"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:—