Books: NAPOLEON AND BLUCHER

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"Sire," exclaimed Savary, eagerly, "so precious a head cannot be
sufficiently protected. In building a palace for the king, less
attention should be paid to an attractive appearance than to safety
and convenience."

"Is that your opinion, too, Maret?"

The Duke de Bassano was silent for a moment, and closely examined
the plan. "No, sire," he then said, looking at the emperor, with a
polite yet somewhat singular smile--"no, sire. I believe we should
avoid the semblance of a fortress built for the heir-apparent, just
as though he should ever need such a place of refuge against his own
subjects, and in the middle of his capital! People would say your
majesty intended to reconstruct for your successor the old Bastile."

"Maret is right," exclaimed the emperor. "No fortress! The
confidence, love, and attachment of his people should be the only
safeguard of a monarch. Ramparts did not save Paul I.; the greatest
precautions, locked and guarded doors, did not protect the sultan
from the scimitars of the Janizaries; every one falls when his hour
has struck; it will strike for me, too, and my life will belong to
him who is willing to give up his life for mine! But I shall teach
my son to govern the Parisians without fortresses, and make them
love him. [Footnote: Napoleon's words.--Vide "Memoirs of the Duchess
d'Abrantes."] It is true, however, there will always be malicious
men to frustrate our efforts, and sow the seeds of discord between
me and my people."

"Sire," said Fontaine, anxious to turn the emperor's thoughts into a
different channel, "here is another plan. The former was in the old
feudal style; this would look more like a villa."

"That is the very thing I want," exclaimed the emperor, eagerly. "A
villa in the grandest possible style--a palace magnificent enough to
be mentioned after the Louvre, but still with all the peculiarities
of a villa. For the palace of the King of Rome, after all, will be
only a sort of villa in Paris; as a winter residence the Tuileries,
or the Louvre, would be preferred. But, though I want the building
to be large and brilliant, the total cost must not exceed ten
million francs. I do not want a chimera, but something real,
substantial, and practical, for myself and the king, and not a
fanciful structure merely gratifying to the architect. The
completion of the Louvre will give glory enough to the architect. As
to the palace of the King of Rome, he may forget his personal
interest, and think only of rendering the structure as convenient as
possible. It is to become a sort of Sans-Souci, where one is merry,
forgets care, enjoys the sunshine in the apartments, and the shade
in the garden, and may combine the simplicity of rural life with the
comforts of a great city. Imagine you were building a commodious
residence for a rich private citizen, a convalescent who has need of
comfort, repose, and diversion. There must be, therefore, a small
theatre, a small chapel, a concert-hall, a ball-room, a billiard-
room, and a library; fish-ponds, and shady groves in the garden--in
short, a genuine villa." [Footnote: Napoleon's words.--Vide
Constant, "Memoires," vol. v., p. 184.]

"I believe your majesty will find all that you wish for united in
this," said the Duke de Bassano, who had carefully examined the
second plan. "It is a villa in grand style, and surely worthy of a
great prince."

"Ah," said the emperor, with a profound sigh, "would it were already
finished, and I could live in it with my son! I--"

At this moment the folding-doors of the cabinet were thrown open,
and the usher's voice shouted, "His majesty the King of Rome!"

CHAPTER XLIII.

THE KING OF ROME.

The emperor, with a joyful exclamation, turned toward the door. On
its threshold stood a boy of remarkable beauty, such as Correggio or
Murillo would have selected as a cherub model. His slender but
vigorous form was clothed in sky-blue velvet, embroidered with
silver, and his fairy-like feet wore shoes of the same color. His
dimpled arms were bare, and a fleece of golden ringlets fell on his
fair neck and shoulders. An ingenuousness, undeformed by bad
training, increased the charm of his natural beauty. There was
nothing affected in his blooming face; and, while a happy temper
played about his lips, there was a light in his large blue eyes,
reminding the beholder of his great father, from whom he also
inherited a forehead which, when the attractions of his childhood
had passed away, would at once assert his manly gravity and thought.

Behind the boy appeared the dignified form of Madame de Montesquiou,
his governess, who seemed to take pains to keep back the boy, and,
seizing his hand, hastily whispered a few words to him. But he
forcibly disengaged himself, and, without noticing any one but the
emperor, rushed toward him with open arms. "Papa," he cried, in an
imploring tone--"papa, have you not given me permission to come to
you at any time?"

"Yes, sire," said the emperor, tenderly, lifting him into his arms,
"and the proof of it is that you are here."

"Well, dear 'Quiou," asked the boy, in a triumphant tone, turning
toward Madame de Montesquiou--"did I not tell you so?--The usher
would not admit me, papa, though I told him I am the King of Rome!"

"He ran away from me," said the governess, "in the first anteroom,
and so fast that I could not follow him."

"It was because I wanted to see my dear papa emperor," cried the
child, fixing his eyes with an expression of indescribable
tenderness on his father.

"But that was the reason, sire," said the governess, "why the usher
would not immediately open the door to you. He did not know whether
he was allowed to do so, and waited, therefore, until I came."

"But why did he not know that he was allowed to do so?" cried the
little king, impetuously. "Did I not tell him, 'I WILL it, I am the
King of Rome?' Pray tell me, papa emperor, do not the ushers obey
you either when you say, 'I will it?'"

The emperor laughed as loudly and merrily as he had done in the days
of his prosperity, and the ministers and Baron Fontaine joined
heartily in his mirth; even Madame de Montesquiou could not suppress
a faint smile. The boy saw it, and asked hastily, "Why do you laugh,
'Quiou? Did I say any thing ridiculous?"

"No, rather something charming," said the emperor, smiling, laying
his hand on the blond head of his child, and pressing it closer to
his breast. With the child still in his arms, he seated himself in
an easy-chair, and, placing the little fair-haired king on his knee,
gazed at him with joyful eyes. His whole countenance was changed,
and beaming with mildness; even his voice assumed another tone, and
seemed incapable of command or threat.

"Sire," said the emperor, "we were just speaking of you."

"Ah," cried the child, with an arch smile, "I know what it was! My
papa emperor was thinking of a New-Year's present!"

"But, sire," exclaimed the governess, sharply, "it is unseemly to
ask for presents."

A blush suffused the child's face, and seemed reflected on the pale
cheeks of the emperor, who felt almost pained at seeing him so much
ashamed of himself.

"Madame," he said, turning hastily to the governess, "I have to ask
a favor of you: pray leave the King of Rome here with me for a time.
I myself will take him back to you, and I promise to watch carefully
over his majesty."

Madame de Montesquiou made a ceremonious obeisance; the little king
kissed his hand to her, and she then left the cabinet. No sooner had
the door closed than the boy, with a smile, encircled the emperor's
neck with his arms, and cried, "Now we are alone, papa emperor!"

"Oh, no!" said the emperor, smiling, "did you not yet see these
gentlemen?"

"No," said the child, looking round in surprise, "I saw only you,
papa!"

Never had the lips of the most beautiful woman uttered words that
gladdened his heart so much as these. But before his ministers he
was almost ashamed of his sensitiveness, and, therefore, he forced
himself to assume a graver air. "Sire," he said, "above all, you
must greet these gentlemen; they are my ministers, and very dear
friends of mine."

"Ah, then they are friends of mine, too," cried the boy, with that
politeness which comes from the heart. Quickly descending from his
father's knee to the carpet on the floor, the little King of Rome
walked several steps toward the gentlemen, and bowed so deeply to
them that his blond ringlets rolled down over his face. "Pardon me,
gentlemen," he said, "if I did not see and greet you! I came to my
papa emperor because to-day is a holiday, and I desired to wish him
a happy New-Year. I see you now, gentlemen, and, if you will permit
me, I wish you all, too, a happy New-Year."

The gentlemen bowed, and looked with an expression of gentle
sympathy and emotion on the lovely child, as if imploring the
blessing of Heaven upon him. The emperor probably read this in their
eyes, for he greeted the gentlemen with a pleasant smile, and nodded
to them with the triumphant air of a happy father.

"Papa emperor," exclaimed the child, turning once more to his
father, "my dear Madame 'Quiou says that France has now need of
prosperity, and that I, therefore, ought to pray the good God to
grant us His favor."

"Well, and did you do so?" inquired the emperor.

"Yes," replied the child, "I did, from the bottom of my heart."

"How did you pray? Let me hear, sire; it can do no harm if you pray
to God once more to grant us His favor. What did you say?"

The child assumed a grave air, and knelt down. He then raised his
clasped hands, and, leaning back his head, lifted up his large blue
eyes. "Good God," he said aloud, "I pray to Thee for France and for
my father!"

These words, uttered in so clear and melodious a voice, sounding
like an angel's greeting in the solemn cabinet of the emperor, made
a wonderful impression. The gentlemen averted their heads, to
conceal their emotion from Napoleon. But he paid no attention to
them; his eyes rested on his child with an expression of profound
affection; a veil seemed to overspread them, and as it perhaps
prevented the emperor from seeing his kneeling child distinctly, he
quickly moved his hand across his eyes. The veil disappeared, but
the hand that had drawn it aside was moist.

The boy jumped up and hastened back to his father, who clasped him
tenderly in his arms, and then, as if to apologize, turned toward
his ministers. "Well, gentlemen," he said, gayly, "do you believe
that the voice of the King of Rome is strong enough to reach to
heaven, and bring prosperity to France and to myself?"

"Sire, I do," said the Duke de Bassano, in a trembling voice.

"And I feel convinced of it," said the Duke de Rovigo. "If any
prayer can reach heaven, this must."

"It will bless France and her august emperor," said the Duke de
Vicenza. "Sire, permit me to ask a favor of you. Give to France as a
New-Year's present of your love, the picture of the King of Rome
praying for France and his father. Your majesty, send for Isabey,
and have him represent the king in this charming attitude. He will
paint such a picture both with his hand and his heart, and within a
month it must be circulated as a copperplate throughout France.
Sire, I venture to assert that this engraving will win all hearts,
and the members of the legislature cannot excite half as much hatred
in the provinces as this picture will produce love."

"You are right," said the emperor, "that is an excellent idea.
France shall learn that my son prays, first for it, and then for
me.--Maret, see to it that Isabey come to-morrow. The plate must be
ready for distribution in the course of a month. [Footnote: This
copperplate really appeared shortly after; it is a sweet and
beautiful portrait of the little King of Rome.] And now," added the
emperor, putting the child again on his knee, "now tell me what do
you want me to give you as a New-Year's present?"

"Oh," cried the little king, smiling, "I know something, dear papa
emperor, but I dare not say what it is."

"Ah, you may," said the emperor. "I pledge you my word that I will
fulfil your wish, if it be possible. Speak, then."

"Sire," asked little Napoleon, nodding toward the ministers, "sire,
will these gentlemen not betray me to Madame de Montesquieu?"

"I warrant you they will not," said the emperor, gravely. "Let me
hear what you want."

"Well, then, papa emperor," said the boy, leaning his head on his
father's breast, and looking up to him, "I feel a great wish that I
could run just once all alone into the street, and play in the mud
and the gutter, as other children do." [Footnote: Bausset, "Memoires
sur Intterieur du Palais Imperial," vol. ii.]

The emperor burst into loud laughter, in which the others did not
fail to join. "Ah, you see, gentlemen," exclaimed the emperor, "this
is a new rendering of Lafontaine's celebrated 'Toujours perdrix!'
The King of Rome, being able to command all that is beautiful and
agreeable to his heart's content, is longing for the gutter.--Be
patient, sire, I cannot immediately fulfil your wish, but I shall
have a palace for you, and in its court-yard you shall have a
gutter, too. Sire, look at those plans which Baron Fontaine has
drawn up for a palace destined for you alone."

"What! For me alone?" asked the child, in dismay. "You will not live
with me in the palace?"

"No, sire. The King of Rome must have a palace of his own where he
will reside with his court."

"Papa emperor, I thank you for your New-Year's gift," said the boy,
sullenly; "I thank you, but do not accept it. I do not want a palace
of my own. I thank your majesty, but prefer remaining at the
Tuileries."

"But, sire, just think of it--a splendid palace belonging to you
alone!"

"I do not want to live alone!"

"Well, sire, then you will request your beautiful mother, the
empress, to live with you. Will that be sufficient?"

The boy glanced quickly and anxiously around the room, as if to
satisfy himself that neither the empress nor Madame de Montesquiou
was present; he then threw both his arms round the emperor's neck,
and exclaimed, "I want to be where you are, papa!"

Napoleon pressed his lips with passionate tenderness on his son's
head. "Well, sire," he said, in a voice tremulous with love, "I
believe your wishes will have to be complied with. As soon as your
palace is completed I shall live with you. Do you accept your palace
on this condition?"

"Yes, my dear papa emperor," exclaimed the prince, joyously, "now I
accept it, and thank you for it."

"Well, you hear that, Fontaine," said Napoleon, turning toward his
architect. "You may begin the construction of the palace; the King
of Rome accepts it. I sanction this second plan. Build a magnificent
villa, and it must be completed in two years. In two years--"

Suddenly the emperor paused, and his face darkened. "Ah," he said,
gloomily, putting his hand on the prince's head, "ah, we purpose
building you a palace, but if they conquer me you will not even
possess a cabin!" [Footnote: Napoleon's words.--Vide "Memoirs of the
Duchess d'Abrantes."] The emperor's head dropped on his breast, and
a pause ensued, which the child, usually so vivacious, did not
venture to interrupt.

At length Napoleon said: "Go, Fontaine, and take your plans along; I
will confer further about the matter. And you, ministers, come, we
have to settle some questions of importance. But, first, I must take
the king back to his governess."

The boy clung with almost anxious tenderness to his father. "Ah,
dear, dear papa emperor," he begged, "let me stay here! I will be
quiet--oh, so very quiet! I will only sit on your knee, lean my head
on your breast, and not disturb you at all."

"Well, you may stay then," said Napoleon. "We shall see whether you
really can be quiet and not disturb us."

The little child kept his word. Sitting quietly on the emperor's
knee, and leaning his little head on his father's breast, he did not
interrupt in the least the important conference of Napoleon and his
ministers. An hour afterward the conference was over, and the dukes
were dismissed.

"Now, sire," said Napoleon, turning toward the child, now "let us
play."

But the little king, who always received these words with
exultation, remained silent, and when the emperor bent over him, he
saw that he had fallen asleep. "Happy king!" murmured Napoleon,
"happy king! who can fall asleep in the midst of state business!"
Softly and cautiously drawing the boy closer to his breast, and
taking pains not to disturb his slumber, he sat still and
motionless, scarcely breathing, although sad thoughts oppressed his
mind. It was an interesting spectacle--this lovely boy leaning his
head in smiling dreams on the breast of his father, who was looking
down on him with grave and tender eyes.

The emperor sat thus a long time. Strange and wonderful thoughts
stole upon him--thoughts of past happiness, of past love. He thought
of how long he had yearned to possess a son, and how many tears his
first consort shed--how ardently he had been loved by the noble and
beautiful Josephine, whom, in his pride, which demanded an heir-
apparent, he had thrust into solitude. Providence had given
Bonaparte all that his heart had longed for--a beautiful young wife,
who loved him, and who was the daughter of an emperor; and a sweet,
lovely child that was to be the heir of his imperial throne. But
Providence, by giving him all, had taken all from Josephine--the
heart and hand of her husband, her dignity and authority as an
empress and sovereign. She was now nothing but a deserted and
unhappy lady, who had only tears for her past, no joy in the
present, no hopes for the future.

All this was on account of the child adored by his father, and
hailed by France; and yet, despite all the mischief this little boy
had done her and the fact that he was the child of another woman,
Josephine loved him, and often implored the emperor to let her see
and embrace the little King of Rome. He had always refused to grant
this request, in order not to stir up the jealousy of his young
wife, but, at this quiet hour, when he was alone with his sleeping
child, Napoleon thought of Josephine with melancholy tenderness.
Amid the profound silence which surrounded him, his recollections
spoke to him. They pointed him to Josephine in the imperishable
splendor of her love, her grace, and goodness; he thought he saw her
sweet lips, which had always a smile for him; her brilliant eyes,
which had ever looked tenderly on him, and which had learned to read
his most secret thoughts.

"Poor Josephine!" he murmured, "poor Josephine! she loved me
ardently, and many things might be different now if she were still
by my side. She was my guardian angel, and with her my success has
departed. She sacrificed her happiness to me and my ambition; and
while formerly all hastened to offer congratulations on this day and
pay homage to the empress, she now sits lonely and deserted at
Malmaison.--No," he then said aloud, "no, she shall not be lonely
and deserted! I surely owe it to her to occasion her a moment of
joy. She shall see my son--I myself will take him to her." He
cautiously lifted up the boy in his arms and rose. The prince awoke
and looked smilingly up to his father, who carried him to the sofa
and laid him with tender care on the cushions. But little Napoleon
jumped up, and said laughingly. "I am no longer tired. The dukes are
gone now, and let us play, papa!"

"No, sire," said the emperor, "not now, I have business to attend
to. But listen to me: at noon to-day I will take a ride with yon,
all alone--that is to be my New-Year's present."

The boy uttered a cry of joy. "All alone, papa emperor? Oh, that
will be splendid!"

"But now go to Madame de Montesquiou, sire," said the emperor.--
"Constant!" When the valet de chambre entered the room, he ordered
Constant, "Pray conduct his majesty the King of Rome to Madame de
Montesquiou, and tell her I shall call for him in a few hours in
order to take a ride with him alone, without any attendants
whatever.--Adieu, Sire, in a few hours we shall meet again."

But the boy stood and looked at the emperor with grave and sullen
glances. "Sire," he said, "my dear Madame 'Quiou tells me often a
king ought to keep his word. Now I ask you must an emperor not keep
his word also?"

"Certainly, sire!"

"Well, then, your majesty, take me to Madame 'Quiou," cried the boy,
joyously; "you told her you would do so. Come, papa!"

"Ah," exclaimed the emperor, smiling, "you are right--an emperor
must fulfil his word, though he has pledged it only to a king. Come,
sire, I will conduct you to Madame de Montesquiou. Constant, await
me here!"

A few minutes afterward, the emperor returned to his cabinet.
"Constant," he said, in a low voice, "I know you loved the Empress
Josephine, and have not forgotten her, I suppose?"

"Sire, the empress was my benefactress; I owe to her all that I am,
and she was always kind to me."

"More so than the present empress, you mean to say?" asked the
emperor, casting a searching glance on his valet de chambre; and, as
Constant was silent, Napoleon added, "It is true, the young empress
is less condescending than my first consort. But that is, Constant,
because she was brought up as the daughter of an emperor, and her
feelings were restrained by the narrow limits of etiquette.
Josephine forgot too much that she was an empress, Maria Louisa
forgets it too little; but her heart is good and gentle, and she
would never wish to grieve me. So, Constant, you have not yet
forgotten the Empress Josephine?"

"Sire, none that ever knew the Empress Josephine could help
remembering her. For my own part, I can never forget her."

"Ah, what a fripon you are, to give me such a reply! Well, I will
prove to you, M. Fripon, that I have not forgotten Josephine,
either. This is New-Year's-day. Would you not like to offer your
congratulations to the Empress Josephine at Malmaison?"

"Sire, if so humble and low a servant as I am may dare, I should
certainly be very happy to lay my congratulations at her feet."

"Go, I permit you to do so, and the empress will surely receive you
very kindly."

"Particularly, sire, if I had a message from his majesty the emperor
to deliver."

"Fripon, I believe you take the liberty of guessing my thoughts!
Yes, I will give you a message. Hasten to the Empress Josephine,
take her my greetings, but see that the empress receives you without
witnesses.--Do you hear, Constant--without witnesses? Then tell her
to have her carriage immediately brought to the door, and, on the
pretext of being alone with her mournful New-Year's meditations, to
take a ride without attendants. But when she is at a considerable
distance from Malmaison, she is to order the coachman to drive to
the little castle of La Bagatelle. She must be there precisely at
four o'clock. I shall be there, and tell her majesty I shall not
come alone. Now make haste, Constant! Recommend entire reticence to
the empress. As to yourself, pray do not forget that, if any one
shall hear of this affair, you must be held responsible. Go!"

CHAPTER XLIV.

JOSEPHINE.

Just as the clock struck four, the carriage of the Empress Josephine
wheeled into the courtyard of the little castle of La Bagatelle. She
inquired of the castellan, in a tremulous voice, whether any one had
arrived there, and she breathed more freely when he replied in the
negative. She left the carriage with youthful alacrity and entered
the castle, followed by the castellan, who gazed in amazement at
this empress without court or suite, who arrived stealthily and
tremblingly, like a maiden to meet her lover for the first time. She
hurried through the well-known apartments of the castle, and entered
the hall in which, during the days of her happiness, she had so
often received the foreign princes and ambassadors, or the
dignitaries of France. The hall was now empty; no one was there to
receive the deserted empress; but bright, merry fires were burning
in the fireplaces, and every thing was in readiness for the
reception of distinguished guests.

"You knew, then, that I was to come?" inquired the empress of the
castellan.

"Your majesty," he replied, in a low and reverential voice, "M.
Constant was here, and gave orders to have the rooms in readiness.
If your majesty wishes refreshments, you will find every thing
served up in the dining-room."

"No, no, I thank you," cried the empress, hastily. "But tell me is
my dressing-room--my former dressing-room," she corrected herself
falteringly--"is that heated, too?"

"Your majesty will find all your rooms comfortable, just as though
you still condescended to reside here."

"Well, then, I will go to that room. If any one comes, I shall
notice it through the opened doors; it is unnecessary for you to
inform me; I will go then at once to the reception-room."

The castellan withdrew, and Josephine hastened through the adjoining
apartment into the dressing-room. With a long, painful sigh she
glanced around the room which had so often witnessed her happiness
and her triumphs. Here, surrounded by her ladies in front of this
mirror, she had had her hair dressed, and the emperor had almost
always made his appearance at that hour to chat with her, look at
her toilet, and delight her heart by a smile, a glance, that was
more transporting to her than all the homage and flattery paid her
by all her other admirers. Now she was here again, but alone, and
with a mournful sigh she stepped to the mirror which had so often
reflected her charming portrait, radiant with happiness, and
sparkling with diamonds.