‘I have to thank you too, sir, for finding me this delightful house. I am most infinitely obliged to you.’
‘I had hoped to place you in that position. The truth is, Highness, that I have a favour to ask of you.’
‘Yes?’ She was instantly on her guard.
‘One I think you will find it no hardship to grant. You are an old friend of the Tsar Alexander, are you not?’
‘I like to think so.’ Cautiously.
‘So it would be natural for him to call on you, when he learns that you are here in Erfurt.’
‘Why, yes, I would hope so.’
‘Conferences are hard work, Highness. All the talk, all the careful negotiations, the public appearances, the inevitable pretence. The participants need to be able to relax in the evening, when their day’s work for the peace of the world is done. May I venture to suggest that you keep open house, so long as the conference lasts?’
‘I can see no harm in that,’ said the Princess slowly. ‘Can you, Jenny?’
‘It will cost a great deal,’ said Jenny bluntly. Sometimes, with the new demands made by both French and Austrian overlords, she worried about even the Princess’s finances.
‘I am sure that need be no problem.’ Talleyrand smiled his charming smile and something twitched at the bottom of her mind. ‘But I am grateful to you, Miss Peverel, for raising the point. It shall most certainly be taken care of. And now, am I to see this young Prince, of whom I hear such fine things? You’ll bring him, Princess, to see the ceremonial entrance of the Emperors tomorrow? I have arranged places for you in the Wilhelmsplatz, where you will be able to see and to be seen. I think the boy would enjoy it.’
‘I am sure he would. You are kindness itself, Prince. Fetch Casimir, Jenny.’
Returning with the little Prince, Jenny found the Princess flushed and sparkling, and wondered just what compliments Talleyrand had been paying her. The brief encounter between the old and young Princes went off well enough, but confirmed Jenny’s impression that children were not much in the old diplomat’s line. Which made his insistence on seeing the child even more interesting.
On the surface, the meeting between the two Emperors went brilliantly. Napoleon had had to hurry to get to Erfurt first, but had been in time to meet Alexander outside the city. They rode into town side by side, to the roar of artillery and the clangour of bells, Alexander towering over his older companion, the crowd shouting, ‘Vivent les empereurs!’ From then on, they spent their days together, talked incessantly, dined together in the company of the attendant Princes and Kings, and went on to Erfurt’s handsome city theatre, where Napoleon had installed thirty-two actors from the Théâtre Français, with the great Talma at their head. When Talma appeared as Oedipus and gave Molière’s line: ‘The friendship of a great man is a favour from the Gods,’ Alexander stood up in his place and shook Napoleon’s hand, while the whole audience applauded.
‘A coup de théâtre, though I do say so,’ Alexander told Talleyrand at the Princess’s house later that night. After the official ceremonies were over, he usually dropped in there. ‘To relax among my friends,’ he told her. And Talleyrand was inevitably there too, the blond young head and the grizzled one close together against a background of music. The talk with Napoleon was official and public; the talk with Talleyrand secret and confidential. Napoleon wrote home to Josephine that he was pleased with Alexander: ‘If he were a woman I think I would make him my mistress.’ And Alexander wrote to his sister Catherine that: ‘Napoleon thinks me a fool, but he who laughs last, laughs longest.’
Catherine herself was one of the subjects to be discussed. Napoleon had let it be known that he was ready to divorce Josephine and make a dynastic match. His marriage with the Tsar’s sister would consolidate their relationship as nothing else could. But Catherine was a strong-minded young woman of eighteen and anti-French like her mother. Alexander hedged. Perhaps his younger sister Anna, when she was old enough? Altogether things went less smoothly than Napoleon had expected.
‘He threw his hat on the floor, and trampled on it,’ Alexander told Talleyrand.
‘And what did you do, sire?’
‘I smiled at him. “You are violent,” I told him. “And I am stubborn. Anger will gain nothing with me. Let us talk, let us reason – or I will go away.”’
‘And what happened then?’
‘He pulled himself together. We went on talking.’
‘I think you have crossed your Rubicon, sire. And he does not even know it. It is not many who keep their heads, when my Emperor loses his.’
‘Your Emperor?’ asked Alexander.
‘I speak for France, sire. The French people are civilised; their sovereign is not. The sovereign of Russia is civilised; his people are not. The sovereign of Russia must therefore be the ally of the people of France.’
The charade continued. The two Emperors went to a ball given by Alexander’s sister at Weimar, where Alexander danced with his mother’s niece, Catherine of Württemberg, now married to Napoleon’s brother, Jérome, the ruler of Westphalia.
‘Which used to be Polish Silesia,’ said the Princess, learning of this. And then, greatly daring, to Talleyrand: ‘What are your plans for Poland, Prince?’
‘Immense, Highness. Europe needs Poland. An outpost of civilisation, a barrier state between France and Russia. Why do you think I wanted you here? And your son? Your promising son.’
‘Well, it’s over.’ Talleyrand called on the Princess the night after Napoleon had seen the Tsar off on his long journey home to Petersburg.
‘Well over?’
‘I hope so. Time now to be thinking of the future. I know I can count on you to see to it that my promising young friend Casimir keeps up his education, his languages particularly. I’m glad that you were able to persuade Miss Peverel to stay with you when the British left Russia; her influence on the child seems admirable. There are to be new peace proposals, by the way, from both France and Russia to Great Britain, but I doubt anything will come of them.’ He turned, smiling as Jenny approached them. ‘Miss Peverel. I was just telling the Princess how glad I am that her promising child is in your hands.’
‘I thank you, sir.’ This was too good a chance to be missed. ‘I shall miss him when he goes away.’
‘Away?’
‘I thought of sending him to the Military Academy.’ The Princess flashed an angry glance at Jenny.
‘An admirable plan in the normal way of things. But, Highness, which one? School him in Warsaw, you alienate the Tsar; school him in Russia … Well, you’re a woman of sense, Highness. You know what follows. And as for Austria … You had not thought of starting your own school? I have heard great things of your philanthropy; that model village of yours; surely it would be possible to collect some other boys in the same position as young Casimir; educate them together? The whole world knows of your namesake Princess Isabella Czartoryskia’s collection of antiquities; why should not Princess Ovinska’s school for the noble young be spoken of in the same breath?’
‘I? A school?’
‘Well, hardly you personally, Highness.’ His tone deprecated the very suggestion, ‘But with the proper assistance? Suitable tutors? In languages, in the military arts, of course, but also in history … in politics … And as to the housekeeping side of it – for of course, you would hardly wish a seminary for young gentlemen under your own roof – dare I suggest that Miss Peverel would be the very person to look after that? I have not, alas, had the pleasure of seeing Rendomierz, but Paul Genet described it to me with enthusiasm. Could you not establish your young gentlemen, Princess, in the guest village, where he stayed in such luxury? Then they would be near enough to feel the civilising influence of your court, but not too close for comfort.’
Inevitably, Jenny’s eyes met Isobel’s, both of them thinking of the tunnel, but: ‘A most interesting idea,’ said the Princess slowly. ‘It’s quite true, I had wondered – such an enthusiast as he is – what would happen if I enrolled C
asimir in either a French or Russian-dominated military school.’
‘I was sure you would have.’ Talleyrand knew as well as Jenny that the thought had never entered her head. ‘So, is this not the answer?’
They stopped in Warsaw on the way back from Erfurt so that the Princess could begin to plan for her school. They found the town ablaze with rumours. Davout, whom the Poles had gradually learned to respect, had been ordered to Breslau by Napoleon, but before he left he had watched the departure of three newly enrolled regiments of Polish Lancers for the long march through Europe to join Napoleon’s army in Spain.
‘We miss Davout,’ Marie Walewska told Jenny. ‘He was a hard man, but one could trust him, and I liked his wife. Everything changed when she came here to join him. I’m sorry they are gone, but I think he and Prince Poniatowski understand each other at last. Things will go on better now, and I believe our sending so many soldiers to join the French army has helped our finances, though I cannot pretend to understand why.’
‘No more can I,’ said Jenny, ‘but I am glad to hear it. There seem to be the most extraordinary stories abroad. About forged Prussian coins and I don’t know what. To listen to them, you’d think money was worth nothing.’
‘Oh, you mustn’t believe what you hear in Warsaw,’ said Marie. ‘They don’t understand my Napoleon. Look at the way they grumble about the Polish estates he has given to his Marshals. Can’t they see this gives them a stake in the country? Must make them care about it?’
The Princess returned from Anna Potocka’s with another batch of gloomy stories about Polish finance. ‘But Anna says it’s all nothing but rumour. Of course it’s a pity the King of Saxony doesn’t choose to spend more time here, but things will come about, she is sure. Mind you,’ she removed her furs and handed them to Jenny, ‘I think she hopes for a Kingdom of Poland at last, with her father-in-law for King.’
‘She can’t be serious?’
‘If she is, she’s a fool. Adam Czartoryski or my cousin Josef Poniatowski have better claims, and more sense than to think of it. I saw Josef, by the way. He says it’s a tragedy Davout’s been called away. I told him we had no need of Frenchmen when we have him for Minister of War and Commander in Chief. Oh, he has a young cousin he wishes to enrol in our school.’
The school throve. By the spring of 1809, ten little Polish noblemen were learning Latin and Greek, French, German, English and Russian, in the intervals of their more serious exercise with miniature lance and sword, on horseback and on foot. They were a wild enough lot, each used to being the lord of his own universe. Jenny did her best to instil good manners, helped in this by Casimir, who had a kind of instinctive courtesy, the good manners of the heart. It never struck her that he had learned them from her.
She had been surprised and surprisingly wretched – she could admit it to herself now – when Paul Genet took leave of her at Erfurt without another word about how things stood between them. That he had looked miserable, too, had been her comfort on the slow journey back to Rendomierz, when they missed his useful presence at every stage. And yet, she thought, sorting little boys’ socks, she was being ridiculous. If he had said anything, she would have refused him. It was just that she had been so sure he would say something.
She folded the last pair of socks and rose to her feet at the sound of shouting outside. The little boys had just finished the day’s drill in the improvised yard outside the Turkish bath, and were coming shouting up to their houses to change for their lessons. They were always noisy at this time of day, but today, surely, they were noisier than usual.
‘War. It’s war!’ Casimir was inevitably the leader, and, she was afraid, getting a little more spoiled as a result.
‘What’s this about war?’ She caught him alone later.
‘Everyone’s talking about it! Ask Lech!’ He was hurrying to join his friends, and she let him go with a sigh. She was beginning to wonder if Talleyrand’s idea of a private school had been such a good one after all. The other little boys were even less biddable than Casimir, and the rather random group of tutors the Princess had managed to assemble were hard put to it to get any learning into them, let alone manners. She must talk to the Princess about it when she went over in the evening, and urge once again that one of the tutors be put in authority over the rest. And not the Master at Arms.
But when she paid her regular evening visit, after the little boys were in bed, she found Princess Isobel full of the war news. ‘The Austrians have attacked the French; it must mean that they expect help from the Tsar.’
‘But how can they? He and Napoleon are still allies, surely?’
‘I’m not so sure. When I was in Warsaw the other day, Josef Poniatowski told me he thought the ties between them were stretched to breaking point. It’s public knowledge now that Napoleon is planning to divorce his wife; looking for a royal marriage. And the Tsar has just married his sister Catherine to the Duke of Oldenburg.’
‘Yes,’ said Jenny doubtfully, ‘but surely there is more to an alliance than that?’
‘He entertained the King and Queen of Prussia royally at Petersburg after Christmas. You can hardly call that friendly to Napoleon. And that newcomer Minister of his, Speransky, is busy putting the country on a war footing, Josef says. The Tsar’s cultivating the Muscovites, too. Do you know, he had never been there since his coronation? Now, he’s made his new brother-in-law Governor at Tver, between Petersburg and Moscow; refurbished Catherine the Great’s palace there for the married couple. He’s planning something. I wish I knew what it was.’
‘I wonder if he does,’ said Jenny. ‘But is Napoleon really thinking of divorcing the Empress Josephine?’
‘Yes, and not for your friend Marie Walewska.’
‘Poor Marie. I wish I could see her.’
‘Well, you can’t,’ said the Princess. ‘Remember the Brotherhood’s message.’
‘Yes. It does sound as if they expect trouble.’ The Brotherhood had told Marylka that no one should leave Rendomierz.
That was a bitterly cold spring, and they stayed frozen up at Rendomierz, with no more news, but an increasing feeling of tension in the air. Jenny had learned to respect the curious way in which not so much news as a phantasm of news travelled among the serfs. When Lech urged her to persuade the Princess not to let the little boys out of sight of the palace, she did not question his reason.
News, when it came, came drastically. Prince Poniatowski rode up to the palace one late May morning at the head of a battle-stained detachment of the Franco-Polish army. ‘I’m glad to find you safe, Princess.’ He was eating like a man who had not seen food for days. ‘I’ve been afraid for you, since Warsaw fell.’
‘Warsaw?’
‘You’ve not heard? The Austrians took it. They launched a dastardly attack, both east and west, just when Napoleon was occupied in Spain. They’ll regret it! He has rolled them up in the west; will be in Vienna any day; but here in Poland – I insist on calling it that – we have the Russians to contend with as well as the Austrians.’
‘The Russians?’ asked Jenny, greatly daring. ‘But are they not allied to the French?’
‘You’d not think so if you saw what they are doing. That is why I am so relieved to find you safe, Princess. Golitzin, the Russian Commander, seems more interested in suppressing us Poles than in fighting the Austrians.’
‘He would not suppress me,’ said the Princess.
‘Probably not. But, if I may give you a cousin’s advice, don’t count on that Tsar of yours too absolutely. He changes like the moon. Though I hope he will join me in seeing that you are protected. You and your treasure house of Poland’s future. May I see your little boys? I have another cousin among them, remember, as well as Casimir.’
‘Why, of course. They will be beside themselves with joy. We have the greatest trouble in making them study anything but arms these days, do we not, Jenny?’
‘Yes,’ said Jenny. ‘I wish you would speak to them, Prince. Tell them that there is m
ore to life than warfare.’
‘Only when the war is done, Miss Peverel.’
But he did speak to the boys before he rode away next morning, and to some purpose, Jenny thought. At least they applied themselves to their language studies after that. But it was hard to settle to anything, with rumour piled on rumour. The next news they had of Poniatowski was that he was laying siege to Austrian-held Cracow, but in the end it was to the Russian Golitzin that the Austrians yielded.
‘As if they were allies already,’ said the Princess bitterly. ‘With us Poles for the grist between the two millstones, as always.’ But she had a new glow to her these days, Jenny thought, as if life had become immensely interesting.
Chapter 24
The little boys had spent the winter re-enacting the desperate Polish charge that had captured the Spanish valley of Somosierra for Napoleon, when his advisers thought it impossible. Now, in July, they were playing at Wagram, where he had finally defeated the Austrians. An armistice followed; the Austrian Archduke Ferdinand evacuated Warsaw, and the Princess went there at once. Jenny wanted to stay at Rendomierz, where she now felt her duty lay with the little boys, but the Princess was adamant, Jenny could not quite understand why.
She began to do so when they reached Warsaw, found the Ovinski Palace less damaged by its Austrian occupiers than they had feared, and learned that Marie Walewska was rumoured to be on the point of leaving for Vienna.
‘Go and call on her,’ said the Princess. ‘If she is really going, she will need a chaperone. Tell her, tactfully, that I would be happy to fill the position.’
‘You, Isobel?’
‘I trust that she will understand what a concession it would be.’
‘You want so badly to go to Vienna?’
‘Use your head, Jenny. If anyone has come gallantly out of the war, it’s my Cousin Josef and his Polish army. Look what they have done! And would have done much more if the Russians had not intervened. They must not be forgotten this time, among the shuffling compromises of the great powers. They deserve their reward. Remember that gallant charge at Somosierra!’
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