‘Two little boys in the house,’ I thought, ‘there may even be some toys of Oscar’s left in the attic.’ ‘Tell Her Majesty I shall look after the boys.’
Their arrival needed another rearrangement of bedrooms. I saw their mother drive away. ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ the crowd shouted. Then it closed its ranks once more, and the ominous sound of its low murmur was with me all day long.
Paris. April 1814
On March 31st the allies entered Paris. The Parisians didn’t have much time to bother about their conquerors, they were too busy queueing at the bakers’ and grocers’. The store-houses round Paris had been destroyed and the roads to the southern provinces blocked, and the result was starvation.
On April 1st a provisional Government headed by Talleyrand was formed, and negotiations started with the allied powers. Talleyrand gave a brilliant banquet in honour of the Tsar, who was staying at his palace, and the members of the old aristocratic families whom Napoleon had allowed to return took part in it.
Napoleon himself was at Fontainebleau with 5000 men of his Guards regiments. Caulaincourt negotiated for him with the victors. On April 4th he signed his declaration of abdication. It said that since, in the view of the allied powers, his person formed the only obstacle to the restoration of peace in Europe, he was willing to renounce his throne and to leave France for the sake of his country’s well-being, which was inseparable from the rights of his son, the rights of the Empress’s regency and the continued validity of the Imperial laws.
Two days later, however, the Senate declared that a regency on behalf of Napoleon II was out of the question. Everywhere in Paris I suddenly saw the white flags of the Bourbons which no one bothered to remove and no one bothered to hail. In the Moniteur I read that only the reinstatement of the Bourbons could guarantee lasting peace …
Most members of the Bonaparte family had fled to Blois with the Empress. Marie-Louise was seeing nobody. She had asked her father for protection for herself and her son, and her father, the Austrian Emperor, discarded his grandson’s name Napoleon and called him Francis.
Julie had several letters from Joseph written at Blois. They were smuggled through the allied lines by young peasants who liked doing it because it was a chance for them of seeing Paris. Julie and the children were to stay with me, wrote Joseph, till the new Government and the allies had decided what to do about the Bonapartes and their property. Meanwhile Julie had run out of money and I had to lend her some to pay the governess. Joseph had taken everything, even her jewellery, she said. My nephew Marius was in the same position, and I told Pierre to advance him what he needed. Then Marceline bought two new hats and had the bill sent to me. So it went on, till Pierre told me that I had no money left at all. I went to see him in his little office – I had given him the former caretaker’s flat on the ground floor – and he accounted to me for all the money we had spent.
‘Could Your Highness count on money from Sweden within the next few days?’ he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders.
‘Perhaps you could ask His Highness the Crown Prince?’
‘But I don’t know where he is.’
‘I could borrow all the money we need, of course, if Your Highness would sign a promissory note. The Crown Princess of Sweden has an unlimited credit these days. Do you want to sign?’
‘No, I can’t. How can I borrow money? Certainly not as the Crown Princess of Sweden. It would make a very bad impression and my husband wouldn’t like it. No, really, it’s impossible.’
Marie came in. ‘You could sell some of your silver, Eugenie.’
‘Yes, I could do that. No, Marie, I can’t do that either! All our silver has our initials on it. All Paris would know soon that we have no money and that would injure the reputation of Sweden badly.’
‘I could pawn some of Your Highness’s jewellery,’ suggested Pierre. ‘No one would know whose it is.’
‘No, I have so little valuable jewellery, and what little I have I need if I have to receive the Tsar or the Austrian Emperor.’
‘Julie has plenty,’ said Marie.
‘Joseph has taken all hers with him.’
‘But how are you going to feed all the people under your roof?’
I stared at the empty cash-box. ‘Let me think.’
They let me think.
‘Marie, the firm of Clary has always had a warehouse in Paris, at least in Papa’s days, hasn’t it?’
‘Oh yes. It’s still there. Every time Monsieur Etienne comes to Paris he goes there. Has he never told you about it?’
‘No. There’s never been any reason for mentioning it.’
Marie raised her eyebrows. ‘Hasn’t there? Who’s inherited that half of the firm which belonged to your Mama, then?’
‘I don’t know—’
‘According to the law you, Queen Julie and your brother Etienne own one third each of that half,’ explained Pierre.
‘But Julie and I had our dowries.’
‘Yes,’ Marie said, ‘that was your share of the estate left by your father. When he died Etienne inherited one half of the firm and your mother the other. So since your mother’s death you own—’
‘One sixth of the firm of Clary, Your Highness,’ said Pierre.
‘I ought to talk it over with Julie,’ I thought. But Julie was in bed with migraine. How could I go to her and say that I had no money for our lunch? ‘Marie,’ I said, ‘let Cook fetch some veal. The butcher will get his money to-night. Please get me a fiacre as quickly as possible.’
The big drawing-room was full of life. Marius and Villatte were poring over maps and fighting the battles of the last months all over again. Julie’s daughters were having a noisy argument with Hortense’s sons about the contents of a bonbonnière made of magnificent Sèvres, and Madame La Flotte, translating an article to Count Rosen, was in tears because this article called Napoleon a bloodhound.
I went up to Marius. ‘Where,’ I asked him, ‘is the warehouse of the firm of Clary?’
He blushed. ‘But, Aunt, you know I have nothing to do with the silk trade. I have been an officer all my life.’ Obviously it was embarrassing to him to talk about it in Villatte’s presence.
I persisted. ‘But your father is a silk merchant and, surely, you remember where his warehouse is. He went there every time he came to Paris.’
‘But I never went with him, I—’
I watched him closely and that made him break off. Then, quickly, he said: ‘In a cellar in the Palais Royal, if I remember right.’ And he gave me the address.
The cab took me to a very spacious and elegant basement shop in the Palais Royal. Entering, I found myself in a very neatly furnished office and opposite an elderly man in formal clothes who was sitting behind a writing-desk. He wore the white rosette of the Bourbons in his buttonhole. The shelves seemed nearly empty.
‘What can I do for you, Madame?’
‘Are you the manager of the firm of Clary in Paris?’
‘I am, Madame. White satin is unfortunately sold out, but—’
‘That isn’t what I have come for.’
‘Oh, I understand, Madame wishes to purchase some dress material? Till yesterday I had some brocade with the lily pattern left, but it is all sold out now, unfortunately. But velvet or—’
‘Business is flourishing, Monsieur—’
‘Legrand, Madame,’ he introduced himself. ‘Legrand.’
‘Tell me, Monsieur Legrand, these white materials, brocade with the Bourbon lily, white satin and muslin to put over the curtains, when did they arrive here? As far as I know all the roads to Paris are blocked.’
He laughed heartily and loudly so that the two double chins whipped merrily up and down over his high collar. ‘Monsieur Clary sent all these materials months ago from Genoa. The first consignments arrived shortly after the Battle of Leipzig. Monsieur Clary, the head of the firm, is very well informed. As Madame may know, Monsieur Clary is—’ he cleared his throat, smirking, ‘Monsieur Clary is the b
rother-in-law of the victor of Leipzig, the brother-in-law of the Swedish Crown Prince. Madame will realise that—’
‘And so you’ve been selling white silk for weeks to the ladies of the old nobility?’ I interrupted him.
He nodded proudly.
I gazed at the white rosette on his lapel. ‘I could never understand where all the white rosettes sprang from overnight. So these noble ladies whom the Emperor received at his court have all been sitting down secretly sewing white rosettes?’
‘But, Madame—’
But I was furious, dreadfully furious. I understood now why the shelves were nearly empty. ‘And you sold white silk, one roll after the other. Whilst the French troops were still fighting to throw back the enemy you have been sitting here making money, haven’t you?’
‘But, Madame, I am only an employee of the firm. Besides, most of the stuff has not been paid for yet. The ladies will only be able to pay when the Bourbons have returned and when the husbands of these ladies get their big jobs—’ He stopped and looked at me with suspicion. ‘Madame, what can I do for you?’
‘I need money. How much have you got in your till?’
‘Madame, I don’t understand—’
‘I own one sixth of the firm of Clary, I am a daughter of the founder of the firm, and I need money urgently. How much have you got in your till, Monsieur Legrand?’
‘Madame, I don’t quite understand. Monsieur Etienne has only two sisters, Madame Joseph Bonaparte and Her Highness the Crown Princess of Sweden.’
‘Quite right. And I am the Crown Princess of Sweden. How much money have you got in your till?’
Monsieur Legrand felt for his waistcoat pocket with a trembling hand, pulled out his spectacles and looked at me. After this examination he bowed as deeply as his stomach would allow. When I shook hands with him he was nearly overcome with emotion.
‘I was an apprentice in your father’s shop in Marseilles when Your Highness was still a child, a dear child, and so naughty!’
‘You wouldn’t have recognised me, would you? Not even with your glasses?’ I felt like crying myself. ‘I am not quite so naughty now, I’m doing my best—’
Legrand rushed to the door and locked it. ‘We don’t need any customers now, Your Highness,’ he said.
‘I’ve thought and thought how to manage without making debts,’ I said. ‘A Clary can’t make debts, can she? I am only waiting for my husband—’
‘The whole of Paris is waiting for the triumphant entry of the victor of Leipzig,’ said Legrand. ‘The Tsar is here already, the Prussian King too, it can’t be long now.’
‘In all these years I’ve not drawn out my share in the profits of the firm,’ I said. ‘Therefore I should like to take anything you have in cash.’
‘I have very little cash. The day before he left King Joseph asked me for an enormous sum.’ I opened my eyes in amazement. He went on talking without noticing my surprise. ‘King Joseph drew out his wife’s share in our takings twice a year. What we took to the end of March by the secret sale of the white materials has been drawn out by King Joseph. There are only the outstanding debts left.’
So even Joseph Bonaparte made money on the white rosettes. Whether he knew about it or not, what does it matter now?
‘Here,’ said Legrand, and gave me a bundle of notes. ‘That is all we have at the moment.’
‘Better than nothing,’ I said, and put them into my bag. An idea occurred to me, and I said: ‘Legrand, we must at once collect all outstanding debts. People say that the franc is going to fall. My cab is waiting outside. Take it and go round all the customers. If they refuse to pay, ask for the material back. Will you?’
‘But I can’t leave the shop. I sent the only apprentice we have left with some samples to an old customer of ours who urgently needs some new clothes, the wife of Marshal Marmont, in fact. And Le Roy’s buyer – they are working day and night for the ladies of the new court – may call at any moment.’
I took off my coat. ‘Whilst you’re going round collecting I shall see to the customers here.’
‘But, Your Highness—’
‘What are you “butting” about? I helped often enough in the shop in Marseilles. Don’t be afraid. I know how to handle silk. Hurry up, Monsieur!’
Legrand, completely put out, stumbled towards the door.
‘One moment, Monsieur. Please take off the white rosette if you call on behalf of the firm of Clary.’
‘But, Your Highness, most people—’
‘Yes, most people, but not my papa’s former apprentices. I’ll see you later.’
When he had gone, I sat down behind the desk and once more felt like crying. That was because of the memory of Marseilles. A naughty child with not a care in the world whom Papa had taken in hand and taught the Rights of Man. That was a long time ago, a very long time ago.
The door-bell rang, and a man in a light blue, beautifully embroidered tail-coat and with a white rosette came in, Le Roy’s buyer. He didn’t know me, I had always dealt with the manageress.
‘You are Le Roy’s buyer, aren’t you? I am deputising for Monsieur Legrand. What can we do for you?’
‘I should have liked to see Monsieur Legrand himself.’
‘I am sorry,’ I said, and pulled a heavy roll of velvet from the shelf. A label affixed to it said ‘Madame Mère’s order. Returned.’ It was dark green, the colour of Corsica, with the bee pattern woven into it. ‘Here,’ I said, ‘dark green velvet with the Bourbon lily pattern,’ and turned the roll round so that the bees lay upside down.
The buyer held up his lorgnette and examined the velvet sceptically. ‘The lilies remind me of the bee,’ he criticised.
‘That’s not my fault,’ I said.
‘Besides, dark green is out of fashion now. We saw too much of that colour during the Empire. In any case, velvet is too heavy for spring weather. Have you any pale lilac-coloured muslin?’
I looked along the shelves which had some shades of muslin. The one he wanted was on the top shelf. It would be! I found a ladder and climbed up.
Meanwhile he went on: ‘The Empress Josephine desires a pale lilac dress. It is a subtle indication of mourning. She needs the dress for her reception of the Tsar.’
I nearly fell off the ladder. ‘She – she wants to receive the Tsar?’
‘Yes. She very much wants to see him to talk with him about her allowances. They are still negotiating about the annuities for the Bonaparte family. It looks as if they are going to be generous to these successful nobodies. Well, have you the muslin I want or not?’
I climbed down the ladder with the material and unrolled it before him.
‘Too dark,’ he said.
‘Lilac, the new fashion,’ I said.
He regarded me with contempt. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘It looks well and a bit melancholy. Just right for Josephine. By the way, we can only sell for cash at the moment.’
‘Out of the question just now. Our customers do not pay on delivery, either. Of course, as soon as the situation is cleared up, Mademoiselle—’
‘It is cleared up. The franc is falling. We can only sell for cash on the spot.’
I took the roll of cloth from the desk and carried it back to the shelf.
‘Where is Monsieur Legrand?’
‘I told you, not here.’
His eyes scanned the half-empty shelves. ‘You have hardly any stock left.’
I nodded. ‘Almost sold out. And all for cash.’
He stared, mesmerised, at a few rolls of satin. ‘Madame Ney,’ he murmured.
‘Shall we say light blue satin for Madame la Maréchale Ney?’ I suggested. ‘It would go with her rubies and she likes light blue.’
‘You seem to be well informed, Mademoiselle—’
‘Désirée,’ I said amiably. ‘Well? How shall we dress Marshal Ney’s wife for the occasion of her presentation to the Bourbons in the Tuileries?’
‘You sound so bitter, Mademoisell
e Désirée. You are not by any chance a partisan of the Bonapartes at heart, are you?’
‘Take light blue for Madame Ney. I’ll let you have the satin at the pre-war price.’ The price was on a tag in Etienne’s thin writing. I named it.
‘I shall give you a bill of exchange,’ he said.
‘You’ll pay cash or you’ll leave the material here. I have other customers.’
He paid.
‘And the lilac muslin?’ I asked, measuring and cutting the satin as I had seen Papa and Etienne do it at home.
‘But the Empress never pays promptly,’ he lamented.
I paid no attention to that. At last he sighed and said: ‘Seven and a half yards of muslin, then.’
‘Make it nine. She’ll be wanting a scarf of the same material.’
Reluctantly he paid for Josephine’s melancholy dress. When he went he said: ‘Ask Legrand to reserve the green velvet with the gold lilies for us till to-night.’ I promised I would.
I attended to three more customers before Legrand returned. ‘Did you get it all?’ I asked.
‘Not all, but a part. Here it is.’ He gave me a leather bag full of banknotes.
‘Make a note of everything and I shall give you a receipt.’
He began to write out a receipt and pushed it towards me for my signature. I thought for a moment and then signed as ‘Désirée, Crown Princess of Sweden, née Clary’.
‘From now onwards I shall settle the accounts regularly with my brother Etienne. And, by the way, get as much of the lilac-coloured muslin in as you can, it’s the new fashion, you’ll see. And reserve the green velvet which Madame Mère sent back for Le Roy. No, I’m not joking, he really wants it. Good-bye, Monsieur Legrand.’
I got back into the cab and told the driver to take me to the Rue d’Anjou. He gave me a newspaper. It was a special edition containing Napoleon’s declaration of abdication. ‘Yes,’ I thought, ‘yes, and we’ll have veal to-night, and I must keep an eye on my bag with all the money in it, and the air is full of spring already …’ Women were still queueing up in front of bakers’ and butchers’ shops, and copies of the abdication edition disintegrated on the wet pavements.
Desiree Page 53
