Read Online The Second Empress by Michelle Moran - Free Book Online
Authors: Michelle Moran
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princess as fertile as a sow. And I have hired the same Master of Ceremonies used by King Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette.”
“Won’t the people say that’s bad luck?”
“If they are fools!” he thunders, and his gray eyes are wide, like those of a man possessed. “Why? Is that what they’re saying?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But when they hear about King Louis’s—”
“Then they will know that this is a wedding of immense significance. I have planned it all,” he confesses. “There will be fireworks and fêtes , and two thousand prison sentences will be commuted. I am renovating the entire Château de Compiègne in under two months. They are working on it night and day.”
“And she expects this?”
“I expect it. I am the emperor of France.”
Yes, despite a revolution fought to bring an end to such titles. He notices my hesitation and his neck grows red.
“ What ?”
“Nothing, sire.”
“The thoughts that are going through your head,” he commands. “Word for word.”
“ ‘It is not titles that honor men,’ ” I reply, “ ‘but men that honor titles.’ ” A quote from Machiavelli.
He stops to think how this applies to him and realizes what I’m saying. There is nothing inherently great about his title of emperor. But because the people believe in it, they will break their backs building, and decorating, and renovating. Parisians will live in thrall to their new empress until the shining title becomes tarnished in their eyes. It happened twenty years ago, and there’s no reason to think it won’t happen again. “ ‘The governments of the people are better than those of princes,’ ” he quotes back at me. “Is that what you believe?”
“I am too young and inexperienced to say, Your Majesty. But I believe in freedom.”
He smirks. “Of course. For the people of Haiti and all of our colonies.”
“Yes,” I say boldly. “And it’s an accident of birth that your mother wasn’t born a slave in Martinique.”
There is a moment of silence between us, and as he watches me intently, my stomach tightens. “I once believed that General L’Ouverture was the most dangerous threat in Haiti,” he says. “But perhaps I was wrong.” He continues to watch me, and I think of what the French did to L’Ouverture when they captured him. Then suddenly Napoleon laughs. “ Martinique ?” he repeats, slapping me on the back. “You never give up, Paul, do you?”
“Your Majesty.”
“You truly think that someday I’ll change my mind. But believe me”—he sobers—“as long as there are men on this earth, there will be other men who enslave them.”
“That it exists doesn’t make it right.” I am pushing him, but he has a marriage before him and his mood is good. If he can’t listen to debate now, then when?
He considers this argument briefly and shrugs. “It’s the way of the world, Paul. Be thankful your island is free—for now.” He turns my attention to the last wooden chest, and our conversation is over. “For Joséphine,” he says. Inside is an expensive china set, Sèvres porcelain. “Do you think she’ll like it?”
Not as much as her wedding ring , I want to reply, but the amount of honesty a king is willing to tolerate is not as great as a commoner. “Yes. She will entertain well with it.”
He glances down at a letter on Méneval’s desk. I can’t read who it’s addressed to, but I can see the date. July 17, 1796 . “She kept them all, you know.”
“Who, Your Majesty?”
“Joséphine. She gave this one back to me last night. I was wildly passionate about her once.” He picks up the letter, and even after thirteen years, the ink is still crisp. The emperor hands it to me and says quietly, “See for yourself.”
It’s not addressed to Joséphine, but the intended recipient is clear.
I have received your letter, my adorable friend. It has filled my heart with joy. I am grateful to you for the trouble you have taken to send
“Won’t the people say that’s bad luck?”
“If they are fools!” he thunders, and his gray eyes are wide, like those of a man possessed. “Why? Is that what they’re saying?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But when they hear about King Louis’s—”
“Then they will know that this is a wedding of immense significance. I have planned it all,” he confesses. “There will be fireworks and fêtes , and two thousand prison sentences will be commuted. I am renovating the entire Château de Compiègne in under two months. They are working on it night and day.”
“And she expects this?”
“I expect it. I am the emperor of France.”
Yes, despite a revolution fought to bring an end to such titles. He notices my hesitation and his neck grows red.
“ What ?”
“Nothing, sire.”
“The thoughts that are going through your head,” he commands. “Word for word.”
“ ‘It is not titles that honor men,’ ” I reply, “ ‘but men that honor titles.’ ” A quote from Machiavelli.
He stops to think how this applies to him and realizes what I’m saying. There is nothing inherently great about his title of emperor. But because the people believe in it, they will break their backs building, and decorating, and renovating. Parisians will live in thrall to their new empress until the shining title becomes tarnished in their eyes. It happened twenty years ago, and there’s no reason to think it won’t happen again. “ ‘The governments of the people are better than those of princes,’ ” he quotes back at me. “Is that what you believe?”
“I am too young and inexperienced to say, Your Majesty. But I believe in freedom.”
He smirks. “Of course. For the people of Haiti and all of our colonies.”
“Yes,” I say boldly. “And it’s an accident of birth that your mother wasn’t born a slave in Martinique.”
There is a moment of silence between us, and as he watches me intently, my stomach tightens. “I once believed that General L’Ouverture was the most dangerous threat in Haiti,” he says. “But perhaps I was wrong.” He continues to watch me, and I think of what the French did to L’Ouverture when they captured him. Then suddenly Napoleon laughs. “ Martinique ?” he repeats, slapping me on the back. “You never give up, Paul, do you?”
“Your Majesty.”
“You truly think that someday I’ll change my mind. But believe me”—he sobers—“as long as there are men on this earth, there will be other men who enslave them.”
“That it exists doesn’t make it right.” I am pushing him, but he has a marriage before him and his mood is good. If he can’t listen to debate now, then when?
He considers this argument briefly and shrugs. “It’s the way of the world, Paul. Be thankful your island is free—for now.” He turns my attention to the last wooden chest, and our conversation is over. “For Joséphine,” he says. Inside is an expensive china set, Sèvres porcelain. “Do you think she’ll like it?”
Not as much as her wedding ring , I want to reply, but the amount of honesty a king is willing to tolerate is not as great as a commoner. “Yes. She will entertain well with it.”
He glances down at a letter on Méneval’s desk. I can’t read who it’s addressed to, but I can see the date. July 17, 1796 . “She kept them all, you know.”
“Who, Your Majesty?”
“Joséphine. She gave this one back to me last night. I was wildly passionate about her once.” He picks up the letter, and even after thirteen years, the ink is still crisp. The emperor hands it to me and says quietly, “See for yourself.”
It’s not addressed to Joséphine, but the intended recipient is clear.
I have received your letter, my adorable friend. It has filled my heart with joy. I am grateful to you for the trouble you have taken to send
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