may burst in on you at Saint Cloud one of these nights, like a jealous husband. Good by, my dear; I shall be very glad to see you again. Ever yours." Napoleon spoke of jealousy. The days of the first Italian campaign were very distant. Everything had changed. It was no longer he who had to be jealous of Josephine: it was Josephine who was jealous of him, and with good reason. After an absence of nearly a year, the Emperor reached Saint Cloud, July 27, 1807, at six o'clock in the morning.