Memoirs of Celebrated Women of All Countries

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MEMOIRS

OF

OF ALL COUNTRIES.

Maria Letizia Ramolini Bonaparte

OF

CELEBRATED WOMEN.

MOTHER OF NAPOLEON EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH.

Maria Letizia Ramolini Bonaparte was born in the year 1750, at Ajaccio, in Corsica. The Ramolini family is of noble origin; its descent is traced from the Counts of Colalto. The member of it who first settled in Corsica, had married the daughter of a doge of Genoa, and received great and honourable marks of distinction from that republic. Madame Letizia's mother contracted a second marriage with a Swiss, a native of Basle. He was a Protestant; and when Madame Ramolini married him, she insisted upon his changing his religion. He accordingly abjured the Protestant faith, and became a member of the Roman church. Cardinal Fesch, who is only half-brother to Madame Letizia, was the sole issue of marriage.

Mademoiselle Letizia Ramolini was one of the most celebrated beauties in Corsica. After the pacification of that island in 1768, she married Charles Bonaparte, who, though an intimate friend of Paolo, was always pure and honourable in his conduct. I shall not here repeat what I have written elsewhere on the noble origin of the Bonaparte family. After the lustre given by Napoleon to his now immortal name, I think it would be out of place to hunt among genealogical parchments for the purpose of deciphering some old chronicle, or family legend, giving an account of his ancestors. What does it matter to posterity whether Napoleon was of gentle lineage or not? Noble birth is not indispensable to a conqueror, and Napoleon conquered the world! Nevertheless, it is true that his origin was not only noble, but of the highest class of nobility; and from Nicholas Bonaparte, banished from Florence as a Gibelin in 1268, down to Charles Bonaparte, the genealogical tree of the Bonaparte family bears seventeen noble generations. I certainly should not here mention this useless nobility of Napoleon's family, did I not remember with feelings of bitter disgust, that the man who, during twenty years, had been the hero of the world, became, in 1814, under the poisoned tongues of those who in his reverse of fortune basely calumniated him, a man of unknown and obscure descent. He was, they said, the son of an usher, and his name was Buonaparte. When I consider, under the excitement of a contempt I cannot subdue, that such trash was first written and published by a man of superior talent, I prefer imitating the noble silence of the hero's mother.

It was almost amid civil war and its attendant horrors of strife and bloodshed, that Charles Bonaparte married the subject of this memoir. Letizia Ramolini followed her husband, and shared his dangers. Her mind is of a stamp to bear her through the most trying difficulties, and she overcomes them by her superior energy. Her eight children, who survived a much greater number born from this marriage, were all French subjects, for they came into being after the annexation of Corsica to France. I here give their names in the order of their birth:—

I. Joseph Bonaparte, at first King of the Two Sicilies, afterwards King of Spain and the Indies—and always an honest man.

II. NAPOLEON.—

III. Marie-Anne Eliza, Grand-Duchess of Tuscany.

IV. Lucien, who, though he remained in private life, was a man of as great and noble mind as his brothers who ascended thrones,—for he was free and independent.

V. Marie Paulette, Princess Borghese, Duchess of Guastalla.

VI. Louis, King of Holland, who preferred retirement and virtue, to a throne with despotism.

VII. Annonciade Caroline, Grand-Duchess of Berg and Cleves, and afterwards Queen of the Two Sicilies.

VIII. Jerome, King of Westphalia and Prince of Montford.

It was during one of Charles Bonaparte's journeys to the Court of France, as deputy of the Corsican nobles, that he was attacked with schirrus of the stomach. He was advised to go to Montpelier, where he died, in the arms of his eldest son Joseph and his brother-in-law Fesch, on the 24th of February 1785. He left his widow and eight children totally unprovided for. Madame Bonaparte, whose fame has always been unsullied, devoted her whole life to the education of those of her children whom the Government did not take charge of; for it is well known that Napoleon was brought up at Brienne, and Eliza at St. Cyr.

Popular injustice, which always follows closely upon great political convulsions, having forced Madame Bonaparte to quit Corsica, she had to undergo all the anxiety which a mother experiences when her children are in danger. Obliged to leave Ajaccio in the middle of the night, in order to avoid the rage of an infuriated populace, from whom Napoleon, then an artillery officer, had already escaped—she crossed torrents and mountains, and penetrated through intricate forests, until at length she reached Calvy, and with her four children found an asylum in the house of M. Laurenzo Giubeya. Hence she embarked for Provence, where she settled, first at Lavalette, near Toulon, and afterwards at Marseilles.

From this time her courage never failed. She is in my opinion a most remarkable woman—perhaps the most remarkable I ever knew—for her courageous firmness in misfortune, her dignified and admirable mildness in prosperity, and her resignation under the bitter affliction she has borne during the last eighteen years. For, knowing what she now suffers, I cannot at all compare this latter period with that during which she was only unfortunate. This is a different and more bitter trial; and if the accents of despair have sometimes been wrung from the lacerated bosom of Napoleon's mother, who among us can be surprised?

Oh! how often have I seen her, whose countenance is habitually so calm and serious, smile with sweet emotion as she related the birth of Napoleon! How would she dwell upon each remarkable particular of his entrance into the world, which took place almost without giving her pain! It seemed as if she would have said—"He will never give me a moment of pain; for I suffered none from him, even at the time when every woman is obliged to suffer!"

Poor mother!—and she was doomed to weep over his death-throes of seven years' duration!—in her old age, when years of sorrow, rather than the hand of time, had bleached her locks and furrowed her lovely features, she was doomed to pine far from her native land, deprived even of the consolation of weeping over the grave of her son, buried on a rocky hill in the midst of the ocean, and at a distance of five or six thousand miles!

When Joseph Bonaparte was appointed ambassador to the Roman republic, his mother accompanied him on his mission. She afterwards returned to Paris, and lived at his house in the Rue du Rocher, the same in which he was residing on the famous 18th of Brumaire. She was always a kind mother, and a friend to the afflicted; and she defended, against the displeasure of her son, those of his family whom she deemed oppressed. Thus, Jerome found her not only an affectionate parent, but a protectress; and when Lucien, exiled by his brother in consequence of his marriage with Madame Jouberton, withdrew to Rome, his kind mother followed him thither to afford his consolation. The Emperor, irritated at this preference, did not at first include her name in the titles given to the members of the imperial family. It was not till five months after, that she received the title of Madame Mère, and her household was formed. She then returned to Paris, and inhabited the old Hotel de Brienne, which had formerly belonged to Lucien. The Emperor gave her an appanage of five hundred thousand francs a year, which certainly was not a mine of wealth, as some have since stupidly asserted. It was not until 1808, when Jerome was created King of Westphalia, that Madame Mère was allowed a million of francs for the expenses of her household. She maintained an honourable establishment: her ladies of honour alone cost her nearly a hundred and fifty thousand francs a year, and the rest of her household was in the same proportion. It was only, therefore, during the six years which followed her increase of income, that she could economise sums of sufficient magnitude to be worth attention. But when it is known that ever since the misfortunes of her family, she has constantly given pecuniary assistance to those of her children to whom France, in defiance of its obligations to them, does not blush to remain in debt, it may reasonably be asked how she could have laid by the seventy millions so liberally talked of, six months ago, in several of the French journals? Such reports are equally absurd and contemptible.

Ever since the disasters of 1815, Madame Mère has resided at Rome, where she lives in a dignified and unassuming manner. Though wholly absorbed by her grief, she scarcely ever utters a complaint, and remains in strict seclusion. She sees only the members of her own family and such foreigners of the highest distinction as urgently request to be introduced to her. But she leads a life of solitude, and it is untrue that she keeps open house. Her half-brother, the Cardinal, spends every evening with her. Whilst the Princess Borghese was alive, she was also a constant visitor to her mother, as was likewise Lucien when at Rome; but he habitually resided at Tusculum.

The most poignant of her present afflictions, is the fact that the Emperor's remains have not been restored to France. It is a source of pain which embitters the last fleeting moments of her approach to eternity; and of this I will adduce a remarkable proof.

The news of the revolution of July 1830 gave her a mental shock which is easily accounted for; her grandson was still alive, and at Vienna! In a short time she became so dangerously ill, that she performed the last duties of religion, and received the extreme unction.

She was in that state which immediately precedes dissolution. Her family stood round her bed. Her brother, her children, and her daughters-in-law, looked upon her and wept as they perceived her praying; for they were but too well acquainted with the particular feeling which, in her dying bosom, absorbed every other. The Prince of Montford, having been detained by the arrival of a courier from France, had not yet joined this solemn family-meeting. Scarcely had he read in the Paris papers an account of the decree which would have done honour to the French nation has it been executed, when her ran to his mother's palace, entered her bedchamber, and gently approaching the bed:

"Mother," said he in a whisper, "do you hear me?" She made a sign in the affirmative.

"Well! the Chamber has just issued a decree for the replacing of the Emperor's statue on the top of the column."

Madame Mère made no reply; but something extraordinary seemed passing within her. She clasped her hands—her eyes continued closed—she was evidently praying,—and big tears rolled down her cheeks! They were tears of joy! Alas! since this period, her eyelids have been long corroded by the burning tears of an indescribable and unparalleled grief.

An hour after she received this intelligence, she asked for some broth, and in two days quitted her bed.

The effect produced upon her by this circumstance, may give some idea of her feelings at finding no end to the anathema cast upon the cold and senseless clay of her son. Good God! ought not the tears of this venerable mother, now eighty-three years of age, to soften the hearts of those who have no longer any cause to tremble before the hero's bones, and might display their generosity at so very little cost?

Madame Letizia has always been honoured and respected by all who have had an opportunity of knowing her and appreciating her worth. I now consider her only in the light of one of those high-minded Roman matrons—Agrippina, the widow of Germanicus, weeping over an urn and calling upon Heaven for vengeance—and Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi;—and when my thoughts associate her image with that of Lucien, her resemblance to Cornelia becomes still more striking.

Anna Zingha, Queen of Matamba

QUEEN OF MATAMBA AND ANGOLA.

Of all the studies to which we apply ourselves, that of history is perhaps the most attractive. There, man studies man, and learns to know himself. If we turn this immense mirror towards the past, towards distant countries, and towards nations almost unknown, and examine the events that have there succeeded each other, the mind is confounded at seeing the human passions appear under so many and such various forms. Whether the great lever of any moral or political convulsion be good or evil, the man who studies the brazen and imperishable leaves of history, will learn that, in all places and ages of the world, the mind possesses faculties ever ready to assume a new form in favour either of crime or of virtue.

Among the most remarkable periods which unfold their pages to us in the great book of time, there are some more particularly distinguished by their effect upon the ages which followed them. The sixteenth century is one of these. The separation of the two Christian churches is of great importance, especially as regards the political state of Africa and Asia during the years which succeeded the Reformation; and the quarrels of the Dutch and Portuguese at Japan and Congo, the intrigues of both in Abyssinia and in the kingdoms of Matamba and Angola, exercised a fatal influence in increasing the difficulties afterwards experienced by Europeans in their attempts to introduce commerce and knowledge into those parts of Asia and Africa.

Neither did the missionaries, very respectable men, no doubt, in other respects, always fulfil their duty as ministers of peace, excited as they were by the opposition which they sometimes encountered from their fellow Christians.

Zingha, Queen of Matamba, whose portrait stands at the head of this Memoir, took an active part in the bloody strife which at this period afflicted Africa. Cruel and vindictive as the most savage of her nation, though a woman, and one too who had advanced beyond the knowledge of her times, she was apparently at first the tool of the missionaries; but she soon subjected them to her will, and forced them even to bend their necks to her formidable yoke.

Zingha, or Nzingha, as it is pronounced in the Abboudi language, was the daughter of Zingha-N-Baudi-Angola, eighth king of Matamba, by his favourite concubine Changuilla Caucamba. She was born in 1582. The horoscope of this extraordinary woman would almost make us believe in astrology. All the soothsayers of the country were assembled at her birth, and predicted that she would prove a monster of cruelty.

“O aæ! mama aæ! ma aæ! o aæ!” cried, with terror in their countenances, all who had observed the signs indicated by the lines of her face.

But she had other signs, which announced that she would prove a woman far above the common standard. Her father perfectly understood this, and gave her an education more warlike than African princesses usually receive. Baudi-Angola, who was of the sect of the Giagas, often blessed his daughter with all the ceremonies of his sanguinary religion; and it was when surrounded with the dead bodies of new-born babes, that, as he drank the warm blood of the human victim, he invoked the blessings of Heaven upon Zingha’s head. This dreadful ceremony was not belied by her conduct when she grew up. Being naturally of a cruel disposition, this kind of education imparted to her the ferocity of a tigress; and while yet very young, she was called upon to furnish a testimony of her piety towards the blood-besmeared gods which she worshipped. Her father died, and his funeral was such as became an African King professing the religion of the Giagas. Two hundred innocent human beings were put to death and eaten at the funeral banquet; and the glory of the deceased monarch was celebrated, during this tombo, by the songs of the slayers, mingled with the cries and screams of the women, children, and old men serving as victims, many of whom fell by the hand of Zingha herself, who would sing praises to her gods as she pierced the bosom of a young girl and drank her blood.

Nevertheless, she assisted in these ceremonies with strong repugnance, as she afterwards declared. She had a horror of feasting on human flesh, and of libations of blood. But she was ambitious and vindictive: she would have both the throne and revenge on her enemies; and to obtain these she required strength, which, as she well knew, existed only in the people. She therefore flattered the passions and prejudices of the multitude. For a short time, however, she thought she might obtain support from the Christians; and here the extraordinary genius of this woman began to appear.

A few years before her father’s death, Zingha bore a son whom she tenderly loved—for does not even the hyæna love its young? The old king also was very fond of this child, because it was Zingha’s—and he preferred Zingha to all his other children, Prince Ngolambaudi, heir to the throne of Angola and Matamba, fearing a competitor in his nephew, corrupted the slaves who had the care of the child, and the poor babe was stifled in a bath of hot water. Zingha bitterly deplored the loss of her offspring—for she was a tender mother: but she made a vow not to shed a single tear until she had avenged this murder. Ngolambaudi, shuddered when he heard of this oath; for he well knew that his sister swore not in vain, and that she was as resolute as implacable.

Baudi-Angola left four children: Ngolambaudi, Zingha, Cambo, and Fungi. I have already stated that Zingha had received a warlike education: that of her sisters, Cambo and Fungi, was similar; but, whether from their not possessing an equal degree of energy and courage, or from some other cause, Zingha was the only one her brother feared when he ascended the throne.

Soon after the death of her father, she retired to a province at a considerable distance from Cabazzo, whence she excited the people of Matamba to insurrection. Ngolambaudi having detected several conspiracies against his life, punished the offenders with all the ferocity of his nation; and with a view to make a sort of diversion—believing at the same time that he was pleasing his subjects—he declared war against the Portuguese, in order to wrest from them the provinces of Angola, which they occupied. But what could hordes of undisciplined and naked savages, badly armed, do against troops so valiant as the Portuguese of that period? The negroes were defeated, their capital taken, and their king forced to seek safety in flight. The Queen, his consort, together with his two sisters, Fungi and Cambo, were carried away prisoners. As for Zingha, she owed her safety to her previous revolt. She was then far from Cabazzo. Ngolambaudi soon discovered that he was the weakest party, and, like a true African, felt that dissimulation alone could afford him the means, if not of conquering, at least of recovering what he had lost. He accordingly sent ambassadors to the Portuguese viceroy at Angola; and these made magnificent promises in his name. A treaty was entered into—the Portuguese withdrew their forces from the country, and set the royal prisoners at liberty; but when Ngolambaudi was called upon to fulfil his promises, he eluded them under various pretences.

The war was about to be resumed. A new viceroy had just reached Angola. Don Juan Correa de Souza was, like a number of his countrymen at that period, a man of great talents, high honour, fond of glory, and unwilling to allow his noble country to be disgraced by want of faith in a savage negro. He therefore spoke with such firmness, that Ngolambaudi was alarmed, and sent a solemn embassy to soften the Viceroy; and knowing the talents, wit, and courage of his sister Zingha, he proposed to her a fraternal reconciliation, and entreated that she would save her country by going herself to negociate with the Portuguese government. Zingha smiled on receiving this message: "Yes," she replied, "I will certainly go."

She had long been desirous of knowing the Europeans; for she was well aware that she should find civilisation nowhere but among them, and that civilisation alone could form into a nation the numerous tribes that peopled the sandy deserts of Africa. It was, therefore, from this secret motive that she undertook her brother's mission. A greater dissembler still than he, she pretended to place entire faith in his repentance, because the hour of her revenge was not yet come, and the proposal made to her was an infallible means of accelerating the fulfilment of her vow.

She accordingly set out for Angola with a magnificent suite. Her brother had added to her usual train, all the additional splendour which his vanity prompted him to give, in order that his sister might be treated with greater respect by those Europeans who, as they declared, had quitted their smiling and fertile Europe only from the hope of obtaining the precious stones and mines of gold buried under the burning sands of Africa. From Cabazzo to Angola, a distance of three hundred miles, Zingha was carried upon the shoulders of her slaves.

On her arrival at Angola, she was received at the gates of the city by the magistrates, attended by the militia and troops of the line under arms. At the same time the artillery of the garrison fired a salute equal to that of the viceroy.

She had apartments provided for her in the palace of Don Raix Avagazzo; and she and her numerous retinue were treated with the greatest magnificence, at the expense of the King of Portugal.

On her admittance to an audience of the Viceroy, she perceived, on entering the throne-room, a splendid arm-chair placed for His Excellency, and opposite to it a beautiful foot carpet, upon which were only two brocade cushions. She immediately understood that this latter accommodation was intended for her; and this difference, which seemed to indicate that she was considered a mere savage, displeased her much. She however said nothing; but on a sign which she made, a young girl in her train knelt upon the carpet, and placing her elbows upon the ground, presented her back to her mistress, who seated herself upon it as upon a chair, and remained in this posture during the audience.

In the conference which followed, Zingha displayed superior talent and sagacity. She excused, without meanness, her brother’s want of faith, and begged for peace—but with dignity; observing to the Viceroy that if the Portuguese had obtained the advantage on account of their superior civilization, and by means of a discipline unknown to the Africans, the latter had in their favour the circumstance of being in their own country, and in the enjoyment of resources which all the power of the King of Portugal could not procure for his subjects. She surprised the council, convinced the Viceroy, and concluded with a line of reasoning worthy of the most able diplomatist. The Viceroy strongly insisted upon a yearly tribute from the King of Matamba, in order, as he said, to bind this prince more strongly, he having already violated his engagements. But this clause was too humiliating for Zingha to agree to: her ambitious pride led her to defend the interests of the crown of Matamba, as if she already wore it, and she resolved to obtain it unsullied.

"My lord," said she to the Viceroy, "we will never consent to this condition; neither ought you to insist upon it from a people whom you have driven to the last extremity. If the tribute were paid the first year, peace would be violated the next, in order to free ourselves from it. Content yourself with asking at present, but all at once, to the full extent of what we can grant you. To this shall be added the freedom of the Portuguese slaves, and the offer of a powerful king's alliance. This is all I can consent to promise you in my brother's name."

The treaty was discussed and concluded at the same audience. When it was terminated, the Viceroy, as he led away the princess, remarked that the young girl who had served as a seat, still remained in the same attitude. He made the observation to Zingha.

"The ambassadress of a great king," she haughtily replied, "never uses the same thing twice. The girl who served as my seat, is no longer mine."

It was during this period, that, being obliged to wait at Angola until the treaty was ratified, she caused herself to be instructed in the Christian religion, in order to attach the Portuguese to her cause. Several Portuguese missionaries, then at Angola, the seat of the African mission, and who spoke the Abboudi tongue, instructed the princess. She sent to desire that her brother would not take umbrage at this, because the object she had in view was to acquire a better knowledge of the Portuguese nation. Ngolambaudi, on the contrary, approved of her conduct, and Zingha was christened in the principal church of Loando, the Viceroy and Vice-queen acting as sponsors. She received the name of Anna, which was that of the Vice-queen. Zingha then set out on her return, loaded with marks of honour and distinction by the Viceroy, who accompanied her several miles.

Ngolambaudi received her with apparent gratitude; but the brother and sister hated, and therefore naturally mistrusted each other. He assumed a kindness of manner which he was far from feeling, talked of embracing his sister's new religion, and even received the first instructions in Christianity. But in the mean time he was secretly preparing for war. He however sent his two other sisters to Angola to be baptized; but scarcely had the two princesses returned to Cabazzo, ere he commenced his incursions on the Portuguese territory, thus declaring war without any motive. It is said that his sister Zingha having bribed the Singhisse whom the king consulted, the prophet had foretold a decisive victory over the Portuguese. The unhappy monarch was however completely defeated; and his sister having seduced his troops, they deserted him. He narrowly escaped being taken prisoner, and had only just time to jump into an arm of the Coanza, swim across, and seek refuge in a desert island, whither he was followed by a few servants whom he thought faithful, but who proved to be ministers of death, in the pay of Zingha. Being blockaded in this island, he was soon reduced to the last extremity. The depth and width of the river prevented his departure on the side opposite to that occupied by the enemy; and the forests of the island were overrun with ferocious beasts of prey. In this extremity, he died by poison, not voluntarily taken by himself, but administered by his treacherous servants. He was buried in the island, and his obsequies were attended with the same sanguinary ceremonies as those of his father.

The moment Zingha received intimation of this commencement of her revenge, she hastened to Cabazzo; and, taking advantage of the people's affection for her, seized upon the crown, abjured Christianity, offered incense and sacrifices to the idols of her former worship, and made vows of blood and slaughter upon human hecatombs.

Her brother had, however, left a son. This child had been confided, by his dying father, to the care of the Giaga Kasa, a man of superior merit, and worthy of the trust. Zingha wanted the boy's life: it had become necessary to make the crown sit securely upon her head; and she also required it in order that her own son, murdered by the boy's father, might sleep peaceably in his grave.

But the infant king was safe in the midst of a camp of warriors formed by the Giaga Kasa, who had assembled such of the late King's subjects as remained faithful to his memory. Zingha saw that stratagem alone could effect the consummation she desired; and she offered to marry the Giaga, stating that she had long loved him, and was anxious to place the crown upon his head.

Zingha was the loveliest of the daughters of her country, and the Giaga was at first tempted by the offer; but the safety of his ward rendered him prudent, and he declined it. Zingha might have employed force to carry her point, but she was fearful of a revolt among her new subjects; for she knew that her throne could never be secure whilst her nephew was alive. At length she suddenly came to a determination which no ordinary woman could have adopted. She left Cabazzo and proceeded to her nephew's camp, without retinue, and accompanied by only two or three slaves. She loaded the child with caresses, and seduced the Giaga. The marriage took place, and in the midst of the bridal festivities, she succeeded in enticing her husband and his infant ward to Cabazzo. There lay her strength, and she availed herself of it; for the moment they reached the great square of the city, she drew her poniard with one hand, as she led her nephew with the other, and stabbed the poor child to the heart; then taking up the body, threw it into the river which flows close to the city walls.

"I have done," said she after this bloody feat, "that which the Singhisses commanded me to do: I have killed the son of Ngolambaudi, as he killed mine." And casting her ferocious and blood-shot eyes around, she seemed to defy every one present. No one dared to speak: the people bowed their heads, and tremblingly submitted to this formidable woman. She was, moreover, greatly beloved by them, for she was valiant, and a woman of surpassing genius: in short, worthy to be their queen.