When Josephine held her field-days at Malmaison, the review was indeed calculated to excite the tenderest associations. First in the ranks was the hydrangea, which had recently borrowed from her charming daughter its French name of Hortensia. Glory, too, found its reminiscences there, as well as maternal affection. Following the victories of Bonaparte, she contrived to reap her share in the plunder of conquered countries; and Italy and Egypt paid tribute to her triumphant parterres. Blooming in resplendent union at Malmaison were the soldanella of the Alps—the violet of Parma—the adonis of Castiglione—the carnation of Lodi—the willow and plane of Syria—the cross of Malta—the water-lily of the Nile—the hibiscus of Palestine—the rose of Damietta. Such were the conquests of Josephine: and of those, at least, France still retains the benefits! But even in the midst of these treasures, Josephine still cultivated, by predilection, a plant reminding her of her days of happy childhood; that beautiful jasmine of Martinique, whose seeds, gathered and resown by her own hand, served to bring to her recollection not only the sports of girlhood and the roof of her fathers, but her earliest home of wedded love. With such pursuits and attachments, how could she fail to appreciate the passion of the prisoner for his flower—his only flower—his only companion! The widow of Beauharnais was not always the happy and prosperous inmate of a consular or imperial palace. Josephine has herself tasted the bitterness of captivity; and the lesson is not thrown away. Nor has she altogether forgotten the brilliant, successful, but proud and _insouciant_ Count de Charney; formerly so contemptuous amid the pleasures of the world, and so incredulous in the existence of human affections. To what is she to attribute the singular change in his style and temper? What influence has sufficed to soften that haughty character? He, who once refused the homage of his knee to the Most High, now kneels to a human throne to supplicate in utmost humility for the preservation of a plant! “The flower which has wrought so great a miracle,” thought the Empress, with a smile, “deserves to be preserved from destruction!” And eager to accomplish her benevolent purpose, she grew impatient of the protraction of the fight, and would fain have put an end to the last evolutions, in order to hasten her measures in favour of her petitioner. [Illustration] The moment Napoleon, surrounded by his generals, made his reappearance, exhausted by his exertions, and doubtless expecting compliments from her lips, the Empress presented the handkerchief to his astonished eyes, exclaiming, “An order from your hand, sire; an order for the commandant of Fenestrella! and an express to despatch it to the fortress!”