had secretly married the lady of his choice at the
village of Plessis-Chamant, hard by his country house (October 26th,
1803).

The letter which divulged the news of this affair reached the First
Consul at St. Cloud on an interesting occasion.[277] It was during a
so-called family concert, to which only the choicest spirits had been
invited, whence also, to Josephine's chagrin, Napoleon had excluded
Madame Tallien and several other old friends, whose reputation would
have tainted the air of religion and morality now pervading the
Consular Court. While this select company was enjoying the strains of
the chamber music, and Napoleon alone was dozing, Lucien's missive was
handed in by the faithful if indiscreet Duroc. A change came over the
scene. At once Napoleon started up, called out "Stop the music: stop,"
and began with nervous strides and agitated gestures to pace the hall,
exclaiming "Treason! it is treason!" Round-eyed, open-mouthed
wonder seized on the disconcerted musicians, the company rose in
confusion, and Josephine, following her spouse, besought him to say
what had happened. "What has happened--why--Lucien has married
his--mistress."[278]

The secret cause for this climax of fashionable comedy is to be sought
in reasons of state. The establishment of hereditary power was then
being secretly and anxiously discussed. Napoleon had no heirs: Joseph's
children were girls: Lucien's first marriage also had naught but female
issue: the succession must therefore devolve on Lucien's children by a
second marriage. But a natural son had already been born to him by
Madame Jouberthon; and his marriage now promised to make this bastard
the heir to the future French imperial throne. That was the reason why
Napoleon paced the hall at St. Cloud, "waving his arms like a
semaphore," and exclaiming "treason!" Failing the birth of sons to the
two elder brothers, Lucien's marriage seriously endangered the
foundation of a Napoleonic dynasty; besides, the whole affair would
yield excellent sport to the royalists of the Boulevard St. Germain, the
snarling Jacobins of the back streets, and the newspaper writers of
hated Albion.

In vain were negotiations set on foot to make Lucien divorce his
wife. The attempt only produced exasperation, Joseph himself finally
accusing Napoleon of bad faith in the course of this affair. In the
following springtime Lucien shook off the dust of France from his
feet, and declared in a last letter to