Désirée (69 page)

"What did His Highness say when you suddenly appeared?"

Rosen was embarrassed. "To be honest—His Highness was furious and shouted at me that he could win the war without me. And—that I should have stayed in Paris with Your Highness."

"Of course you should have stayed," Colonel Villatte said.

"What about you? You rode off, too, didn't you, to be on the spot?" Rosen parried.

"No, no, not just to be there—but to defend France. Besides, Her Highness isn't my Crown Princess, but yours. But it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"From Berlin, His Highness went to Grossbeeren where he fought his first important action. We were first attacked by Oudinot's artillery. Then Kellermann's hussars tried to break through our lines. Behind them marched an infantry division. . . ."

"Dupas' Division, madame," Villatte remarked. "Fine regiments which served for years under Bernadotte."

How had Jean-Baptiste stood it, how could he have . . . .

"Then His Highness gave the order for the Cossacks to attack. They hurled themselves against the French flank-and all hell broke loose. The enemy knew on which hill His Highness was stationed. Cannon balls fell all around us. But His Highness sat motionless on his horse hour after hour, madame. In the valley below bayonets and sabres flashed while above it all the French eagles fluttered, until finally everything was obscured by clouds of smoke. One could no longer see at all, but His Highness seemed to know exactly what was happening and continued to issue orders without hesitation. Not until the Cossacks stormed the city did he order our heavy artillery to fire." Rosen stopped for breath.

"Go on," I begged.

He drew his hand across his forehead. "It began to rain. I put a cape around His Highness' shoulders, but His Highness
shook it off. It had turned cool, but there were beads of sweat on His Highness' forehead. Toward evening, the French at last retreated. Afterward—yes, afterward, His Highness rode
from one regiment to another and thanked the men. Count Brahe and I were with him. Near the tent of the Prussian General von Büllow we saw the French prisoners of war. Sev
eral thousand, standing at attention. The Prussians always
make their prisoners stand at attention. When His Highness
saw the prisoners, he stiffened and looked as though he
wanted to turn back. But then, his lips grimly tight, he rode
toward them. He rode slowly down the line of prisoners,
looking each man in the face. Once he stopped, and assured
the Frenchman nearest him that he would see that prisoners were
well treated. The man didn't answer. His Highness rode
on, but he appeared to be suddenly dead tired. He slumped f
orward in the saddle. Not until he saw the eagle, did he
change."

"What happened when Bernadotte saw the eagle?" Villatte asked harshly.

"General von Büllow had ordered the captured flags and
eagles set up in front of his tent. It was a Prussian gesture, on his own initiative. His Highness had given no specific orders on captured flags or insignia. So the Prussians had laid them neatly in front of their general's tent, and there they gleamed in the light of the campfires. When His Highness saw the eagles, he stopped and dismounted. He went right up to the eagles and saluted and stood at attention. Two minutes, three minutes. Finally he turned abruptly away, and rode back to his headquarters."

"And then?"

"I don't know. His Highness went to his tent, and gave orders to admit no one. Not even Brahe. I think Fernand took him a cup of soup."

I poured out some more coffee.

"His Highness had, of course, known all along that the decisive battle would be at Leipzig," Rosen said, "where the three Allied armies were to meet. The Tsar, the Austrian Emperor and the King of Prussia were waiting for the Northern Army. On Monday, October eighteenth, His Highness had our cannon placed in position, and the town of Schönefeld was assaulted. Schönefeld was defended by French and Saxon regiments under Marshal Ney's command."

I tried to catch Villatte's eye. Villatte, tired Villatte, smiled. As you see, madame, the Emperor chose his best troops to oppose Bernadotte. The Saxons, naturally, were among them. The Emperor hadn't forgotten that Bernadotte said the Saxons held like men of iron. Count Rosen, how did the Saxons stand at Leipzig?"

"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, Your Highness, I wouldn't have believed it. Fantastic! Before the battle began, His Highness disappeared into his tent, and appeared a little later in his parade uniform."

"Not in his field uniform?"

"No. For the first time during the entire campaign he wore his
parade uniform: violet velvet coat, conspicuous from afar, and
white ostrich plumes on his three-cornered hat. Not content
with that, His Highness asked also for a white horse. T
hen he signalled to attack, spurred his white horse and gal
loped straight toward the enemy lines, that is, toward the Saxon regiments. And the regiments . . ."

"The regiments stood firm as iron. Not a shot was fire," laughed Villatte.

"No, not a shot. Brahe and I galloped after him. Right in front of the Saxons, His Highness reined in his horse. The Saxons presented arms. 'Vive Bernadotte!' one of them cried, and "Vive Bernadotte!' rose in chorus. His Highness raised his baton, turned his white horse, and rode back. Behind him marched the Saxons in parade step, led by their regimental band. Twelve thousand men and forty cannon came over to us."

"And what did Jean-Baptiste say?"

"His Highness gave a brief order telling his men where to place the cannon," Rosen said. "During the battle, His Highness sat again hour after hour on his horse. From time to time, Adlercreutz, beside him, offered him a field glass, but His Highness refused it. 'I know what's happening, I know. . . . Now the Corps Regnier is falling back. Have Schönefeld occupied immediately.' And later, 'Ney has very little ammunition left, his artillery is firing only every five minutes—the guards are trying to hold out, they won't succeed—they are now seeking cover in the city of Leipzig. . . .' Early that night, His Highness suddenly declared, 'The Emperor is with his Fourth Corps. You see all those watch fires, Adlercreutz? That's where Napoleon is giving orders for the night positions.' His Highness didn't dismount until the last cannon was silent. He walked over to a campfire and warmed his hands. Suddenly he demanded the dark-blue greatcoat of his field uniform, and a three-cornered hat without plumes or insignia and a . fresh horse. 'A dark horse,' he added. As he mounted, Brahe asked him if he should accompany him. His Highness looked at him blankly as if he'd never seen him before. 'Fernand is coming with me,' he murmured. Brahe was deeply hurt. Fernand is, after all, only a valet, and . . ."

"Nonsense, Fernand was Jean-Baptiste's schoolmate, " I said. "Jean-Baptiste got expelled from school on his account. But what happened that night?"

"His Highness and Fernand rode off. I don't know where. They returned at dawn. Sentries saw His Highness pass, and once he dismounted and walked a bit, while Fernand held the horses. His Highness sat down beside a man who had fallen, and held his head in his lap. A sentry heard him speak to the man—the man was dead. His Highness probably didn't realize it. Next morning the sentry went to look at the dead man. He was a Frenchman."

"And—next morning?"

"We knew that His Highness had suggested to the three other sovereigns that Leipzig be stormed by his troops. The Austrian Emperor, the Tsar of Russia, and the King of Prussia were each on a separate hill, watching through their field glasses, and—by God, we did it."

Villatte, staring off into space, took up the story. "Bernadotte, at the head of his troops, stormed the so-called Grimma Gate of Leipzig. We had strong infantry positions in front of the gate, but Bernadotte had his attack covered with heavy artillery. Once more in full regalia, he himself galloped forward with his Swedish dragoons. Our French infantry hurled itself against the enemy, slashing the horses with bayonets. So then the Swedes fought on foot, with their sabres, and, Madame, it was a battle such as I have never seen. Man against man, Bernadotte on his white horse, always in the middle of it all, with his white ostrich plumes, and his sabre."

"His sabre?"

"In the scabbard. He held only his field marshal's baton in his hand."

"Think of it, Villatte!"

"Finally the French fell back—put to rout," Rosen said.

"
No, we were ordered to retreat," Villatte corrected Rosen. "In five days we had fired two hundred and twenty thousand rounds, and had ammunition for only sixteen thousand more. That was the only reason the Emperor ordered the retreat," said Villatte heatedly.

"When the city was stormed I saw no cannon at all. Only infantry, and we drove back the infantry," cried Rosen triumphantly.

"The infantry you saw at the Grimma Gate was there only to cover the retreat," Villatte explained quietly. "The Emperor . . ."

"Your Emperor fled through the West Gate when His Highness entered Leipzig," Rosen insisted loudly.

"The last sixteen thousand shots were fired at Bernadotte's troops. Bernadotte took Leipzig by storm with eighty-six battalions of infantry, and thirty-nine cavalry regiments."

Rosen looked surprised. "Where did you get this information, Colonel Villatte?"

Villatte shrugged his shoulders. "May I have some more coffee?"

"The pot is on the hearth, Colonel. And after that, Count Rosen?"

"His Highness rode to the market square in Leipzig and waited for the other three sovereigns. He had told them in Trachtenburg he would see them next in the market square of Leipzig, so—there he sat on his white horse and waited. . . . By chance, the French prisoners were led past him. His Highness' eyes were half-closed, I thought he wasn't watching the prisoners. But suddenly he raised his baton, and pointed at a colonel. 'Villatte, come here, Villatte.' "

"I stepped out of the ranks, madame," Villatte said, "and that's how we met again. 'Villatte, what are you doing here? he asked. 'I'm defending France, Marshal,' I answered, and purposely called him Marshal in a loud voice. 'Then I must tell you that you are defending France very badly, Villatte,' Bernadotte said. 'Moreover, I expected you to stay with my wife in Paris.' 'The Marshal's wife herself sent me to the front,' I said, and he didn't answer. I stood beside his horse and watched my fellow prisoners march by. Finally I thought he had forgotten me, and wanted me to leave him. But as soon as I moved, Bernadotte leaned down from his horse and grabbed my shoulder. 'Colonel Villatte, you are a prisoner of war. I order you to return to Paris without delay and to take up your residence in my wife's house. Give me your word of honour as a French officer that you will not desert my wife until . . .'"

"Until?"

" 'Until I myself get there.' Those were his words. I gave him my word of honour."

I lowered my eyes. Heard Rosen's voice, "With that His Highness turned to me. 'And here's the second faithful aide to Her Highness. Count Rosen, you will accompany Colonel Villatte on his ride to Paris!' 'In my Swedish uniform?" I asked in horror. The allies have not yet officially marched into France.' His Highness looked at Villatte. "Colonel, you will be responsible to me for Rosen's safe arrival in Paris, and for arranging with the proper civil authorities his right of asylum in my wife's home. And you, Rosen, are responsible for guarding our prisoner of war.'"

It all seemed very complicated to me. "Who is whose prisoner?" I asked.

Neither of them heard me. Villatte continued. " 'Then I must get him a French uniform, or I can't get him safely through our lines, Marshal,' I told Bernadotte. 'Put a bearskin cap on his head, Villatte, and you, Count Rosen, wear the bearskin cap with pride.' And before we could say any more, Bernadotte commanded, 'Forward march—au revoir, Count, au revoir, Villatte.' "

"I found a horse for Villatte, and he got me a French uniform. We had a hurried meal and rode off. We've been on the way ever since, and now—well, now we're here," Rosen concluded.

A clock struck half-past six.

"Our troops tried to escape across the Elster. That's how Marshal Pontiatowsky was drowned."

"And the Emperor?"

Villatte shrugged. "He hopes at least to hold the frontier on the Rhine. If that fails, he'll at least defend Paris."

I leaned my elbows on the kitchen table and put my hands over my eyes. The frontier on the Rhine. . . . Just as, years ago, Frenchmen answered the call to arms to hold the frontier on the Rhine. How gallantly they had held it. Jean-Baptiste was a general then.

Someone swaggered into the kitchen, shouting, "Thundera
tion! Without my permission, no one's allowed in my kitchen. . . Oh—I beg your pardon, Highness."

I straightened up. My fat cook stood before me. A frightened kitchen maid opened the window and let in the grey morning light. I shivered suddenly with cold. "Your Highness—a cup of hot chocolate?" the cook suggested. I shook my head. Someone helped me up. Villatte. My prisoner of war. . . .

"Go to your rooms, gentlemen. You'll find everything just as you left it," I said to my two heroes. Then I asked for a duster.

The kitchen maid looked at me in alarm. "Don't you know what a duster is?" The poor frightened thing curtsied and brought me a snow-white napkin. So that's what my kitchen maid imagines a suitable duster for a crown princess. I took it and went up to Jean-Baptiste's room. When had it been dusted last? I whisked the napkin over the dressing table and felt miserable, because the room looked so un-lived in. Jean-Baptiste long ago had all the books, all the portraits, all the busts, that meant anything to him sent to Stockholm. In this room there's nothing left he cares about.