Désirée (79 page)

"Josephine, madame."

She had blue eyes, and lovely pearl-white teeth. Her skin was very fair, and in her thick hair sparkled golden lights. Josephine—and yet not Josephine.

"Are you one of the ladies-in-waiting, madame?" she asked politely.

"No, why did you think so?"

"Because Aunt Hortense said that the Crown Princess of Sweden was coming to call. Princesses always bring ladies-in-waiting with them. Naturally only if they're grown-up princesses."

"And little princesses?"

"They have governesses."

The child watched the little ducks again. "The ducks are so tiny—I think they must have come out of their mother's stomach just yesterday."

"Nonsense. Little ducks are hatched from eggs."

The child smiled knowingly. "You mustn't tell me fairy tales, madame."

"But they really do come out of an egg," I persisted.

She shrugged. "As you wish, madame."

"Are you the daughter of Prince Eugène?"

"Yes. But Papa probably isn't a prince any more. If we're lucky, the Allies will give him a duchy in Bavaria. My grandfather, my mama's papa, is the King of Bavaria."

"So you're a princess in any case," I said. "Where's your governess?"

"I ran away from her," the child said, dabbling her hand in the water. Something suddenly occurred to her. "II you're not a lady-in-waiting, are you perhaps a governess?"

"Why?"

"Well, you must be something."

"Perhaps I'm a princess, too."

"Impossible. You don't look like a princess." The eyelashes fluttered, she cocked her head slightly and smiled. "I really want to know who you are."

"Really?"

"I like you. Even though you tried to make me believe that silly story about the ducks. Have you any children?"

"A son, but he's not here."

"That's too bad. I'd rather play with boys than girls. Where is your son?"

"In Sweden. But I'm sure you don't know where that is."

"I know exactly where it is. I take geography lessons, and Papa says . . ."

"Josephine, Jo-se-phine!"

The child sighed. "My governess." She winked at me and grimaced like a street urchin. "She makes me sick! But don't tell anyone I said so, madame."

I walked back to the house reflectively. We dined alone with Hortense and Eugène. "Do you happen to know when we can send a courier to Elba?" he asked Julie as we were leaving. "I want to inform the Emperor of poor Mama's death as quickly as possible. And, yes—I'll send him the unpaid bills. What else can I do?"

We drove back through the gathering darkness. Shortly before we reached Paris something important occurred to me. I'll write it down and read it over from time to time, and never forget it. If one must found a dynasty, I thought—why not found a charming one?

"Look, a shooting star—quick, make a wish," Julie cried.

So I made a wish, quickly and probably impulsively. "The Swedes will call her Josefina," I said out loud.

"What in the world are you talking about?" Julie demanded.

"About the shooting star that's just fallen from heaven. Only about the shooting star. . . ."

Paris, late autumn, 1814

Oscar wrote to me from Norway, behind his tutor's back. I've pasted his letter in my diary so I won't lose it.

"Christiania, November 10, 1814

"My dear Mama,

"I hear that Count Brahe is sending a courier to Paris from here, so I hasten to write you. Especially since my tutor, Baron Cederström, is in bed with a cold. Cederström tries to read all my letters to you to see if I write properly. The old idiot! Dear Mama, my most affectionate congratulations—you have become Crown Princess of Norway! Norway and Sweden are now united, and the King of Sweden is also the King of Norway. In fact, we've completed a campaign in which we conquered Norway. And last evening I came here with Papa to Christiania, which is the capital of Norway.

"But I'd better tell you things in order. Papa's entry into Stockholm after the liberation of France was wonderful. The people in the streets, through which Papa's open carriage drove, were so excited and happy, and the crowds were so huge, that people didn't even notice when they got stepped on. His Majesty fell on Papa's neck and cried like a child for joy. Her Majesty wept, too, but more discreetly. The Swedes consider themselves a heroic nation again, as they were under Charles XII. But Papa was tired and sad. Do you know why, Mama?

"Although the Danes had ceded Norway to us, the Norwegian Parliament in Eidsvold, on May 17, declared that the country wanted to be independent. Imagine that,
Mama! Papa told me that for years there's been a party in Christiania that calls itself the 'Scandinavia United,' working for a Scandinavian Republic. But the Norwegians haven't dared proclaim a Republic. Instead they quickly appointed a Danish prince as their Regent! Only to annoy us, Mama! Then they declared they'd defend their independence.

"So—I can't describe to you how enthusiastic our Swedish officers were about this war. His Majesty, whose health grows steadily worse, and who can hardly move for gout, wanted to go into battle himself. Or rather— sail into battle. He begged Papa for a man-of-war, and pointed out that since his birth he has been Admiral of the Swedish Fleet. Papa had confided to me that Sweden could afford only three months of war with Norway. Papa paid for the man-of-war the old King begged so hard for, out of his own pocket. The old gentleman has no inkling of that.

"I, of course, declared that if the old King was allowed to go, I should, too. Papa didn't object. He only said, 'Oscar, these Norwegians are a brave people, risking this war with Sweden with only half as many troops as we and no ammunition to speak of.' Papa was deeply moved. He then handed me a document and said, 'Read that carefully, Oscar. I'm giving the Norwegians the most I liberal constitution in Europe.'

"Nevertheless, the brave people insisted on their independence, and Papa went to Stromstad with his general staff. We followed: both Majesties, the entire court, and I. In the harbour lay the promised man-of-war. She's called 'Gustaf den Store' (Gustavus the Great), and we all went on board. A few days later our troops stormed the first Norwegian islands. His Majesty watched from the deck through his field glasses. From time to time, Papa sent an aide on board to report to him that our troops were advancing according to plan. When the Fortress of Kongsten was taken, Papa was standing beside me at the railing. Marshals von Essen and Adler
creutz were with the troops. Finally, I couldn't bear the booming of the cannon and the firing of the guns any longer. I grabbed Papa's arm. 'Send an officer to the Norwegians and tell them, in God's name, they can be independent. Papa, don't let the cannon fire on them!'

"Papa smiled. 'Of course not, Oscar. We're using blanks as we do on manoeuvres. And the fires that worry you so are flares.' Papa quickly put his finger to his lips and motioned toward the old King and the Queen, who were excitedly snatching the field glasses out of each other's hands. 'Then—then it's not a real campaign,' I whispered.

" 'No, Oscar, merely—an excursion.'

" 'Why are the Norwegians falling back?'

" 'Because their officers have calculated the range of my cannon, and realize that I'll win this round. Besides, the Norwegians have no idea of holding these fortifications. Their real line of defence begins west of Glommen. But I think—' At that moment the Swedish guns ceased firing. There was dead silence. The Norwegians were evacuating the Fortress of Kongsten. Only then did Papa ask for field glasses.

" 'And what happens if the Norwegians withdraw to their mountains? Can you pursue them over the glaciers, Papa?'

" 'Indeed, I can! In every war college in the world, cadets are taught how General Bernadotte once led an army corps in a forced march across the Alps.' Suddenly; Papa looked tired and sad again. 'At the time I was defending a young Republic, and today—I'm robbing a small freedom-loving people of their independence. Oscar, one grows old, and outlives oneself.'

"The whole campaign lasted only fourteen days. Then the Norwegians requested a cessation of hostilities. Their Parliament was to be convened on November 10 (today ) and Papa was asked to appear personally in Christiania to confirm the union of Norway and Sweden. We all returned to Stockholm, and Papa persuaded the old King
to drive through the streets in an open carriage. The people cheered, and tears ran down the old gentleman's cheeks. Outside of the Norwegians, only our artillerymen know that we fought with blanks.

"Four days later Papa and I travelled to Norway. Papa was accompanied by Count Brahe, and Marshals Adlercreutz and von Essen. I had to ride beside my inevitable Cederström. We spent the nights in tents, because Papa had decided not to be a burden on the peasants. Usually it was so cold we couldn't sleep. Finally we reached the little city of Fredrikshald, where we stayed with the mayor. At last Papa let us sleep in beds again. . . . Every day we took long rides out around Fredrikshald. Papa wanted to become familiar with the country. The peasants stared at us and didn't greet us.

"I enclose a little song, Mama, which I call 'Song of the Rain' and composed during these endless rides. I hope you don't think the melody too sad.

"We also rode around between the grey walls of the fortress of Fredriksten, where the Norwegians once defended themselves against the Swedish King, Charles XII. He wanted to transform Sweden into a great power and conquer Russia. But most of his troops froze to death in Russia. Thereupon he went to Turkey, to attack the Russians from there. Finally the Swedes could scrape up no more money for his wars. He decided to conquer Norway. A rifle bullet killed him at the siege of Fredrikshald. On our ride through rain and fog we suddenly came upon a large wooden cross: 'On this spot, Charles XII fell,' it said. We all dismounted, and Papa motioned me to him. 'Oscar,' he said. 'Here fell a great military amateur. Promise me that you'll never personally command the Swedes in any war!'

" 'But Papa, you did, you're supreme commander,' I ventured.

" 'I started as a sergeant and you as an Heir Apparent . . . " he began, but by then von Essen and Adlercreutz were already reciting the Lord's Prayer. Papa
didn't pray with them, but kept watching me. (Papa never prays.) When the Marshals said, 'Amen,' Papa turned away quickly and we rode on.

" 'I'm of the opinion,' he said abruptly, 'that the shot which killed your hero-King came from his own ranks, I've studied all the documents I can find on it. The man was a curse upon Sweden, gentlemen. Forget him, I beg you to forget him.'

" 'Highness, views on this differ,' said Adlercreutz, offended. Mama, you must always speak very discreetly about Charles XII.

"Last evening, in a gala coach brought from Stockholm, we finally entered Christiania. I think Papa had expected bright lights and a cheering crowd. The streets were dark and deserted. Suddenly out of the darkness somewhere cannon thundered. Papa jumped. Only a salute, I thought immediately.

"The carriage stopped in front of the palace of the former Danish' governor. A guard-of-honour presented arms. Papa was horrified by the soldiers' slovenly uniforms and by the way they marched out of step. He scrutinized the palace. That looked like an ordinary house. One-storied and very modest. He shook his head, and then strode with giant strides into the one large room of the house. Me behind him. The marshals and aides hurried to catch up with us. It must really have looked funny.

"The President of the Norwegian Parliament was waiting for us, with the members of the government. An enormous log fire threw red flickering lights over the gloomy gathering. Papa wore the violet dress cape, and the hat with the ostrich plumes.

"President of the Storting Christie welcomed Papa in excellent French. Papa put on his most captivating smile, shook the solemn gentlemen by the hand and extended the greetings of His Majesty, the King of Sweden and Norway. Whereupon the mournful ones tried hard not to laugh.

"I believe the Norwegians have a sense of humour. The old gentleman in Stockholm will have nothing to do with this union. It's all Papa's doing. Papa plunged into a resounding speech. 'Norway's new constitution, gentlemen, defends the Rights of Man, for which I fought as a fifteen-year-old in France. This union is more than a geographical necessity, it is my heart's desire.'

"But the Norwegians weren't impressed. They'll never forgive us the blanks and the flares. . . .

"I went with Papa to his bedroom, where he ripped off his decorations and disgustedly threw them on the dressing table. He said, 'Yesterday was your mama's birthday, I hope our letters got there in time.' Then he pulled the bed curtains together.

"Dear Mama, I feel terribly sorry for Papa, but one can't be a crown prince and a Republican at the same time. Please write him a gay, loving letter, we'll be in Stockholm again at the end of the month. And now my eyes are drooping with sleep, and the courier is waiting. With hugs and kisses,

"Your son Oscar"

"P. S. Could you possibly get hold of Herr van Beethoven's Seventh Symphony in Paris and send it to me?"

 

The courier also brought a letter from Count Brahe to Rosen. "From now on," it said, "on special occasions, the Norwegian flag is to be hoisted beside the Swedish above the house of Her Highness."