On the 2d of December, 1804, Napoleon placed the imperial crown upon the head of Josephine, as she knelt before him on the platform of the throne in the cathedral of Notre Dame. Her appearance at this moment was most touching; tears of deep emotion fell from her eyes; she remained for a space kneeling, with hands crossed upon her bosom, then, slowly and gracefully rising, fixed upon her husband a look of gratitude and tenderness. Napoleon returned the glance. It was a silent but conscious interchange of the hopes, the promises, and the memories, of years. In the spring of the following year, at Milan, Josephine received from her husband the crown of the ancient Lombard sovereigns. The festivities which followed were interrupted by a summons to put down a new combination against France. She resolved to accompany the emperor on his return to Paris, though suffering most severely from the rapidity of the journey. At each change of horses, it was necessary to throw water on the smoking wheels; yet Napoleon kept calling from the carriage, "On, on! We do not move!" On his departure for the splendid campaign of Austerlitz, Josephine was appointed regent of the empire. The victory, decisive of the fate of Austria, was productive of renewed pleasure to the empress, by the marriage of her Eugene with the princess royal of Bavaria. Joyfully obeying the mandate which was to restore her for a time to the society of those she loved, the empress left Paris for Munich, where the marriage was celebrated. This union proved a most happy one; and the domestic felicity of her son--now made viceroy of Italy--constituted, both in her prosperous and adverse fortunes, a cause of rejoicing to Josephine. Her daughter, Hortense, soon after became queen of Holland. Could grandeur command or insure happiness, Josephine had subsequently never known misfortune. Every wish, save one, was gratified. She found herself on the most splendid of European thrones, beloved by the wonderful man who had placed her there, adored by the French nation, and respected even by enemies. Her children occupied stations second only to herself, with the prospect, either directly or in their issue, of succeeding to empire when death should relax the giant grasp which now swayed the sceptre. All these brilliant prospects were closed to her by the death, in 1807, of her grandson, the prince royal of Holland. This boy had gained, in an astonishing manner, upon the affections and hopes of his uncle, and there seems to be no reason for discrediting the belief of the emperor's intention to adopt him as his successor. Napoleon was strongly affected by the loss of his little favorite, and was often heard to exclaim, amidst the labors of his cabinet, "To whom shall I leave all this?" To Josephine this loss was irremediable: hers was a grief not less acute, yet greater, than a mother's sorrow; for, while she grieved for a beloved child, she trembled to think of the consequences to herself.