‘Where?’
‘Back to the Tuileries. The Bonapartes will be annoyed with me if I don’t take part in their celebration. Good-bye, Désirée, get better soon.’
After she had gone I lay for a long time with eyes closed. ‘Julie’s got used to the Bonapartes and their crowns,’ I thought, ‘she’s changed, oh how she has changed! Wasn’t it my fault? I brought the Bonapartes to our father’s simple, clean and unpretentious middle-class house. But I never intended all this, Father, I didn’t …’
I had to stay in bed all day, and fell asleep early in the evening. But I woke up with a start in the middle of the night to find Marie and Madame La Flotte by the side of my bed. ‘Queen Hortense asks you to see her.’
‘Now? What is the time?’
‘Two o’clock in the morning.’
‘What does she want? Didn’t you tell her I was ill, Madame La Flotte?’
Madame La Flotte’s voice squeaked with excitement. ‘Of course I did. But she won’t go. She wants to see you all the same.’
‘Hush, don’t shout,’ I said, and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, ‘you’re waking the whole house.’
‘The Queen of Holland is very agitated and is crying,’ said Madame La Flotte. I noticed that she wore an expensive dressing-gown with ermine trimmings on the sleeves and it struck me that Fouché was probably paying her dressmaker’s bills.
‘Marie,’ I said, ‘give the Queen of Holland a cup of hot chocolate, that’ll soothe her. And you, Madame La Flotte, tell her that I am not well enough to receive her.’
‘Yvette is making the chocolate for the Queen at this moment,’ said Marie, ‘and you are getting up now. I’ve told the Queen that you’ll see her at once. Come, I’ll help you. Don’t keep her waiting, she’s – crying!’
‘Tell Her Majesty I shall be with her in a few moments,’ I said to La Flotte.
Marie brought me a plain dress. ‘Better dress properly,’ she said. ‘She’ll ask you to go along with her.’
‘Where?’
‘Get dressed. I think you’ll be needed in the Tuileries.’
‘Princess,’ said Hortense, sobbing when I went out to her, ‘my mother has sent me. She asks you to come to her at once, for pity’s sake.’ Tears were streaming down her face, her nose was red and some of her mousy hair fell over her forehead.
‘But I can’t do anything for your mother,’ I said, and sat down by her side.
‘That’s what I said to Mama. But she insisted that I should ask you.’
‘Why me?’
‘I don’t know why. But it’s you she wants.’
‘And now, in the middle of the night?’
Hortense groaned. ‘The Empress can’t sleep anyway. And she won’t see anybody but you.’
‘I suppose I’d better go with you, Madame,’ I said, and sighed. Marie, standing by the door, had everything ready, hat, coat and muff.
The rooms of the Empress were only dimly lit. But her bedroom was full of light. There were candelabra everywhere, in all the corners, on all the tables, on the mantelpiece, even on the floor. Trunks stood about, wide open and half-packed. Garments were lying on every inch of floor and over the furniture, hats, gloves, robes of state, underwear, in an impossible confusion. A jewellery box stood open, its contents disarranged, and under an arm-chair glittered a diadem of brilliants.
The Empress was alone. She was lying on her bed, her arms stretched wide, her slim back shaking with desperate sobs as she cried wildly into the pillow. From the adjoining room came subdued female voices. They were probably packing there. But Josephine was alone, quite alone.
‘Mama, here is the Princess of Ponte Corvo,’ said Hortense.
Josephine did not move. She went on crying even more desperately.
‘Mama,’ said Hortense again, ‘the Princess of Ponte Corvo.’
I decided to act and went up to her bed, took her by her shoulders and turned her round. Now she was lying on her back and staring at me out of her swollen eyes. I took fright. ‘She is an old woman,’ I thought, ‘she has become an old woman in this one night.’
‘Désirée,’ she said painfully. Then the tears started flowing again. I sat down and took her hands, and at once her fingers closed round mine.
I saw her now at close quarters, without any make-up, and the many candles revealed mercilessly the ravages wrought by time and the destruction brought on by the last twenty-four hours. ‘Has Napoleon ever seen her without make-up?’ I wondered.
Josephine spoke. ‘I have tried to pack,’ she said through her tears.
‘Above all, Your Majesty must get some sleep,’ I said. I turned to Hortense: ‘Do put out all those candles, Madame!’
Hortense obeyed. Like a shadow she glided from candelabrum to candelabrum till only one tiny night-light remained.
Josephine’s tears had dried up at last. In their place came short hard sobs which shook her whole body and seemed to be worse than tears.
‘Your Majesty must sleep now,’ I repeated, and tried to rise. But her fingers would not let me go.
‘You must stay with me to-night, Désirée,’ said her trembling voice. ‘You know how he loves me. He loves me, better than anybody else in the world. You know that, don’t you? Don’t you? Better than anybody else—’
So that’s why she wanted to see me to-night. Because I knew how much he loved her! If only I could help her!
‘Yes, Madame, he loves you, only you. When he met you, he forgot everything and everybody else. Me, for instance. You remember, Madame?’
An amused smile flitted round her mouth. ‘You threw a glass of champagne at me. They couldn’t get the stains out of my frock afterwards … I made you so unhappy then, little Désirée. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to.’
I stroked her head and let her go on talking about the past. How old had she been then? About as old as I was now.
‘Mama, you will be all right at Malmaison. You always looked upon it as your real home, didn’t you?’
Josephine started, torn from her reminiscences into the present. ‘Hortense is staying on in the Tuileries,’ she said, trying to catch my eyes. The smile had gone, she looked aged and tired once more. ‘She is still hoping that Bonaparte will make one of her sons his successor. I should never have allowed her marriage to his brother. She has had so little out of life, a husband whom she hates and a stepfather whom she—’ – whom she loves, Josephine had wanted to say. But before she could say it Hortense rushed up to the bed. Did she want to hit her mother? I held her back. At that she began to sob helplessly.
‘We can’t go on like this,’ I thought; ‘now Hortense is having hysterics and will set the Empress off again at any moment.’ ‘Get up, Hortense, and pull yourself together,’ I said. Who was I to give orders to the Queen of Holland? All the same, the Queen of Holland obeyed at once. ‘Your mother needs rest now, and so do you. When is Her Majesty going to Malmaison?’
‘Bonaparte wishes me to leave to-morrow morning,’ whispered Josephine. ‘He’s already ordered the workmen to get my rooms in—’
The rest of the sentence was drowned in renewed floods of tears. I turned to Hortense.
‘Did Dr Corvisart not leave any sleeping draught for Her Majesty?’
‘He did. But Mama will not take it. She thinks they want to poison her.’
I looked at the crying Josephine. ‘He has known all along,’ she stammered, ‘all along that I could not have any more children. I told him once because I expected one and Barras—’ She broke off and then, suddenly, screamed: ‘And this bungler, this blunderer, this oaf to whom I was dragged by Barras ruined me completely, ruined me, ruined me!’
‘Hortense, ask one of the ladies-in-waiting to bring a cup of hot tea, and then go and rest. I shall stay here till Her Majesty is asleep. Where is the sleeping draught?’
Hortense found a small bottle among the heap of bottles, flagons and tins on the dressing-table, and handed it to me. ‘Five drops, Dr Corvisart said.’
Thank
you. Good night, Madame.’
I undressed Josephine and put her to bed. When the tea came I emptied the whole contents of the little bottle into the cup, six drops. ‘So much the better,’ I thought.
Josephine sat up obediently and hastily drank the tea. ‘It tastes like everything in my life,’ she said, and smiled, bringing back in that smile a likeness of the former Josephine, ‘it tastes very sweet with a bitter after-taste.’
She dropped back on the pillows. ‘You were not at the – at the ceremony this morning,’ she said in a tired voice.
‘No, I thought you’d prefer it.’
‘I did.’ There was a little pause. I heard her breathe more regularly now. ‘You and Lucien were the only Bonapartes not present.’
‘But I am not a Bonaparte at all,’ I said. ‘My sister Julie is married to a Bonaparte, and that is as far as the relationship goes.’
‘Don’t leave him, Désirée.’
‘Whom?’
‘Bonaparte.’
The draught seemed to have set her mind adrift and soothed her at the same time. I stroked her hand evenly and without much thought, a hand with prominent veins, the hand of a frail, ageing woman.
‘When he loses his power,’ she went on, ‘—and why should he not? All men I have known lost their power and some even their head like the late Beauharnais. When he loses his power—’ Her lids fell and I let go of her hand. ‘Stay with me. I am afraid.’
‘I shall go and sit down in the next room and wait till Your Majesty has had a good night’s rest. Then I shall accompany you to Malmaison,’ I said.
‘Yes, to Malmai—’ she said and fell asleep.
I put out the candle and went into the other room, which was in complete darkness. I felt my way to the window, drew the curtains aside and looked into a grey, gloomy winter dawn. Near the window I found a deep arm-chair. I took off my shoes and settled myself in the chair with my legs tucked under my body. My head ached furiously and I was tired. Utter silence reigned everywhere.
Suddenly I started. Someone had come into the room and the flicker of a candle moved along the walls towards the fireplace. I heard the subdued clanking of spurs.
I craned my neck round to try to look over the high back of the chair towards the fireplace. Who dared to enter without knocking the chamber adjoining the bedroom of the Empress?
Who? He, of course.
He was standing in front of the fireplace gazing attentively round the room. I made an instinctive movement. At once he turned his face towards the chair. ‘Is anybody here?’
‘It is only I, Sire.’
‘Who is “I”?’ His voice sounded furious.
‘The Princess of Ponte Corvo,’ I said, and tried to get my legs from under me to sit up properly and put on my shoes. But my feet had got numb and were full of pins and needles.
‘The Princess of Ponte Corvo?’ Incredulous, he came over to me.
‘I am sorry, Your Majesty, my feet are numb and I can’t find my shoes. One moment, please,’ I stammered. At last I found my shoes, got up and made my formal curtsey.
‘Tell me, Princess, what are you doing here at this time of night?’
‘That’s what I’m asking myself, Sire,’ I said, rubbing my eyes. He took my hand. ‘Her Majesty has asked me to keep her company to-night. She is sleeping, at last.’ He said nothing, and as I had the feeling that he was annoyed I added: ‘I should like to withdraw so as not to disturb Your Majesty. But I don’t know where one can withdraw to from this room, and I don’t want to wake the Empress.’
‘You don’t disturb me, Eugenie. Keep your seat.’
Meanwhile the morning had grown lighter. I sat down again, desperately fighting my tiredness.
‘I could not sleep,’ he said abruptly. ‘I wanted to say good-bye to this place. The workmen are coming to-morrow, no, this morning.’
I nodded. But I found it embarrassing to have to be present at this leave-taking.
‘See here, Eugenie. That is she. Do you not think that she is beautiful?’
He held a snuff-box out to me, which had a portrait painted on its lid. Before I could look at it he went across to the mantelpiece, fetched a candlestick and held the box against its light. It showed a round girlish face with blue eyes and very pink cheeks. The whole face gave an impression of pinkness.
‘It’s so difficult for me to judge from these snuff-box miniatures,’ I said. ‘They all look alike to me.’
‘I am told that Marie-Louise of Austria is very beautiful.’ He opened the box, took snuff and pressed his handkerchief against his face, a very elegant and well-trained way of taking snuff.
He put portrait and handkerchief away and looked at me penetratingly. ‘I still don’t understand how you got here, Princess.’
As he gave no sign of sitting down I wanted to get up again. He pushed me back into the chair. ‘You must be dead-tired, Eugenie. I can tell by your face. Tell me, what are you doing here at all?’
‘The Empress wanted to see me. I remind Her Majesty—’ I swallowed, it was such a difficult thing to say – ‘I remind Her Majesty of the afternoon when she got engaged to General Bonaparte. It was a very happy time in the life of Her Majesty.’
He nodded. Then, without more ado, he sat on the arm of my chair. ‘Yes, it was a very happy time in the life of Her Majesty. And in yours, Princess?’
‘I was very unhappy, Sire. But it is so long ago and the wound is no longer there,’ I said in a low voice. I was so tired and so cold that I forgot who was sitting next to me. Only when my head dropped sideways and on to his arm did I realise what had happened and was overcome with fright. ‘Do excuse me, Your Majesty.’
‘Leave your head where it is. I shall not be quite so alone then.’ He tried to put his arms around my shoulders and to pull me towards him. But I made myself stiff and leaned my head against the back of the chair.
‘I was very happy in this room, Eugenie.’
I didn’t move.
‘The Hapsburgs are one of the oldest dynasties in the world, do you know that?’ he said without any preliminaries. ‘An Archduchess of Austria is worthy of the Emperor of the French.’
I sat up, trying to see his face. Did he really mean that? A Hapsburg Princess just about good enough for the son of the Corsican lawyer Buonaparte?
He stared in front of him and then, unexpectedly, shot a question at me: ‘Can you dance the waltz?’
I nodded.
‘Can you show me how to do it? They told me in Vienna that all the Austrian girls dance it. But at that time in Schönbrunn I had no time for it. Show me how to dance it.’
I shook my head. ‘Not now, not here.’
His face became distorted and he shouted: ‘Now! And here!’
I pointed to the door to Josephine’s bedroom. ‘Sire, you will wake her up.’
He only lowered his voice. ‘Show it me! At once. This is an order, Princess.’
I got to my feet. ‘It is difficult without music,’ I said. Then I started turning slowly, counting, ‘One two three and one two three, that’s how you dance the waltz, Your Majesty.’
But he didn’t look at me at all. He was still sitting on the arm of my chair staring into space.
I raised my voice a bit. ‘And one two three and one two three.’
He looked up now. The grey morning light made his face heavy and bloated. ‘I was so happy with her, Eugenie.’
I stopped dead and looked at him, not knowing what to do. At last I brought out: ‘Is it – necessary, Your Majesty?’
‘I can’t wage a three-front war. There are revolts in the south, there is the Channel coast, and Austria—’ He chewed his lower lip. ‘Austria will leave me in peace once the Austrian Emperor’s daughter is my wife. My friend, the Tsar of Russia, is arming, my dear Princess, and I shall only manage to cope with my friend, the Tsar of Russia, if Austria keeps out for good.’ He pulled out the snuff-box and regarded the portrait once more. ‘She will be my hostage, my sweet young hostage.’
>
He got up with a jerk and looked round the room very intently. ‘That is what it was like here,’ he murmured as if he wanted to commit to memory once and for all the details of the room. When he turned towards the door I curtsied deeply. With an abrupt movement he put his hand on my hair and stroked it absent-mindedly. ‘Can I do anything for you, my dear Princess?’
‘Yes, if Your Majesty would be kind enough to send me some breakfast. Strong coffee, if possible.’
He laughed out loud, a young, carefree laugh, and left the room.
At nine o’clock in the morning I accompanied the Empress out of the Tuileries through a back door. There her carriage was waiting for us.
She wore one of the three priceless sable coats which the Russian Tsar had given the Emperor as a present when they met in Erfurt. The second he had put round Polette’s shoulders. What happened to the third nobody knows. Josephine was made up very carefully, her face looked almost as sweet as ever, betraying only the slightest signs of age.
Hortense was waiting for us in the carriage. ‘I had hoped,’ said Josephine in a low voice, ‘that Bonaparte would come to say good-bye to me.’ She bent forward to see the rows of windows in the Tuileries. There were curious faces behind every one of them. The carriage moved off.
‘The Emperor rode to Versailles early this morning,’ said Hortense. ‘He intends to spend a few days with his mother.’
Not another word was spoken during the whole of the journey to Malmaison.
Paris, the end of June 1810
She really looks like a sausage. Our new Empress, I mean.
The wedding festivities are over, and it is said that the Emperor spent about five million francs in furnishing Marie-Louise’s room in the Tuileries.
It began in March when Marshal Berthier was sent to Vienna to ask formally for the hand of the Emperor’s daughter. The wedding took place there by proxy. Afterwards Caroline was sent to the frontier to receive the Emperor’s wife. On the way to Paris, near Courcelles, two disguised men on horseback stopped the coach and forced themselves inside. It was the Emperor and Murat. They broke the journey at Compiègne Castle, and next morning Napoleon had his breakfast by Marie-Louise’s bedside. They had had their wedding night before Uncle Fesch repeated the wedding ceremony in Paris.
Desiree Page 36