Napoleon And Blucher Part 67

Let us say no more about it. He is poor; that was all I wished to say. He is unable to endow his daughters, and I have, therefore, taken this upon myself. You know now, my son, what my savings are for."

"But I am just as well your son as Lucien," said the emperor, in a bland voice; "you may very well have laid by money for both of your sons. I am in the same predicament as my brother. I am poor, and need money. Hence I come to you, to my mother, and pray you, let me have some of your savings. I know you have money; I need it, and you would place me under the greatest obligations if you would lend me a large sum."

Madame Let.i.tia gravely shook her head. "You are mistaken, sire," she said; "I have only as much as I need."

The emperor's forehead darkened more and more. "Madame," he cried, in a tone of irritation, "I repeat to you, it is a great favor which I ask of you!"

"And I repeat that I have no money to spare; I had some, but sent it recently to Lucien, who needs it."

"Well, then, let us say no more about it," replied the emperor, rising, and, as if to overcome his vexation, turning toward the paintings, and closely inspecting one after another. "You have very fine paintings, madame," he said, after a pause.

"Yes, the work of great masters," replied madame, composedly. "You reproach me with being very parsimonious, sire; I have, however, paid very large sums to artists."

"I am especially delighted with this landscape," said the emperor, standing in front of the Swiss landscape, on which he had repeatedly cast furtive glances.

"Well, it is very fine and costly," said madame.

The emperor was silent, and looked up again attentively to the painting. He then turned toward his mother, who stood near him.

"Mother," he exclaimed, "I asked money of you, and you refused it.

Will you refuse my request, too, if I ask you to present me with this fine landscape?"

"On the contrary," said madame, "I am glad to be able to fulfil your majesty's wish. I shall have the painting conveyed to the Tuileries this very day."

"No," exclaimed the emperor, smiling, "it will be better to take it at once with me in my carriage. You are so economical, mother, you might repent of having given me so costly a present, and might want to keep it."

"Sire," said madame, solemnly, "the emperor's mother pledges you her word that you shall receive the painting this very day."

"Madame," replied her proud son, no less solemnly, "the emperor's mother also pledged me her word that she has no money to lend me, and yet I venture to believe that she has laid by a great deal.

Pardon me, therefore, if I persist in taking the painting with me,-- Delia, Delia!" The door of the corridor opened, and old Cordelia looked in. "Run, Cordelia, and tell my two valets de chambre, Constant and Roustan, to come hither at once."

Cordelia disappeared, and Napoleon now turned his head slowly toward his mother. Madame Let.i.tia became pale; large drops stood on her forehead; her eyes were flas.h.i.+ng with angry excitement, and her lips were quivering. But overcoming her agitation she forced herself to smile, and offered her hand to the emperor. "Come, my son, let us go into my cabinet and take coffee. It is unnecessary for us to be present with the servants. Come, sire."

The emperor did not take her hand, but, slightly bowing, drew back.

"Permit me to stay, madame, till my servants have taken the painting from the wall."

Madame could not suppress a sigh, and clutched a chair, as if she needed a support.

The door opened, and the two imperial valets de chambre, Constant and Roustan, entered. "Come here," cried the emperor, "take this down and carry it into my carriage." The valets hastened to take the painting carefully from the wall. The emperor's glance pa.s.sed over the spot which it had covered. He saw that part of the silk hangings looked somewhat fresher and darker than the rest. "One would think the wall here were wet, and had moistened the hangings," he said, laying his hand on the dark spot. "No," he then exclaimed, "the wall is hollow here! Let us see what it means."

Madame uttered a cry, and, sinking into a chair, closed her eyes.

The emperor now hastily tore off the dark piece covering the wall, and behind it was a deep square hole, in which stood a rather large- sized iron box. "Ah! do you see, madame," cried the emperor, smiling gayly, "I discover here a secret which you yourself were ignorant of. It is evidently a box which the former proprietors of this palace concealed here during the revolution from the rapacious hands of the Jacobins."

Madame made no reply; her eyes were still closed, and she sat pale and motionless.

"The box is heavy!" added the emperor, trying to lift it up.

"Constant, fetch the footmen to a.s.sist you in carrying it into my carriage.--I will take it with me, madame," he said, turning toward his mother, "I will personally examine its contents." At this moment Constant returned with four footmen, and the six men succeeded at length in lifting the iron box. "Now carry it immediately into my carriage," commanded the emperor.

Panting under their heavy load, the men left the room. The emperor looked after them until the door closed. He then turned again toward his mother, who sat motionless and with her eyes closed. "Farewell, mother," he said; "I am anxious to examine the contents of the box which I was lucky enough to find. But I must not dare now to deprive you of your beautiful painting. This hole in the wall must be covered, and your imperial highness might not at once have another picture worthy of replacing this landscape. I thank you, therefore, for your present, and take the will for the deed. Farewell, madame!"

He bowed and walked slowly toward the door. [Footnote: Le Normand, "Memoires," vol. ii., p. 448.]

Madame Let.i.tia said nothing, and made no movement to return the emperor's salutation. As he departed, she groaned and wept. "Five millions!" she murmured, after a pause--"the savings of long years has my son taken from me. Five millions!--the dower that I had laid by for Lucien's daughters--that I had economized for the time when these days of prosperity will end." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed aloud. At length her grief seemed somewhat calmed, and she raised her head again. "Well," she said, aloud, "I formerly supported my family of nine children on an income of less than a hundred louis d'ors a year; if need be, I can do so again, and I hope I shall have at least so much left that Lucien and his daughters will not starve. I must be even more parsimonious."

[Footnote: Lucien, the ablest and n.o.blest of Napoleon's brothers, lived in constant dissension with him, for he would not submit to his will. He declined the throne of Naples because the emperor imposed the condition that he should govern in precise accordance with the orders given him. He married a distinguished and beautiful Roman lady, and when Napoleon afterward offered him the throne of Tuscany on condition that he should get a divorce from his wife, Lucien refused, and preferred to live in obscurity outside of France, and to dispense with the splendor surrounding his family.]

Two days afterward, on the 25th of January, the emperor left Paris for his army, and entered upon the last struggle. He was fully aware of the dangers threatening him. Hence, prior to leaving Paris, he put his house in order. The regency by letters-patent was conferred on the Empress Maria Louisa, but with her was conjoined his brother Joseph, under the t.i.tle of lieutenant-general of the empire; and Cambaceres, the arch-chancellor, was placed at the head of the council of state. The emperor then received the officers of the National Guard of Paris in the apartments of the Tuileries. The empress preceded him on entering the apartments, carrying the King of Rome in her arms. Greeting the officers, the emperor said: "Gentlemen of the National Guard of Paris, I am glad to see you a.s.sembled here. I am about to set out for the army. I intrust to you what I hold dearest in the world--my wife and my son. Let there be no political divisions; let the respect for property, the maintenance of order, and, above all, the love of France, animate every heart. I do not disguise that, in the course of the military operations to ensue, the enemy may approach in force to Paris; it will be an affair of only a few days: before they are pa.s.sed I will be on the flanks and rear, and annihilate those who have dared to invade our country. Efforts will be made to cause you to waver in your allegiance and the fulfilment of your duty; but I firmly rely on your resisting such perfidious temptations. Farewell, and G.o.d bless us all!" [Footnote: Constant, "Memoires," vol. vl., p. 7.]

Then, taking his son in his arms, he went through the ranks of the officers, and, presenting him to them as their future sovereign, he exclaimed, in a voice tremulous with emotion: "I intrust him to you; I intrust him to the love of my loyal city of Paris!"

The National Guard responded by protestations of fidelity and devotedness. Cries of enthusiasm rent the apartments; tears were shed, and a sense of the solemnity of the moment penetrated every mind. All shouted, "Long live the emperor! Long live the empress!"

Maria Louisa, pale with emotion, her face bathed in tears, leaned her head on the emperor's shoulder; and, holding his son in his left arm, he placed his right around the trembling form of his consort.

At the sight of this touching group the enthusiasm of the National Guard knew no bounds. They wept, cheered, and swore they would die to a man rather than forsake the emperor--that they would allow Paris to be laid in ruins by the artillery of the enemy rather than surrender the empress and the King of Rome.

But this enthusiasm of the National Guard met with no response beyond the Tuileries. Paris maintained an ominous silence, and, when the emperor rode through the city at night, the streets were deserted; no one had awaited him to pay homage on his departure.

Paris was asleep--its sleep that of exhaustion--and the people were dreaming, perhaps, that adversity was hastening upon them.

FALL OF PARIS.

CHAPTER XLVII.

THE BATTLE OF LA ROTHIERE.

The morning of the 1st of February dawned cold and gloomy; heavy gusts, driving the snow across the plain, gave to the landscape a sad and dreary aspect. Silence reigned in the camps of the hostile armies. In that of Napoleon at Brienne, and farther down the valley at the village of La Rothiere, on this side of the Aube, the camp- fires of the night were flickering in the gray morning, and far away on the horizon were seen the dark outlines of the castle of Brienne.

There Napoleon had pa.s.sed the last night of January, and in the vicinity encamped his troops, scarcely thirty thousand strong, the remnant of that "grand army" which the emperor had so often led to victory.

In the camp of the Silesian army, too, all was quiet. It encamped beyond the Aube, on the heights of Trannes and Felance, in the vineyards and the forests of Beaulieu; it was enjoying repose after a prolonged exposure and privation. But its commander-in-chief, Field-Marshal Blucher, seemed to have no need of rest. Scarcely had daylight dawned when he was already on horseback, and rode to the crest of the mountain, by the side of his faithful adviser and friend General Gneisenau, and followed by his pipe-master. From the crest he was able to survey the whole valley of La Rothiers and Brienne, lying at a distance of scarcely four miles.

Blucher raised his right arm toward the city and heaved a deep sigh.

"Gneisenau," he said, "I am deeply mortified at the defeat which Bonaparte inflicted on us two days ago. I cannot get over it, and can imagine what a hue-and-cry the distinguished gentlemen at headquarters have raised, and how the trubsalsspritzen are croaking again: Blucher is a crazy hussar who always wants to drive his head through a wall, and yet cannot get through it, and only causes us all a vast deal of trouble.' I can imagine how the peace apostles are raising their voices again, crying that war ought to cease, and we should run home because we did not gain the battle of Brienne. It is indispensable, therefore, for us, Gneisenau, to strike a good blow and get even with Napoleon. Yonder the fellow stands, with his few thousand men, showing his teeth, as if he were still the lion that needed only to shake his mane to frighten us off as flies. I will show him that I am no fly, but a man who is able at any time to cope with him and such as are with him. Gneisenau, we cannot help it; we must attack him this very day. We must silence the trubsalsspritzen, in order to accelerate our operations against Paris."

"You are right, field-marshal," said Gneisenau; "we must strike a decisive blow, and compel the gentlemen at headquarters to discontinue their present system of procrastination. We must show Napoleon that we have also pa.s.sed through a military school, though not at Brienne."

"It makes me feel angry, Gneisenau, that we were unable to show him that at the very city of Brienne. I had thought how well it would be for me to prove to him, at the place where he pa.s.sed his examination and received his first commission, that I had also pa.s.sed my examination and learned something. Well, it is no use crying about it now; we must, try to get over it, and only think of the best manner in which we may be even with him. General Wrede must join us with his troops at noon to-day, when we shall be--stronger than Bonaparte, Marment, and all his marshals together."

"See!" cried Gneisenou, whose eyes were directed to the camp of the enemy, "the troops yonder have put themselves in motion; I see it quite distinctly now that the view is clearer. But they are not advancing."

"No," cried Blucher, "they are retreating; they intend to escape us; Bonaparte wishes to avoid a battle. But that will not do; I must have my battle here! How am I to get to Paris if I do not rout his forces? how am I to pull him down if the present state of affairs goes on as heretofore? A blow must be struck now; we must take revenge for Brienne today!"

"Wrede will be here with his troops at noon," said Gneisenau, thoughtfully; "let us, therefore, attack the enemy at twelve o'clock, and make all necessary dispositions for it. Above all, couriers should be sent to headquarters."

"Yes, Gneisenau, it is your province to attend to all that, for you know well that you are the head and I am the arm. Consider all that is necessary; I know only that Bonaparte contemplates a retreat, and that I must compel him to accept battle. I have felt sad enough for the past three days; for, say yourself, Gneisenau, is it not sheer arrogance for Bonaparte to remain here so long quietly in front of us, as though he intended to give us time for uniting our forces, and thought we were after all, too cowardly to defeat him?"

"It is, perhaps, not arrogance, but disgust and weariness," said Gneisenau, thoughtfully. "The prince of battles seems to be exhausted, and to have lost confidence."

"A pretty fellow he is whom misfortunes at once exhaust," grumbled Blucher, "and who is courageous only as long as he is successful!

But I do not object to this disposition of Bonaparte, for every thing turns out now highly advantageous to us. The Austrians, the Wurtembergers, and the Bavarians, have come up, and will cooperate with us. Gneisenau, dispatch your couriers to headquarters, that the monarchs may come. Take out your note-book; I will dictate to you what occurs to me, and what are my plans in regard to the battle.-- Halloo, Christian! give me a pipe! I can think much better when smoking!"