The child, who had ceased his cries for a moment, now broke out into fresh shrieks. "I want to go home! I won't stay here in this big house! Take me to my grandmother!"
"Hush, you unconscionable little savage!" said Madame de Campan.
"Oh, Campan!" cried, the queen deprecatingly, "how can you chide the little fellow! His cries are so many proofs of the honesty of his heart, which is not to be bribed of its love by all that royalty can bestow!" [Footnote: The queen kept her word. The boy was brought up as her own child. He always breakfasted and dined by her side, and she never called him by any other name save that of "my child." When Jacques grew up, he displayed a taste for painting, and of course had every advantage which royal protection could afford him. He was privileged to approach the queen unannounced. But when the Revolution broke out, this miserable wretch, to avoid popularity, joined the Jacobins, and was one of the queen's bitterest enemies and most frenzied accusers.]
CHAPTER CXII.
"CHANTONS, CELEBRONS NOTRE REINE."
The opera-house was full to overflowing. In the lowest tier were the ladies of the aristocracy, their heads surmounted by those abominable towers of Leonard's invention. Above them sat the less distinguished spectators; and the parquet was thronged by poets, learned men, students, and civil officers of various grades. Almost every class found some representatives in that brilliant assemblage; and each one felt keenly the privilege he enjoyed in being present on that particular occasion. But it was not altogether for the sake of the music that all Paris had flocked to the opera. The Parisians were less desirous to hear "Iphigenia," than to see the emperor, who was to be there in company with his sister.
Since his arrival in the capital, Joseph had been the theme of every conversation. Every one had something to relate of his affability, his condescension, or his goodness. His bon mots, too, were in every mouth; and the Parisians, who at every epoch have been so addicted to wit, were so much the more enraptured with the impromptu good things which fell from Joseph's lips, that the Bourbons were entirely deficient in sprightliness.
Every man had an anecdote to relate that concerned Joseph. Yesterday he had visited the Hotel-Dieu. He had even asked for admission to the apartments of the lying-in women, and upon being refused entrance by the sisters, he had said, "Do let me see the first scene of human misery." The sisters, struck by the words as well as by the noble bearing of the stranger, had admitted him; and upon taking leave he had remarked to the nun who accompanied him, "The sufferings which you witness in this room, reconcile you without doubt to the vows you have made." It was only after his departure that his rank was discovered, and this by means of the gift he left in the hands of the prioress—a draft upon the imperial exchequer of forty-eight thousand livres.
A few days previous, he had sought entrance to the "Jardin des Plantes;" but the porter had refused to open the gates until a larger number of visitors should arrive. So the emperor, instead of discovering himself, took a seat under the trees and waited quietly until the people had assembled. On his return, he had given eight louis d'ors to the porter; and thus the latter had learned his majesty's rank.
Again—the emperor had called upon Buffon, announcing himself simply as a traveller. Buffon who was indisposed, had gone forward to receive his guest in a dressing-gown. His embarrassment, as he recognized his imperial visitor, had been very great. But Joseph, laughing, said, "When the scholar comes to visit his teacher, do you suppose that he troubles himself about the professor's costume?"