‘Well, Napoleon,’ she said, ‘what is it you don’t like about your sister-in-law Christine Boyer from St Maximin?’
‘You, all of you, don’t you understand me? An inn-keeper’s daughter, a village wench who every night in an ale-house waits on the farmers of the district? Mother, I don’t understand you.’
‘As far as I know, Christine Boyer is a very good girl and has a very good reputation,’ said Madame Letitia, letting her eyes stray for a moment over Josephine’s small white figure.
Suddenly Joseph’s voice rang out: ‘After all, we can’t all marry former – hm – countesses!’
At that I noticed Josephine flinch almost imperceptibly, but her smile grew wider. Her son Eugene flushed to the roots of her hair.
Napoleon swept round and stared at Joseph. One could see a little vein pulsating in his right temple. After a moment he passed his hand across his forehead, turned abruptly away from Joseph and said cuttingly:
‘I have the right to expect suitable marriages from my brothers. And you, Mother, I want to write to Lucien at once to tell him to get a divorce or to have his marriage declared void. Tell him that I demand it. Josephine, can’t we eat yet?’
And at that moment our eyes met! For a fraction of a second we looked at each other. There it was, the dreaded, hated and yet so badly longed-for meeting! Quickly he left the doorway, pushed the angular Hortense out of his way and took my hands:
‘Eugenie! How glad I am that you accepted our invitation!’
His eyes never left my face. He smiled, and his lean features were filled with youth and the glow of life, as on that day when he promised Mama that he would wait for our wedding till my sixteenth birthday.
‘How beautiful you’ve become, Eugenie,’ he said. ‘And you’re grown up, quite grown up!’
I took my hands out of his: ‘I am eighteen now, after all,’ I said, and I thought I sounded gauche and not very sure of myself. ‘And we haven’t seen each other for years.’ Well, that at any rate sounded a bit better.
‘Yes, it’s a long time, far too long, Eugenie, isn’t it? The last time, let me see, where did we meet the last time?’ He cast another glance at me and then broke out laughing. His eyes sparkled as he remembered our last meeting, finding it very funny indeed, very funny.
‘Josephine, Josephine,’ he called, ‘you must meet Eugenie, Julie’s sister. I’ve told you so much about Eugenie.’
‘But Julie told me that Mademoiselle Eugenie prefers to be called Désirée,’ Josephine said as she came nearer and stood beside Napoleon. Nothing in her Mona Lisa smile betrayed any recognition of me. ‘It was very kind of you to come, Mademoiselle.’
‘I should like to have a word with you, General,’ I said quickly, and his smile froze. He probably thought that I was going to make a scene, a sentimental childish scene. So I added: ‘It’s about a rather serious matter.’
Josephine hastily put her arm through his. ‘Dinner is ready,’ she announced, ‘do come and sit down, please!’
At the table I found myself between that boring Leclerc and shy young Eugene de Beauharnais. Napoleon talked carelessly and addressed himself mainly to Joseph and Leclerc. When we had finished the soup he hadn’t even started it. I remembered that in his Marseilles days this desire to talk overcame him only intermittently, and when it did he spoke in jerky sentences supported by dramatic gestures. Now he was speaking very fluently and with great self-assurance and did not seem to want any objections or replies. When he began to talk about ‘our arch-enemies, the British’ Polette emitted a moaning: ‘Oh God, now he’s off on that tack again!’ and we were treated in great detail to all the reasons why he did not want to go on with the invasion of Britain. He had, he explained, made a comprehensive study of the coast round Dunkirk and had had the idea of building flat-bottomed invasion barges which could land in small fishing ports, as the big ports suitable for berthing men-of-war were too heavily fortified.
‘Bonaparte, we’ve all finished our soup. Do start yours!’ I heard Josephine’s gentle voice, ‘So,’ I thought, ‘she calls him Bonaparte instead of Napoleon and she doesn’t “thou” him. Perhaps that is aristocratic etiquette; I wager she never called her first husband anything but Monsieur le Vicomte!’
Napoleon hadn’t heard her admonition. He bent over the table towards Leclerc, who was sitting opposite him: ‘Imagine,’ he exclaimed, ‘imagine, Leclerc, by air! To be able to transport whole battalions by air across the Channel and drop them at strategic points in England! Battalions, provided even with light artillery transported by air!’
Leclerc opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again.
‘Don’t drink so much and don’t drink so quickly, my boy,’ Madame Letitia’s deep voice boomed across the table.
Napoleon put his wine-glass down at once and hastily began to eat. A silence fell for a few seconds, broken only by Caroline’s senseless giggling. Then we heard Bacciochi, to whom the silence must have felt uncomfortable, say:
‘Pity your grenadiers couldn’t grow wings!’
Napoleon at once started up again and turned to Joseph: ‘You never know,’ he said, ‘I may yet be able to attack by air. Some inventors came to see me and showed me their plans of giant balloons capable of carrying three or four men and of keeping afloat in the air for hours. Highly interesting, full of fantastic possibilities!’
At last he had finished his soup and Josephine rang for the next course, chicken and asparagus sauce. As we were eating it Napoleon explained to Caroline and Hortense what the Pyramids were. Then he went on to tell the assembled company that, in Egypt, he was going not only to destroy Britain’s colonial power but also to liberate the Egyptians.
‘My first Order-of-the-Day to my troops—’ bang, his chair had fallen over because in his excitement he had jumped up and pushed it back and run out of the room. Within a second he returned carrying a closely written sheet. ‘Here, you must hear this: “Soldiers, forty centuries look down on you!” That,’ he said, turning to us, ‘is the age of the Pyramids. This Order-of-the-Day will be published there, under the shadow of the Pyramids. To continue: “The people in whose midst we find ourselves are Mohammedan. Their credo runs: God is God and Mahomet is his prophet—”’
‘The Mohammedans call God Allah,’ interrupted Eliza. She had started to read a lot of books in Paris and liked to show off the knowledge she had acquired.
Napoleon frowned and brushed her interruption aside. ‘I’ll work the details out later,’ he said. ‘Here is the most important passage: “Don’t raise your voices against their faith. Treat them, the Egyptians, as you’ve treated Jews and Italians. Show the Muftis and Imams the same respect which you have shown to priests and rabbis.”’ Here he paused and looked at us. ‘Well?’
‘It’s fortunate for the Egyptians that under the laws of the Republic you are to liberate them for the cause of the Rights of Man,’ Joseph said.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘That the Rights of Man are the guiding principles of this Order-of-the-Day. And they didn’t come from your brain.’ Not a muscle moved in Joseph’s face as he said that, and I remembered for the first time in years what I had felt in Marseilles: that he really hated his brother.
‘You’ve said that very beautifully, my boy,’ said Madame Letitia’s voice soothingly.
‘Please do eat up, Bonaparte,’ urged Josephine, ‘We’re expecting a lot of people after dinner.’
Obediently Napoleon crammed the good food into his mouth.
I happened to notice Hortense at this moment. This child – no, at fourteen you’re no longer a child, don’t I know! – well, this awkward youngster Hortense, who didn’t at all resemble her lovely mother, never took her somewhat protuberant watery eyes off Napoleon, and there were hectic patches of red on her cheeks. I realised Hortense was in love with her stepfather, and I found this thought sad and depressing rather than funny. Eugene interrupted and said:
‘Mama wants to drink your health.’
I raised my glass to her, and smilingly, slowly, she raised hers and drank. When she put it down again she winked at me. I knew exactly what it meant: she remembered … the day at Madame Tallien’s …
We went to the other room for coffee. There were a lot of people waiting there who wanted to wish Napoleon luck and God-speed. I had the feeling that all Madame Tallien’s former clients were now trying to force their way into Josephine’s little house. Men in uniforms were quite numerous, among them my intended suitors Junot and Marmont, whom I gave a wide berth. I heard them tell the ladies laughingly that once in Egypt they would have their hair cut short. ‘We’d look like Roman heroes,’ they insisted, ‘and besides it’ll keep the lice away.’ One very smart officer with wavy dark hair, sparkling eyes and a flat nose told Madame Letitia that it was Napoleon’s idea.
‘I don’t doubt it, General Murat,’ she answered, ‘he’s always full of mad ideas.’
She seemed to have taken a liking to this young officer whose blue tunic was covered with braid and his white trousers with gold embroidery. I think Madame Letitia is rather fond of colourful southern splendour.
A little later Josephine told three young people to get up from a small sofa to make room for an important guest. This was no other than Barras, one of the five Directors of the French Republic, in gold-embroidered purple uniform, and a lorgnette in his hand. Joseph and Napoleon Bonaparte at once took the seats on either side of him, and over their shoulders leaned a thin man whose peaked nose seemed familiar. Of course, he was one of the two men whom I had seen in the window niche at Madame Tallien’s, a certain Fouché, I believe.
Eugene, perspiring madly, apparently thought it his job to find chairs for the guests. Without any warning he pushed fat Eliza and me down on to two chairs immediately in front of the sofa on which Barras was holding court. He also found a gilded arm-chair for ‘the Minister of Police’, M. Fouché. But when an elegant young man with a slight limp and an old-fashioned powdered wig approached our group Fouché immediately jumped to his feet again. ‘My dear Talleyrand,’ he exclaimed, ‘won’t you sit down with us?’
They talked about our Ambassador to Vienna, who was on his way home. Something sensational seemed to have happened in Vienna. I gathered from the conversation that, on an Austrian national holiday, the Ambassador had flown the flag of our Republic and that thereupon the Viennese had attacked the Embassy to tear the flag down.
All that was new to me. I never have the chance to read a paper because of Joseph, who, as soon as they arrive, takes them away and reads them in his study. And if later on Julie and I want to see them we find that Joseph has cut out all the important articles and taken them to Napoleon to talk them over. So I never have an inkling of what goes on in the world. This incident had apparently happened almost as soon as we had made our peace with Austria and installed an Embassy there.
‘It seems to me, M. Talleyrand,’ said Joseph, ‘that you shouldn’t have sent a General to Vienna as our Ambassador but a professional diplomat.’
Talleyrand raised his thin eyebrows and smiled. ‘Our Republic does not as yet dispose of sufficient professional diplomats, M. Bonaparte. We have to call in auxiliaries from outside the diplomatic service. You yourself helped us out in Italy, didn’t you?’
That went home. So Joseph was only an ‘auxiliary diplomat’ in the eyes of this M. Talleyrand who, it appeared, was our Minister for Foreign Affairs.
‘And in any case,’ I heard the nasal voice of Director Barras say, ‘in any case, this man Bernadotte is one of our ablest men, don’t you think so, General Bonaparte? I seem to remember that at one time in Italy you needed reinforcements very urgently, and the Minister for War ordered Bernadotte to take the best division of the Rhine Army to Italy. And how did this man from Gascogne manage it? He crossed the Alps in the depths of winter with a whole division within ten hours, six for the ascent, four for the descent! If I remember correctly a letter from you, General, written at that time, you yourself were most impressed by this feat.’
‘No doubt Bernadotte is an excellent General,’ said Joseph, shrugging his shoulders, ‘but a diplomat? A politician?’
‘I believe he was quite right in showing the flag of our Republic in Vienna. Why should the French Embassy not hoist its own standards when all the other buildings showed their flags?’ Talleyrand said thoughtfully. ‘After the violation of the extra-territorial status of our Embassy, General Bernadotte left Vienna at once. But I feel that the apology from the Austrian Government will arrive in Paris even before he arrives. In any case, there was no one better suited than he for the post in Vienna,’ he concluded, examining the polished finger-nails of his small hand.
A barely perceptible smile showed on Barras’ blueish, somewhat bloated face as he pronounced Bernadotte a very far-sighted man with great political acumen. Then he added, dropping his lorgnette and fixing his gaze on Napoleon, whose lips were pressed together and in whose temple the little vein was pulsating: ‘A convinced Republican, this Bernadotte, determined to destroy all the enemies of the Republic, both external and – internal!’
‘And what will be his next appointment?’ broke in Joseph with obvious jealous impatience.
Barras’ lorgnette sparkled in the light as he answered: ‘The Republic needs reliable men. I imagine that a General who started his military career as a private soldier is bound to enjoy the confidence of the Army. And as he happens to enjoy the confidence of the Government as well it could only be natural if—’
‘He were in the future to become Minister of War!’ That was the voice of the man with the peaked nose, Fouché, the Minister of Police.
Before Barras could say any more Theresa Tallien, in a very thin Venetian lace blouse, appeared before him. ‘Our beautiful Theresa,’ he smiled, and rose heavily to his feet.
Theresa motioned him to sit down again. ‘Don’t get up, Director,’ she said. ‘And look, there’s our Italian hero! Isn’t it a charming afternoon, General Bonaparte, and doesn’t Josephine look charming? I am told that you are taking little Eugene along with you to the Pyramids as your adjutant. May I introduce to you M. Ouvrard, the man who supplied ten thousand pairs of boots for your Italian Army? Ouvrard, here he is in person: France’s strong man!’ The rotund little man who followed in her wake bowed deeply.
Eliza dug me in the ribs: ‘Her latest boy friend! Army contractor Ouvrard! Not so long ago she was still living with Barras whom she had stolen from Josephine. Did you know that? But now that old fool sticks to the fifteen year olds. An uncouth chap I find him! His hair is dyed, of course. No one has hair as black as that.’
All at once I felt I couldn’t stand it any longer on this chair next to the perspiring, odiously perfumed Eliza. I jumped to my feet and pushed my way to the door in order to find a mirror outside in the small hall where I could powder my face.
The hall was half dark. Before I got to the candles flickering in front of the tall mirror I had a fright. Two figures leaning close to each other in a corner suddenly separated. One of them was in a white gown.
‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ I said.
The white-gowned figure came forward into the light of the candle. It was Josephine.
‘Sorry? Why?’ she said, smoothing her babyish curls with a fugitive movement of her hand. ‘May I introduce M. Charles to you? Hippolyte, this is Joseph’s charming sister-in-law, sister-in-law of my brother-in-law, that’s our relationship, is it not, Mademoiselle Désirée?’
A very young man, certainly not more than twenty-five years of age, bowed slickly.
‘This is M. Hippolyte Charles,’ continued Josephine, ‘one of our youngest and most successful – well, what? What do you do, Hippolyte? Oh, of course, Army contractor! One of our youngest Army contractors …!’
Josephine laughed and obviously found it all very amusing. ‘Mademoiselle Désirée,’ she added, ‘is an old rival of mine.’
‘Victorious or vanquished rival?’ inquired M. Charles.
Be
fore he got his answer we heard the clanking of spurs and Napoleon’s voice from the door:
‘Josephine, Josephine, where are you? All our guests are asking for you.’
‘I wanted to show Mademoiselle Désirée and M. Charles the Venetian mirror which you gave me in Montebello, Bonaparte,’ said Josephine calmly, taking him by the arm and pulling him towards M. Charles. ‘May I introduce to you a young Army contractor? M. Charles, here at last your greatest wish will be fulfilled: you may shake the hand of the Liberator of Italy!’
Her laughter sounded enchanting, and at once the signs of exasperation in Napoleon’s face vanished.
‘You wanted to talk to me, Euge—Désirée?’ Napoleon said to me.
Quickly Josephine put her hand on the arm of M. Hippolyte Charles: ‘Come along, I must go back to my guests.’
We were facing each other alone in the flickering candlelight. Nervously I started fishing for something in my bag, whilst Napoleon went up to the mirror and stared at his own face. It looked hollow and full of shadows in the uncertain light.
‘Did you hear what Barras said a moment ago?’ Napoleon spoke abruptly. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he talked to me in the intimate manner of the happy times of the past without noticing it.
‘I heard it, but I didn’t understand it. I know so little of these matters.’
He continued to stare into the mirror. ‘“Internal enemies of the Republic,” a nice expression! It was meant for me. He knows that I could—’
He broke off, contemplated attentively the play of light and shadows on his face in the mirror and chewed his upper lip. Then he went on: ‘We Generals saved the Republic. And we Generals keep it alive. We might easily take it into our heads to form our own Government … They beheaded the King and the Crown rolled into the gutter. All one need do is to pick it up …’
Desiree Page 14
