After the battle of Marengo, the presence of the youthful conqueror of Italy at Milan inspired that capital with a spasm of extraordinary gayety.  The finest singers in Italy gathered to do honor to the rising sun of Napoleon’s greatness.  The French general was fascinated by the irresistible attractions of the prima donna, and asked for an introduction.  Grassini’s coquetry did not let the occasion slip.  Las Cases has given a sketch of the interview, in which he tells us she reminded Napoleon that she “had made her debut precisely during the early achievements of the General of the Army of Italy.”  “I was then,” said she, “in the full luster of my beauty and talent.  I fascinated every eye and inflamed every heart.  The young general alone was insensible to my charms, and yet he alone was the object of my wishes.  What caprice—­what singularity!  When I possessed some value, when all Italy was at my feet, and I heroically disdained its admiration for one glance from you, I was unable to obtain it; and now, how strange an alteration!  You condescend to notice me now when I am not worth the trouble, and am no longer worthy of you.”  Las Cases has not proved himself the most veracious of chroniclers in more important matters, and we may be permitted to doubt the truth of this speech as coming from the mouth of a woman extraordinarily beautiful and not less vain.  But at all events Grassini accompanied the French general to Paris, ambitious to play the role of Cleopatra to this modern Caesar.  Josephine’s jealousy and dislike proved an obstacle difficult to meet, and this, in connection with the fact that the French opera did not prove suited to her style, made her first residence in Paris a short one, in spite of the brilliant success of her concerts.  One of these was the crowning feature of the grand fete given at the Invalides Church in honor of the battle of Marengo; and as Grassini sang before the bronzed veterans of the Italian campaign she seemed inspired.  Circumstances, however, obliged her to leave France, laden with magnificent presents from Napoleon.

In November, 1801, the Italian prima donna was in Berlin, where she announced concerts which seem never to have taken place.  In 1802 she returned to France, and Napoleon made her directress of the Opera in 1804.  At first Josephine had permitted her to appear at her private concerts at the Tuileries, but she did not detest the beautiful singer less cordially than heretofore.  It was whispered that the cantatrice did in reality seek to attract the attention of Napoleon, and that she turned her eyes fixedly toward the throne of the Dictator.