he empire. Every step of his
advancing power caused her deep anxiety. "The real enemies of
Bonaparte," she said to Raderer, as Alison tells, "the real enemies of
Bonaparte are those who put into his head ideas of hereditary
succession, dynasty, divorce, and marriage. I do not approve the
projects of Napoleon," she added. "I have often told him so. He hears me
with attention; but I can plainly see that I make no impression. The
flatterers who surround him soon obliterate all I have said." She strove
to restrain his desire of conquest, by urging on him continually a far
greater object--that of rendering France happy by encouraging her
industry and protecting her agriculture. In a long letter, in which she
earnestly expostulates with him on the subject, she turns to herself in
affecting terms: "Will not the throne," she says, "inspire you with the
wish to contract new alliances? Will you not seek to support your power
by new family connections? Alas! whatever these connections may be, will
they compensate for those which were first knit by corresponding
fitness, and which affection promised to perpetuate?" So far, indeed,
from feeling elated by her own elevation to a throne, she regretted it
with deep melancholy. "The assumption of the throne," she looked on as
"an act that must ever be an ineffaceable blot upon Napoleon's name." It
has been asserted by her friends that she never recovered her spirits
after. The pomps and ceremonies, too, attendant on the imperial state,
must have been distasteful to one who loved the retirement of home, and
hated every kind of restraint and ostentation.

From the time that Napoleon became emperor he lavished the greatest
honors on the children of Josephine. Her daughter Hortense received the
hand of Louis Bonaparte, and the crown of Holland. Eugene, his first
acquaintance of the family, and especial favorite, obtained the rank of
colonel, and was adopted as one of the imperial family; and the son of
Hortense and Louis was adopted as heir to the throne of France. The
coronation took place at Notre Dame, with all the show and pomp of which
the French are so fond. When the papal benediction was pronounced,
Napoleon placed the crown on his head with his own hands. He then turned
to Josephine, who knelt before him, and there was an affectionate
playfulness in the manner in which he took pains to arrange it, as he
placed the crown upon her head. It seemed at that moment as if he forgot
the pres