Emperor and Empress seemed delighted; the Ambassador was radiant; every
one was enchanted with the magic of the spectacle. The ball was opened
with a quadrille, in which the Queen of Naples danced with Prince
Esterhazy, and Prince Eugene de Beauharnais with Princess Pauline de
Schwarzenberg. When that was over, the Emperor descended from his throne
to walk through the room; while the Empress, the Queen of Naples, and
the Vice-Queen of Italy remained in their places on the platform.
Napoleon had just come up to Princess Pauline de Schwarzenberg, who had
presented to him the princesses, her daughters, when suddenly the flame
of a candle set fire to the curtains of a window. Count Dumanoir, the
Emperor's chamberlain, and several officers tried to tear the curtains
down; but the flames continued to spread, and in less than three minutes
they had reached the ceiling, and all the light decorations which hung
from it were ablaze. Count Metternich, who happened to be at the foot of
the platform, at once ran up to tell the Empress what had happened, and
to persuade her to follow him as soon as possible. As to the Emperor,
who was as cool as if he were on the battle-field, he was able to reach
the platform to join Marie Louise, and to escape with her to the garden,
urging every one to be calm in order to avoid disorder.
Fortunately the means of exit were wide, and the greater part of the
guests were able to find refuge in the garden; but, alas! there were
many accidents and many victims. It so happened that just when the fire
started a great many young girls had left their mothers to dance a
schottische; their mothers tried to find them, and they tried to find
their mothers, amid wild shrieks and the most desperate confusion. Wives
called for their husbands, parents for their children. The officers of
the Imperial Guard gathered about Napoleon with drawn swords, for at
first they suspected treachery and waited for some further development
of a malicious plot. Prince Schwarzenberg, who did not leave the
Emperor, said to him: "I know how this room is built; it is doomed; but
there are so many exits that every one can escape. Sire, I shall cover
you with my body." Napoleon, under his protection, reached the platform
with composure, took the Empress by the hand, and succeeded in going out
with her. They passed through the garden, got into a carriage, and drove
to the Place Louis XV., where they separated, the Empress pushing on to
Saint Cloud, while the Emperor, retracing his steps, went back to the
Austrian Embassy, where he hoped to be able to help extinguish the fire.
The Ambassador, who had accompanied Napoleon and Marie Louise to their
carriage, went back to the house, then a hideous scene of destruction. A
storm had arisen, and a violent wind had spread the ravaging flames
in every direction. The Queen of Westphalia had fainted and had been
rescued by Count Metternich; the Queen of Naples, Prince Eugene, and his
wife, who was in a delicate condition, had remained on the platform. The
Queen tried to escape by the main door, by which the Emperor and the
Empress had left; but this was speedily so blocked up by the crowd that
she, who was behind every one, would certainly have been caught by the
flames, like many others, had it not been for the assistance of the
Grand Duke of Würzburg and of Marshal Marcey, who seized her and forced
a way for her. Prince Eugene saw the chandelier fall, and the passage
across the room wholly blocked; but, fortunately, he noticed the little
door which led into the house, and through that he escaped with his
wife. The Ambassador beheld the calamity with despair. His wife was
brought out senseless, but untouched by the flames. He saw his brother,
Prince Joseph de Schwarzenberg, running to and fro, wild with grief
and disquiet; he was looking for his wife, Princess Pauline de
Schwarzenberg, and could not find her. What had become of the unhappy
mother? When the fire broke out, knowing her eldest daughter, Eleonore,
to be safe, she had run to the assistance of her second daughter,
Pauline, who was dancing the schottische, and led her speedily to the
steps of the entrance, where the crowd was surging amid the flames. A
moment more, and mother and daughter were safe: they had but a few steps
to take to be on the staircase and then in the garden, but suddenly a
falling beam separated mother and child, and the staircase broke down
beneath the weight of the struggling crowd. Missing her daughter, the
courageous princess plunged once more into the ballroom. No one knew
what had become of her; in the cruel, heart-wringing uncertainty the
stern face of the Ambassador was wet with tears.
Napoleon returned to the Embassy, and directing everything, supervising
everything as on a battlefield, there he stayed more than two hours,
exposed to a heavy rain which began after the fire, and to all the
heat and smoke. Alone, unguarded, evidently anxious to dispel all
misinterpretation which malevolence could draw from the unhappy event,
he displayed great energy and perfect self-possession.
It was not till four in the morning that he returned to Saint Cloud,
where he had been most anxiously awaited. "From the time that the
Empress arrived," we read in Constant's Memoirs, "we had felt the
keenest anxiety; every one in the palace had been most uneasy about the
Emperor. At last he arrived, unharmed, but very tired; his dress in
disorder, his face scorched, his clothes and stockings all blackened and
singed by the fire. He went straight to the Empress's room, to console
her for the fright she had had; then he went to his own room, flung his
hat on the bed, dropped into an easy-chair, saying, 'Heavens! what a
festivity!' I noticed that his hands were all blackened; he had lost his
gloves at the fire. He was overwhelmed with sadness, and he spoke with
an emotion such as I had seen in him only two or three times in his
life, and never about his own misfortunes. I remember that he expressed
a fear that the terrible event of that night betokened future
calamities. Three years later, in the Russian campaign, he was told one
day that Prince Schwarzenberg's army corps had been destroyed, and that
the Prince himself had perished. It happened that the news was false;
but when it was brought to the Emperor, he said, as if in accordance
with a thought that had long haunted him, 'It was he then whom that evil
omen threatened!'"
The morning of the next day Napoleon sent his pages to learn the news.
The accounts they brought back were most gloomy: the Princess de la
Leyen had died from her injuries; General Touzart was in a desperate
condition, as well as his wife and daughter, who, in fact, died the same
day. Prince Kourakine, the Russian Ambassador, was seriously injured;
he had made a misstep on the staircase leading to the garden, and had
fallen senseless into the flames, which, fortunately, had been unable to
get through his coat of cloth of gold and the decorations which
covered him like a cuirass; nevertheless, it was many months before he
recovered. "Prince Joseph de Schwarzenberg," says the _Moniteur_ of July
3, 1810, "spent the night in looking for his wife, whom he could not
find at the Embassy or at Madame Metternich's. He was still ignorant
of his loss when at daybreak there was found in the ball-room a corpse
which Dr. Gall thought that he recognized as that of the Princess
Pauline de Schwarzenberg. Further doubt was impossible when her jewels
with her children's initials, which she wore about her neck, were
recognized. Princess Pauline de Schwarzenberg was the daughter of the
Senator von Avenberg, and the mother of eight children. She was as
renowned for her personal charms as for the distinction of her mind and
heart. The act of devotion which cost her her life shows how much her
loss is to be regretted, for death was certain amid the fury of the
flames. Only a mother would have dared to face the danger."
The _Moniteur_ adds to this pathetic account: "The Austrian Ambassador
during the whole night displayed the zeal, the activity, the calmness,
and the presence of mind to be expected of him. The members of the
Embassy and the Austrians who were present were tireless in their
courage and devotion. The public has been most grateful to the
Ambassador for insisting on accompanying the Emperor and the Empress to
their carriage, without regard to the dangers to which his family was
exposed. The Emperor left the spot at about three in the morning. During
the rest of the night he sent several times for information about the
fate of the Princess Schwarzenberg. It was not until five o'clock that
he received word of her death. His Majesty, who held this princess in
the highest esteem, sincerely regrets her sad lot. The Empress exhibited
the most perfect calmness throughout the evening. When she heard this
morning of the death of Princess Pauline de Schwarzenberg, she burst
into tears."
The young Princess Pauline, the daughter of the woman who had perished,
was for a long time in a state that caused the utmost anxiety. Her
mother's death was concealed from her, but she became uneasy at her
absence, and read on her father's face the marks of the grief which
he tried to conceal. At last she recovered; later she married Prince
Schoenburg; but her wounds reopened, and she died a few years later, a
victim, like her mother, of the fatal ball.
The day after these occurrences Marie Louise wrote a letter in German
to her father, in which she said: "I did not lose my head. Prince
Schwarzenberg led the Emperor and me out of the place, through the
garden. I am the more grateful because he left his wife and son in the
burning room. The panic and confusion were terrible. If the Grand Duke
of Würzburg had not carried the Queen of Naples away, she would have
been burned alive. My sister-in-law Catherine, who thought her husband
was in the midst of the fire, swooned away. The Viceroy had to carry his
wife off. Not a single one of my ladies or of my officers was by me.
General Lauriston, who adores his wife, cried out in the most lamentable
way, and impeded us in our flight. I was calmer then than when the
Emperor left me again. We sat up with Caroline until four in the
morning, when he came back, wet through with the rain. The Duchess of
Rovigo, one of my ladies, is seriously burned. The Countesses Bucholz
and Loewenstein, the Queen of Westphalia's ladies, are also injured....
Lauriston, in saving his wife, had his hair and forehead singed. Prince
Kourakine was so severely injured that he lost consciousness; in the
panic the crowd trampled upon him, and he was dragged out half dead.
Prince Metternich is hardly hurt at all. Prince Charles Schwarzenberg,
who insisted on staying until every one had got out, is badly burned.
The poor Ambassador is beside himself, though he is in no way
responsible for the calamity."
Marie Louise, who had been interrupted at this point, continued as
follows: "I have just come from the Emperor, where I heard a terrible
piece of news. Princess Pauline Schwarzenberg has been found, burned to
a crisp.... Her diamonds were lying near her. She wore on her neck
a heart in brilliants, on which were engraved the names of her two
daughters, Eleonore and Pauline, and it was by this that she was
recognized. She leaves eight children, and was expecting another. Her
family is inconsolable. Kourakine is very low; so is Madame Durosnel,
the general's wife. I am so distressed that I cannot stir."
The Emperor Francis wrote to his son-in-law about this distressing
event: "July 15. My Brother and very dear Son-in-law,--It is with the
greatest satisfaction that I have heard that Your Imperial Majesty, as
well as the Empress, my beloved daughter, has escaped the melancholy
accidents that occurred at the ball of my Ambassador, Prince
Schwarzenberg. I cannot express to you, my brother, my gratitude for the
tokens of your interest which you manifested on that occasion, and for
your personal exertions, as noble as they were courageous, to arrest
the progress of the disaster. Count Metternich and Prince Schwarzenberg
cannot find words to express their profound gratitude for your kindness
and anxiety, and I beg Your Majesty to receive this expression of all
that I have experienced in reading their reports."
The calamity produced a most melancholy impression. It recalled to
every one the disasters that attended the festivities given to Marie
Antoinette forty years before. This ball, followed by a horrid
catastrophe, this grand drawing-room, vanishing in flames, were they not
omens of evil? Was not the great empire to perish in the same way? This
fire, bursting forth in a night of revelry and triumph, was it not like
a prophecy of a still more terrible fire, that which laid Moscow in
ashes? But nations have short memories; gloomy presentiments soon
vanish. The Empire was then so glorious that a passing incident could
not seriously disturb it, and a few days after the catastrophe it was
forgotten. Every one, even the enemies of France, felt the fascination
of this most wonderful career which formed the strangest and most
improbable of romances.
XIX.
THE BIRTH OF THE KING OF ROME.
Napoleon and Marie Louise grew fonder and fonder of each other as time
went on. The Empress wrote to her father: "I assure you, dear papa, that
people have done great injustice to the Emperor. The better one knows
him, the better one appreciates and loves him." Napoleon's satisfaction
was even greater when he learned that his young wife was to bring him an
heir; he redoubled his solicitous attention and regards; he never blamed
her, he uttered only words of praise and tenderness. This extract from
Metternich's Memoirs will serve to show how anxious the Emperor was at
this time to spare his wife every form of annoyance: "In the summer of
1810, Napoleon asked me to wait after one of his levees at Saint Cloud.
When we were alone, he asked me, with some embarrassment, if I would do
him a great favor. 'It's about the Empress,' he said; 'you see she is
young and inexperienced, and she does not understand the ways of this
country or the French character. I have given her the Duchess of
Montebello for a companion; she is an excellent woman, but sometimes a
little indiscreet. Yesterday, for example, when she was walking with
the Empress in the park, she presented one of her cousins to her. The
Empress talked with him, and that was a mistake. If she is going to have
young men, and second and third cousins, presented to her, she will
become the tool of intrigues. Every one in France has always some favor
to ask. The Empress will be besieged, and will be exposed to a thousand
annoyances, without being able to do anything for anybody.' I told
Napoleon that I quite agreed with him, but that I did not see why he
confided this matter to me. 'It is,' said Napoleon, 'because I want you
to speak about it to the Empress.' I expressed my surprise that he did
not do that himself. 'Your opinion is sound and wise, and the Empress is
too intelligent not to regard it.' 'I prefer,' said Napoleon,'that you
should do this. The Empress is young, and she might think that I am
merely a cross husband; you are her father's minister and an old friend;
what you may say will have a great deal more weight with her than any
words of mine.'"
Napoleon manifested great regard, not for his wife alone, but also for
his father-in-law, of whom he always spoke with warm sympathy. When
Count Metternich came to bid farewell before returning to Vienna, at the
end of September, 1810, Napoleon charged him to convey to the Emperor
Francis the most positive assurances of his friendship and devotion.
"The Emperor must be sure," he said, "that my only wish is for his
happiness and prosperity. He must reject any idea of my encroaching on
his monarchy. That cannot fail to grow, and speedily too, through our
alliance. Assure him that anything which he may hear to the contrary
is false. I had rather have him than any one of my own brothers on the
Austrian throne, and I don't see any cause for quarrel between us."
Early in July, when their hopes were still vague, Marie Louise wrote to
her father: "Heaven grant that they may prove true! The Emperor would
be so happy!" And later she wrote: "I can assure you, dear papa, that
I look forward without dread to this event, which will be a great
happiness." The official notification of her condition was not made till
November, when Napoleon sent the Baron de Mesgrigny to Vienna with two
letters, one from himself and one from the Empress, to the Emperor
Francis. "This letter," Marie Louise wrote, "is to announce to you, dear
papa, the great news. I take this opportunity to ask your blessing for
me and for your grandchild. You may imagine my delight. It will be
complete if the event shall bring you to Paris." The hope of seeing her
father soon was continually present with her, and Napoleon encouraged
it. As she wrote to her father, "My husband often speaks of you and is
anxious to see you again."
The Emperor Francis answered his son-in-law, December 3, 1810, in these
terms: "My Brother and very Dear Son-in-law,--The letter which M. de
Mesgrigny has handed to me fills me with the liveliest joy. The
happy event which it mentions arouses my fullest sympathy. My best
wishes go out to you, my brother, and the present condition of things
which your letter announces, is too intimately connected with our
reciprocal satisfaction for me not to set the greatest store, as friend
and father, by the news you give me. Everything which Your Majesty says
about your domestic happiness is corroborated by my daughter; in no way
can you, my brother, contribute more directly to my own. I knew the
excellent traits of my daughter when I entrusted her to you, and
Your Imperial Majesty must be sure that my only consolation for the
separation is her happiness, which is inseparable from that of her
husband."
Napoleon asked of the Bishops and Archbishops special prayers in behalf
of the Empress. December 2, the anniversary of his coronation, and of
the battle of Austerlitz, he gave an audience to the Senate, who came
to thank him for the notification of the Empress's expectations. At the
Tuileries that day was celebrated by mass a _Te Deum_, an illumination,
and a play. Twelve young girls, who were dowered by the Empress, were
married in the Cathedral, and there was a generous distribution of alms.
The Emperor founded a society of Maternal Charity, to aid poor women
during their confinement. The Empress was appointed patroness of the
society, and Mesdames de Ségur and de Pastoret Vice-Presidents; a
thousand ladies joined it, and fifteen held offices; there was a Grand
Council which sat in Paris, and administrative councils were appointed
for the provinces. The Grand Almoner was made secretary, and there was a
general treasurer. The capital of the society amounted to five hundred
thousand francs, raised in part from the public funds, and in part by
voluntary subscriptions, which soon furnished the required sum.
New Year's Day was approaching, and Marie Louise desired a set of
Brazilian rubies, costing forty-six thousand francs. As she wanted to
make some presents to her sisters, and these cost twenty-five thousand
francs, she saw that only fifteen thousand francs would be left of her
December allowance. Consequently she denied herself the rubies, and
forbore to say anything about them to the Emperor. But Napoleon happened
to hear of it, and was delighted with his wife's economy and sense
of order, which he rewarded in the most delicate manner. He secretly
ordered of the crown-jeweller a set of rubies like the one she had
wanted, but worth between three and four hundred thousand francs,
and surprised her with these, an attention by which she was highly
gratified. He asked her at the same time if she had thought of sending
any New Year's presents to her sisters, the Archduchesses. She answered
yes, and that she had ordered for the young Princesses presents worth
together something like twenty-five thousand francs. Napoleon thought
that a rather small sum; but she told him that they were not so spoiled
as she was, and that they would think their presents superb. Then the
Emperor presented her with a hundred thousand francs.
In January, 1811, the Emperor thus thanked Napoleon for a portrait of
his daughter, the Empress:--
"My Brother,--The delicate way in which Your Imperial Majesty has
fulfilled my wishes by sending me the portrait of the Empress, your dear
wife, lends a new value to the letter you have written to me. I hasten
to give expression to the joy which I feel in seeing the features of my
beloved daughter, which seem to add to a perfect likeness the merit of
expressing her happiness in a congenial marriage."
The Countess of Montesquiou, a most worthy woman, was appointed
Governess of the Imperial children, with two assistants, Mesdames de
Mesgrigny and de Boubers, and later a third, Madame Soufflot. A nurse
was chosen,--a sturdy, healthy woman, wife of a joiner at Fontainebleau;
and two cribs were prepared,--a blue one for a prince, a pink one for
a princess. The baby-linen, which was valued at three hundred thousand
francs, aroused the admiration of all the ladies of the court.
In January and February, 1811, Marie Louise still went about. She drove
to the hunt in the forest of Vincennes, in that of Saint Germain, and
at Versailles. She used to walk in the Bois de Boulogne with Napoleon.
Towards the middle of February great preparations began to be made for
the happy event. Dr. Dubois was installed at the Tuileries, in the
apartments of the Grand Marshal of the Palace, and the Duchess of
Montebello, lady-in-waiting, took up her quarters in the palace. Marie
Louise, who had gone to a fancy ball at the Duchess of Rovigo's,
February 10, was present on the 25th at a quiet ball given at
the Tuileries, at which were present only two strangers,--Prince
Schwarzenberg, the Austrian Ambassador, and Prince Leopold of Coburg.
March 5 Count Frochot, Prefect of the Seine, came to the Tuileries, at
the head of the Municipal Council, to present, in the name of the city
of Paris, a magnificent red cradle, shaped like a ship, the emblem of
the capital. This cradle, a real masterpiece, had been designed by
Prudhon the artist, and is now in the Imperial Treasury of Vienna, to
which it was given by the King of Rome when Duke of Reichstadt. The
ornamentation, which is in mother-of-pearl and vermilion, is set on
a ground of orange-red velvet. It is formed of a pillar of
mother-of-pearl, on which are set gold bees, and is supported by four
cornucopias, near which are set the figures of Force and Justice. At the
top there is a shield with the Emperor's initials, surrounded by three
rows of ivy and laurel. A figure representing Glory overhanging the
world, holds a crown, in the middle of which shines Napoleon's star. A
young eagle at the foot of the cradle is gazing at the conqueror's star,
with wings spread as if about to take flight. A curtain of lace, covered
with stars and ending in rich gold embroidery, hangs over each side.
When Marie Louise's walks were limited to the terrace of the Tuileries,
by the side of the sheet of water that bounds the garden, a small
doorway with an iron grating was thrown open into the first floor of the
palace, to make easier her access to the spot. Around the grating the
crowd used to gather to watch the Empress and respectfully to offer her
their best wishes.