During the period of my stay in Paris the war with Spain and Portugal
occupied much of the public attention; and it proved in the end an
enterprise upon which the intuition of Josephine had not deceived her.
In general she intermeddled little with political affairs; in the first
place, because her doing so would have given offence to Napoleon; and
next, because her natural frivolity led her to give a preference to
lighter pursuits. But I may safely affirm that she was endowed with an
instinct so perfect as seldom to be deceived respecting the good or evil
tendency of any measure which Napoleon engaged in; and I remember she
told me that when informed of the intention of the Emperor to bestow the
throne of Spain on Joseph, she was seized with a feeling of indescribable
alarm. It would be difficult to define that instinctive feeling which
leads us to foresee the future; but it is a fact that Josephine was
endowed with this faculty in a more perfect decree than any other person
I have ever known, and to her it was a fatal gift, for she suffered at
the same time under the weight of present and of future misfortunes.

I often visited her at Malmaison, as Duroc assured me that the Emperor
had no objection to my doing so; yet he must have been fully aware that
when Josephine and I were in confidential conversation he would not
always be mentioned in terms of unqualified eulogy; and in truth, his
first friend and his first wife might well be excused for sometimes
commingling their complaints.

Though more than a twelvemonth had elapsed since the divorce grief still
preyed on the heart of Josephine. "You cannot conceive, my friend," she
often said to me, "all the torments that I have suffered since that fatal
day! I cannot imagine how I survived it. You cannot figure to yourself
the pain I endure on seeing descriptions of his fetes everywhere. And