NAPOLEONPART V—ContinuedPRINCE LOUIS NAPOLEONBy Anna Erwin Woods
By Anna Erwin Woods
In after years the Emperor Napoleon III often said to great personages who visited Paris during his reign: “Go to theConciergerie; it is very interesting.”
Notwithstanding the sadness which filled his heart, the future sovereign of France retained his faith in his star. Madame Récamier, the friend who, at nightfall, in the Coliseum at Rome, had given words of sympathy to his mother, came to visit the captive. He had also the consolation of receiving a kind message from his father, King Louis.
At the Conciergerie, September 6th, 1840.My Dear Father: I have not yet written you because I was afraid of causing you distress. But to-day, when I learn what interest you have manifested in me, I come to thank you and to ask your blessing as the only thing which now has any value for me. My sweetest consolation in misfortune is to hope that your thoughts sometimes incline toward me....
At the Conciergerie, September 6th, 1840.
My Dear Father: I have not yet written you because I was afraid of causing you distress. But to-day, when I learn what interest you have manifested in me, I come to thank you and to ask your blessing as the only thing which now has any value for me. My sweetest consolation in misfortune is to hope that your thoughts sometimes incline toward me....
King Louis had always disapproved of what he considered the vain hopes of his son, and had never spared him censure or remonstrance. On October 7, 1840, the captive was sent from Paris to the fortress of Ham, condemned to be incarcerated there for life. He was carefully guarded; four hundred infantrymen occupied the barracks of the fortress and sixty sentinels, scattered on every side, obeyed strict orders.
In the beginning his captivity was solitary. After a time the government accorded him the precious favor of having three faithful friends beside him. Gen. Count de Montholon came of an old and distinguished family, a hero in the campaign in Italy, at Austerlitz, Jena, Friedland, Wagram; at the Emperor’s side at Waterloo; accompanying him to St. Helena; and in whose arms he died. He was one of the executors of the Emperor’s will, and the depository of his manuscripts. Devoted to the nephew as he had been to the uncle, before the Court of Peers he spoke these words: “I received the Emperor’s last sigh; I closed his eyes; that is enough to explain my conduct.” He requested and obtained permission to be incarcerated with the prince. His wife accompanied him to the fortress of Ham, as she had done to St. Helena.
Dr. Conneau had been secretary to King Louis. He studied medicine inFlorence and intended to establish himself in Paris as a physician, but after going to visit Queen Hortense at Arenensberg, he never left her. These words occur in the Queen’s will: “I give to Dr. Conneau a present of twenty thousand francs and a watch as a souvenir of his devotion in coming to attend me. I greatly desire that my son may retain him.” This last wish was piously observed. During the trial of her son, Dr. Conneau sat on the bench at his side; he had never left him, and asked to share his captivity. Blondel was not more faithful to Richard of the Lion Heart than Dr. Conneau to Louis Napoleon.
Charles Thelin’s prayer to those in authority was not for liberty, but for captivity with a master to whom he was not a valet, but a friend; to that level the prince had raised him.
The prince was simply lodged. He wrote: “I have a good bed, white curtains, a round table and six chairs.” He had also a looking glass measuring thirty-six inches. In after years, in looking into mirrors in palaces, he many times recalled this looking-glass. Upon two wooden shelves were placed his silver toilet articles marked with the imperial arms. After a time he was allowed another room to be used as a study, and in this were placed some of his family souvenirs. Some wooden shelves fastened on the wall held the books and papers allowed for his use; on one of these shelves he inscribed the letter “N,” and said it would bring him good luck. That plank was destined to be the plank of his salvation.
Everything intended for his personal service was daily subjected to the minutest examination. An allowance of seven francs apiece was made for the nourishment of the captives, and their cooking was done by the gate-keeper. The prince was allowed to cultivate a little garden of about a hundred feet on the rampart. “I am occupied a good deal just now gardening,” he writes. “The pleasure I find makes me think that our nature has many resources and consolations unknown to those who are happy.” The inhabitants of the town were always asking for flowers from his garden, and he took great pleasure in sending them.
He gave collations to the school children under an enormous lime tree which has become legendary, and he distributed medals among them, as well as alms among the poor. The curé of the town was the medium of his bounty and became sincerely attached to him. By his gentleness, affability, simplicity and great kindness he made friends even of his jailers; captivating all with whom he came in contact, beginning with the commandant of the fortress. The soldiers were forbidden to speak, stand or salute in his presence; but they contrived means of secretly showing their sympathy. On this account the garrison had often to be changed, and the sentry boxes to be washed to efface inscriptions of “Long live Napoleon!” “Long live the Emperor!”
Prince Louis Napoleon was a magnificent horseman. He was permitted to buy a horse and ride in the courtyard. He amused himself by galloping up the glacis at full speed and stopping suddenly on the summit of the ramparts, on the very edge of the precipice, the boldness of the rider never failing to arouse the admiration of all passers-by. Every detachment of troops passing through the city halted at the foot of the fortress to catch a glimpse of the prisoner. It would have been safer to have kept in captivity forever, on distant seas, this man so impassioned in feeling, so calm and unmoved in expression, so daring in action, so soft and gentle in manner. What wonder that none could understand him nor reconcile the rash temerity of his deeds and the impassive calmness of his attitude. The prisoner of Ham made his prison a place of meditation and study, silently preparing his political future. He wrote a great deal, and from these written words can be comprehended best his character, his ideas, his hopes, his illusions, his sadness and concentratedenthusiasm. These papers written in imprisonment show the most remarkably complex nature; the politician, the conspirator. The man determined to wield tremendous power looks upon his prison as a vestibule to the palace; the poetic, melancholy dreamer breathes forth in every word a sad, sentimental longing for love and happiness.
The great captive lived six years at St. Helena, converting his rock into a monument, of imperishable glory. Memory once more brought kings, as suppliants, into his presence. The mighty conqueror saw again all nations tremble at his approach. The captivity at St. Helena is an epilogue; that at Ham a prologue.
The sad, poetic prisoner, filled with dreams of a wonderful future, sustained by unshaken faith in the star of his destiny, had also passed six years in his dreary prison; so far as men could see, calmly accepting whatever fate might bring. He had said: “I prefer to be a captive on French soil rather than a free man in foreign land.”
In the year 1845 he received a letter which changed his mind and influenced his destiny. It was from his father, for whom he had a profound veneration, and towards whom he had ever been faithful in the discharge of filial duties. King Louis had not been sparing in his blame of the vain hopes which had led his son to the escapades of Strasbourg and Boulogne. With a gloomy memory, replete with bitterness, of all the tempestuous glory of his family, he looked with anger and compassion upon this audacious soul—his son who could throw himself into the stormy ocean of human greatness. A king against his will, an unhappy husband, a loving father deprived by fate of his children, his life had been one of sadness and disappointment.
In August, 1845, he wrote:
My son, you deceive yourself strangely if you believe me indifferent to your position and your sufferings. Doubtless I am unable to forget that you placed yourself in this position out of mere wantonness, but I suffer from your sufferings because I had hoped for some solace in your happiness, a happiness which should be independent of all the glories of life. Moral sufferings have reduced me to the point of being no longer able to stand upright, or even to rise from my chair without assistance; and yet I have no one who can assist me. I cannot even write any more, and you will see from my signature how I can sign. I have taken some measures for you, but it is only too probable that they will be useless, like all which have been attempted hitherto.
My son, you deceive yourself strangely if you believe me indifferent to your position and your sufferings. Doubtless I am unable to forget that you placed yourself in this position out of mere wantonness, but I suffer from your sufferings because I had hoped for some solace in your happiness, a happiness which should be independent of all the glories of life. Moral sufferings have reduced me to the point of being no longer able to stand upright, or even to rise from my chair without assistance; and yet I have no one who can assist me. I cannot even write any more, and you will see from my signature how I can sign. I have taken some measures for you, but it is only too probable that they will be useless, like all which have been attempted hitherto.
The Prince replied:
Fortress of Ham, September 19th, 1845.—My Dear Father: The first real joy I have felt in five years I experienced in receiving the friendly letter you were so kind as to write me. M. Poggioli succeeded in reaching me, and I was, at last, able to talk with someone who is entirely devoted to us and who saw you not long ago. How happy I am to know that you always retain your tenderness for me!... I am of your opinion, my father, the older I grow, the more I perceive the void around me, and the more convinced I am that the only happiness in this world consists in the reciprocal affection of beings created to love each other. What has touched me, affected me most, is the desire you manifest to see me again. To me this desire is a command, and henceforward I will do all in my power in order to render possible this meeting which I thank you for desiring. Even the day before yesterday I had determined to make no effort to leave my prison. For where should I go? What should I do, alone again in foreign lands, far from my own people? A grave in one’s native land is better. But to-day a new hope lights up my horizon, a new aim presents itself to my endeavors; it is to go and surround you with attentions and prove to you that if for the last fifteen years many things have come between our hearts, nothing has been able to uproot filial piety, the first foundation of all virtues; I have suffered much. Sufferings have destroyed my illusions and have dispelled my dreams; but happily they have not weakened the faculties of the soul, those faculties which permit one to comprehend and love all that is good.
Fortress of Ham, September 19th, 1845.—My Dear Father: The first real joy I have felt in five years I experienced in receiving the friendly letter you were so kind as to write me. M. Poggioli succeeded in reaching me, and I was, at last, able to talk with someone who is entirely devoted to us and who saw you not long ago. How happy I am to know that you always retain your tenderness for me!... I am of your opinion, my father, the older I grow, the more I perceive the void around me, and the more convinced I am that the only happiness in this world consists in the reciprocal affection of beings created to love each other. What has touched me, affected me most, is the desire you manifest to see me again. To me this desire is a command, and henceforward I will do all in my power in order to render possible this meeting which I thank you for desiring. Even the day before yesterday I had determined to make no effort to leave my prison. For where should I go? What should I do, alone again in foreign lands, far from my own people? A grave in one’s native land is better. But to-day a new hope lights up my horizon, a new aim presents itself to my endeavors; it is to go and surround you with attentions and prove to you that if for the last fifteen years many things have come between our hearts, nothing has been able to uproot filial piety, the first foundation of all virtues; I have suffered much. Sufferings have destroyed my illusions and have dispelled my dreams; but happily they have not weakened the faculties of the soul, those faculties which permit one to comprehend and love all that is good.
King Louis’ application for his son’s release having proved fruitless, the Prince resolved to make a personal appeal to the French Government.