The pregnancy of Marie Louise had been free from accident, and promised a
happy deliverance, which was awaited by the Emperor with an impatience in
which France had joined for a long while. It was a curious thing to
observe the state of the public mind, while the people formed all sorts
of conjectures, and made unanimous and ardent prayers that the child
should be a son, who might receive the vast inheritance of Imperial
glory. The 19th of March, at seven o'clock in the evening, the Empress
was taken ill; and from that moment the whole palace was in commotion.
The Emperor was informed, and sent immediately for M. Dubois, who had
been staying constantly at the chateau for some time past, and whose
attentions were so valued at such a time.
All the private household of the Empress, as well as Madame de
Montesquieu, were gathered in the apartment, the Emperor, his mother,
sisters, Messieurs Corvisart, Bourdier, and Yvan in an adjoining room.
The Emperor came in frequently, and encouraged his young wife. In the
interior of the palace, the attention was eager, impassioned, clamorous;
and each vied with the other as to who should first have the news of the
birth of the child. At five o'clock in the morning, as the situation of
the Empress continued the same, the Emperor ordered every one to retire,
and himself withdrew in order to take his bath; for the anxiety he had
undergone made a moment of repose very necessary to him in his great
agitation. After fifteen minutes spent in the bath he was hastily
summoned, as the condition of the Empress had become both critical and
dangerous. Hastily throwing on his dressing-gown, he returned to the
apartment of the Empress, and tenderly encouraged her, holding her hand.
The physician, M. Dubois, informed him that it was improbable both mother
and child could be saved; whereupon he cried, "Come, M. Dubois, keep your
wits about you! Save the mother, think only of the mother, I order you."
As the intense suffering continued, it became necessary to use
instruments; and Marie Louise, perceiving this, exclaimed with
bitterness, "Is it necessary to sacrifice me because I am an Empress?"
The Emperor overcome by his emotions had retired to the dressing-room,
pale as death, and almost beside himself. At last the child came into
the world; and the Emperor immediately rushed into the apartment,
embracing the Empress with extreme tenderness, without glancing at the
child, which was thought to be dead; and in fact, it was seven minutes
before he gave any signs of life, though a few drops of brandy were blown
into his mouth and many efforts made to revive him. At last he uttered a
cry.
The Emperor rushed from the Empress's arms to embrace this child, whose
birth was for him the last and highest favor of fortune, and seemed
almost beside himself with joy, rushing from the son to the mother, from
the mother to the son, as if he could not sufficiently feast his eyes on
either. When he entered his room to make his toilet, his face beamed
with joy; and, seeing me, he exclaimed, "Well, Constant, we have a big
boy! He is well made to pinch ears for example;" announcing it thus to
every one he met. It was in these effusions of domestic bliss that I
could appreciate how deeply this great soul, which was thought
impressible only to glory, felt the joys of family life.
From the moment the great bell of Notre Dame and the bells of the
different churches of Paris sounded in the middle of the night, until the
hour when the cannon announced the happy delivery of the Empress, an
extreme agitation was felt throughout Paris. At break of day the crowd
rushed towards the Tuileries, and filled the streets and quays, all
awaiting in anxious suspense the first discharge of the cannon. But this
curious sight was not only seen in the Tuileries and neighboring
districts, but at half-past nine in streets far removed from the chateau,
and in all parts of Paris, people could be seen stopping to count with
emotion the discharges of the cannon.
The twenty-second discharge which announced the birth of a boy was hailed
with general acclamations. To the silence of expectation, which had
arrested as if by enchantment the steps of all persons scattered over all
parts of the city, succeeded a burst of enthusiasm almost indescribable.
In this twenty-second [It had been announced in the papers that if it,
was a girl a salute of twenty-one guns would be fired; if a boy, one
hundred guns.] boom of the cannon was a whole dynasty, a whole future,
and simultaneously hats went up in the air; people ran over each other,
and embraced those to whom they were strangers amid shouts of "Vive
l'Empereur!" Old soldiers shed tears of joy, thinking that they had
contributed by their labors and their fatigues to prepare the heritage of
the King of Rome, and that their laurels would wave over the cradle of a
dynasty.
Napoleon, concealed behind a curtain at one of the windows of the
Empress's room, enjoyed the sight of the popular joy, and seemed deeply
touched. Great tears rolled from his eyes, and overcome by emotion he
came again to embrace his son. Never had glory made him shed a tear; but
the happiness of being a father had softened this heart on which the most
brilliant victories and the most sincere testimonials of public
admiration seemed hardly to make an impression. And in truth Napoleon
had a right to believe in his good fortune, which had reached its height
on the day when an archduchess of Austria made him the father of a king,
who had begun as a cadet in a Corsican family. At the end of a few hours
the event which was awaited with equal impatience by France and Europe
had become the personal joy of every household.
At half-past ten Madame Blanchard set out from L'Ecole Militaire in a
balloon for the purpose of carrying into all the towns and villages
through which she passed, the news of the birth of the King of Rome.
The telegraph carried the happy news in every direction; and at two
o'clock in the afternoon replies had already been received from Lyons,
Lille, Brussels, Antwerp, Brest, and many other large towns of the
Empire, which replies, as may well be imagined were in perfect accord
with the sentiments entertained at the capital.
In order to respond to the eagerness of the crowd which pressed
continually around the doors of the palace to learn of the welfare of the
Empress and her august child, it was decided that one of the chamberlains
should stand from morning till evening in the first saloon of the state
apartments, to receive those who came, and inform them of the bulletins
which her Majesty's physicians issued twice a day. At the end of a few
hours, special couriers were sent on all roads leading to foreign courts,
bearing the news of the delivery of the Empress; the Emperor's pages
being charged with this mission to the Senate of Italy, and the municipal
bodies of Milan and Rome. Orders were given in the fortified towns and
ports that the same salutes should be fired as at Paris, and that the
fleets should be decorated. A beautiful evening favored the special
rejoicings at the capital where the houses were voluntarily illuminated.
Those who seek to ascertain by external appearances the real feelings of
a people amid events of this kind, remarked that the topmost stories of
houses in the faubourgs were as well lighted as the most magnificent
hotels and finest houses of the capital. Public buildings, which under
other circumstances are remarkable from the darkness of the surrounding
houses, were scarcely seen amid this profusion of lights with which
public gratitude had lighted every window. The boatmen gave an impromptu
fete which lasted part of the night, and to witness which an immense
crowd covered the shore, testifying the most ardent joy. This people,
who for thirty years had passed through so many different emotions, and
who had celebrated so many victories, showed as much enthusiasm as if it
had been their first fete, or a happy change in their destiny. Verses
were sung or recited at all the theaters; and there was no poetic
formula, from the ode to the fable, which was not made use of to
celebrate the event of the 20th of March, 1811. I learned from a well-
informed person that the sum of one hundred thousand francs from the
private funds of the Emperor was distributed by M. Dequevauvilliers,
secretary of the treasury of the chamber, among the authors of the poetry
sent to the Tuileries; and finally, fashion, which makes use of the least
events, invented stuffs called roi-de-Rome, as in the old regime they had
been called dauphin. On the evening of the 20th of March at nine o'clock
the King of Rome was anointed in the chapel of the Tuileries. This was a
most magnificent ceremony. The Emperor Napoleon, surrounded by the
princes and princesses of his whole court, placed him in the center of
the chapel on a sofa surmounted by a canopy with a Prie-Dieu. Between
the altar and the balustrade had been placed on a carpet of white velvet
a pedestal of granite surmounted by a hand some silver gilt vase to be
used as a baptismal font. The Emperor was grave; but paternal tenderness
diffused over his face an expression of happiness, and it might have been
said that he felt himself half relieved of the burdens of the Empire on
seeing the august child who seemed destined to receive it one day from
the hands of his father. When he approached the baptismal font to
present the child to be anointed there was a moment of silence and
religious contemplation, which formed a touching contrast to the
vociferous gayety which at the same moment animated the crowd outside,
whom the spectacle of the brilliant fireworks had drawn from all parts of
Paris to the Tuileries.
Madame Blanchard, who as I have said had set out in her balloon an hour
after the birth of the King of Rome, to carry the news into all places
she passed, first descended at Saint-Tiebault near Lagny, and from there,
as the wind had subsided, returned to Paris. Her balloon rose after her
departure, and fell at a place six leagues farther on, and the
inhabitants, finding in this balloon only clothing and provisions, did
not doubt that the intrepid aeronaut had been killed; but fortunately
just as her death was announced at Paris, Madame Blanchard herself
arrived and dispelled all anxiety.
Many persons had doubted Marie Louise's pregnancy. Some believed it
assumed, and I never could comprehend the foolish reasons given by these
persons on this subject which malevolence tried to 'gular' fact which
carries its great number of these evil-thinking, suspicious persons, one
part accused the Emperor of being a libertine, supposing him the father
of many natural children, and the other thought him incapable of
obtaining children even by a young princess only nineteen years of age,
their hatred thus blinding their judgment. If Napoleon had natural
children, why could he not have legitimate ones, especially with a young
wife who was known to be in most flourishing health. Besides, it was not
the first, as it was not the last, shaft of malice aimed at Napoleon; for
his position was too high, his glory too brilliant, not to inspire
exaggerated sentiments whether of joy or hatred.
There were also some ill-wishers who took pleasure in saying that
Napoleon was incapable of tender sentiments, and that the happiness of
being a father could not penetrate this heart so filled with ambition as
to exclude all else. I can cite, among many others in my knowledge, a
little anecdote which touched me exceedingly, and which I take much
pleasure in relating, since, while it triumphantly answers the calumnies
of which I have spoken, it also proves the special consideration with
which his Majesty honored me, and consequently, both as a father and a
faithful servant, I experience a mild satisfaction in placing it in these
Memoirs. Napoleon was very fond of children; and having one day asked me
to bring mine to him, I went to seek him. Meanwhile Talleyrand was
announced to the Emperor; and as the interview lasted a long time, my
child grew weary of waiting, and I carried him back to his mother. A
short time after he was taken with croup, which cruel disease, concerning
which his Majesty had made a special appeal to the faculty of Paris, [on
the occasion of the death from croup in 1807 of his heir presumptive, the
young son of the King of Holland]. It snatched many children from their
families. Mine died at Paris. We were then at the chateau of Compiegne,
and I received the sad news just as I was preparing to go to the toilet.
I was too much overcome by my loss to perform my duties; and when the
Emperor asked what prevented my coming, and was told that I had just
heard of the death of my son, said kindly, "Poor Constant! what a
terrible sorrow! We fathers alone can know what it is!"
A short time after, my wife went to see the Empress Josephine at
Malmaison; and this lovely princess deigned to receive her alone in the
little room in front of her bedroom. There she seated herself beside
her, and tried in touching words of sympathy to console her, saying that
this stroke did not reach us alone, and that her grandson, too, had died
of the same disease. As she said this she began to weep; for this
remembrance reopened in her soul recent griefs, and my wife bathed with
tears the hands of this excellent princess. Josephine added many
touching remarks, trying to alleviate her sorrow by sharing it, and thus
restore resignation to the heart of the poor mother. The remembrance of
this kindness helped to calm our grief, and I confess that it is at once
both an honor and a consolation to recall the august sympathy which the
loss of this dear child excited in the hearts of Napoleon and Josephine.
The world will never know how much sensibility and compassion Josephine
felt for the sorrows of others, and all the treasures of goodness
contained in her beautiful soul.