The following night, when we assembled for dinner, I received orders to sit next to the Empress. This was still more embarrassing. It is true, one does not speak to a sovereign unless one is spoken to; but still one is permitted to make the initiative easy. I found that I was expected to take my share of the task; and by a happy inspiration, introduced the subject of the Prince Imperial, then a child of eight years old. The MONDAINE Empress was at once merged in the adoring mother; her whole soul was wrapped up in the boy. It was easy enough then to speculate on his career, at least so far as the building of castles in the air for fantasies to roam in. What a future he had before him! - to consolidate the Empire! to perfect the great achievement of his father, and render permanent the foundation of the Napoleonic dynasty! to build a superstructure as transcendent for the glories of Peace, as those of his immortal ancestor had been for War!
It was not difficult to play the game with such court cards in one's hand. Nor was it easy to coin these PHRASES DE
SUCRECANDI without sober and earnest reflections on the import of their contents. What, indeed, might or might not be the consequences to millions, of the wise or unwise or evil development of the life of that bright and handsome little fellow, now trotting around the dessert table, with the long curls tumbling over his velvet jacket, and the flowers in his hand for some pretty lady who was privileged to kiss him? Who could foretell the cruel doom - heedless of such favours and such splendid promises - that awaited the pretty child? Who could hear the brave young soldier's last shrieks of solitary agony? Who could see the forsaken body slashed with knives and assegais? Ah! who could dream of that fond mother's heart, when the end came, which eclipsed even the disasters of a nation!
One by-day, when my wife and I were riding with the Emperor through the forest of Compiegne, a rough-looking man in a blouse, with a red comforter round his neck, sprang out from behind a tree; and before he could be stopped, seized the Emperor's bridle. In an instant the Emperor struck his hand with a heavy hunting stock; and being free, touched his horse with the spur and cantered on. I took particular notice of his features and his demeanour, from the very first moment of the surprise. Nothing happened but what I have described.
The man seemed fierce and reckless. The Emperor showed not the faintest signs of discomposure. All he said was, turning to my wife, 'Comme il avait l'air sournois, cet homme!' and resumed the conversation at the point where it was interrupted.
Before we had gone a hundred yards I looked back to see what had become of the offender. He was in the hands of two GENS
D'ARMES, who had been invisible till then.
'Poor devil,' thought I, 'this spells dungeon for you.'
Now, with Kinglake's acrimonious charge of the Emperor's personal cowardice running in my head, I felt that this exhibition of SANG FROID, when taken completely unawares, went far to refute the imputation. What happened later in the day strongly confirmed this opinion.
After dark, about six o'clock, I took a stroll by myself through the town of Compiegne. Coming home, when crossing the bridge below the Palace, I met the Emperor arm-in-arm with Walewski. Not ten minutes afterwards, whom should I stumble upon but the ruffian who had seized the Emperor's bridle? The same red comforter was round his neck, the same wild look was in his face. I turned after he had passed, and at the same moment he turned to look at me.
Would this man have been at large but for the Emperor's orders? Assuredly not. For, supposing he were crazy, who could have answered for his deeds? Most likely he was shadowed; and to a certainty the Emperor would be so. Still, what could save the latter from a pistol-shot? Yet, here he was, sauntering about the badly lighted streets of a town where his kenspeckle figure was familiar to every inhabitant.
Call this fatalism if you will; but these were not the acts of a coward. I told this story to a friend who was well 'posted' in the club gossip of the day. He laughed.
'Don't you know the meaning of Kinglake's spite against the Emperor?' said he. 'CHERCHEZ LA FEMME. Both of them were in love with Mrs. - '
This is the way we write our histories.
Wishing to explore the grounds about the palace before anyone was astir, I went out one morning about half-past eight.
Seeing what I took to be a mausoleum, I walked up to it, found the door opened, and peeped in. It turned out to be a museum of Roman antiquities, and the Emperor was inside, arranging them. I immediately withdrew, but he called to me to come in.
He was at this time busy with his Life of Caesar; and, in his enthusiasm, seemed pleased to have a listener to his instructive explanations; he even encouraged the curiosity which the valuable collection and his own remarks could not fail to awaken.
Not long ago, I saw some correspondence in the Times' and other papers about what Heine calls 'Das kleine welthistorische Hutchen,' which the whole of Europe knew so well, to its cost. Some six or seven of the Buonaparte hats, so it appears, are still in existence. But I noticed, that though all were located, no mention was made of the one in the Luxembourg.
When we left Compiegne for Paris we were magnificently furnished with orders for royal boxes at theatres, and for admission to places of interest not open to the public. Thus provided, we had access to many objects of historical interest and of art - amongst the former, the relics of the great conqueror. In one glass case, under lock and key, was the 'world-historical little hat.' The official who accompanied us, having stated that we were the Emperor's guests, requested the keeper to take it out and show it to us. I hope no Frenchman will know it, but, I put the hat upon my head. In one sense it was a 'little' hat - that is to say, it fitted a man with a moderate sized skull - but the flaps were much larger than pictures would lead one to think, and such was the weight that I am sure it would give any ordinary man accustomed to our head-gear a still neck to wear it for an hour. What has become of this hat if it is not still in the Luxembourg?
