Chapter V

Prince Metternich is appointed to teach the history of Napoleon to the Duc de Reichstadt--The duke's plan of political conduct--The poet Barthélemy at Vienna--His interviews with Count Dietrichstein--Opinion of the Duc de Reichstadt on the poem _Napoléon en Égypte_

"Prince Metternich," says M. de Montbel, "was expressly charged to teach the Duc de Reichstadt the _exact and complete_ history of Napoleon." What irony! To charge the man who signed the instructions of M. de Sturmer, the representative of Austria Saint-Helena, to teach the son the _exact and complete_ story of the father whose name the son no longer bore, whose title and arms he no longer carried!

Poor prisoner! Could they but have added this torture to thy agony by saying to thee, "Thy son only knows thee through the appreciation and according to the narrative of M. de Metternich!"

"I desire," said the Emperor Francis to the Prime Minister, "that the duke should respect the memory of his father, take example from his great qualities and learn to know his faults in order to avoid them and be warned against their fatal influence. Speak to the prince about his father as you would like people to speak of you to your own son. Do not, because of that, hide the truth from him, but instruct him, I repeat, to honour his memory."

"'Henceforth," says M. de Montbel, with an artlessness which might very well be intended more for sarcasm than duplicity, "M. de Metternich directed the Duc de Reichstadt in his superior historical studies. By putting before him unexceptionable documents, he accustomed him to know the good faith of factions and the justice of party spirit; he tried to form his mind to habits of sane criticism, to enlighten his reason by teaching him to appraise actions and events from their causes as well as judge them from results. The Duc de Reichstadt received this advanced education with great enthusiasm: the justice and penetration of his mind made him fully appreciate its importance. In proportion as he read works relative to the history of our days _he consulted the Prince Metternich in all his doubts,_ he loved to question his experience and his recognised cleverness in many great events in which he had taken an active part. From this time the young duke displayed habitual eagerness to be near M. de Metternich."

The poor child's whole life was henceforth to be contained in the few lines we have just quoted.

Once, when he met the emperor and the prince together, he went up to them and said--

"The chief object of my life ought to be that I should not be unworthy of my father's renown; I shall attain this noble end, as far as it is in my power. I shall some day succeed in making one of his high qualities my own by avoiding the rocks they made him encounter. I shall fail in the duties his memory lays upon me if I become the plaything of factions and the tool of intrigues. The son of Napoleon can never descend to the despicable rôle of an adventurer!"

From the moment the Duc de Reichstadt showed such reasonableness, M. de Metternich and the Emperor of Austria had henceforth nothing more to fear.

It was about this time, and when the political education of the young prince had been finished by M. de Metternich, that Méry and Barthélemy published, on 10 November 1828, their poem, _Napoléon en Égypte._ The tremendous success of the poem is well known. Henceforward one pious idea sprang up in their hearts and in their minds; one of them would go to Vienna and offer to the young duke the epic poem, the hero of which is his father. Barthélemy went. We will let him describe his pilgrimage, and will afterwards relate the effect his presence produced in Vienna.

"The object of my journey being to be presented to the
Duc de Reichstadt and to offer our poem to him, you may
imagine I neglected no possible means of attaining it.
Among the numbers of people who testified some interest in
the matter, some were entirely without influence, others,
with some reason, feared to mix themselves up in an affair
of this nature. So I found myself reduced to being my
own adviser and protector. I thought that, instead of
making use of roundabout ways, which would have drawn down
serious suspicions as to my peaceful intentions, it would
be better to approach the object of my journey at Vienna.
Accordingly, I presented myself to the Comte de Czernin,
who is the emperor's _Oberhofmeister,_ an office which I
believe answers to that of grand chamberlain. The venerable
old man received me with a kindness and complaisancy which
touched me much; and when I propounded to him the object of
my visit, he did not seem at all surprised at it: only he
told me to address myself to Comte Dietrichstein, who was
specially responsible for the young prince's education, and
he even wished me to introduce myself under his auspices.
I did not lose a moment, on quitting Comte de Czernin, but
presented myself immediately to M. Dietrichstein. It gave
me genuine pleasure to be in the company of one of the
most amiable and highly accomplished lords of the Court
of Vienna. To the office of first tutor to the Duc de
Reichstadt he added the office of director of the library,
and, in view of this latter title, I could boldly put
forward my condition as a man of letters. He indeed told me
that our names and works were known to him; that he had even
taken the trouble to send to France for all the brochures
which we had published up to that time, and that he was
impatiently awaiting our last poem. As I had armed myself
with a copy ready for any opportunity, I hastened to offer
him one, and even! to write and sign a dedication to him
inside it, which appeared to please him much. Encouraged by
this reception, I thought it a propitious moment to make a
decisive overture.

"'Monsieur le Comte,' I said to him, 'as you have shown such
great kindness to me, I will venture to pray you to help me
in the business that has brought me to Vienna. I have come
with the sole object of presenting this book to the Duc de
Reichstadt; no one can second me better in my design than
his head-tutor. I hope that you will indeed accede to my
request.'

"At the first words of this humble, verbal request,
the count's face assumed an expression not so much of
displeasure as of uneasiness and constraint; he seemed to
be amiable enough to have emboldened me to make the demand,
and, no doubt, he would have preferred not to be under the
necessity of answering me. After a few minutes' silence, he
said to me--

"'Is it really true that you have come to Vienna to see
the young prince?... Who can have encouraged you in such a
proceeding? Is it possible that you have reckoned on your
journey being successful? They must indeed have false, and
even ridiculous, notions in France about what goes on here?
Do you not know that the politics of France and those of
Austria are equally opposed to it, and that no stranger
whatever, especially not a Frenchman, can be presented to
the prince? What you ask is, therefore, totally impossible.
I am truly sorry that you have taken such a long and
troublesome journey without any chance of success,' etc.,
etc.

"I replied that I had no commission from anybody to come to
Austria; that it was my own action, and that I had decided
on the journey without outside pressure; that in France it
was generally thought not to be difficult to be presented to
the Duc de Reichstadt, and that they had even been assured
that he received the French with most particular kindliness;
that, besides, the precautionary measures which kept
foreigners away did not seem to me to apply to me, simply
a man of letters, or to an inconspicuous citizen, who had
never filled any political rôle or office.

"'I perceive,' I added, 'that my zeal may seem exaggerated
to you; yet reflect that we have just published a poem
on Napoleon. Is it, then, strange that we should wish to
present it to his son? Do you think a literary man has a
hidden object? You only have to convince yourself to the
contrary. I do not ask an interview with the prince without
witnesses: it shall be before you, before ten persons if you
like, and if a single word escapes from me which can alarm
the most suspicious political feeling, I consent to end my
days in an Austrian prison.'

"The tutor replied that all the rumours spread abroad
through France on the subject of persons presented to
the Duc de Reichstadt were completely false: that he
was persuaded that the object of my journey was purely
literary, and detached from all political thought; but that,
nevertheless, it was impossible for him to go beyond his
orders; that the strictest guard prevented this kind of
interview; that the measures taken were not the result of
momentary caprice, but of a constant system adopted by both
the Courts; that it was not applicable to me alone, but to
all who attempted to approach the prince, and that I should
be wrong to feel myself especially hurt on account of it.

"'In fact,' he added, 'these rigorous measures should be
excused on the ground of fear of an attempt upon his person.'

"'But,' I said to him, 'an attempt of that nature is always
to be apprehended on behalf of the Duc de Reichstadt, for
the duke is not surrounded by guards. A resolute man could
always gain access to him, and one second would suffice to
commit a crime! Your watchfulness is, therefore, at fault
in this respect. Now you, perhaps, fear that too free
conversation with foreigners may reveal secrets to him or
inspire him with dangerous hopes; but, with all your power,
Monsieur le Comte, is it possible for you to prevent a
letter, a petition, some warning, being transmitted to him,
openly or clandestinely, whether during a walk, or at the
theatre, or in any other place? For instance, if, instead
of having frankly applied to you, I had posted myself in
his way; if I had boldly gone up to him, and, in your very
presence, had handed him a copy of _Napoléon en Égypte_
... you can very well see how I could have ruined all your
precautions, and I could have fulfilled my object, though,
I confess, it would have been by violent means; but then, it
is none the less true that the prince would have received my
copy, and would have read it, or, at least, would have known
the title of it.'

"M. Dietrichstein made me a reply which froze me with
astonishment--

"'Listen, monsieur; be very sure that the prince only hears
or sees or reads what we wish him to read or see or hear. If
he received a letter, an envelope, a book, which had evaded
our vigilance, and it came to him without passing through
our hands, believe me, his first care would be to hand it
to us before opening it; he would not decide to look at it
until we had pronounced he could do so safely.'

"'After that, Monsieur le Comte, it seems to me that the son
of Napoleon is very far from being as free as in France he
is supposed to be!'

"Answer--'The prince is not a prisoner ... but he is in a
quite peculiar position. Please do not press me any further
with your questions: I cannot satisfy you thoroughly: give
up the plan which brought you here. I repeat, it is an
absolute impossibility.'

"'Very well, you take away all hope from me! I can certainly
not apply to any one else after your decision, and I feel
it is useless to renew my entreaties; but, at all events,
you cannot refuse to give him this copy in the name of the
authors. He has no doubt a library, and the book is not
dangerous enough to be placed on the Index.'

"M. Dietrichstein shook his head irresolutely. I saw it was
painful to him to overwhelm me with two refusals on the same
day; so, not wishing to compel him to be too explicit, I
bade him good-bye, begging him to read the poem, to convince
himself that it contained nothing seditious, and hoping
that, being convinced, he would consent to favour my second
request.

"About a fortnight later, I returned to the head-tutor
and resumed my former importunities. He was amazed at my
persistency.

"'I really do not understand you!' he said to me; 'you place
too much importance on seeing the prince. Be satisfied to
know that he is happy, that he is without ambition. His
career is all mapped out: he will never go near France; _he
will not even think of doing it._ Repeat all this to your
compatriots; disabuse their minds, if it be possible. I do
not ask you to keep what I have told you secret; quite the
reverse: I beg you, on your return to France, to announce
it, and even to write of it if you like. As for the placing
of your copy, do not count on it. Your book is extremely
beautiful as poetry; but it is dangerous for the son of
Napoleon. Your style is full of imagination and vivacity of
description; these qualities, and the colouring you give to
history, all might excite enthusiasm in his young head and
vivify the germs of ambition, and these, not being able to
produce any result, would only serve to disgust him with
his actual position. He knows all he ought to know about
history,--that is to say, dates and names. You must see,
after this, that your book cannot be suitable for him.'

"I still insisted for some time; but I soon saw that the
head-tutor only listened to me out of civility. I did not
wish to exhaust myself over useless prayers, and therefore,
disabused of my innocent chimera, I looked upon the visit as
a farewell audience and only thought of returning to France.

"Up to the moment of my departure I continued to visit
the persons who had testified to so much interest in me.
At one of these peaceful gatherings they repeated to me
a suggestion of the Duc de Reichstadt which struck me
particularly. I had it from a reliable source, and if I were
not afraid of damaging the fortune of that person, I would
mention her here; but we will content ourselves with the
statement that she saw the prince in familiar intercourse
every day. Latterly, the odd youth seemed absorbed by one
rooted idea; he was entirely distracted during his lessons.
Suddenly he struck his forehead impatiently, and let slip
these words:--

"'But what do they wish to do with me then? Do they think I
have a head like my father's?...'

"One must conclude, therefore, that the living rampart
which surrounded him had been cleared; that a letter or an
indiscreet envelope had been sprung upon him, and for once
he had violated the orders which they prescribed him, of
not reading anything without the consent of his teachers."

The poet not being able to see the Duc de Reichstadt privately, at least did not mean to leave Vienna without seeing him in public. He learnt, one day, that the prince was to go that night to the theatre; he took a stall and seated himself opposite the Court box.

His lines will tell better than my prose what effect that appearance made upon him:--

"Bientôt, dans une loge où nul flambeau ne brille,
Arrivent gravement César et sa famille,
De princes, d'archiducs, inépuisable cour,
Comme l'aire d'un aigle ou le nid d'un vautour.
On lisait sur leurs fronts, dans leur morne attitude,
Les ennuis d'un plaisir usé par l'habitude.
Un lustre aux feux mourants, descendu du plafond,
Mêlait sa lueur triste au silence profond;
Seulement, par secousse, à l'angle de la salle,
Résonnait quelquefois la toux impériale.
Alors, un léger bruit réveilla mon esprit;
Dans la loge voisine, une porte s'ouvrit,
Et, dans la profondeur de cette enceinte obscure,
Apparut tout à coup une pâle figure ...
Éteinte dans ce cadre au milieu d'un fond noir,
Elle était immobile, et l'on aurait cru voir
Un tableau de Rembrandt chargé de teintes sombres,
Où la blancheur des chairs se détache des ombres.
Je sentis dans mes os un étrange frisson;
Dans ma tête siffla le tintement d'un son;
L'œil fixe, le cou roide et la bouche entr'ouverte,
Je ne vis plus qu'un point dans la salle déserte:
Acteurs, peuple, empereur, tout semblait avoir fui;
Et, croyant être seul, je m'écriai: 'C'est lui!'
C'était lui! Tout à coup, la figure isolée
D'un coup d'œil vif et prompt parcourut l'assemblée.
Telle, en éclairs de feu, jette un reflet pareil
Une lame d'acier qu'on agite au soleil.
Puis, comme réprimant un geste involontaire,
Il rendit à ses traits leur habitude austère,
Et s'assit. Cependent, mes regards curieux
Dessinaient à loisir l'être mystérieux:
Voyant cet œil rapide où brille la pensée,
Ce teint blanc de Louise et sa taille élancée.
Ces vifs tressaillements, ces mouvements nerveux,
Ce front saillant et large, orné de blonds cheveux;
Oui, ce corps, cette tête où la tristesse est peinte,
Du sang qui les forma portent la double empreinte!
Je ne sais toutefois ... je ne puis sans douleur
Contempler ce visage éclatant de pâleur;
On dirait que la vie à la mort s'y mélange!
Voyez-vous comme moi cette couleur étrange?
Quel germe destructeur, sous l'écorce agissant,
A sitôt défloré ce fruit adolescent?
Assailli, malgré moi, d'un effroi salutaire,
Je n'ose pour moi-même éclaircir ce mystère.
Le noir conseil des cours, au peuple défendu,
Est un profond abîme où nul n'est descendu:
Invisible dépôt, il est, dans chaque empire,
Une énigme, un secret qui jamais ne transpire;
C'est ce secret d'État que, sur le crucifix,
Les rois, en expirant, révèlent à leurs fils!
Faut-il vous répéter un effroyable doute?
Écoutez ... ou plutôt que personne n'écoute!
S'il est vrai qu'à ta cour, malheureux nourrisson,
La moderne Locuste ait transmis sa leçon,
Cette horrible pâleur, sinistre caractère,
Annonce de ton sang le mal héréditaire;
Et peut-être aujourd'hui, méthodique assassin,
Le cancer politique est déjà dans ton sein!
Mais non! mon âme, en vain de terreurs obsédée,
Repousse en frissonnant, une infernale idée;
J'aime mieux accuser l'étude aux longues nuits,
Des souvenirs amers ou de vagues ennuis.
Comme une jeune plante à la tige légère.
Que poussa l'ouragan sur la terre étrangère,
Loin du sol paternel languit et ne produit
Que des fleurs sans parfum et des boutons sans fruit,
Sans doute, l'orphelin que la grande tempête
Emporta vers le Nord dans son berceau de fête,
Aujourd'hui, comprimant de cuisantes douleurs,
Tourne vers l'Occident des yeux chargés de pleurs!..."

The poet had collected as much as he could during his voyage: he had seen the poor Imperial child from afar, at the back of a box! He went away predicting, as we see, a precocious and early death.

If we believe M. de Montbel, after the departure of Barthélemy _Napoléon en Égypte_ was read by the Imperial family in the presence of the Duc de Reichstadt, who listened to the reading with the profoundest indifference: he merely contented himself with saying that they had done right not to let the author of such a work have access to him.

Was he really so indifferent, so deceitful and ungrateful?