Desiree

by Annemarie Selinko

  ‘I have returned from Egypt,’ he was now saying, ‘in order to put myself once more at the disposal of our country, as I consider my mission in Africa to have come to an end. You are telling me now that France’s frontiers are secure and that you during your term as Minister of War had tried to put 100,000 infantry and 40,000 cavalry into the field. The few thousand men whom I left behind in Africa can therefore be of no importance to the French Army, whose strength you increased by 140,000 men, whereas a man like me in the present desperate position of the Republic—’

  ‘The position is not at all desperate,’ said Jean-Baptiste calmly.

  Napoleon smiled. ‘Isn’t it? Since the moment of my return I have been told by all and sundry that the Government is no longer in control of the situation. The Royalists are on the move again in the Vendée region, and certain people in Paris are quite openly in contact with the Bourbons in England. The Manège Club, on the other hand, is preparing for a Jacobin revolution. I suppose you know that the Manège Club intends to overthrow the Directory, Colleague Bernadotte?’

  ‘As for the Manège Club,’ Jean-Baptiste said slowly, ‘you are certainly much better informed about its aims and intentions than I. Your brothers Joseph and Lucien founded it and preside over its meetings.’

  ‘In my opinion it is the duty of the Army and its leaders to gather together all the positive forces, to guarantee law and order and to contrive a form of government worthy of the Revolution and all it stands for,’ said Napoleon imploringly.

  I found the conversation boring and therefore turned back to Josephine. But to my amazement her eyes were riveted firmly on Jean-Baptiste, as if his reply were of decisive importance.

  ‘Any intervention of the Army or its leaders in order to secure a change in the Constitution I am bound to consider as high treason,’ was his answer.

  The winning smile did not wane on Napoleon’s face. But Josephine, at the words, ‘high treason’, raised her thin brows. I poured out fresh coffee.

  Napoleon continued: ‘If I were, let us say, being approached universally – and I emphasise: universally! – and if it were suggested to me to bring about a concentration of all positive forces and, with the help of sincere patriots, to work out a new Constitution which would give expression to the true desires of the people, if that happened, Friend Bernadotte, would you stand by me? Could the circle of men who intend to realise the ideals of the Revolution count on you? Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte, may France rely on your help?’

  Napoleon’s grey eyes, charged with emotion, drilled like gimlets into Jean-Baptiste.

  ‘Listen, Bonaparte,’ said Jean-Baptiste, and put his cup down firmly, ‘listen, if you’ve come to persuade me to commit high treason over a cup of coffee I must ask you to leave my house.’

  Napoleon’s eyes went dull and his eternal smile looked uncannily like a mechanical trick. ‘Am I to take it, then, that you would oppose by force of arms those of your colleagues to whose hands the country entrusted the rescue of the Republic?’

  Jean-Baptiste suddenly broke out into laughter, deep, cordial, uncontrollable laughter, which made the tension snap: ‘My dear Bonaparte, when you were sunning yourself in Egypt it was suggested to me not once but three or four times that I should play the strong man, and, backed by the Army, bring about something like – what do you and your brother Joseph call it? – ah, yes, a “concentration of all the positive forces”. But I refused. We have two Chambers of Deputies full of people’s representatives, and if they and those whom they represent are dissatisfied they can bring in all the acts they want to change the Constitution. As far as I am concerned, I am of the opinion that the existing Constitution is quite sufficient to keep law and order and to defend our frontiers. But if the Deputies think fit to adopt a different form of government without having been forced into it at the point of a gun, then that is no business of mine or of the Army’s.’

  ‘But if the Deputies were forced to a change of the Constitution at the point of the gun, Colleague Bernadotte, what attitude would you adopt then?’

  Jean-Baptiste got up, went to the door of the verandah and looked into the greyish autumn sky outside. Napoleon’s eyes followed him, and there was silence in the room as we waited for the answer.

  Abruptly Jean-Baptiste came back into the room towards Napoleon and put his hand heavily on his shoulder. ‘Bonaparte,’ he said, ‘I fought under your command in Italy, I know something of your generalship, and I realise that France has no better commander than you. But the things the politicians suggest to you are unworthy of a General of the Republican Army. Don’t do it, Bonaparte, don’t do it!’

  Napoleon looked attentively at the embroidered tablecloth and not a muscle of his face moved.

  Jean-Baptiste took his hand from Napoleon’s shoulder and went back to his chair. ‘If, however, you do attempt it after all, I shall oppose you by force, provided—’

  Napoleon looked up: ‘Provided what?’

  ‘Provided that the lawful Government orders me to do so!’

  ‘How obstinate you are!’ murmured Napoleon. Then Josephine thought it time to set off for Mortefontaine.

  Julie’s house was full of visitors. Talleyrand was there, and Fouché, and of course Napoleon’s personal friends, Generals Junot, Murat, Leclerc and Marmont. They showed themselves agreeably surprised at seeing Jean-Baptiste arrive with Napoleon.

  After dinner Fouché remarked to Jean-Baptiste: ‘I didn’t know you and Napoleon were friends.’

  ‘Friends? At any rate we are relatives.’

  Fouché smiled: ‘Some people are very careful in the choice of their relatives.’

  ‘Choice? God knows, these relatives are not of my choosing,’ Jean-Baptiste answered good-humouredly.

  In the days that followed this Sunday the whole of Paris talked of nothing else but whether Napoleon would dare or not. Once I drove by chance through the Rue de la Victoire and saw a whole crowd of adolescents shouting in chorus ‘Vive Bonaparte!’ up towards the closed windows. Fernand had it that these fellows were paid for their services. Jean-Baptiste, however, said that many of them found it difficult to forget the immense sums of money which Napoleon squeezed out of the defeated Italian States and sent to Paris.

  Yesterday morning, on entering our dining-room, I knew at once: to-day is the day! Joseph was there, button-holing Jean-Baptiste and talking at him for all he was worth. He wanted to persuade him to go to Napoleon with him that very moment.

  ‘At least you ought to hear him,’Joseph said, ‘so that you can see for yourself that all he wants is to save the Republic.’

  ‘I know his plans,’ said Jean-Baptiste, ‘and I know that they have nothing to do with saving the Republic.’

  ‘For the last time, do you refuse to help my brother?’

  ‘For the last time, I refuse to participate in any kind of high treason.’

  Joseph turned to me: ‘Désirée, can’t you make him see reason?’

  ‘Can I get you a cup of coffee, Joseph? You are so excited,’ I said.

  Joseph said no and left, and Jean-Baptiste went to the verandah door to stare into the garden.

  An hour later General Moreau, Monsieur Sazzarin, the former secretary of Jean-Baptiste, and other members of the War Office staff swept into the house like an avalanche. They demanded that Jean-Baptiste should put himself at the head of the National Guard and bar Napoleon’s way to the Council of the Five Hundred.

  But Jean-Baptiste insisted: ‘I can’t do it without the Government’s order.’

  Some City Councillors, the ones who had been before, arrived in the middle of it and made the same demand. To them Jean-Baptiste explained that he couldn’t act on the City Council’s orders. He needed the authorisation of the Government, or, if the Directors were no longer in office, that of the Council of the Five Hundred.

  Late that afternoon I saw Jean-Baptiste for the first time in civilian clothes. He wore a dark red jacket which looked a bit on the tight as well as on the short side,
a funny big hat and a very elaborately knotted yellow scarf. My General looked like someone who had disguised himself.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, just for a stroll,’ he said.

  His stroll took him a good few hours, and when in the evening Moreau and his friends turned up again they had to wait for him. It was pitch-dark when he came back at last. Naturally we were curious to know where he had been all this time.

  ‘At the Tuileries and the Luxembourg,’ he said. ‘There are troops everywhere, but all is quiet. I think the soldiers were mostly from the former Army in Italy. I recognised some faces.’

  ‘Napoleon is sure to make them plenty of promises,’ said Moreau.

  Jean-Baptiste smiled wryly. ‘He’s done so already, through their officers. They’re all back again in Paris, Junot, Masséna, Marmont, Leclerc, the whole Bonaparte circus.’

  ‘Do you think these troops are ready to oppose the National Guard?’ wondered Moreau.

  ‘They wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Jean-Baptiste. ‘I talked for a long time to an old sergeant and some of his men who took me for an inquisitive civilian. They believe that Bonaparte would be given command of the National Guard. Their officers told them that.’

  ‘That’s the dirtiest lie I’ve ever come across,’ exploded Moreau. But Jean-Baptiste said calmly:

  ‘I think it very likely that Napoleon will demand the command of the National Guard from the Deputies to-morrow.’

  ‘And we insist that you share this command with him,’ Moreau shouted. ‘Are you prepared to do that?’

  Jean-Baptiste nodded: ‘Yes. What you could do is to put it to the War Minister that if Bonaparte is entrusted with the command of the National Guard, Bernadotte is to share it with him as the representative of the Minister of War.’

  For the whole of the night I could find no sleep. All the time the voices from downstairs drifted up into the bedroom, the voices of Moreau, Sazzarin and all the rest of them.

  That was yesterday. Heavens, to think that it was only yesterday.

  During the course of to-day messengers kept coming all the time. Mostly they were officers. But finally a young soldier rode up, bathed in sweat. He jumped from his horse and shouted: ‘Bonaparte is First Consul! First Consul!’

  ‘Sit down, man,’ said Jean-Baptiste, without showing any excitement. ‘Désirée, give him a glass of wine.’

  Even before the young man had had time to collect himself to tell the tale a young captain rushed into the room, shouting: ‘General Bernadotte, Consular Government has just been proclaimed. Bonaparte is First Consul.’

  And now we heard the whole story. During the morning Napoleon had first gone to the Council of Ancients and asked for a hearing. The Ancients, mainly venerable and somnolent lawyers, had listened to him in the semi-coma of boredom, as, excitably and confusedly, he talked about a plot against the Government and demanded unlimited powers to cope with the emergency. The chairman of the Council then told him in a tortuous speech that he should talk to the Government about it, and so, accompanied by Joseph, Napoleon had set off for the Council of Deputies. There the mood had been a very different one. Although every single Deputy knew what the appearance of Napoleon meant, they had at first gone on with the agenda in a spirit of forced equanimity. Suddenly, however, the President of the Council, the young Jacobin Lucien Bonaparte, had pushed his brother on to the rostrum, announcing that General Bonaparte had something to say of decisive importance to the Republic. Napoleon at once had started to speak amidst the ‘Hear, hear!’ of his friends and the whistles and catcalls of his enemies, and all witnesses agreed in saying that he had stumbled and fumbled through his speech, in which he talked about a plot against the Republic and against his own life, that the agitation had grown louder and louder till he became inaudible and that at last he had had to stop altogether.

  By now the agitation had become an indescribable tumult. The followers of Bonaparte forced their way to the rostrum, their opponents, belonging to all parties, made for the doors, which they found barred by troops. No one knows as yet how the troops had got there ‘to protect’ the Deputies. At any rate, Polette’s husband, General Leclerc, was there at their head, and the National Guard, whose task it is to ensure the safety of the Deputies, made common cause with Leclerc’s troops. The whole place looked like a witches’ cauldron. Lucien and Napoleon stood side by side on the rostrum, and then a voice had shouted ‘Vive Bonaparte!’, a dozen others chimed in, then thirty, then eighty, and the gallery, where Murat, Masséna, and Marmont had appeared among the journalists, roared it too. In the end the rest of the Deputies, seeing nothing but rifles and uniforms, had screamed in desperation, ‘Vine Bonaparte, vive … vive …!’

  After that the last act had begun. The soldiers had withdrawn into the corners of the hall, the Minister of Police, Fouché, had appeared, accompanied by a few gentlemen in civilian clothes, and discreetly invited those Deputies who might disturb the new dispensation of law and order to follow him. The Council, reassembling to debate a new Constitution, showed considerable gaps. The President moved the proposals for the formation of a new Government to be headed by three Consuls, General Bonaparte was unanimously elected First Consul and the Tuileries, at his desire, put at his disposal as his official residence.

  In the evening Fernand brought us the special editions of the papers. The name of Bonaparte stood out in enormous letters in each of them.

  ‘You remember, Marie,’ I said to her in the kitchen, ‘you remember the special paper at home, in Marseilles, the one you brought me out on the terrace, “Bonaparte appointed Military Governor of Paris”?’

  Marie went on filling the feeding-bottle for Oscar.

  ‘And to-night,’ I continued, ‘he’ll move into the Tuileries. Perhaps he’ll even sleep in the King’s former bedroom.’

  ‘Shouldn’t wonder,’ growled Marie. ‘It would be like him.’

  I went to the bedroom and fed Oscar, and Jean-Baptiste came up and sat with us. A moment later Fernand entered and handed him a slip of paper.

  ‘Sir,’ he reported, ‘a strange woman left this a moment ago.’

  Bernadotte looked at it and then showed it to me. On it was written in a trembling hand: ‘General Moreau has just been arrested.’

  ‘A message from Madame Moreau which she sent by her kitchen maid.’

  Oscar fell asleep, we went downstairs, and ever since then we have been waiting for the police.

  I started writing in my diary.

  Some nights are long, so long that they never seem to end.

  Suddenly there was the noise of a carriage stopping in front of our house. Now they’re coming for him, I thought, got up quickly and went into the drawing-room. Jean-Baptiste was standing there, rigid, in the middle of the room, listening tensely. I went up to him and put my arm round his shoulders. Never before in my life had I felt so close to him.

  The door knocker banged, once, twice, three times. ‘I’ll go and see,’ said Jean-Baptiste, and freed himself from my arm. At the same time we heard voices, a man’s voice first and then a woman’s laughter. My knees went weak, I fell into the nearest chair and wiped the tears from my eyes: it was Julie, thank God, it was only Julie!

  They came into the salon, Joseph, Lucien and Julie. My hands shook as I put new candles into the candelabrum. A bright light filled the room.

  Julie was wearing her red evening gown. Obviously she had had too much champagne. Small feverish spots were burning on her cheeks and she giggled so much that she could hardly speak.

  They had all come from the Tuileries. Napoleon had been in conference all night, had worked out the details of the new Constitution and drafted a provisional list of ministers. In the end Josephine, who, meanwhile, had unpacked her trunks in the former royal apartments, had insisted on a celebration, had sent the State equipages to fetch Madame Letitia, Julie and Napoleon’s sisters, and had one of the great ballrooms in the Tuileries festively illuminated.

  ‘W
e drank such a lot,’ babbled Julie, ‘but it is such a great day, isn’t it? Napoleon will govern France, Lucien is Minister of the Interior, and Joseph is going to be Minister of Foreign Affairs – at any rate he is down on the list, and, and – you must excuse our waking you. But as we were driving past your house I said, why not say good morning to Désirée and Jean-Baptiste—’

  ‘You didn’t wake us up, we haven’t been to sleep yet,’ I said.

  ‘—and the three Consuls,’ I heard Joseph say, ‘will be assisted by a Council of State composed mainly of experts. I suppose that you, Bernadotte, will be one of the Councillors.’

  ‘Josephine is going to refurnish the Tuileries,’ Julie babbled on. ‘I don’t blame her, I don’t. Everything’s so full of dust and so old-fashioned. She wants her bedroom all white. And imagine, Napoleon wants her to have a real court like a Queen, with ladies-in-waiting and all. Just imagine! He wants other countries to see that the wife of our new Head of State knows how to represent—’

  ‘I insist that General Moreau be set free,’Jean-Baptiste’s voice broke through Julie’s patter, followed by Lucien’s, who declared that Moreau’s arrest was only a protective custody, a protection against mob excesses. ‘One never knows what the people of Paris in their enthusiasm for Napoleon and the new Constitution—’

  At that moment a clock struck six.

  ‘Good God, we must be off,’ exclaimed Julie. ‘She is waiting for us in the carriage outside. We only wanted to say good morning.’

  ‘Who’s waiting in the carriage?’ I asked.

  ‘Madame Letitia. She was too tired to get out. We promised to take her home.’

  I felt the need to speak to Madame Letitia and ran out of the house. It was misty outside, and a few shadows slipped away into the mist when they saw me. Apparently some people had waited in front of our house all night.

  Opening the door of the carriage I peered into the dark interior. ‘Madame Letitia,’ I called out, ‘it’s me, Désirée. I want to congratulate you.’

  The figure in the corner shifted. But it was so dark inside that I couldn’t see the face. ‘Congratulations? On what, my child?’