NAPOLEON'S HEIR.
Hortense had not been able to take any part in the festivities of the
coronation; but another festivity had been prepared for her in the
retirement of her apartments. She had given birth to a son; and in this
child the happy mother found consolation and a new hope.
Josephine, who had assumed the imperial crown with a feeling of
foreboding sadness, received the intelligence of the birth of her
grandson with exultation. It seemed to her that the clouds that had been
gathering over her head were now dissipated, and that a day of
unclouded sunshine now smiled down upon her. Hortense had assured her
mother's future; she had given birth to a son, and had thus given a
first support to the new imperial dynasty. There was now no longer a
reason why Napoleon should entertain the thoughts of a separation, for
there was a son to whom he could one day bequeath the imperial throne
of France.
The emperor also seemed to be disposed to favor Josephine's wishes, and
to adopt his brother's son as his own. Had he not requested the Pope to
delay his departure for a few days, in order to baptize the child? The
Pope performed this sacred rite at St. Cloud, the emperor holding the
child, and Madame Letitia standing at his side as second witness.
Hortense now possessed an object upon which she could lavish the whole
wealth of love that had until now lain concealed in her heart. The
little Napoleon Charles was Hortense's first happy love; and she gave
way to this intoxicating feeling with the most intense delight.
Josephine's house was now her home in the fullest sense of the word; she
no longer shared her home with her husband, and could now bestow her
undivided love and care upon her child. Louis Napoleon, the
Grand-Constable of France, had been appointed Governor of Piedmont by
Napoleon; and Hortense, owing to her delicate health, had not been
compelled to accompany him, but had been permitted to remain in her
little house in Paris, which she could exchange when summer came for
her husband's new estate, the castle of Saint-Leu.
But the tranquillity which Josephine enjoyed with her child in this
charming country-resort was to be of short duration. The brother and
sister-in-law of the emperor could not hope to be permitted to lead a
life of retirement. They were rays of the sun that now dazzled the whole
world; they must fulfil their destiny, and contribute their light to the
ruling sun.
An order of Napoleon recalled the constable, who had returned from
Piedmont a short time before, and repaired to Saint-Leu to see his son,
to Paris. Napoleon had appointed his brother to a brilliant destiny; the
Constable of France was to become a king. Delegates of the Republic of
Batavia, the late Holland, had arrived in Paris, and requested their
mighty neighbor, the Emperor Napoleon, to give them a king, who should
unite them with the glittering empire, through the ties of blood.
Napoleon intended to fulfil their wishes, and present them with a king,
in the person of his brother Louis.
But Louis was rather appalled than dazzled by this offer, and refused to
accept the proposed dignity. In this refusal he was also in perfect
harmony with his wife, who did all in her power to strengthen his
resolution. Both felt that the crown which it was proposed to place on
their heads would be nothing more than a golden chain of dependence;
that the King of Holland could be nothing more than the vassal of
France; and their personal relations to each other added another
objection to this political consideration.
In Paris, husband and wife could forget the chain that bound them
together; there they were in the circle of their friends, and could
avoid each other. The great, glittering imperial court served to
separate and reconcile the young couple, who had never forgiven
themselves for having fettered each other in this involuntary union. In
Paris they had amusements, friends, society; while in Holland they would
live in entire dependence on each other, and hear continually the
rattling of the chain with which each had bound the other to the galley
of a union without love.
Both felt this, and both were, therefore, united in the endeavor to ward
off this new misfortune that was suspended over their heads, in the form
of a kingly crown.
But how could they resist successfully the iron will of Napoleon?
Hortense had never had the courage to address Napoleon directly on the
subject of her wishes and petitions, and Josephine already felt that her
wishes no longer exercised the power of earlier days over the emperor.
She therefore avoided interceding where she was not sure of being
successful.
At the outset, Louis had the courage to resist his brother openly; but
Napoleon's angry glance annihilated his opposition, and his gentle,
yielding nature was forced to succumb. In the presence of the deputation
of the Batavian Republic, that so ardently longed for a sceptre and
crown, Napoleon appealed to his brother Louis to accept the crown which
had been freely tendered him, and to be to his country a king who would
respect and protect its liberties, its laws, and its religion.
With emotion, Louis Bonaparte declared himself ready to accept this
crown, and to be a good and true ruler to his new country.
And to keep this oath faithfully was from this time the single and
sacred endeavor to which he devoted his every thought and energy. The
people of Holland having chosen him to be their king, he was determined
to do honor to their choice; having been compelled to give up his own
country and nationality, he determined to belong to his new country with
his whole heart and being--to become a thorough Hollander, as he could
no longer remain a Frenchman.
This heretofore so gentle and passive nature now developed an entirely
new energy; this dreamer, this pale, silent brother of the emperor, was
now suddenly transformed into a bold, self-reliant man of action, who
had fixed his gaze on a noble aim, and was ready to devote all the
powers of his being to its attainment. As King of Holland, he desired,
above all, to be beloved by his subjects, and to be able to contribute
to their welfare and happiness. He studied their language with untiring
diligence, and made himself acquainted with their manners and customs,
for the purpose of making them his own. He investigated the sources of
their wealth and of their wants, and sought to develop the former and
relieve the latter. He was restless in his efforts to provide for his
country, and to merit the love and confidence which his subjects
bestowed on him.
His wife also exerted herself to do justice to her new and glittering
position, and to wear worthily the crown which she had so unwillingly
accepted. In her drawing-rooms she brought together, at brilliant
entertainments, the old aristocracy and the new nobility of Holland, and
taught the stiff society of that country the fine, unconstrained tone,
and the vivacious intellectual conversation of Parisian society. It was
under Hortense's fostering hand that art and science first made their
way into the aristocratic parlors of Holland, giving to their social
reunions a higher and nobler importance.
And Hortense was not only the protectress of art and science, but also
the mother of the poor, the ministering angel of the unhappy, whose
tears she dried, and whose misery she alleviated--and this royal pair,
though adored and blessed by their subjects, could not find within their
palaces the least reflection of the happiness they so well knew how to
confer upon others without its walls. Between these two beings, so
gentle and yielding to others, a strange antipathy continued to exist,
and not even the birth of a second, and of a third, son could fill up
the chasm that separated them.
And this chasm was soon to be broadened by a new blow of destiny.
Hortense's eldest, the adopted son of Napoleon, the presumptive heir to
his throne, the child that Napoleon loved so dearly that he often played
with him for hours on the terraces of St. Cloud, the child Josephine
worshipped, because its existence seemed to assure her own happiness,
the child that had awakened the first feeling of motherly bliss in
Hortense's bosom, the child that had often even consoled Louis Bonaparte
for the unenjoyable present with bright hopes for the future--the little
Napoleon Charles died in the year 1807, of the measles.
This was a terrific blow that struck the parents, and the imperial pair
of France with equal force. Napoleon's eyes filled with tears when this
intelligence was brought him, and a cry of horror escaped
Josephine's lips.
"Now I am lost!" she murmured in a low voice; "now my fate is decided.
He will put me away."
But after this first egotistical outburst of her own pain, she hastened
to the Hague to weep with her daughter, and bring her away from the
place associated with her loss and her anguish. Hortense returned with
the empress to St. Cloud; while her husband, who had almost succumbed to
his grief, was compelled to seek renewed health in the baths of the
Pyrenees. The royal palace at the Hague now stood desolate again; death
had banished life and joy from its halls; and, though the royal pair
were subsequently compelled to return to it, joy and happiness came back
with them no more.
King Louis had returned from the Pyrenees in a more gloomy and
ill-natured frame of mind than ever; a sickly distrust, a repulsive
irritability, had taken possession of his whole being, and his young
wife no longer had the good-will to bear with his caprices, and excuse
his irritable disposition. They were totally different in their views,
desires, inclinations, and aspirations; and their children, instead of
being a means of reuniting, seemed to estrange them the more, for each
insisted on considering them his or her exclusive property, and in
having them educated according to his or her views and wishes.
But Hortense was soon to forget her own household troubles and cares, in
the greater misery of her mother. A letter from Josephine, an agonized
appeal to her daughter for consolation, recalled Hortense to her
mother's side, and she left the Hague and hastened to Paris.