A BOY OF THE 
 FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 
 ELBRIDGE S.BROOKS
 
 JVo. 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Ingle B arr 
 
 ATI.
 
 A BOY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST EMPIRE
 
 'THEY RECOGNIZED PHILIP, AND STOPPED TO SPEAK WITH THE CHILDREN.' 
 (SEE PAGE 94.)
 
 A BOY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 BY 
 
 ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE CENTURY BOOK FOR YOUNG AMERICANS," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 1895
 
 Copyright, 1894, l8 95. by 
 THE CENTURY Co. 
 
 THE DEVINNE PRES.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 T. " UNCLE BIBICHE " 1 
 
 II. A PRINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 10 
 
 III. THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYR 22 
 
 IV. THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 36 
 
 V. IN THE STREET OF THE FIGHT 48 
 
 VI. A Fuss WITH FOUCH 59 
 
 VII. THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 76 
 
 VIII. THE " COURIER OF THE KING " 93 
 
 IX. " THAT PIG OF A PIERRE " 107 
 
 X. THE TOWER OF ST. JACQUES 121 
 
 XI. THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD 134 
 
 XII. How PHILIP BAITED THE RUSSIAN BEAR 147 
 
 XIII. WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET OF 
 
 ST. ANTHONY 157 
 
 XIV. WHY PHILIP WAS MAD AT THE CLERK OF THE 
 
 WEATHER 172 
 
 XV. THE PRISONER OF FONTAINEBLEAU. 183 
 
 XVI. FOR FRANCE 194 
 
 XVII. BROTHER AND SISTER 208 
 
 XVIII. " THE CLAWS OF THE CORSICAN " 221 
 
 XIX. How THE SCHOOLBOYS FOUGHT AT PARIS 235 
 
 XX. THE FALL OF THE TRICOLOR 249 
 
 XXI. THE SWARMING OF THE BEES 262 
 
 XXII. " INTO THE FURNACE-FLAME " 278 
 
 XXIII. How PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 293 
 
 XXIV. THE CITY OF REFUGE 310 
 
 vii 

 
 LIST OF ILLUSTKATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THEY RECOGNIZED PHILIP, AND STOPPED TO SPEAK WITH 
 
 THE CHILDREN FRONTISPIECE 
 
 " UNCLE BIBICHE " 7 
 
 " ' SEIZE THE ASSASSIN '" 12 
 
 "'COME, YOU BOY; YOU ARE TO GO WITH us,' THE PO 
 LICEMAN SAID " 19 
 
 " THE EMPEROR'S FAMOUS CHAPEAU COVERING HIS CURLY 
 HEAD, AND THE EMPEROR'S ' SWORD or MARENGO ' 
 
 TRAILING ON THE FLOOR BEHIND HIM " 25 
 
 CADET DESNOUETTES AND CORPORAL PEYROLLES. "'BE A 
 SOLDIER OF FRANCE ! ' " 31 
 
 " THE EMPRESS HELD OUT A HAND WHICH PHILIP LOY 
 ALLY KISSED " 43 
 
 PHILIP STRIKES UNCLE FAURIEL 57 
 
 " 'I AM HAPPY TO BE NEAR YOU, SlRE,' SAID PHILIP" 65 
 
 UNCLE FAURIEL SHAKES HIS FIST AT FOUCHE 69 
 
 '"Go! YOU ARE DISMISSED FROM THE SERVICE OF THE 
 
 EMPEROR ! ' " 74 
 
 PHILIP RIDES ON THE STEP OF THE EMPRESS'S CARRIAGE. 81 
 
 " ' THERE WAS BUT THIS BOY,' THE EMPEROR SAID" 87 
 
 " ' I PRESENT TO YOU THE KlNG OF ROME ! ' " 97 
 
 THE " COURIER OF THE KING " 101 
 
 " ' MY FRIEND ! ' PHILIP CRIED, ' I OWE YOU MUCH ' " Ill 
 
 " ' .GONE ! ' HE GASPED " 115 
 
 " ' SAVE HIM, SIRE ! ' SHE EXCLAIMED " 125 
 
 " THEN SHE TOLD HER STORY " 129 
 
 PHILIP'S GRATITUDE 137 
 
 ix
 
 x LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 NAPOLEON REVIEWS THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD 143 
 
 PHILIP AND THE RUSSIAN AMBASSADOR 154 
 
 "NAPOLEON PULLED THE PAGE'S HAIR VIGOROUSLY IN 
 
 APPRECIATION OF THE JOKE " 164 
 
 " ' WHAT is THAT, PIERRE ? ' SHE SAID, POINTING TO THE 
 
 WORDS" 170 
 
 "'STAND BACK, SIRS,' HE CRIED. "THIS is THE APART 
 MENT OF THE EMPRESS ! ' " 179 
 
 THE EMPEROR SAVES PHILIP FROM THE BOAR 191 
 
 NAPOLEON'S VETERANS VIEWING THE PORTRAIT OF THE 
 
 KING OF EOME 199 
 
 " 'WHAT CAN YOUR MAJESTY MAKE OF SUCH A DANDY?'" 203 
 " THE EYE OF THE EMPEROR, HE FELT, WAS UPON HIM " 217 
 " HE SHOWED HER WHERE A TATAR ARROW HAD TORN 
 
 AN UGLY HOLE " 225 
 
 PHILIP TAKEN PRISONER BY THE COSSACKS 233 
 
 PHILIP BEFORE MARSHAL BLUCHER. THE LETTER is 
 
 FOUND 237 
 
 CORPORAL PEYROLLES AND THE POLYTECHNIC BOYS FIGHT 
 ING IN THE DEFENSE OF PARIS 245 
 
 " THE EMPEROR PLACED A HAND UPON HIS HEAD " 257 
 
 "'OFF WITH THE LILIES ON WITH THE BEES!'" 273 
 
 THE EMPEROR DECORATES PHILIP WITH HIS OWN CROSS 
 
 OF THE LEGION OF HONOR 276 
 
 " ' RIDE LIKE THE WIND TO PARIS. TELL THEM THE BAT 
 TLE is WON ' " 289 
 
 " ' TO-MORROW YOU MAY BE AT SEA, SAFE UNDER THE 
 
 AMERICAN FLAG ' " 297 
 
 "'I WILL PUNISH YOU FOR THIS ! ' THE ENRAGED MARSHAL 
 
 CRIED" 302 
 
 DIVING DOWN INTO THE HOLD . , 307
 
 A BOY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST EMPIRE
 
 A BOY OF THE FIKST EMPIKE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 "UNCLE BIBICHE" 
 
 ON" a certain June morning in the year 1806, when the 
 sunshine flooded all things, and every nightingale 
 in France seemed practising for the post of court singer, 
 a boy lay at the foot of one of the great chestnuts in the 
 park of St. Cloud. 
 
 He was small, disreputable-looking, and dilapidated, a 
 tramp, and a ragged little tramp at that ; but his eye was 
 bright and snappy ; his tangled hair, crowned with the 
 wreck of a red liberty-cap, was thick and golden ; and his 
 face, though it bore the stamp of poverty as it bore its 
 crust of grime, had that careless, happy-go-lucky air that 
 marks the street-boy of any great city. 
 
 His restless eyes took in everything the noble park had 
 to offer. He was evidently on the lookout for some place 
 or some person. But, tired with his ten-mile tramp, and 
 overpowered by the glorious solitude of all out-of-doors, 
 burdened, also, with the weight of the important secret 
 that had led him so far from his dingy home in the narrow 
 Street of the Washerwomen, he had flung himself down at
 
 the foot of the great chestnut to talk it all over with him 
 self, for want of a listening comrade. 
 
 " My faith ! " he said, as he closed one eye and squinted 
 the other along the fat tree-trunk and into the overarch 
 ing branches, "but this is n't the Court of the Miracles 
 now, nor yet the Street of the Washerwomen, is it ? What 
 big trees ! What a lot of room ! Lonesome, though, I 
 think, when the night comes down ; even the Street of the 
 Washerwomen would be better than this, for there are 
 plenty of people there, more than a plenty sometimes, 
 especially when that pig of a Pierre comes shoving across 
 the street to tease Babette and set my two fists a-going! 
 But I like people. There 's more to see in a crowd of 
 people than in a crowd of trees more to do, too. But 
 here 's where the Little Corporal's big house is, somewhere 
 among these trees. I wonder where ? I saw a pile of 
 buildings on the hill farther along, as I came up here. 
 Perhaps I can find the Emperor there. I must ; I must n't 
 say what I came for to any one else. I wonder how one 
 talks to an emperor ? Must I say ' Citizen Emperor,' or 
 ' Citizen Little Corporal,' or ' Citizen ' what ? I must find 
 out before I get up to his house. I '11 have to ask some 
 body. Pst ! There 's some one moving through those trees. 
 Hi, there, Citizen ! No, it is n't a man ; it 's a boy. No, it 's 
 a dog ; no, it 's a my faith, though! what can it be ? It 's 
 not a dog, nor a horse, nor a pig, nor yet a it must be a 
 sheep or a wolf. There 's another and another and 
 more of them ; and a man, too. Perhaps they are wolves 
 the beasts that Mother The"rese says eat you up in the forest. 
 Perhaps they will eat the roan up. What fun ! I don't
 
 "UNCLE BIBICHE" 3 
 
 want them to eat me, though. So ! I '11 slip behind this 
 big tree, and see what is to be." And, suiting the action 
 to the word, the boy, who, half raised from the ground, had 
 been watching with wide-open eyes the moving figures, 
 scrambled to his feet, and, sheltered behind the big chest 
 nut, peered around the trunk, anxious to see what might 
 be about to happen. For a boy of the Paris streets had but 
 vague ideas as to the ways of forest life, and, though in 
 quisitive, was cautious. 
 
 Across the open space that lay between the wide avenue 
 and the grove of stately chestnut-trees came the figure of a 
 man, and at his heels, sniffing and thronging, moved the 
 creatures that were so strange and inexplicable to the peeping 
 city-boy a dozen of the tame Barbary antelopes of St. Cloud. 
 
 They were dainty, timorous, graceful little beasts ; but 
 desire had overcome timidity, and they trooped after the 
 man, now crowding all about him, now starting back in 
 alarm as he plunged his hand into his coat pocket ; but at 
 him again they charged when his hand was withdrawn, and 
 one and then another of the antelopes would thrust a brown 
 muzzle into the extended hand, and, with sneeze and snort, 
 lick up the powdery offering it held. 
 
 The man was of medium height, long of body and short of 
 legs, rather stout, but yet not fat. His age was less than 
 forty; his face was fine and cleanly cut, though tanned by 
 sun and weather. From his tumbled brown hair rose a plain 
 cocked hat, set well forward on his large head. He wore a 
 long and thin gray overcoat, and in the deep pockets lay the 
 loose snuff, for a taste of which the thronging antelopes were 
 nosing and pushing one another, eager for preference.
 
 4 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIKE 
 
 The boy behind the tree gazed intently at the curious 
 group that passed him, forgetting his own mission in the in 
 terest it excited. Then, remembering his desire, he was 
 about to call out "Hi, Citizen!" and ask how he could see 
 and what he should call the Emperor, when through the 
 trees came the shrill call of a child : 
 
 "Uncle Bibiche, Uncle Bibiche oh, Uncle Bibiche!" 
 
 The antelopes, startled by the call, stopped their nosing 
 and pushing, and looked back in alarm; the man with the 
 snuff in his overcoat pocket also looked back, and his face 
 broke into a smile of welcome. 
 
 " So, little pig ; it is you, then ? " he said. " Do you, too, 
 wish the snuff? Come; come and catch us;" and he broke 
 away in a run, followed by the trooping antelopes. 
 
 " Wait, wait, Uncle Bibiche ; wait for Baby ! " the little 
 runner panted. " Baby wants a ride." 
 
 But as he hurried fast and faster after the runaways, his 
 little foot caught in a half-exposed root ; he tripped and fell, 
 rolling down the bit of bank where rose the great chestnut- 
 tree behind which stood the boy from Paris. 
 
 A cry of surprise that grew into the loud wail of grief 
 broke from the sprawling one, and Uncle Bibiche turned 
 quickly about and hurried toward him. But, before the man 
 could reach the scene of disaster, the street-boy had darted 
 from his hiding-place and picked up the prostrate baby. 
 
 " Hi, there, little one ! Come up, come up," he said. "So ; 
 you are not hurt now, are you?" and he brushed the dirt 
 from the fine clothes of the child. 
 
 Uncle Bibiche, too, dropped on his knees and drew an arm 
 about the child, who, even in his grief, remembered the treat
 
 "UNCLE BIBICHE" 5 
 
 he sought. "A ride Uncle Bibiche, I want a ride," 
 he whimpered. 
 
 " Yes, he shall have a ride, so he shall, sha'n't he, Citizen 
 Uncle ? " said the street-boy, soothingly, still brushing away 
 the dust. 
 
 Uncle Bibiche turned a searching eye upon the speaker. 
 " Well, boy, and how came you here ? Where did you drop 
 from ?" he demanded. 
 
 " Not from the sky, Citizen Uncle," the boy replied glibly. 
 " I am of the city." 
 
 " From the city ? Then how got you here ? " Uncle 
 Bibiche asked. 
 
 The boy laughed. " Why, Citizen Uncle, with the same 
 horses the Emperor has to carry him Shank and Spindle ;" 
 and he slapped each stout little leg in explanation. 
 
 The man in the gray coat pulled the street-boy's tangled 
 hair. "You 're a bold talker, you," he said. And the child, 
 who had been peering into the dirty face of his rescuer, 
 caught at the word "horses" and echoed them. 
 
 " Baby wants horse, too ; carry Baby ! " he demanded. 
 
 " Why, of course, little one ; I carry babies every day," the 
 boy responded; and, catching up the child, he began to 
 prance and trot with him, like a mettlesome charger. 
 
 The baby laughed, and Uncle Bibiche laughed, flicking at 
 the make-believe horse with his silk handkerchief as though 
 it were a whip, whereupon the child repeated his demand : 
 "Uncle Bibiche, Baby wants to ride sheep now," pointing 
 toward the antelopes. 
 
 " So ; I said they were sheep," the boy cried. " How do 
 you ride them ? "
 
 6 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 " Uncle Bibiche knows. Let Baby ride sheep," the spoiled 
 child clamored. 
 
 " All right, Citizen Uncle ; he 's yours," and the boy set 
 the little fellow on the ground. 
 
 But the baby, grasping Uncle Bibiche's long coat with one 
 hand, with the other clung to his new friend. " Let dirty 
 boy go, too," he demanded. 
 
 Uncle Bibiche plunged a hand into his capacious coat 
 pocket and drew it out, filled with snuff, seeing which action 
 the antelopes thronged about him again. Clapping a hand 
 upon each of the child's shoulders, Uncle Bibiche lifted the 
 small fellow from the ground and set him astride the back 
 of one of the antelopes. 
 
 " Steady him on the other side, you boy," said Uncle 
 Bibiche. Then, with the street-boy holding him on one side 
 and Uncle Bibiche on the other, the little rider laughed 
 aloud in glee as, mounted on his queer steed, he rode along 
 the broad, chestnut-bordered avenue of St. Cloud. 
 
 But the boy from Paris could not long keep quiet. He 
 remembered his errand, too. 
 
 " Citizen Uncle," he said ; " might one see the Emperor ? " 
 
 "Yes, one might," Uncle Bibiche replied. "For exam 
 ple, you?" 
 
 " For example, me," the boy declared. " I have business 
 with him." 
 
 At this Uncle Bibiche laughed loudly, whereupon the an 
 telope-rider laughed, and the boy from Paris laughed too. 
 
 "And what might be your business with the Emperor, 
 bold one ? " Uncle Bibiche inquired. 
 
 " That is for him to know," the boy answered. " But tell
 
 "UNCLE BIBICHE" 
 
 us, Citizen Uncle ; what should one call him ? Should one 
 say Citizen Emperor or Citizen Little Corporal or 
 Citizen what ? " 
 
 UNCLE BIBICHE. 
 
 Uncle Bibiche looked across the antelope at his questioner. 
 Then he said to the rider, who was kicking his small legs 
 against the side of his uneasy steed, " Dirty boy wants to see 
 the Emperor, little pig. What shall the boy call the Em 
 peror, eh ? "
 
 8 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 " Call him Grandpapa," replied the little lad promptly, 
 and then all three laughed gleefully again. 
 
 " But it is not to be laughed at, my business, Citizen 
 Uncle," the boy from Paris said soberly. " It is to save the 
 Emperor's skin." 
 
 " And from whom would you save his skin, you boy ? " 
 Uncle Bibiche inquired. 
 
 " That is our business, too mine and the Emperor's," 
 said the boy, earnestly. 
 
 "None may see the Emperor on business, here save 
 those who tell their business before they see him," Uncle 
 Bibiche explained. " Tell me your business, and I will get 
 speech of the Emperor for you; for me he will sometimes 
 hear. What would you say to him ? " 
 
 The boy from Paris looked searchingly at Uncle Bibiche. 
 Then he said : " Jacques has gone for a soldier ; Pierre has 
 gone for a soldier. They will fight for the Little Corporal, 
 and perhaps bring back the cross as did one-legged Antoine, 
 who lives just beyond us in the Street of Jean Lantier. 
 Perhaps if the Emperor hears what I have to tell him, he 
 will let me go for a soldier, too. Citizen Uncle, let me see 
 the Emperor." Then he lowered his voice : "A plot; I know 
 of a plot against him. I would save his life." 
 
 " A plot ? You know of a plot against the Emperor, you 
 boy ? What is it ? Out with it ! " and the gray eyes looked 
 sternly at the eager but ragged little petitioner on the other 
 side of the antelope. " Do you speak truth, you boy ? " 
 
 " Why should I lie ? " the boy said, meeting the sharp 
 gray eyes without flinching. " I have walked from the 
 Street of the Washerwomen for this not to lie to the
 
 "UNCLE BIBICHE" 9 
 
 Emperor, Citizen Uncle, but to tell him what I know. 
 Let me see him, then. Where is he ? " 
 
 Uncle Bibiche caught the four-year-old rider from the 
 antelope's back, and stood him on the ground. 
 
 " Attention, comrade ! " he said, as if giving an order. 
 " Who is the Emperor ? " 
 
 And the little fellow, standing straight as a ramrod, 
 brought his hand to his forehead in soldierly salute. 
 
 " Uncle Bibiche ! " he said.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A PRINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 
 
 THE boy from Paris fell back in astonishment. Then 
 he laughed in nervous dismay, and then in open 
 distrust. 
 
 " What ! Citizen Uncle the Emperor ? Come now, Baby, 
 but that 's a good one ! Why, he 's not little ; he 's bigger 
 than Jacques ; and they call the Emperor the Little Corporal ; 
 and he marches about with his guards, and wears a gold 
 crown on his head. And this one why, this is only just 
 Uncle Bibiche. You 're playing the fool with us, you little 
 one, are you not, now ? Come, then, if you but show me 
 the way to the Emperor, I '11 give you the song and dance 
 with which I pay my toll over the Little Bridge, when I 
 go to the Isle of the City." And, catching the child by 
 both hands, the boy from Paris whirled him about, and 
 danced him around, capering like an imp, and singing the 
 chorus : 
 
 " Zig-zag ; rig-a-doon, 
 So we dance to the drumstick's tune ! " 
 
 It was great sport for the little four-year-old, though a 
 trifle rough, perhaps. But he enjoyed it immensely. As 
 for Uncle Bibiche, he laughed aloud and said, " You 're a 
 
 10
 
 A PEINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 11 
 
 crazy one, you boy. You caper and sing like a carmagnole. 
 Tell us, who are you ? " 
 
 The boy stopped short in his mad dance, and a roguish 
 twinkle made his eyes yet more snappy. 
 
 "I, Citizen Uncle," he said, and here he clicked his 
 heels together and brought his hand in salute to his shock 
 of golden hair, just as he had seen his little playmate do, 
 " I am a prince of the sans-culottes ! " 
 
 Uncle Bibiche made a dash at the boy's ear and pinched 
 it in high glee. " You 're a crazy one, you boy," he said 
 again ; and then he added, " So, my children ! Here we 
 have the royal family in council two princes and an em 
 peror. Come, tell us your grand plot." 
 
 The boy from Paris straightway became sober. "We 
 are playing the fool too much, we three. Come, Uncle 
 Bibiche, let me see this Emperor." 
 
 " What ! do you not believe our little prince here ? " 
 Uncle Bibiche said. " Trifler ! Must we prove him true ? " 
 
 Then, taking a silver whistle from his pocket, he blew it 
 loudly. Scarcely had the shrill call died away when two 
 foresters, in a livery of green studded with golden bees, 
 came swiftly beneath the great tree. 
 
 " Where are the guard ? " Uncle Bibiche demanded. 
 
 " Within call, Sire," one of the foresters replied. 
 
 The boy from Paris started at the word, and looked 
 sharply at the man in the gray overcoat. 
 
 "Summon them, you," Uncle Bibiche said, whereupon 
 one of the foresters darted up the avenue, and two long 
 whistle-signals rang out beneath the trees. A moment 
 later, and the measured rhythm of the double-quick sounded
 
 12 
 
 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 on the hard road. Then, down the broad avenue, with a cor 
 poral in the lead, came hurrying a file of the Grenadiers 
 of the Guard. They stopped before Uncle Bibiche and 
 presented arms. 
 
 fa? 
 
 ' SEIZE THE ASSASSIN ! 
 
 The boy from Paris began to feel uncomfortable. His 
 mouth slowly opened ; he shifted uneasily from one foot 
 to the other. But he stood it pluckily, eagerly watchful. 
 
 " Corporal," said Uncle Bibiche, sharply, " is this the way 
 to guard our park ? How do suspicious characters for
 
 A PEINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 13 
 
 example, this one," and he pointed an accusing finger at 
 the boy from Paris " get within its limits ? " 
 
 The corporal of the guard saluted. "The chief forester 
 shall be asked, Sire," he said. " His men are not watchful. 
 Meantime, are we to take this rascally one, Sire ? " 
 
 The boy from Paris looked steadfastly on the man in the 
 gray overcoat. Then came the order, " Seize the assassin ! " 
 and still the boy did not flinch. 
 
 "Assassin, Sire ? This puny one ? Has it come even 
 to that ? " and the corporal's hand fell heavily upon the 
 boy's shoulder. And still there came no word in denial 
 or protest. 
 
 But protest did come from another quarter. 
 
 " Take your hands off my dirty boy ! " cried the Prince. 
 "He picked me up; he held me on; he danced me about. 
 I like him." 
 
 The Emperor for such indeed was he whom the little 
 four-year-old called "Uncle Bibiche" Napoleon, Emperor 
 of France, whose summer palace was in this beautiful park 
 of St. Cloud the Emperor smiled down upon the baby 
 Prince. " Here is a bold champion," lie said. " Come, let 
 the boy go, Corporal. He is Prince Napoleon's prisoner, 
 and my word to you was to try his spirit. But bid the chief 
 forester be more watchful. Withdraw ! " and he made a 
 movement in dismissal. 
 
 The corporal released his prisoner, saluted, and stepped 
 back. 
 
 As he did so the little Prince Napoleon the son of the 
 Emperor's brother Louis, King of Holland, and his wife 
 Hortense, daughter of the Empress Josephine grasped the
 
 14 A BOY OP THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 arm of the boy from Paris, stood before the grenadiers, and 
 raised his hand in salute to the Emperor. " Long live 
 Grandpapa ! " he cried. The grenadiers presented arms, 
 and, at the word from their corporal, wheeled about, and 
 marched away. 
 
 " Well, my prince of the sans-culottes, how now ? May 
 I hear of your plot ? " the Emperor asked. 
 
 " Citizen Sire," the boy from Paris replied, still a trifle 
 perplexed. "I could not think you were the Little Cor 
 the Emperor. I would not have danced so nor so have 
 shaken up Prince Little One, here." 
 
 " 'T was a good dance, and a healthy shaking up. Come 
 the plot the plot," the Emperor said impatiently. 
 
 Thereupon in straightforward way the boy from Paris 
 told his story : How, in Citizen Popon's wine-shop, whither 
 he had been sent by Mother Therese for the washing of the 
 Citizeness Popon, he had (while hiding in a dark corner so 
 that he might spring out upon young Victor Popon, with 
 whom he was at feud) overheard a conversation between 
 three men who sat at table close by, and how these three 
 conspirators planned to meet that next night, at the stroke 
 of nine, on the old Tower wharf, near to where the gate 
 used to stand, to see the man from England, who had a 
 plan to kill the Emperor, and fill all their pockets with gold. 
 And this, the boy said, was all he had to tell, because, just 
 then, young Victor Popon came hunting about for him, and 
 he had dropped quickly to the floor and crawled noiselessly 
 from his hiding-place, for fear Victor would come upon him 
 there, and he, then, would be set upon by the three rascally 
 ones. And when the next morning came, he had, because
 
 
 A PEINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 15 
 
 he had thought over the matter all night, hastened from his 
 home in the Street of the Washerwomen straight to St. 
 Cloud, to iind the Emperor, and tell him what he had 
 heard ; because he had no wish that the Emperor should 
 be killed ; besides, if they killed the Emperor, what chance 
 would there be for one to enter the army, as Jacques and 
 Pierre had done ? 
 
 " And so you, too, would go for a soldier, you boy ? " the 
 Emperor demanded, when the boy's story was told. 
 
 "That would I, Citi Sire," the boy replied. "My father 
 was a soldier, so Mother Therese says and says, too, for 
 which I hate her, that he was an enemy of the people! 
 and fought for the king, before the Terror." 
 
 "An dmigrt, eh ! " exclaimed the Emperor, using the word 
 by which were denoted those who, because they belonged to 
 the royalist party in France, were compelled to " emigrate " 
 or leave their homeland as exiles. "And what is your 
 name, you boy ? " 
 
 " The boys of our quarter call me 'mud prince' and 'little 
 'ristocrat,' Sire," the boy from Paris made answer. " But I 
 am Philip, the son of the dmigrd Desnouettes, who, in spite 
 of the edict, came back to France when I was but a baby, 
 and lost his head to sharp Madame Guillotine. I live with 
 Mother Therese, and I tire of it all. If I am mud prince, 
 as they call me, I am to be gold prince some day, so I tell 
 Babette if but the Emperor will." 
 
 " And who is Babette ? " 
 
 "Oh, Babette is Mother Therese's little one, Sire, the 
 only bright thing in our Street of the Washerwomen," 
 young Philip replied. " I have to defend her against that
 
 16 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 pig of a Pierre over the way. He is ever teasing her, and 
 I hate boys who worry those who cannot strike back." 
 
 " A prince and a champion, eh ? " exclaimed the Emperor. 
 "And you would be a soldier and fight for your emperor, 
 even as your father fought for his king ? Well, perhaps if 
 we could but have you washed, we might find something 
 worth the training, under the dirt. It is on the old Tower 
 wharf they are to meet the man from England. Was that 
 what you said ? " 
 
 "Yes, Sire, this very night at the stroke of nine 
 near to where the old gate used to stand," the boy prompted, 
 as the Emperor noted the* time upon the memorandum he 
 had made; while little Prince Napoleon, tired of all this 
 talk, tugged at the long gray overcoat, and renewed his 
 demand: "A ride on sheep. Baby wants to ride again, 
 Uncle Bibiche." 
 
 But the antelopes, despairing of any further gifts of snuff, 
 had long since trotted off, and " Uncle Bibiche " was occu 
 pied with thoughts of other matters. 
 
 His whistle-call sounded again, and once more the for 
 esters appeared. 
 
 " Take this boy to Monsieur Corson, clerk of the kitchen ; 
 bid him give the little man a dinner and a gold napoleon ; 
 afterward, see that he is returned to the city in a cab. And 
 mind, you boy not a word of what you have told me to 
 Mother Therese, nor to Babette." 
 
 " Not even to Babette, Sire," the boy replied. 
 
 " For the rest, I will make proof of your hearing, and, 
 should your ears have done me service, they shall hear yet 
 better things. Uncle Bibiche never forgets ; does he, Mon- 
 seigneur Little One ? "
 
 A PRINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 17 
 
 But the baby Prince replied, as the Emperor caught him 
 up, " Uncle Bibiche forgets Baby's ride." 
 
 " So ! Does he ? Then shall he ride pickaback." And, 
 swinging the child up to the imperial shoulders, the Em 
 peror of France galloped off up the avenue with the son of 
 the King of Holland. Then the boy from Paris followed 
 the foresters to the clerk of the kitchen, and in the scullion's 
 quarters had an excellent dinner, received a golden napo 
 leon, and rode back like a prince to the narrow and dirty 
 Street of the Washerwomen, in the slums of Paris. 
 
 Here, however, trouble awaited him. The cab and the 
 golden napoleon secured for him momentary glory, though 
 his story that he had seen and talked with the Little Cor 
 poral was openly scoffed at by all save Babette. 
 
 Mother The'rese confiscated the napoleon, and regarded 
 the cab as but the ending of only another of " that boy's 
 scrapes," and prophesied, as indeed she generally did once a 
 day, that he would come to no good end, for all her bringing 
 up. But the boy held stoutly to his promise, and claimed 
 only to have been to St. Cloud and to have talked with 
 the Emperor. It must be admitted that he made the most 
 of this; and, while his glittering story of princes and palaces 
 found an absorbed and loyal listener in little Babette, the 
 boys of the quarter made sport of it all as "one of the mud 
 prince's fairy tales." They even went so far as to say that 
 Philip had snatched the golden napoleon from some sight 
 seeing countryman on the Boulevard, and that the police 
 would be after him for it ; while as for the cab-ride, they 
 declared that was in return for some job done for a driver 
 who had more room in his cab than money in his pocket.
 
 18 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 
 
 That "pig of a Pierre over the way" stoutly asserted, 
 indeed, that the mud prince was "in" with some of the light- 
 fingered gentry of the Court of the Miracles near by, the 
 thieves' quarter of old Paris, and would get "come up 
 with" yet. This was the burden of Pierre's taunting song 
 all that afternoon. It was renewed next morning, until "the 
 prince" could stand it no longer, and a battle royal ensued 
 by the little stone-coped fountain at the head of the Street 
 of the Washerwomen. 
 
 All the street gathered to witness the battle, and opinion 
 differed as to its possible issue, for now Pierre and now "the 
 prince" was down. 
 
 But, just as Pierre had been thrown for the last time, and 
 was about to admit his defeat, two gendarmes, or armed 
 policemen, thrust their way through the crowd and "nabbed" 
 the victor. 
 
 "You boy, you live with Mother Therese, do you not?" 
 one of the policemen inquired. 
 
 " To be sure I do," the boy replied, looking defiantly on 
 his questioner held to be a foe by every street-boy, as all 
 policemen are. 
 
 "You are Philip, son of the tmigrA Desnouettes, bound 
 out to the citizeness Therese Eapin, laundress, of the Street 
 of the Washerwomen ? " 
 
 "As all the quarter knows, and you as well," Philip ad 
 mitted without hesitation. 
 
 The policeman turned to a grim man in plain clothes who 
 stood close at hand. "This is our boy, Monsieur the Prefect. 
 I thought I knew him." 
 
 "Bring him along, then," the prefect commanded.
 
 "'COME, YOU BOY; YOU ARE TO GO WITH us," THE POLICBMAN SAID.
 
 A PEINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 21 
 
 "Come, you boy; you are to go with us," the policeman 
 said. 
 
 "But where and why?" Philip asked. 
 
 "That you will know later," answered the officer. "Come." 
 And with his hand on Philip's shoulder, he led the boy 
 away, following the prefect and the other gendarme. 
 
 Then, while one of the boys, proud to be the bearer of 
 evil tidings, rushed- down the Street of the Washerwomen to 
 notify Mother Therese of what had happened, and while 
 Babette, seeing her only champion dragged away to prison, 
 lifted up her voice in a long, loud wail of fear and sorrow, 
 that "pig of a Pierre," rising from the scene of his defeat, 
 danced the mad dance of joy and triumph, and, shaking his 
 grimy fist at the retreating Philip, shouted after him : 
 
 "Yah, mud prince, pickpocket ! Yah, I told you so ! " 
 
 And it must be confessed that most of the quarter saw in 
 this only the sequel to the golden napoleon and the "Em 
 peror's cab" story, and echoed Pierre's unfriendly "I told 
 you so ! " 
 
 But Philip, marveling inwardly at his sudden and un 
 looked-for taking off, went with his captors without word or 
 question. "The time for talk is when the time arrives," he 
 reasoned shrewdly. 
 
 And so, speechless, he was marched away he knew not 
 where nor why.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYR 
 
 HE found out speedily. As they passed from the Street 
 of the Washerwomen into the Street of the Night 
 Patrol, and so on beside the ruins of the great castle, Philip 
 thought they were taking him to the office of the chief of 
 police in the splendid City Hall; but, passing the Square 
 of the River Beach, upon which faced the statued front of 
 the City Hall, the boy's conductors pushed ahead without 
 stopping, cut across into the long Street of the Temple, and 
 as before them loomed the four gray turrets and the great 
 central tower, Philip knew his destination to be the gloomy 
 old Temple itself the death-chamber of knights and kings. 
 
 " Come, now, this is pleasant ! " he said to himself, won 
 dering why they should take him there. "What am I, 
 then ? He who picks a pocket or steals a ride is surely too 
 small game for the Temple. It is there they take traitors 
 and assassins. And, surely, I am neither." 
 
 So, wondering still, he passed through the frowning gate 
 way of the Temple, and speedily stood within one of the 
 "examination chambers," in which were gathered certain 
 men, some in uniform and some in citizen's dress. 
 
 Then, indeed, did Philip give a start of surprise, and 
 fathom the reason for his forced march ; for among those 
 
 22
 
 THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYE 23 
 
 gathered in the examination chamber he recognized at once 
 " the three rascally ones " whom, in the wine-shop of Citizen 
 Popon, he had heard conspiring against the Emperor. 
 
 The boy was confronted with the men, and swore to their 
 identity without hesitation. He could never have forgotten 
 them. His testimony was almost unnecessary; for, so clev 
 erly had they, with "the man from England," been en 
 trapped upon the wharf of the Tower, that the police had 
 a clear case against them from the start. But Philip's 
 evidence was the connecting link, and the would-be assas 
 sins of the Emperor came to speedy punishment. They 
 simply " disappeared," so the record says : but that means a 
 swift and secret punishment. And that is all we hear of 
 the conspiracy of Louis Loizeau, " the man from England," 
 whose plotting this boy of ten so cleverly brought to naught. 
 
 His evidence thus given, the boy of ten came quickly into 
 his reward. Under the guidance of an officer from the 
 central police, he visited the shops in the straggling arcades 
 of the old Temple market, and came out a new boy 
 clean, clothed, and almost a stranger to himself, fit to call 
 on the king. 
 
 Such a call was, evidently, next on the program ; for soon 
 a cab was whirling him, with many a twist and turn, through 
 broad boulevard and narrow street, and so across the Seine 
 into the open country and the smiling park of St. Cloud. 
 
 This time he did not loiter under the great chestnut-trees, 
 nor was he handed over to the clerk of the kitchen, nor left 
 in the "scullion's quarters." Straight to the noble palace 
 he was driven, and then, under the guidance of Constant, 
 the Emperor's body-servant, he was led to the private apart-
 
 24 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 merits in the great palace of St. Cloud. And there, once 
 more, he saw the Emperor. 
 
 Before a closed door the valet stopped and rapped. Then 
 he flung it open and announced : " The boy from Paris, Sire." 
 
 Not in royal robes, nor yet in the glittering uniform of 
 the chief soldier of France, did the boy from Paris find the 
 Emperor. He simply saw " Uncle Bibiche " once more ! 
 For there, pacing up and down the room, head bent and 
 hands clasped behind his back, as if in thought, walked the 
 short, stout man in a simple uniform. And strutting after 
 him, almost on his heels, came the little four-year-old 
 antelope-rider, with the Emperor's famous little chapeau 
 covering his curly head, and the Emperor's terrible " sword 
 of Marengo " trailing on the floor behind him. 
 
 The "boy from Paris" entered the room. The Emperor 
 looked up and, with a smile of surprise at the boy's altered 
 appearance, exclaimed : " But not our dirty boy, little one ! 
 Our prince of the sans-culottes looks as fine as a fiddler, 
 does he not? How is it, son of the e'migrd? Is the mud 
 prince on the road to being a gold prince ? " 
 
 Even Philip's uncomfortableness in his new clothes an 
 uncomfortableness that was almost an imprisonment after 
 the liberty of rags, for it made him feel, as he expressed 
 it, " all hands and feet " could not keep back the laugh 
 that sprang from his quick sense of the ridiculous, at sight 
 of Uncle Bibiche and the little caricature at his heels, bear 
 ing the famous hat and sword. But he collected himself 
 speedily, and replied to the imperial " funning." 
 
 " I am come, Sire," he said, " because they sent me here. 
 I thank you for my fine clothes."
 
 THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYE 27 
 
 "As I thank you for your open ears, mud prince," re 
 sponded the Emperor, giving to the boy's ear the pinch that 
 was always the sign of Napoleon's good humor. " They may 
 have saved my life, these ears ; though you will live to learn 
 that it is one thing to plot and another to do. And what 
 now would you still wish to go for a soldier ? " 
 
 " If the Emperor will," the boy replied. 
 
 " So ; that is what you told Babette. And how is Ba- 
 bette ? " the Emperor asked. 
 
 " Weeping sorely, Sire, because the policeman carried me 
 off, just when I had knocked down that pig of a Pierre for 
 calling me a pickpocket." 
 
 " Ah, then you left the Street of the Washerwomen in 
 disgrace, you boy ? So ! Then shall you go back there in 
 glory. But not to stay there. Son of the dmigrt Desnou- 
 ettes, I will make you a soldier of France." 
 
 Overjoyed at this sudden coming true of his fondest 
 dream, Philip fairly flung himself at the feet of the Emperor 
 in a transport of joy, whereupon little Prince Napoleon, 
 thinking the boy from Paris was there for his pleasure, 
 danced about and said : 
 
 " Sing ' Zig-zag ' again, Dirty Boy. Sing ' Zig-zag ' again." 
 
 Philip struggled to his feet. " Shall I, Sire ? " and Napo 
 leon nodded assent. 
 
 Then around and around the room the boy and the baby 
 capered, for thus could Philip best work off his excess of 
 rapture. And, as they capered, they sang again the chorus : 
 
 " Zig-zag ; rig-a-doon, 
 Dance away to the drumstick's time ! "
 
 28 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 Suddenly Philip stopped. 
 
 "And Babette, Sire ?" he inquired. 
 
 "Well what of Babette?" said the Emperor. "She 
 may not go as a soldier." 
 
 " No, Sire. But I can look after her no more if I march 
 away, and Mother Therese is a wicked one. And the Street 
 of the Washerwomen is not for such as Babette. And the 
 Emperor can do all things." 
 
 " Not all things. But this he can do. He can send you 
 to school, and then make you a soldier. He can send Ba 
 bette to school, and then make her a lady or one fit to be 
 a lady. She must not disgrace the prince, her champion. 
 She, too, shall go to school." 
 
 Again Philip could not restrain himself; and, in excess 
 of joy, hugged his friend the little Prince, who still clung 
 to his hand. 
 
 " And am I to go now, Sire ? " he asked, after a moment. 
 
 " It is never too early to begin the making of a soldier of 
 France," the Emperor said. Then he clapped his hands, and 
 Constant entered quickly. 
 
 " Constant," the ' Emperor said, " find Monsieur Meneval. 
 Bid him meet me in my cabinet." 
 
 Then the Emperor left the two boys alone, and Philip 
 told the little Prince stories of Babette and the boys of the 
 washerwomen's quarter, while the little Prince recited for 
 Philip one of La Fontaine's fables, many of which the bright 
 little fellow knew by heart. 
 
 But before he had gone through "King Log," Constant 
 appeared again, and Philip was taken to the Emperor. 
 With him was an officer of the household.
 
 THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYE 29 
 
 "Go with Monsieur my secretary, young Desnouettes. 
 He will conduct you to the Street of the Washerwomen, and 
 change disgrace to honor. He will see to Babette. He will 
 place you in the military school of Fontainebleau, now trans 
 ferred to St. Cyr. There shall you learn a soldier's first 
 duty obedience; a soldier's single watchward loyalty. 
 Be studious, be attentive, be obedient, be loyal, be honorable, 
 son of the 6migr4 Desnouettes, and your future may be a 
 brilliant one. I shall hear of you. Farewell." 
 
 He motioned the lad out ; but ere the boy turned to go, he 
 stammered out words full of joy and thankfulness. "Sire," 
 he said, "you shall hear of me. I will be true, and thank 
 you for Babette." 
 
 Then he followed Monsieur the Secretary, and was soon 
 speeding away with him in one of the household carriages, 
 on the panel of which was emblazoned the imperial "N." 
 
 Straight to the dirty Street of the Washerwomen the car 
 riage sped. And what a time there was in that dark and 
 narrow quarter of the old city when the carriage drew up 
 before the little coped fountain where " that pig of a Pierre" 
 had shaken the fist of derision and contempt ! 
 
 And when from the carriage stepped the boy in his new 
 suit, with Monsieur the Emperor's secretary, and Monsieur 
 the deputy mayor of the section (the alderman of the ward, 
 as one might say), following after, then how the people 
 stared ! 
 
 And when Monsieur the deputy mayor in a loud voice 
 announced that for gallant action and for loyal deed his im 
 perial majesty the Emperor took into his service Philip, the 
 son of the dmigrd Desnouettes, how the people cheered !
 
 30 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 Then Mother Therese, that foxy old tyrant, "blessed the boy," 
 and did not see how she could spare him, and took the 
 purse of money the Emperor sent her, while "that pig of a 
 Pierre over the way" turned so green with envy that Philip 
 really felt sorry for him. 
 
 And how little Babette laughed and cried in the same 
 breath when Philip told her the Emperor had heard about 
 her and meant to make a lady of her ! 
 
 So it was soon over, for all the world like some wonderful 
 fairy tale, and Philip Desnouettes, son of the dmigrt, bound 
 boy of the washerwomen's quarter, protege of the Emperor, 
 turned his back upon the narrow and dirty street he had 
 once called his home, and, riding away from the past, was 
 entered as a pupil in the military school of St. Cyr. 
 
 From the day w r hen, as a new boy, he was introduced into 
 the new school of St. Cyr, and was gradually transformed 
 from an uncouth street-boy to a little machine, to the day 
 when, four years later, he left it for other scenes, Philip 
 Desnouettes's life was one of continuous training. He got 
 up by the drum, he ate his meals by the drum, he went to 
 bed by the drum. He learned to drill, to ride, and to build 
 fortifications ; he received instruction in languages, literature, 
 history, and mathematics; he toughened without fires, de 
 veloped by austere discipline, lived by rule, played pranks 
 and took his punishment as he did his medicine without 
 grumbling ; he grew, strengthened, broadened in mind and 
 body, learned to be a French school-boy, a French soldier, a 
 French gentleman. 
 
 Then came 1810. Great things had been happening while 
 Philip was a school-boy at St. Cyr. The map of Europe
 
 CADET DESNOUETTES AND CORPORAL PEYROLLES. "'BE A SOLDIER OF FRANCE!"
 
 THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYR 33 
 
 had been changed again and again, and Napoleon was the 
 map-maker. There had been wars and rumors of war; there 
 had been mighty marches, bloody battles, terrible triumphs ; 
 and with march and battle and triumph the fame of Napo 
 leon, Emperor of the French, had grown to mighty propor 
 tions. In 1810 France and Napoleon were the greatest 
 names in all the world. And Philip had met Corporal 
 Peyrolles. 
 
 Peyrolles, the wooden-legged, had left his good leg of flesh 
 on the bloody field of Austerlitz, and, pensioned by the Em 
 peror, had been made one of the drill-sergeants in St. Cyr 
 school. 
 
 To Peyrolles the Emperor was not a man, he was "the 
 Emperor"; and Peyrolles worshiped him even as did the 
 Romans of old worship their highest and bravest as some 
 thing more than mortal. And yet the boys of St. Cyr de 
 clared that but for Peyrolles the Emperor would never have 
 been ; for it was Peyrolles's delight to recount for the boys 
 of St. Cyr how "I and the Emperor" conquered the world! 
 
 But it was largely by Peyrolles's friendly promptings, plus 
 the instruction of the St. Cyr school, that Philip became pro 
 ficient in drill and ambitious of glory. And when, even 
 before the allotted term of training, the summons came to 
 "the cadet Desnouettes" to attend upon the Emperor, the 
 boy felt that both fame and glory lay well within his grasp. 
 
 But Peyrolles said, " See what it is to have Corporal Pey 
 rolles for your friend, cadet. Do you think it is because 
 your sharp ears served the Emperor, when you were but a 
 boy of the streets, that he now calls you to his side, even 
 before your military schooling is done ? Not so. It is be-
 
 34 
 
 cause of me. It is because Peyrolles has had you in hand. 
 The Emperor has heard of it. He bids you come to him 
 that you may show others in his service what it is to be 
 tutored in arms by the man who helped the Emperor to win 
 the day at Arcola and Lodi, at Castiglione and the Pyra 
 mids, at Marengo and Ulm and Austerlitz. Long live the 
 Emperor, and long live Peyrolles, his right hand ! Do not 
 disgrace my teaching. You are but an infant yet, cadet. 
 But so were we all once, and even a child can be brave. 
 Listen, you cadet : rush not rashly into danger, but, once in, 
 do not back out. Strike not until you can strike swift and 
 sure. Obey, and you shall be obeyed ; follow, and you shall 
 be followed ; seek glory, and glory shall seek you. Be a 
 soldier of France, and France shall be proud of her soldier, 
 and shall say to the world : ' Behold, this cadet was a pu 
 pil, of Peyrolles of St. Cyr, grenadier and helper of the 
 Emperor !' " 
 
 So Philip left St. Cyr and reported at the Tuileries, that 
 noble old palace in the city, whose story is interwoven with 
 that of France's ups and downs through fully three hundred 
 years. 
 
 And in Napoleon's private study, beyond the Diana Gal 
 lery and next to the Blue Room, Philip once more saluted 
 the Emperor. 
 
 " So, it is young Desnouettes, the boy with the good ears," 
 was the Emperor's greeting. " Have both eyes and ears 
 served you well at St. Cyr, you cadet ? You look a little 
 soldier already. Are you prepared to march and to fight ? " 
 
 " Yes, Sire for the Emperor," the boy replied shrewdly. 
 
 " Good " ; and Napoleon pulled the cadet's hair good-
 
 THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYR 35 
 
 humoredly. " But these are no longer days of blood. The 
 empire is at peace. I have sent for you to serve here at 
 court. Take your orders from the Baron de Meneval. From 
 this day you are a page of the palace."
 
 CHAPTEE IV 
 
 THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 
 
 IT was a new life into which this imperial appointment 
 plunged the active boy of fourteen. It was discipline, 
 and yet it was delightful; it was slavery, and yet it was 
 splendor ; there was labor to tire both feet and brain ; there 
 were long hours of monotony, but many opportunities for 
 pranks and frolics. It was run here and run there; it was 
 do this and do that ; it was not soldiering, and yet it had 
 its conflicts ; it was not a call for courage, and yet it was 
 duty joined to temptation and tried by opportunity. The 
 life of a page of the palace was not all play, though passed 
 in the midst of splendor ; nor was it all dignity, though 
 spent in a constant round of fete and ceremonial. 
 
 And into fete and ceremonial young Philip Desnouettes 
 was speedily introduced. It was the year 1810. In that 
 year Napoleon the Emperor married the Archduchess of 
 Austria. The son of -a poor Corsican office-seeker wedded 
 the daughter of the Austrian Csesars. It was a year of bril 
 liancy, of excitement, of restless rounds of display and con 
 stant repetitions of marvelous entertainments. 
 
 Never was a boy of fourteen surrounded by more of glitter, 
 or permitted to be a part of more royal "goings on." All this 
 might ruin a boy of weak nature ; but Philip was blessed 
 
 36
 
 THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 37 
 
 with a cool head, a well-balanced mind, and much common 
 sense. He had "cut his wisdom-teeth" as a street-boy of 
 Paris; he had learned discipline in the school of St. Cyr; 
 and so, though often sorely tried and many a time in scrapes 
 and in disgrace, he was too manly a fellow to " lose his 
 head." He was therefore really developed alike by the 
 temptations and by the duties that filled his daily life in those 
 most brilliant surroundings the court of the First Empire. 
 
 As page of the palace, he was on duty both at the splen 
 did Tuileries and at beautiful St. Cloud. And through the 
 month of March there was enough afoot in both these great 
 palaces to tire any ordinary boy, and keep his head buzzing 
 with bewilderment. For then it was that Paris and the pal 
 aces were making ready for the reception of the new mistress 
 of France, the girl Empress, Marie Louise, Archduchess of 
 Austria. 
 
 Philip could not understand it all. Austria had been " a 
 red rag " to every French boy since the days of Marie An 
 toinette. And at St. Cyr Philip had been brought up to 
 hate the Austrians, with whom the Emperor was so often at 
 war, and whom, three times, he had faced and conquered. 
 
 " I would like to know what Peyrolles thinks of this," he 
 often said to himself. " The Emperor marry an Austrian ? 
 Well, for one, I can't see through it ! " 
 
 But what of that ? No boy of fourteen gives much 
 thought to political right or wrong, or wastes time over the 
 policy of kings and cabinets. Only the events that bring 
 him opportunity, or the doings that mean excitement and 
 fun, arouse in him anticipation and desire. 
 
 He ran here and he ran there ; he fetched and he carried ;
 
 38 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 
 
 he rehearsed for ceremonies and waited for orders at palace 
 doors ; he " bossed things " whenever he had a little brief 
 authority ; he did the thousand and one " chores " that are 
 a part of the duties of a royal page, who is above servants in 
 station and below officials in rank. The Grand Marshal of 
 the Palace, the Chief Secretary to the Emperor, the First 
 Gentleman in Waiting, the First Page of the Palace, arid, first 
 of all, the Emperor himself these were the boy's masters. 
 As became a royal page, he ignored all others, and gave 
 himself airs whenever he was beyond the beck and call of 
 his acknowledged superiors. 
 
 Fete crowned fete, and ceremony ceremony. By stately 
 stages, from Vienna on to Paris, the Austrian princess came 
 to her throne, escorted by peers of France, and surrounded 
 by all the pomp and power of this theatrical First Empire. 
 Then Napoleon met her; and on a bright April day she 
 entered Paris in a blaze of glory. 
 
 And Philip entered, too, so spick and span in a new and 
 gorgeous livery that he felt certain all eyes must be looking 
 at him quite as much as at any one who had a place in that 
 long and glittering procession escorting Napoleon and Louise 
 from St. Cloud to the Tuileries. 
 
 And where do you think the boy was ? Clinging with 
 five other pages, for all the world as if they were " cutting 
 behind," to the foot-board of the magnificent coronation coach 
 of glass and gold in which sat the Emperor and Empress. 
 For there, according to the etiquette that governed the impe 
 rial " show," was the place for the pages, while as many more 
 hung on to the driver's seat ; and I really believe the boys 
 and sirls of Paris thought it almost as fine to be one of those
 
 THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 39 
 
 clinging pages as to be the Emperor in his cloak of red and 
 white velvet, or the Empress by his side, glittering in her 
 golden dress and her circlet of diamonds. I am sure Babette 
 thought so, when she spied Philip. For Babette was one of 
 the throng of little girls, dressed in white, who at the Arch 
 of Triumph showered the coronation coach with flowers, and 
 sang a welcome to the new Empress. 
 
 So, under great arches and along the crowded streets, 
 which were gorgeously decorated and lined with tiers of seats 
 built for the people, with the imperial cavalry in advance, 
 with lancers and chasseurs and dragoons marching in splen 
 did array, with bands playing their best, with heralds-at- 
 arms in brilliant costumes, and with eight prancing horses 
 drawing the coronation coach topped with its golden dome, 
 its four spread eagles, and its imperial crown, Philip and the 
 Emperor brought the girl Empress into Paris. 
 
 The bells rang merrily, the artillery thundered salutes, the 
 picked soldiers of the Grand Army in double files along the 
 route presented arms, the young girls strewed the way with 
 flowers, the great marshals of France and the colonels of the 
 Imperial Guard, mounted on their splendid horses, sur 
 rounded the glittering coach. Thus, up the shouting Champs 
 Elysees, real "Fields of Paradise" that day, and under 
 the great arch into the Tuileries gardens, this splendid pro 
 cession moved to where, in the magnificent Square Room 
 of the palace of the Tuileries, Napoleon and Louise, sur 
 rounded by kings and queens, by lords and ladies, by car 
 dinals and priests, and in the presence of eight thousand 
 invited guests, were married by the Cardinal Fesch, Grand 
 Almoner of France and uncle of the Emperor.
 
 40 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 It was a regal display, one of the few really gorgeous cere 
 monials of history. Not the least interested spectator was 
 young Philip Desnouettes, as, with the throng of royal pages, 
 he crowded upon the steps that led to the great platform on 
 which the marriage ceremony took place. Then followed 
 the promenade in the picture-gallery, the reception in the 
 splendid Hall of the Marshals, the imperial banquet in the 
 theater, the public concert in the vast amphitheater built in 
 the Tuileries gardens, the fireworks all along the Champs 
 Elysees, the illumination of the Tuileries and of the great 
 avenues and -bridges and buildings of the city, which blazed 
 with light until, as Philip declared, "all Paris seemed on fire." 
 
 He missed a part of the show, however, because he had a 
 special duty to perform. He had to keep a dog from barking. 
 
 Into a room of the Tuileries he had been introduced by 
 young Master Malvirade, the very important First Page to 
 the Emperor, and had been ordered to wait there until 
 relieved. 
 
 "There 's a dog in here," the First Page had told him, 
 "and a parrot. See to it, young Desnouettes, that the dog 
 does not bark, nor the parrot squawk." 
 
 Here was a nice job for a boy who wished to see the fire 
 works! Philip was almost tempted to rebel; but he had 
 been trained to obey, and he said not a word. 
 
 The room was at the end of a long corridor that was 
 narrow and dimly lighted, but in the room itself there was a 
 blaze of light from many lamps and candles. Philip had 
 never seen this room before, and looked at it critically. It 
 was clearly not a state apartment; it was more homelike 
 than handsome. There were drawings and paintings on the
 
 THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 41 
 
 walls, the furniture was not new, and certainly not Paris- 
 made. Here hung some tapestry- work ; there, birds in cages. 
 On a gilded perch a great green parrot was clawing and 
 shifting, cocking one bright eye down at a little dog crouched 
 on a rug below him. It was this dog and this parrot that 
 Philip was to keep quiet. 
 
 He waited some time. The cheers of the crowd in the 
 garden and the sounds of the great chorus at the open-air 
 concert came, muffled, to his ears. The parrot was uneasy; 
 the dog was restless; so, too, was Philip, and he grumbled 
 inwardly at his imprisonment; but, all the same, he did his 
 duty, petted the dog, and soothed "poor Polly" with promises 
 of make-believe crackers. 
 
 At last he heard steps coming along the corridor. The 
 parrot cocked its head to listen; the dog started up and 
 tried to "woof," but Philip's hand smothered the incipient 
 bark. 
 
 The door opened, and a lady entered. She was young, 
 scarcely more than a girl, but she was splendidly dressed, 
 and her face was pretty and pleasant. 
 
 She stopped, blinded at first by the flood of light after the 
 dimness of the corridor. Then she looked about her, started 
 suddenly, and as the dog, with a bark and a struggle, broke 
 away from Philip and sprang toward her, she dropped on 
 her knees, regardless of her splendid dress, and fondled the 
 dog with a cry of joy. 
 
 "Why, it is my room!" she cried, looking about in be 
 wilderment, "my own room at Vienna! The very same 
 carpet, the very same chairs, my sister Clementine's draw 
 ings, my mother's tapestry, my uncle Charles's paintings, my
 
 42 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 books, my birds Polly and you you dear, dear Fritz- 
 kin ! " here she hugged the little dog again. Then she sprang 
 to her feet, and, saying impulsively, " Oh, Sire, how kind you 
 are!" flung her arms about the neck of the gentleman who 
 had followed her into the room, a short, stout middle-aged 
 gentleman, with a splendid court costume, and a handsome 
 face that sparkled with pleasure at the success of his little 
 plot. It was Napoleon, and this was his surprise to his girl 
 wife. He had reproduced in the Tuileries the room she had 
 tearfully said good-by to in her father's palace at Vienna ; 
 he had remembered everything even to the dog and the 
 parrot that were her especial pets. 
 
 It was such a successful surprise that fun-loving Philip 
 could not keep back the smile of sympathy. 
 
 "So, it is you, young Desnouettes; you are the genie in 
 charge, eh?" the Emperor said. "Louise, this page once 
 saved my life from plotters; and now, behold! he is in a 
 plot against the Empress. There 's gratitude for you ! " 
 
 The girl Empress cast a bright, quick look of pleasure at 
 the kneeling boy, and held out to him a hand which Philip 
 loyally kissed, swearing fealty to her in his chivalrous young 
 heart. And the Empress never forgot him, amid all the 
 strange faces and crowding scenes of her new life as a 
 sovereign. 
 
 Through the spring and into the summer these faces and 
 scenes thronged, one upon the other, in quick succession. 
 In April the Emperor and Empress, on their wedding jour 
 ney, made " a progress " through northern France ; during 
 May and June festivity followed festivity in Paris, so closely 
 and with such grandeur that Philip really grew weary of
 
 'THE EMPRESS HELD OUT A HAND WHICH PHILIP LOYALLY KISSED.
 
 THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 45 
 
 magnificence. Finally, on the first day of July, came the 
 conclusion of this series of grand entertainments in honor 
 of the Emperor and Empress the ball at the Austrian 
 Embassy. 
 
 In his fine old mansion on the Street of Provence, some 
 times known as Hospital Road, and sometimes known 
 as the Street of the Crooked Stocking, the Austrian am 
 bassador, Prince Schwarzenberg, gave a great ball. The 
 house was not large enough for the entertainment he wished 
 to give, so in his garden he built, " for one night only," a 
 great wooden ball-room. 
 
 It was so splendidly decorated and furnished that it 
 looked like a fairy palace. Its walls were covered with 
 gold and silver brocade ; draperies of spangled gauze were 
 festooned all about it, fastened with flowers and glittering 
 ornaments ; while lights from chandeliers and candelabra 
 made the great ball-room as brilliant as day. 
 
 The guests entered this splendid " palace for a night " 
 through a long gallery that connected it with the mansion. 
 Musicians played in the Court of Honor; grottoes and 
 arbors and temples were scattered all about the garden ; on 
 the lawn brilliantly costumed dancers took part in a delight 
 ful spectacle, and in the ball-room itself nearly two thou 
 sand people began to dance at midnight. 
 
 Philip was there, too semi-officially on duty as a royal 
 page, but also in for a good time as a guest of the am 
 bassador. 
 
 He was having such a good time ! There were plenty of 
 young people there ; and though, of course, the pages could 
 hardly be expected to dance in the great ball-room, the boys
 
 46 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 found partners somehow, as boys are wont to do when such 
 a fine chance for a dance occurs. To the same music that 
 guided the grand quadrille in the ball-room, the boys and 
 girls started an impromptu quadrille on the lawn, and had, 
 no doubt, a much better time than the great folks at the 
 stately function inside. 
 
 Philip found himself dancing with a pretty girl of about 
 his own age, whose name he failed to gatch in the hurried 
 introduction that made her his partner; but they enjoyed 
 their dance quite as much as if they had always known each 
 other. And when the first quadrille was over, the boys and 
 girls crowded into the big ball-room to see the Emperor 
 make his progress through the room, and to watch the 
 young Empress as, throned on the imperial platform, she 
 talked with two queens and a king or two. 
 
 In the Court of Honor the trumpets sounded a flourish ; 
 in the Temple of Glory a song of triumph was being sung ; 
 everything was brightness and beauty and gaiety and bril 
 liancy, when, suddenly, Philip saw several gentlemen dash 
 into the throng ; then he heard a shout of warning, a note 
 of terror ; there came another rush, and above the flour 
 ish of the trumpets and the voices of the singers rang out 
 the cry : 
 
 " Fire, fire ! the ball-room is on fire !" 
 
 It was no false alarm. The draperies caught quickly ; 
 the hangings burst into a blaze ; there was a mad race for 
 the one doorway that led into the house, and everywhere 
 were confusion, terror, and a desperate dash for life. 
 
 Philip caught by the arm the young girl with whom he 
 had been dancing on the lawn.
 
 THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 47 
 
 "Quick, give me your hand, mademoiselle!" he cried; 
 " trust me, and I will save you. The garden is our best 
 chance." 
 
 But the girl seemed dazed. " My father ! where is my 
 father ? " she cried. " Oh, find my father ! " 
 
 Philip was as wiry as he was plucky and sturdy, but an 
 excited crowd in a blazing ball-room knows neither courage 
 nor courtesy where all are struggling to escape. 
 
 Even as he lost his hold of the girl's arm when she sought 
 to dart off in another direction, the splendidly dressed mob 
 surged in between, and, separating the two, flung the boy 
 to the floor, where he lay, trampled upon and kicked about 
 in this mad rush for safety. 
 
 And, as he fell, he heard above the uproar the terrible 
 danger-call : " A plot, a plot ! Frenchmen, defend your 
 Emperor ! "
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 IN THE STREET OF THE FIGHT 
 
 TWISTING and squirming with a persistency that would 
 do credit to a modern foot-ball scrimmage, Philip 
 wriggled his way from beneath those trampling feet, and at 
 last stood erect battered, but whole. 
 
 He looked about him for an instant, striving to catch his 
 breath and get his bearings. It was a scene of terror and 
 despair. The great room was thick with smoke, the flames 
 were already roaring up to the roof, and seemed to burst 
 from the house with which the ball-room was connected. 
 Cries and shrieks filled the air. There is nothing more 
 terrible than a mob gone mad with fright and fear. In this 
 one were displayed those tragic and ludicrous phases of ex 
 citable human nature, which so often loses its head in great 
 crises, and does so many ridiculous things. 
 
 Some, however, kept their wits about them, and worked 
 like Trojans. By dint of much labor they cleared the 
 blocked doorway, and hurried the throng into the garden 
 and the street beyond. About the Emperor, Philip saw a 
 ring of the officers of the Imperial Guard, who with drawn 
 swords kept the surging mob at bay, while he heard above 
 the turmoil the voice of the Austrian ambassador shouting 
 
 48
 
 IN THE STREET OF THE FIGHT 49 
 
 to Napoleon, "My life for yours, Sire ! If this is a plot, it 
 shall strike me dead before it touches you ! " 
 
 And on the imperial platform, calmly seated on the throne, 
 Philip, with a flush of pride in her courage, saw the girl 
 Empress, the coolest one in all that excited crowd, quietly 
 awaiting the word of her husband, the Emperor, to leave the 
 place with him. 
 
 There was no plot. The fire was but a fearful accident 
 that was to wreck the beautiful building and bring death to 
 many homes. Assured of this, Napoleon worked his way to 
 the platform, took the Empress by the hand, hurried into 
 the garden, and, placing her in a carriage which Philip had 
 found for him, sent his wife in safety to St. Cloud. Then he 
 returned to the scene of disaster, and, in the same spirit of 
 command that made so many of his battles victories, worked 
 amid ruin and smoke to save life and property. 
 
 Philip worked too. As excited and omnipresent, and 
 probably quite as much in the way, as a boy always is at a 
 big fire, he rushed hither and thither, helping and hindering 
 alike, but anxious above all things to find the pretty little 
 partner who had been swept from his side when the rush 
 had overthrown and trampled him under foot. 
 
 He feared the worst. How could any girl escape what a 
 boy had been unable to withstand ? Burning beams were 
 falling; now an overcrowded staircase gave way and col 
 lapsed ; now the great chandelier came crashing down ; the 
 lost were crying; the wounded were calling for help, and a 
 sudden storm bursting upon the doomed building fanned the 
 flames into a roaring blaze. 
 
 Rushing along one of the garden walks, determined to
 
 50 A BOY OP THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 search everywhere for the missing girl, Philip stumbled into 
 a half-concealed grotto in which a band of musicians had 
 been stationed for an outdoor concert. There, in the wreck 
 age of overturned music-racks and forsaken instruments, 
 Philip saw the body of a young girl. It was she whom he 
 sought. Overcome by the smoke, or by the fright and 
 frenzy of the stampede, she had evidently found a place of 
 refuge and then comfortably fainted. 
 
 Of course Philip thought she was dead. " Oh, Made 
 moiselle ! " he cried in despair. 
 
 But even as he raised her up, she recovered consciousness, 
 looked about her dazed, and then called, " Father ! Oh, take 
 me to my father ! " 
 
 Philip recalled the stories of Bayard and Roland, and all 
 the gallant knights of old who had succored maidens in dis 
 tress. Here, now, was his chance to show himself a true 
 chevalier. 
 
 " Mademoiselle, let me take you home," he said. " Your 
 father is there, no doubt." 
 
 Still weak from her fall and fright, the girl leaned upon 
 her protector, and they made their way through the garden 
 to the street. A tardy fire-engine, as clumsy as it was use 
 less, rolled lumbering up to the gateway, and Philip drew the 
 girl aside to avoid a collision with the excited crowd that 
 came with it. 
 
 Suddenly the girl gave a cry of joy. 
 
 " Father, father ! " she called shrilly ; and, breaking from 
 her conductor's side, she sprang into the arms of a gentle 
 man whose look of mingled misery and perplexity changed 
 swiftly into one of relief and joy as he clasped the girl in a
 
 IN THE STREET OF THE FIGHT 51 
 
 welcome that was also protection. Then they turned, and 
 before Philip could reach them they had hurried through 
 the gateway, and were lost in the crowd and the darkness. 
 
 "Well," said Philip, just a trifle chagrined at this unex 
 pected ending to his attempt at knight-errantry, "she is 
 safe, no doubt. If one might have known her name ! I 
 wonder who she is ? " 
 
 Then, finding that some order was coming out of the 
 chaos of disaster, and that the firemen, the soldiers, and the 
 armed police had taken matters in charge, Philip concluded 
 there was no more to be seen. Wet and smoky, disheveled 
 and torn, he started for the Tuileries ; but as he crossed the 
 square near the Vendome Column he spied a carriage with 
 pages on the box pushing its way through the crowd. 
 
 " Holo you ! To St. Cloud ? " he shouted in inquiry. 
 And a chorus of pages replied : 
 
 " To St. Cloud, yes ! Where have you tumbled from, dis 
 reputable one ? Come along, my Lord Mud and Soot ! 
 Climb up here, young Desnouettes." Philip clambered up 
 without even stopping the coach, and, squeezing himself in 
 among the pages, was soon chattering and clattering away to 
 St. Cloud and a brief night's rest. 
 
 Early next morning, by order of the Emperor, he hurried 
 to the Embassy for the latest news. He brought back sorry 
 tidings. The destruction of the mansion was complete. 
 Many had been injured ; some had been killed outright, or 
 had since died. Altogether it was a -tragic ending to what 
 had promised to be a brilliant affair. 
 
 But those were days when people were all too familiar 
 with disaster and death. Crowding events pushed past
 
 52 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 happenings out of mind. Napoleon wished his court to be 
 both gay and glorious, and disaster must never be mentioned. 
 
 So the fatal ball at the Embassy was forgotten, save by 
 those who had experienced its terrors, either to their own 
 hurt or in the injury or loss of those who were dear to them. 
 The coming of new glories gave a fresh current to thought, 
 while new happenings occupied young and old, rich and poor, 
 in Paris. 
 
 Once a week, when off duty for a few hours, Philip always 
 went to see Babette. He took as much interest in her edu 
 cation and progress as if he were indeed her guardian, and 
 the sisters of the convent school in the Street of the Old 
 Pigeon-House (or, as they called it in Paris, the Rue du 
 Vieux-Colombier) welcomed the bright boy with smiles, and 
 allowed him a generous half-hour's interview in the conver 
 sation room. 
 
 There was enough of the street-boy nature remaining in 
 Philip to make him like to "prowl"; and in these walks to 
 see Babette in the Street of the Old Pigeon-House, the young 
 page of the palace would, therefore, often make roundabout 
 journeys. He stumbled into all sorts of out-of-the-way 
 places, ran all sorts of risks, but never fell into any real 
 danger, though there was plenty of it beneath the surface 
 life in the Paris of those days. 
 
 It was while on one of his " prowls," one afternoon, when 
 he had been to visit Babette, that he was strolling leisurely 
 along the Street of the Fight (known to Parisians as the 
 Rue de Melee), one of the very quietest and quaintest of the 
 streets of the old city, when he was attracted by a tug of 
 war between two hostile sparrows which were struggling for
 
 IN THE STREET OF THE FIGHT 53 
 
 a tough straw that both seemed equally to fancy for nest- 
 repairing. 
 
 The sparrows pulled and tugged and fluttered so vigor 
 ously that Philip, always alive to the humorous side of 
 things, leaned against the nearest fence-rail and watched the 
 equal match. 
 
 "Perhaps that 's why they call this the Fight Street," he 
 was just saying to himself, when he felt a touch on his shoul 
 der. Looking up, he saw a decent-looking house-servant. 
 
 " Will Monsieur enter ? " the man said. " Mademoiselle 
 receives." 
 
 Philip looked puzzled. " Mademoiselle ?" he queried. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur," the footman explained ; " the Citizen 
 Keeper's daughter. She saw you from the window, and her 
 father, the Keeper, sends me to bid you enter. To-day 
 Mademoiselle receives." 
 
 Philip looked closely at the house. He was certain he 
 had never seen it before. 
 
 " But," he began, " I do not know Mademoiselle." 
 
 At that instant a tall, scholarly-looking gentleman came 
 through the open doorway and stood beside him. 
 
 "Oh, but you do, my boy," he said, breaking in upon 
 Philip's uncertainty. " Enter, I beg, and see for yourself." 
 
 The gentleman was so distinguished in appearance, and he 
 laid so friendly a hand upon the page's shoulder, that Philip 
 flung hesitation to the winds and willingly entered the house. 
 
 The footman lifted a heavy curtain, and Philip stood within 
 a neat drawing-room furnished in the simple style of the 
 Eevolution. A young girl came quickly forward from a 
 group of people.
 
 54 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 "I am so glad you came in," she said impulsively. "I 
 saw you from the window, and knew you at once." 
 
 Philip looked closely at the speaker. In an instant it was 
 all clear to him. " Mademoiselle " was his partner in the 
 quadrille on the lawn -the girl he had rescued from the 
 grotto that fatal night of the ball at the Embassy. 
 
 He bent low over her extended hand, for thus were boys 
 of those days taught to " make their manners " to ladies. 
 
 " Mademoiselle is very kind," he said. 
 
 The girl laughed merrily at this stately politeness, and, 
 making up for the forgotten ceremony with which she should 
 have greeted him after the fashion of the day, she courtesied 
 deeply in acknowledgment. Then she laughed again joy 
 fully and unaffectedly. 
 
 " Did you not think us most ungrateful, we two my 
 father and I," she said, " that we should have so rushed 
 away from you that dreadful night ? But my father why, 
 where is he ? See, my father, was I not right ? it was our 
 benefactor." 
 
 Philip's conductor gave him a cordial smile of welcome. 
 He took both the lad's hands in his. "My best of boys," 
 he cried, " how proud I am to see you here ! We have 
 long wished we two thoughtless ones to learn who was 
 the brave young gentleman who united us that dreadful 
 night 
 
 " When we lost our schottische," interrupted Mademoi 
 selle. " Do you not remember that was next to come when 
 the wreaths caught fire ? " 
 
 " And such a charming schottische as it would have been," 
 said Philip gallantly.
 
 IN THE STEEET OF THE FIGHT 55 
 
 " Let me make you known to our friends," said the master 
 of the house, as he took the boy's arm and hurried him 
 toward the waiting group. " My friends," he said, " let me 
 present to you 
 
 Here his daughter again interrupted him. " But, papa," 
 she cried, " we do not know Monsieur's name nor does he 
 know ours. Is it not droll ? " 
 
 " So ! the little one is right," said the introducer, with a 
 laugh. " Permit me, Monsieur. We are the household of 
 Daunou, Keeper of the Archives. I am the Keeper. Made 
 moiselle here is my dear daughter Lucie. And you ? " 
 
 " I, Monsieur the Keeper," replied the boy, " am Philip 
 Desnouettes, one of the pages to the Emperor." 
 
 " Ha, that Corsican ! " The exclamation came from a 
 little fat man of middle age and fierce face, who stood at 
 the elbow of Monsieur the Keeper of the Archives. 
 
 Philip fired up in an instant. 
 
 " Sir, I said the Emperor ! " he exclaimed, a flush of sur 
 prise and anger mantling his face. 
 
 " Pouf, pouf ! What a young game-cock it is ! How 
 hot we are ! And is he not a Corsican ? " the fat man 
 fumed. 
 
 But the Keeper of the Archives clapped a hand over the 
 offending mouth. " Be quiet, Fauriel," he said. " Monsieur 
 the Page is my guest, and such words are not for him. We 
 all have our preferences and our loyalties. Desnouettes, did 
 you say, my boy ? " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur ; Philip Desnouettes," the boy replied. 
 
 " The name has a familiar sound," said the Keeper. 
 " Your father ? "
 
 56 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 "An emigrt, Monsieur," the boy answered. "Executed in 
 1796 for not leaving France when the nobles were that year 
 expelled." 
 
 " What, you boy ! " Fauriel the fat broke in ; " your father 
 a martyr, and you a slave of the Corsican ! " 
 
 " Sir, my Emperor was not the murderer of my father ; he 
 has been my protector," Philip began, hotly. But the other 
 broke in quite as hotly. 
 
 "Pouf! a fine protector, he! A wolf shielding the 
 lambs ! Whom has he protected ? Has he not enslaved, 
 has he not juggled with has he not 
 
 " But, papa," Mademoiselle cried appealingly, " do I re 
 ceive, or does Uncle Fauriel ? Tell him he shall not spoil 
 my day with his hateful politics. See, Monsieur Philip is 
 very angry, and so am I." 
 
 The Keeper of the Archives laughed aloud. "Do not 
 mind him, Monsieur the Page," he said ; " this is a little pot 
 and soon heated. There, there, Fauriel, do not get angry; 
 you know your bark is worse than your bite. Let him 
 alone ; he is but a boy. What should he care for your 
 tirades, except perhaps to love his Emperor the more and 
 regard you the less ? " 
 
 " But our boys are the Frenchmen of the future, Daunou," 
 the little man replied. " I am angered to see them wor 
 shiping at the shrine of the Corsican this Nicholas, 1 this 
 little beast, this 
 
 " Sir ! " Philip shouted. 
 
 " Uncle ! Papa ! " Mademoiselle protested. But, almost 
 before he knew what he was doing, the angry page of the 
 
 1 One of the Parisian nicknames of Napoleon.
 
 IN THE STREET OF THE FIGHT 
 
 57 
 
 PHILIP STRIKES UNCLE FAURIEL. 
 
 palace sprang at the detractor of his Emperor and thumped 
 him soundly on his ruffled shirt-front. 
 
 " Fellow ! " he cried, red with rage, " he who maligns my 
 Emperor insults me ! Withdraw your words or I will kill 
 you ! "
 
 58 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 But the fat calumniator of Napoleon looked into the face 
 of the Emperor's young champion, and snapped his fingers 
 once, twice, beneath the boy's nose. 
 
 " Pah ! Infant ! " he said. " That for you ! " Then he 
 turned his back on the angry boy and called out with the 
 laugh that maddens, " Daunou, send for his nurse ! "
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A FUSS WITH FOUCH^ 
 
 PHILIP fairly cried with rage. A boy's wrath is some 
 times so overmastering that it unnerves him, and he 
 can do nothing but let it dissolve in tears. But the boy 
 quickly dashed the unwelcome drops from his eyes, and 
 turned to the Keeper of the Archives. 
 
 " Sir-" he began, but the Keeper interrupted him, gently 
 but firmly : 
 
 " We are all citizens in this household, my boy," he said. 
 " For us, at least, the Republic is not yet dead, nor have we 
 grown weary of its simple ways." 
 
 " Citizen Keeper, then," Philip said, falling back upon the 
 old address of the Revolution, " I bid you and Mademoiselle 
 good day. If it be the ways of the Republic to malign the 
 absent and to insult guests, then am I glad the Republic is 
 dead. Long live the Emperor ! " 
 
 And, deeply bowing, the boy turned toward the door. 
 But the Keeper of the Archives caught him by the arm. 
 " Amen to that wish, my son ! " he said. " None surely 
 could breathe it more sincerely than do I, though I neither 
 countenance all the actions nor blindly follow the lead of 
 the Emperor. I, too, am in the service of the State. So do 
 I seek to render, as is my duty, loyal and devoted service, 
 
 59
 
 60 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 even though the Emperor does not love me, and I am friend 
 enough to him to know his faults and wish him so well that 
 I would see him mend them." 
 
 "And I am friend enough to Monsieur Philip he, surely, 
 is not yet old enough to be Citizen Philip, is he, papa ? to 
 wish him well out of the nest of politics into which he has 
 fallen." So said Mademoiselle. " For me, papa," she added, 
 " I do think you might at least protect him from Uncle 
 Fauriel here, whose tongue is sharper than Marcel's needle, 
 without being able to do nearly as much work nor as 
 good, either." 
 
 Hereupon, Uncle Fauriel came forward, his hand extended, 
 his fierceness lost in a smile. 
 
 " You are a brave boy, young Desnouettes," he said ; " and 
 I an old fool. My tongue is but a galloping steed that 
 often bears me runaway. I ask your pardon. Any boy 
 who has pluck enough to help the helpless and champion 
 the absent has my admiration, even though the helpless one 
 be the girl who detests her Uncle Fauriel, and the absent 
 one be the Cor the fellow I detest. Come, take both my 
 apology and my hand. I need to fight with a fellow first to 
 make me love him. And I love you. Here, friends all : a 
 toast, in Mademoiselle's own grape-juice. I give you : 'Mon 
 sieur the Page ! May Mademoiselle never need a doughtier 
 knight, nor Napoleon himself a more loyal champion.' I 
 drink to Monsieur the Page ! " 
 
 And all the company caught up the delicate glasses from 
 Mademoiselle's little table. 
 
 " To Monsieur the Page ! " they cried, and emptied their 
 glasses with a will.
 
 A FUSS WITH FOUCHfi 61 
 
 " There, now ; we are all friends, are we not ? " cried 
 Mademoiselle, gleefully. " Come, Monsieur Philip, let me 
 finish papa's unlucky attempt. You must know us all." 
 And, taking the boy's arm, the young girl introduced him 
 to her guests. 
 
 The greetings were most cordial, and Philip soon found 
 himself in such novel and yet such friendly surroundings 
 that he was glad of the adventure, and even did not regret 
 his quarrel. For even those who disagree with us think all 
 the more of us if we are ready to defend our principles 
 stoutly and with vigor. Philip's first principle was loyalty 
 to the Emperor; and this he was prepared to maintain 
 against all comers, and even in hostile company. 
 
 He enjoyed himself so much that he very nearly over 
 stayed his time. His adieus, therefore, were hurried; but 
 he accepted Citizen Daunou's earnest invitation to come to 
 them again, and he bade Mademoiselle good day with boy 
 ish warmth and emphasis. 
 
 I am so glad to have met you, Mademoiselle," he said, 
 " that I do not even regret the fire." 
 
 " Nor I my ungracious flight from my preserver," she re 
 plied smilingly ; " and we yet may have that schottische." 
 
 As Philip was hurrying along the Street of the Fight 
 toward the New Bridge, an arm was slipped through his, 
 and a puffy, panting voice said, "So! but you travel fast, 
 you boy. Let us walk together, we two." 
 
 It was Uncle Fauriel. Philip was almost startled by the 
 friendliness of his late ferocious adversary. 
 
 " What ! you, Monsieur ? " he cried. 
 
 " Come, come ; none of your aristocratic notions with me,
 
 62 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 son of the tmigrtt. Don't Monsieur me ! I am plain Citizen 
 Fauriel. That is surely enough for any honest Frenchman 
 in these days, when marshals and dukes are as plenty as 
 pease in a porridge ; fcr you shall call me, as does my dear 
 Mademoiselle Uncle Fauriel. I should like to be Uncle 
 to all the brave boys and girls of France. I wish to walk 
 and talk with you, young Desnouettes. I meant nothing 
 against you by my talk. Of course you know that. It is 
 but my way. I hate the Corsican, and I make no secret of 
 saying so among friends." 
 
 " But why ? " Philip inquired. 
 
 " Why ? " Uncle Fauriel replied. " See here, my Philip ; 
 I am of the Eevolution. I went through blood for the rights 
 of man. I cried down kings and thrones. When that the 
 abbey of St. Denis was sacked, I was there to batter down 
 its statues and dig up the bones of kings. I played foot-ball 
 with the head of Henry of Navarre. I handed the red bon 
 net to Capet, and let loose toward heaven the doves of Robes 
 pierre. I sang ' Up, Vengeance ! ' with the loudest, and 
 danced the Carmagnole with the maddest. Yes, I was not 
 so fat then as to-day. I could dance. I adored the Revolu 
 tion. I loved the Republic. But when the Republic became 
 the Terror, and blood only was its soul, then I saw that even 
 liberty can become tyranny, and longed for one who should 
 save the nation. He came. It was the Corsican the Com 
 mander, the Conqueror, the Consul. I hailed him as the 
 deliverer of France. But power has puffed him up, and he 
 who might have been France's savior is himself France's 
 tyrant. Then I gave up I who had been a soldier of the 
 Republic, I who had served as secretary to Fouche
 
 A FUSS WITH FOUCHE 63 
 
 " The Duke of Otranto ? " Philip cried in surprise. 
 
 " Give me no dukes, boy," Uncle Fauriel returned hotly. 
 " He is but Fouche to me ; and ever the same Fouche, though 
 steeped in titles Fouche, the renegade priest, bloodhound 
 of the Terror, chief spy of the Empire ! " 
 
 " Citizen ! quiet, quiet, I pray ! " Philip exclaimed in 
 alarm, but under his breath. " Fouch^ is everywhere." 
 
 " And you are a page of the Emperor," Uncle Fauriel said, 
 with a knowing nod. " You are wise, you boy, and know 
 upon which side of your bread the butter has been spread. 
 But now you know why I hate the Corsican. He has be 
 trayed liberty. I hailed him as the one man who might 
 redeem France; he has been the one man to enslave her. 
 So I gave up politics for pen- work. But still is my anger 
 hot. Listen, son of the tmigrd: you are young; you are 
 hopeful ; you have everything to choose from and everything 
 to do. Your life lies before you. Worship no man. If 
 you must serve the Cor the Emperor then serve him 
 well ; not for his interest, though for the nation's. Our 
 boys are our only salvation. So, if I get growl-y, if I anger 
 you again, forgive me and say to yourself : Uncle Fauriel is 
 a madman ; but he has run against all sorts of people and 
 knows how small a thing is a man. Adieu, young Desnou- 
 ettes ; adieu, my Philip. Here is my home. You are a 
 bright boy ; be bright with both your eyes." 
 
 And with that the boy's new friend darted into the door 
 way of one of the lofty houses in the narrow Street of the 
 Gibbet, leaving Philip wondering. So rapid had been Uncle 
 Fauriel's flow of talk that Philip had not been able to get a 
 word in edgewise. It was a new experience to him, to find
 
 64 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 men opposed to the Emperor and not Austrians, nor 
 Prussians, nor Englishmen, but Frenchmen ! This gave him 
 a sensation at once surprising arid unpleasant. He could 
 not understand it ; for he saw that Uncle Fauriel, notwith 
 standing his hot temper, was a wise man. But at last, with 
 a boy's ready carelessness, he threw aside the unpleasant 
 notion even as he spurned the advice. "Hate the Empe 
 ror ? " he said to himself. " How absurd ! It is folly ; it 
 is treason ! " 
 
 But, for all that, Philip's new friends proved such an 
 attraction that the boy found his feet again and again turn 
 ing down the narrow and peaceful Street of the Fight, and 
 he became a welcome visitor at what her father, the Keeper 
 of the Archives, was pleased to style, laughingly, "Made 
 moiselle's salon." 
 
 So it came about that, though Mademoiselle hated politics 
 and Philip loved a good time, he could not help gathering 
 much that was of value to an expanding young mind eager 
 to hear and to learn of new and novel things. But besides 
 much wise talk from the scholars and thinkers who fre 
 quented the house of the Keeper of the Archives, Philip 
 also heard the tales related of what men had hoped and 
 what men had done in the days when the Republic was 
 really a dream of liberty ; and how France might have been 
 a second America if there could but have risen a Washing 
 ton, as in the land beyond the sea. There, too, though he 
 had many a war of words with " Uncle Fauriel," as he came 
 to call him, Philip learned to love the fiery patriot who had 
 hoped for so much, and had been so sadly disappointed, in 
 the Revolution, the Republic, and the Consulate. For out
 
 "'l AM HAPPY TO BE NEAR YOU, SIRE,' SAID PHILIP.
 
 A FUSS WITH FOTJCHfi 67 
 
 of these three had come the Empire ; and to Uncle Fauriel 
 the empire was only the Corsican ! 
 
 There are some natures that distrust makes all the more 
 loyal. Such was Philip Desnouettes's. He redoubled his 
 efforts to please this Emperor, whom some deemed more than 
 mortal and some called less than man. He became so 
 zealous in the doing of his duty that even Napoleon noticed 
 his tireless energy, and, playfully pinching his ear, said to 
 him one day in the Tuileries : " Don't hurry so, you boy. 
 Time enough to overdo when occasion calls. I must keep 
 young France healthy for France's needs. Help to make 
 the palace bright and gay. Are you happy here, young 
 Desnouettes ? " 
 
 " I am happy to be near you, Sire," the boy replied. To 
 which, with a smile and a nod, followed the imperial approval : 
 
 " Good boy " ; and again came the favorite ear-pinching 
 that every one about this singular man had experienced, 
 from Empress and marshal, down to page and post-boy. 
 " And could you sing ' Zig-zag,' think you, as you did when 
 you were our ' dirty boy,' for Uncle Bibiche and little Napo 
 leon ? Poor little Napoleon ! " 
 
 For the little Prince Napoleon, the son of King Louis of 
 Holland, the probable heir of his uncle the Emperor, had 
 died suddenly in the days when Philip was at the school of 
 St. Cyr. And no one had yet taken the bright little fellow's 
 place in the Emperor's affections ; for Napoleon had dearly 
 loved his baby nephew and namesake. 
 
 The very day of the recognition of Philip's zeal by the 
 Emperor was also one of Mademoiselle's " salon days," and 
 Philip's exuberance of spirits found vent in a particularly
 
 68 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 hot debate with Uncle Fauriel, who delighted to stir the 
 boy's loyalty into fresh protestations. 
 
 Even during their roundabout .walk homeward from the 
 Street of the Fight, by way of the Square of the Louvre, 
 they still kept up the talk, and both grew so heated over it 
 that Uncle Fauriel was glad to stop a lemonade-man and 
 "stand treat" in some of the acid coolness that the man 
 drew for them from the odd-looking tank he carried on his 
 back. 
 
 As they turned to cross the square, Uncle Fauriel, occu 
 pied in wiping the moisture from his lips, was well nigh run 
 over by a coach which came dashing heedlessly across their 
 path, and was saved from the collision only by Philip's 
 strong young hand. 
 
 " Now then, "stupid one ! What are eyes for, you ? " cried 
 the coachman, scarcely deigning to rein up his horses at this 
 narrow escape. 
 
 "Ah, beast ! " Uncle Fauriel called back, furiously. " If 
 I but had here you and your master, I would teach you 
 manners ! " and he shook his fist at horses and driver as the 
 coach rolled past. The man within, attracted by the jar and 
 the loud voices, looked out at the window. He caught sight 
 of Uncle Fauriel's doubled fist ; he saw the protecting arm 
 of the page. A decoration gleamed upon his breast ; a look 
 of mingled recognition and contempt was on his heavy face. 
 
 And, as that face appeared at the window, Uncle Fauriel 
 only shook his fist the harder. "Ah, you spy !" he cried; 
 "you would run down honester men than yourself, would 
 you?" 
 
 But Philip, too, had recognized the heavy face at the 
 coach window.
 
 /*fe&^ 
 
 UNCLE FAURIEL SHAKES HIS FIST AT FOUCHB.
 
 A FUSS WITH FOUCHfi 71 
 
 " My faith ! " he exclaimed, as he dragged Uncle Fauriel 
 away ; " but you will get yourself into trouble, Citizen Uncle, 
 with that tongue of yours. Did you see who it was, that ? " 
 
 "Did I not, then?" was the reply. "Bah! the spy!" 
 And again he shook his fist at the retreating carriage. The 
 man within the coach was Fouche, the Emperor's hated 
 chief of police. 
 
 The next day, as Philip was awaiting orders at the Tui- 
 leries, an order came. " Young Desnouettes is called to the 
 Emperor," cried the first page, Malvirade. And Philip 
 passed into the Emperor's study. 
 
 " So, sir, you consort with malcontents, do you ? You 
 conspire with traitors, eh ? " the Emperor broke out, even 
 before the page could make his salute. " Is this, then, your 
 return for my good offices ? " 
 
 The tone was so different from the imperial greeting of 
 the day before, it was so startling in its hostility, that Philip 
 drew back in surprise ; dismayed and dumfounded, he was 
 unable to reply. 
 
 " What ! have you no tongue, you boy ? " the Emperor 
 cried. " Come ! speak ! Speak up, you ! " 
 
 " Sire," stammered the boy, " I do not know what you 
 mean. I Then the words came with the ring of sin 
 cerity "Some one has spoken falsely. No one loves or 
 serves you more faithfully than I." 
 
 " So ! we boast, do we ? " the Emperor almost snarled. 
 " 'T is a false service, though. I know your ways better 
 than you think. What plots are you conspiring with Fau 
 riel, who hates me ? What takes you so often to the house 
 of that Daunou ? What would these treason-workers have
 
 72 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 of you of you, a page of the Emperor ? Is your 6m,igr6 
 blood telling, after all ? Are you the cat's-paw to pull out 
 the chestnuts ? " 
 
 "Sire," Philip said proudly, "my father was faithful 
 unto death. My friends are no traitors." 
 
 "Are they not, then ? How is it, Otranto ? What en 
 lightening can you give this young fool who protests and 
 prates so glibly ? " And Napoleon turned toward one who, 
 till now, had kept in shadow. 
 
 Then Philip recognized and remembered. His accuser 
 was Fouche, who never deemed any one too high nor any 
 one too low for his schemings Fouche, Duke of Otranto, 
 and minister of police. 
 
 " Did not I see you in the Square of the Louvre but 
 yesterday with the Citizen Fauriel, as he calls himself 
 Fauriel, the loudest-mouthed foe to the Emperor in all 
 Paris ? " the minister of police inquired in his cool, exas 
 perating way. " Have you not again and again visited the 
 house of Daunou, Keeper of the Archives, who lives in the 
 Street of the Fight Daunou, the Emperor's most inveterate 
 opponent ? " 
 
 " I have no cause to deny my friendships, Monsieur the 
 Duke," Philip replied calmly. 
 
 " But are these friendships for a page of the Emperor ?" 
 Fouche inquired. " And does not that malcontent Fauriel, 
 my secretary once, remember, does he not attack the Em 
 peror openly ? Did he not, yesterday, shake his fist at me, 
 the Emperor's representative, in the public streets ?" 
 
 " He did, Monsieur the Duke," Philip admitted frankly. 
 " But it was not from enmity, that. It was but his way, as 
 you"
 
 A FUSS WITH FOUCHF, 75 
 
 " Bali ! His way ! his way ! " the Emperor broke in. 
 " Then is not his way ours. Look, you page ; I can have no 
 divided duty, no questionable loyalty, in those who are of 
 my household. You have chosen to consort with malcon 
 tents ; you take your friends from among my enemies ; you 
 shall not, then, serve me. Go ! You are dismissed from 
 the service of the Emperor!"
 
 CHAPTEE VII 
 
 THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 
 
 CITIZEN DAUNOU sat in his office in the palace of 
 the Prince of Soubise palace and prince no longer, 
 however; for the splendid old mansion in the Eue du 
 Chaume, or, as we should say, the Street of the Wheat- 
 field, with its gardens, its courts, and its arcades, had 
 been confiscated by the Republic, while its princely owners 
 were fugitives from their home-land, fighting "the Corsican" 
 in the armies of the foes of France. 
 
 The old palace was now the Bureau of Archives, the 
 building in which were kept the public papers of the Em 
 pire. And here, surrounded by dusty documents, curious 
 chronicles, and ancient records, sat the Keeper of the 
 Archives, the citizen Pierre Daunou. His windows looked 
 out upon the horseshoe-like Court of the Princes and the 
 pillared porticos that encircled the garden. A pile of 
 papers was heaped upon his desk maps, title-deeds, con 
 fiscation records, and schedules of property taken by the 
 Emperor from the conquered countries of Europe that were r 
 now 'dependencies or vassals of the Empire. 
 
 Some of these papers were of rare historic value ; some 
 told, by their very presence in that place, sad stories of per 
 secution, dispossession, defeat, and loss. 
 
 76
 
 THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 77 
 
 The scholarly old Keeper was so immersed in his study 
 of one of these " genealogic finds" that he did not hear the 
 little tap for admission, nor the stealthy invasion of his 
 sanctum that followed close upon the tap, until two soft 
 hands imprisoned his eyes. Then, drawing the hands away, 
 he looked up and saw something much more attractive than 
 parchments or confiscation records. It was Mademoiselle. 
 
 " So ; it is you, truant, is it ? " he cried gaily. " And who 
 why live the people ! it is Page Philip ! Is not that 
 now the most singular chance ? Here was I just think 
 ing of you just reading the name of Desnouettes. Let 
 me tell you but eh ? holo, boy ! What gloomy faces ! 
 Why, girl, what is the trouble, you two ? Is something 
 wrong at home ? " 
 
 "Not at our home, papa," Mademoiselle replied; "and 
 Philip has none." 
 
 " Has none ? What is all this ? " 
 
 " The Emperor has dismissed me from his service, Citizen 
 Daunou," Philip replied. 
 
 " But why ? " 
 
 " Why," Philip said hesitatingly, " because some one has 
 lied to him. Because 
 
 "Because, papa, we are his friends," Mademoiselle de 
 clared. 
 
 " Because of us ? No ; but is it so, Philip ? " Citizen 
 Daunou demanded, as if incredulous. " Has, then, your 
 friendship with my house brought you to grief ? Tell me ; 
 tell me, boy." 
 
 Then Philip told the story of his disgrace. He declared, 
 too, that the dismissal was so sudden and bewildering that
 
 78 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 he had made neither plea nor protest in reply, but had 
 simply withdrawn from the palace, and, quite dazed by the 
 blow, had wandered about the streets until his feet had 
 instinctively turned down the Street of the Fight. Instinc 
 tively, too, he had entered the house of his friends, and 
 there he had found Mademoiselle and quick sympathy. For 
 thus unloading his woes on his friends he asked Citizen 
 Daunou's pardon, but 
 
 " My pardon ? " the old man exclaimed. " Why, Philip 
 boy, I ought rather to ask it of you. You do but suffer for 
 me for us." 
 
 " There ! That is what I told Philip, papa," Mademoi 
 selle cried triumphantly ; " and straightway dragged him 
 here an unwilling captive. I told him you would see 
 him righted." 
 
 " See him righted I ? I see him Why ! one moment, 
 you ! There, there ; let me think. So eh why, of 
 course ! ' Come; run home, you young folks, and let me 
 think it out let me think it death of my life ! but I see 
 a light." 
 
 "But, Citizen," Philip began, "I ought not " 
 
 "Will you obey me, Philip, and vanish you and Made 
 moiselle there ?" the Keeper of the Archives said, almost 
 forcing them from the room. "How can I think if you 
 children stay here chatter, chatter, chatter ? Out on you, 
 miscreants ! blocking all work in the public offices. Come; 
 go, go! go home, and do not fret until I tell you to." 
 
 " My faith, though ! Is he not a terrible old mustache, 
 Philip ? " Mademoiselle cried, in mock terror. " Come, let 
 us be gone before he eats us botli this ogre in his castle,
 
 THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 79 
 
 here. I told you he could manage it all you wise old 
 papa!" Here she dismayed the "ogre" with a rush, a hug, 
 and a kiss. " Come you, Philip; let us go and see Babette." 
 
 " Yes ; go anywhere, anywhere, giddy ones," said the 
 Keeper of the Archives. " Go and see Babette. Ah ! stop 
 yet. This Babette, Philip " here he looked at the parch 
 ment on his desk once more "is she, perhaps, your sister?" 
 
 "My sister? Babette?" Philip replied. "My faith! I 
 think not, Citizen Daunou. She is Mother Therese's daugh 
 ter ; or so I have always thought." 
 
 "You do not know, though, eh?" Citizen Daunou said. 
 "Is she is she " here he looked at the document again 
 "is she of your age ?" 
 
 "My age ? Oh, no, Citizen," Philip answered, with the 
 laugh of superiority. " Why ! I am fourteen, and as for 
 Babette Babette is barely ten." 
 
 "Ah, so ? That is bad ; that is well, well I was only 
 curious. There, there, run along ; such chatterers, you two ! 
 Wasting the Emperor's time !" 
 
 " And again we are chatterers, Philip ! But what then is 
 Monsieur the Keeper of the Archives ? Come away, Philip ; 
 he is dangerous. Good day, ogre!" and the laughing Made 
 moiselle dragged the ex-page from the room. 
 
 For a full half hour after the young people had left him, 
 Citizen Daunou sat at his desk, studying the paper that lay 
 open before him, and thinking intently. Then, rising, he 
 drew on his long street-coat, thrust the paper in his pocket, 
 flung his chapeau on his head, and, hailing a cab at the door 
 of the Bureau of Archives, drove straight to the Tuileries. 
 
 Meantime, Philip and Mademoiselle had given up their
 
 80 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 plan of calling upon Babette, because it was not visitors' day 
 at the convent school. So they had wandered up the dirty 
 Street of St. Denis, swarming with people. They strolled 
 along the boulevards, stopping now to watch and wonder at 
 a juggler's free show on the street, now to pity and pay the 
 baby tambourine-player by the rising walls of the new Ex 
 change, or now to watch the boys at a game of prisoners' 
 base in the Place Vendome. Then, after planning an after 
 noon picnic in the Boulogne woods, Mademoiselle was left 
 at the house in the Street of the Fight, to which Philip was 
 to return when he had executed her commissions at certain 
 of the shops in the Palace Eoyal. 
 
 As for his troubles, they did not worry Philip overmuch. 
 From despair he had been raised to hope, for he had faith in 
 Citizen Daunou ; and then, too, he was a boy and boys 
 cast off such troubles easily. 
 
 As he made his way toward the Palace Royal and was 
 crossing the new and splendid Street of Rivoli, there fell on 
 his ears a sharp order of the police : 
 
 "Aside there ; way for the Empress ! " 
 
 Philip saw the dashing outriders, the mounted escort, and 
 then the open carriage drawn by four horses. He recognized 
 the Empress sitting smiling within, and, as the imperial car 
 riage rolled past, Philip, true to his old custom, drew up and 
 saluted the Empress. She saw him, and, turning, suddenly 
 beckoned him to her side. Philip, still acting according to 
 custom, ran alongside and, hat in hand, sprang to the step 
 of the carriage, which did not even need to slacken its speed 
 for him. 
 
 " It is you, Page Desnouettes ? Go to the Emperor. Tell
 
 THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 83 
 
 him I have changed my mind, and drive to the Little Tria 
 non instead of St. Cloud. Bid him meet me there this after 
 noon." Thus ran the commands of the Empress to the 
 page. 
 
 " But, your Majesty " Philip began. 
 
 "How, boy!" cried the young Empress; "'but' to me? 
 What would you say ? Are you on service in another direc 
 tion?" 
 
 " Alas ! your Majesty," Philip sadly replied, '' I am on 
 no service at all; nor can I be. I am no longer page. I 
 I have been dismissed." 
 
 "Dismissed? You my good page?" the Empress ex 
 claimed. " But why ? Ah, Madame the Countess, would 
 you permit the page to enter ? I wish to question him. 
 So ; many thanks. Now tell me the story, Page Desnou- 
 ettes." 
 
 And so it came to pass that the disgraced page drove 
 along the Street of Eivoli in the carriage of the Empress. 
 
 Frankly and briefly he told the story. 
 
 "Ah, that terrible ball! And you saved the girl; and 
 her father is grateful to you ? And he is Keeper of the 
 Archives ? How can he then be untrue to the Emperor 
 he serves ? And it was Fouche who brought you to grief ? 
 Ah, that Fouche I do not like him overmuch " ; this, half 
 to herself. Then she said : " And it is not true, is it, you 
 boy ? You are no enemy to the Emperor ? " 
 
 "Madame your Majesty, I would die for him," Philip 
 declared. 
 
 " I knew it. You shall live for him," the Empress said. 
 " Here, lend me your tablets. So ! " And she dashed off
 
 84 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 a hurried line. "This to the Emperor. If that does not 
 answer, I will see him myself. Why, you once saved his 
 life, so he said. Now we must save you. There, begone, 
 young Desnouettes. I am your friend. And do not forget 
 my own message to the Emperor. This afternoon at the 
 Little Trianon." 
 
 The gracious young Empress gave the page her hand to 
 kiss. The page clambered to the carriage-step, saluted his 
 mistress, and sprang nimbly to the street, while the Em 
 press and her escort sped on to Versailles and the beautiful 
 Trianon, eleven miles away. 
 
 " Two good friends for me," Philip pleased himself with 
 thinking as he hurried back to the Tuileries. "You are 
 in luck, you page." 
 
 In the study of the Emperor the Keeper of the Archives 
 had gained an audience with Napoleon. 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur Daunou, pardon me," this a bit sarcas 
 tically, " Citizen Daunou, you are welcome. Foes as well 
 as friends may be welcomed, may they not, Citizen ? " 
 
 " I trust, Sire, your Majesty does not count me among 
 your foes," Citizen Daunou said. 
 
 " Well, call it opponents then," the Emperor replied. 
 " But I believe you, sir, are a faithful servant of the Em 
 pire, even though you do decline my gifts and gather my 
 opponents under your roof. What is your pleasure ? " 
 
 " I come, Sire, to expiate a crime," Citizen Daunou 
 asserted. 
 
 " So ; it has come to that, has it ? " Napoleon declared. 
 " You regret these gatherings, then, do you ? "
 
 THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 85 
 
 " I regret, Sire, that they are deemed unfriendly by you," 
 replied the Keeper of the Archives. " Whoever has as 
 serted that they are disloyal is no friend to the truth. 
 But even such friendly reunions as these gatherings have 
 seriously injured in your Majesty's eyes one who is 
 your Majesty's most devoted servant and most outspoken 
 champion." 
 
 " Meaning yourself, Citizen Keeper ? " 
 
 "I mean young Philip Desnouettes, Sire." 
 
 " Ha ! that boy ? " 
 
 " Yes, Sire. He saved my dear little daughter that fear 
 ful night at the Embassy ball," the Keeper of the Archives 
 explained. " My heart and home have been free to him 
 ever since. It seems my love for the lad has worked his 
 ruin. Sire, I plead for his recall." 
 
 " So ! He has been whining to you of my displeasure ? " 
 the Emperor exclaimed. 
 
 " Sire, young Desnouettes never whines. He is too manly 
 a lad too devoted to you, for that. I heard of his trouble 
 against his will. I ask his recall, not only as an act of 
 justice, such as your Majesty is ever willing to do, but as 
 the payment of a debt which I well know your Majesty 
 will not repudiate." 
 
 " How ? A debt ? " the Emperor said. " What is it you 
 mean, sir ? " 
 
 " This, Sire." And the Keeper of the Archives drew from 
 his pocket the document he had placed there. " Singularly 
 enough," he said, "just at the moment the lad was brought 
 to me I was reading here his name or rather that of his 
 father."
 
 86 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 " The dmigrd Desnouettes ? " 
 " Yes, Sire the Emigre, and your prophet." 
 " My prophet ! " The Emperor looked at the Keeper in 
 wonderment. "You speak in riddles, sir." 
 
 " No riddle, Sire, but a plain and recorded fact," replied 
 the Keeper. "Permit me. Here is the deed of confiscation 
 recorded against the estates of the suspected Citizen Angus- 
 tin Desnouettes of Riom, executed for contempt of the de 
 crees of the Directory in May, 1796. Here, attached to it, 
 are the minutes of his trial. In these it appears that the 
 Suspect, Citizen Augustin Desnouettes, lost his head for pro 
 phesying that the only savior of France would Le General 
 Bonaparte." 
 
 " How, sir ? Is this the fact ? " 
 
 "Listen, Sire." And the Keeper of the Archives read 
 from the minutes : 
 
 " And the said Suspect, the emigre Augustin Desnouettes, did, 
 of his own motion, seek to cast discredit upon the Directory by 
 maintaining that it was powerless to save France from disruption, 
 and that the only salvation for the Republic lay in the success of 
 Citizen General Bonaparte, for whose welfare he devoutly prayed, 
 and to whose kind remembrance he confided the future of his 
 motherless children 
 
 "His children ? There was but this boy," the Emperor 
 said. 
 
 " So I thought, Sire ; but here is the record : 
 
 ' his motherless children, who would be left orphans by their 
 father's death.'
 
 '"THERE WAS BUT THIS BOY,' THE EMPEROR SAID."
 
 THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 89 
 
 " And here, appended to the deed, is this minute : 
 
 ' By order of the Directory the twin children of the emigre 
 Augustin Desnouettes are to be bound over to the Citizen Jules 
 Rapin, of the Street of the Washerwomen, in the Fourth Ward of 
 Paris, and to the Cit 
 
 " Here, Sire, the record ends, for the rest is missing." 
 
 The Emperor took the paper and examined it minutely. 
 
 "Bah, the incapables !" he said at last. "How heedless 
 those fellows were under that sheep-like Directory ! To file 
 papers so carelessly ! See ; it has been torn off." 
 
 " So I think, Sire, either carelessly or for a purpose," the 
 Keeper of the Archives said. 
 
 " Twin children," mused Napoleon. "Then where is the 
 other ? And was it boy or girl ?" 
 
 " That, Sire, I too would know." 
 
 " See to it ; see to it, Citizen Daunou," the Emperor com 
 manded. " It is work for such a shrewd searcher as you. 
 Ferret out the mystery, and let me know. I, too, would 
 Well, sir, what is this ?" For at that moment the First 
 Page, Malvirade, handed him a folded paper. " From the 
 Empress ? " Then he opened the slip, read it, frowned, 
 laughed, and handed it to the Keeper of the Archives. 
 " See : it rains pleas for young Desnouettes ! Read it, 
 Daunou." 
 
 And Citizen Daunou read with surprise, in the hand 
 writing of the Empress: "For my sake recall Page Des 
 nouettes. He is my chosen page, you remember. LOUISE." 
 
 " With so powerful an advocate, Sire," the Keeper of the 
 Archives said, " my words are not needed."
 
 90 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 " The Empress has her way, generally," Napoleon said. 
 "Who brought this, Malvirade ?" 
 
 " Page Desnouettes, Sire," the First Page replied. " And 
 also a verbal message from the Empress." 
 
 "Bid him enter or no; wait without until I summon 
 you. Then to the Keeper the Emperor said : " I was per 
 haps hasty, Daunou hasty and worried, I think, with 
 weightier matters. I like the boy, too ; but Fouche ah, 
 well ! Fouche is not always to be depended upon. I will 
 see to the lad's recall. And, come, my friend: think better 
 of the Emperor. Believe that I, too, would serve France 
 quite as sincerely yes, more sincerely than even you 
 stern old relics of the Eevolution, who can see no further 
 than the glorious days of '92." 
 
 And, rising, the Emperor laid his hand almost affection 
 ately on Daunou's shoulder. 
 
 " Sire," the stout old republican responded, " my service 
 and loyalty go together. I serve you as Keeper of the 
 Archives. In that service I trust you will believe that duty 
 and loyalty go hand in hand." 
 
 "I believe you, Daunou ; I believe you!" the Emperor 
 replied ; " though I know you do not love my methods. Be 
 loyal still. Serve France. And I am France ! " 
 
 Citizen Daunou found it hard to rein in his protest at 
 this imperial announcement. But he bowed in adieu, say 
 ing nothing. And the Emperor added: " Trace up the other 
 child of the tmigrd Desnouettes, my friend. That mystery 
 must be unraveled. I, who would be just to my foes, must 
 be generous to my friends. This Desnouettes, it would 
 appear, almost died for me. His son must be my charge.
 
 THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 91 
 
 But, silence in this matter, my friend, until something is 
 reached. Let me know of your progress. The Lest of luck 
 to your hunting ! " 
 
 The Keeper of the Archives left, and the page was sum 
 moned. 
 
 " So, rascal ! " the Emperor said, stern of eye and voice, 
 " y u g about complaining, do you ? You work on the 
 sympathies of both republican and Empress, eh ? " 
 
 " No, Sire," Philip replied ; " I sought neither. But Citi 
 zen Daunou learned of my dismissal, and the Empress 
 stopped me in the street to bid me take a message to your 
 Majesty ; and thus she, too, learned my story." 
 
 " Well, sir ; her message." 
 
 Philip delivered it. 
 
 " Little Trianon, eh ? " Napoleon said. " Very well ; and 
 you, sir, make ready to attend me there." 
 
 "As page or prisoner, Sire ? " the boy queried. 
 
 " You young monkey ! " And the Emperor pulled Philip's 
 hair roughly, but in token of good humor. " As page, I sup 
 pose, since my will is thus openly set at naught. And see 
 that you do good service, you page." 
 
 "And am I debarred from visiting my friends, Sire ? " 
 the boy persisted. 
 
 " What ! When you champion my cause so roundly in the 
 very camp of the enemy ? " replied the Emperor. " No, no, 
 you boy ; T make you see, 't is a good creation ! Heredi 
 tary Champion to the Emperor ! See to it, young Desnou- 
 ettes, that, as it was in the knightly days, my champion is 
 fearless, loyal, brave, and true. Now, go ; report your recall 
 to Malvirade, and in two hours attend me to the Trianon."
 
 92 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 
 
 Philip kissed the Emperor's hand joyfully, and ten min 
 utes later was working off his surplus spirits by playing 
 leap-frog up and down the corridor with six spry young- 
 pages. Then, in his most lordly style, he despatched one 
 of the porters of the palace in haste to the Street of the 
 Fight, bearing a message of regret to Mademoiselle, that 
 "a special engagement with the Emperor" would make it 
 necessary to defer the pleasure of a picnic in the Boulogne 
 woods until a more convenient season.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE "COURIER OF THE KING" 
 
 THE trip to the Trianon was a red-letter day for Philip. 
 The English garden, the Swiss village, and the little 
 theater, forever associated with the sad story of Marie 
 Antoinette, were new and agreeable sights for this boy, who 
 had open eyes for everything. 
 
 The Emperor was gracious, and even gay ; the Empress 
 had a kind word for the boy she had not forgotten ; and 
 Philip, quick to cast sorrow aside, enjoyed the passing mo 
 ment, attended faithfully upon his imperial patrons, and 
 yet managed to " take in " all the sights that have made 
 forever famous this celebrated "annex" to the splendid 
 palace of Versailles. 
 
 The days flew by. Philip did remember his dismissal 
 and reinstatement sufficiently to stir himself up to such a 
 desire to show his gratitude to the Emperor and Empress, 
 that Citizen Daunou cautioned him against over-exertion ; 
 and Uncle Fauriel, who was less vituperative after he found 
 how nearly he had brought the boy into trouble, neverthe 
 less declared that Philip was fairly running his legs off for 
 " the Corsican," and stated his intention of applying at the 
 palace for the position of Philip's substitute, so that he 
 
 93
 
 94 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 might work off some of his superfluous flesh, whereat every 
 one laughed. 
 
 The picnic in the Boulogne woods came about in due 
 time. Babette was there, and so, too, were Citizen Daunou 
 and Uncle Fauriel. And whom should the children meet 
 in ' their wanderings in the woods, but the Emperor and 
 Empress, walking about like any " goodman and his wife," 
 and not close hedged by all the state and escort that usually 
 environed them in their " outings " around Paris. 
 
 They recognized Philip, and stopped to speak with the 
 children. The Emperor questioned Babette about her 
 schooling, and had something kindly to say to Mademoi 
 selle about her escape from the Embassy ; he pinched and 
 petted the little girls, and rumpled all the order and dignity 
 out of Philip's yellow locks, until Babette lost her timidity 
 and laughed aloud at the imperial pranks, while Mademoi 
 selle was so charmed with both the " royalties " that, after 
 hearing her enthusiastic talk, Uncle Fauriel declared the 
 house in the Street of the Fight would be contaminated by 
 her " imperialism," and vowed that he would have to desert 
 it for some red republican gathering in the St. Denis quar 
 ter, or consort with the only real haters of "the Corsican"- 
 the Bourbon exiles beyond the Rhine. 
 
 Autumn passed, and winter came. Fouche was in dis 
 grace. He had been deposed from his position as Minister 
 of Police for concocting secret measures contrary to the 
 Emperor's will. But Philip, not being specially interested 
 in political plots and moves, was sure that this was his 
 revenge, and boasted to Uncle Fauriel that the great Minis 
 ter of Police had fallen because he had sought to set the 
 Emperor against the page. \
 
 THE "COURIER OF THE KING" 95 
 
 "Piff, pouf !" puffed Uncle Fauriel; "hear our cockerel 
 crow ! Of course it was so. When does your Excellency 
 look for the portfolio of the Minister of Police to be offered 
 you, as Fouche's successor ? " 
 
 " Minister of Police ! " Mademoiselle exclaimed ; " Philip 
 would n't look at that position. He will be what do you 
 call it ? the Arch- Chancellor himself some fine day; and 
 then, be sure, he will banish you, Uncle Fauriel, for talking 
 treason against the Emperor ; and he will order the Imperial 
 Guard to lead you in chains to the barrier, or else have you 
 condemned to stand on one leg on the top of the Vendome 
 Column and shout, ' Long live the Emperor ! ' until you are 
 hoarse." 
 
 March came in that eventful year of 1811; and when the 
 morning of the twentieth dawned all Paris was in the 
 streets. For like wildfire spread the rumor : there is a baby 
 at the Tuileries ! Every hour the crowd grew denser. At 
 open windows, along the streets, in the great garden of the 
 Tuileries, people waited expectant, listening for the voice 
 of the cannons of the Invalid Soldiers' Home to tell whe 
 ther the baby was a boy or a girl. Of course every one 
 hoped it was a boy ; for that meant an heir to the throne 
 of France their future Emperor. 
 
 At the first boom a mighty silence fell upon the listening 
 city. Every one stopped, intent, anxious. One two 
 three, they counted. Boom, boom ! \vent the guns up to 
 nineteen twenty twenty-one. The silence was intense, 
 the anxiety profound. Twenty-two ! There came a mighty 
 cheer, a roar from thousands and thousands of throats. 
 Hats were flung aloft ; people cried with joy, and danced
 
 96 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 and hugged each other, and cared no more to count, though 
 the guns boomed away until the full salute of one hundred 
 and one was fired. For that twenty-second boom told the 
 story. Twenty-one guns meant a girl. One hundred and 
 one were for a boy. No need to count after the twenty- 
 second boom ! The baby at the Tuileries was a boy. 
 
 Then, out of the cheering, came the mighty shout : " Long 
 live the Emperor ! Long live the Empress ! Long live the 
 King of Eome ! " For that was to be the title of this baby 
 prince, whose mother was an empress, whose father was 
 ruler over kings. 
 
 Philip was in the palace, busy enough. He, too, at the 
 twenty-second gun though he of course had already heard 
 the truth felt the inspiration of excitement, and although 
 he was in the precincts of the palace could, like " the ranks 
 of Tuscany " in Macaulay's famous ballad, 
 
 " scarce forbear to cheer." 
 
 But he did not. A page of the palace, on duty, must be 
 quiet and circumspect. So Philip reined in his enthusiasm, 
 and, even before the echo of the one hundred and first gun 
 had died away, he was holding aside the curtains which fell 
 before the doorway that opened into the Blue Eoom. A 
 short, stout man passed hurriedly between the parted cur 
 tains. In his arms he bore a precious bundle swathed in 
 richest robes. This man was the Emperor. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said to the assembled dignitaries who 
 awaited in the Blue Room the official tidings, " I present to 
 you the King of Rome ! " 
 
 Down upon one knee, in homage to the imperial baby,
 
 THE "COURIER OF THE KING" 
 
 97 
 
 "'I PRESENT TO YOU THE KING OF ROME!'" 
 
 dropped each man in that glittering throng of soldiers and 
 statesmen. And as the little King of Borne lifted his voice 
 in a wail of welcome, or, perhaps, of protest, there came from 
 the kneeling throng the triple shout of loyalty and rever 
 ence : " Long live the Emperor ! Long live the Empress ! 
 Long live the King of Koine ! " 
 
 All day Paris was in a fever of joy. What they had
 
 98 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIKE 
 
 wished for had happened. An heir to the throne had been 
 born. The semaphore, or signal-telegraph, flashed the news 
 from city on to city; fast-riding couriers, pages, and messen 
 gers bore the official announcement to distant municipalities 
 and foreign courts; the people absolutely lived in the streets, 
 talking over the event on corner and curb, on boujevard 
 and in cafe. From a great balloon, that went up from the 
 Field of Mars, papers were flung out to the people in com 
 memoration of the notable event, and a constantly shifting 
 crowd thronged the garden of the Tuileries, satisfied simply 
 to gaze upon the palace that held the heir to the Empire. 
 
 The Emperor overflowed with joy. He could not keep 
 still. He wandered from cradle to cabinet, now looking at 
 his son, now looking at his people ; and he who was unmoved 
 by victory on the battle-field, and accustomed to every form 
 of popularity and adoration, felt the pride of a father over 
 top the dignity of a king. As he looked at the great crowd 
 in the garden, as he heard the bells pealing joyfully from 
 every church-tower and the guns thundering in salute, tears 
 of thankfulness and joy streamed down his cheeks. For 
 the day on which his son was born was, beyond all question, 
 Napoleon's happiest day. 
 
 In the evening the baby Prince was privately christened 
 in the chapel of the Tuileries, and to him was given the 
 sounding name of Francis Charles Joseph Napoleon, King 
 of Rome and Heir of France. 
 
 Every house in the city, palace and hovel and lofty apart 
 ment-house alike, was brilliantly illuminated ; fireworks 
 flashed and whirled in every public square ; while on the 
 river that wound in and out, spanned by its dozen bridges,
 
 THE "COURIEK OF THE KING" 99 
 
 the Seine boatmen celebrated the birth of the little King 
 by an impromptu river parade, sparkling with lights and 
 crowned with show and song. 
 
 Philip was a tired boy when night came, for this had been 
 a busy day. But as, after delivering a message to the Em 
 peror, he paused for a moment to look at the imperial baby 
 asleep in its costly cradle of mother-of-pearl and gold, above 
 which, as if in protection, hovered a winged figure of Vic 
 tory, the Emperor turned to him and said : " Young Des- 
 nouettes, I intrust you with a special duty. To-morrow you 
 shall bear to the Empress Josephine a letter announcing the 
 birth of my son. You shall travel not as a page of the 
 palace, but as a courier of the King." 
 
 Here was an honor ! The boy could scarcely sleep for 
 excitement, anticipation, and joy. The next morning found 
 him waiting, eager for the start ; and before noon he was 
 speeding across the country, a special courier, bearing the 
 important tidings to the ex-Empress Josephine, who was 
 then at her castle of Navarre, in Normandy, forty miles 
 away. 
 
 What a ride it was ! The day was clear and bright 
 early spring in France. Through the streets of the city, still 
 echoing with the joyous festivities of the day before, the boy 
 rode from the Tuileries, in a light canopy-carriage known as 
 a gondola calash. It was drawn by four spirited horses ; a 
 postilion in imperial livery rode one of each pair of horses, 
 and there was an equerry on the box. 
 
 Over the Seine and out into the open country, along the 
 highroad that led to Evreux, the swift conveyance dashed, 
 with the right of way on all the route, changing horses every
 
 100 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 ten miles, while the postilion's horn rang out the warning of 
 approach, and the cry " In the name of the Emperor ! " kept 
 the highway clear. In town and village and from quaint 
 little roadside homes throngs came out to stare and shout 
 and cheer, for all the people recognized the imperial livery, 
 and knew that the boy in the carriage was a royal page rid 
 ing on the Emperor's service. 
 
 Night was shutting down as, past the scattered lights of 
 Evreux town, Philip rode into the forest shadows, through 
 which gleamed at last the lights of the royal chateau. 
 
 The calash drew up at the door ; the boy alighted, and 
 then, ascending the steps between a double file of flickering 
 torches held by light-bearers, Philip, the Courier of the King 
 of Home, entered the palace. 
 
 He felt as important as if he were the Emperor himself. 
 And yet, what do you suppose he was thinking ? " My 
 faith ! don't I wish that pig of a Pierre, who used to call me 
 ' mud prince ' when I lived in the Street of the Washerwo 
 men, could see me now ! Would n't his eyes stick out, 
 though ? I am as good as a prince, I am. Boom for the 
 Courier of the King ! " 
 
 This, however, was but the thought of an instant. He 
 was really impressed with his mission, and anxious to de 
 liver his message worthily and well. 
 
 He bowed to the majordomo who received him. " From 
 the Emperor," he said ; " a message to her Majesty. In 
 haste." 
 
 With a formal bow, but with a half wink and a twinkle 
 of the eye as he "sized up" this youthful bit of importance, 
 the majordomo ushered the courier into the reception-room,
 
 THE " COURIER OF THE KING" 103 
 
 and despatched a page to announce his arrival to the Em 
 press. 
 
 The summons soon came : " Admit the messenger from 
 the Emperor." And Philip passed on. 
 
 In the chief salon (or reception-room) of this small palace 
 of Navarre, Josephine awaited the messenger from the court. 
 Once an Empress, and wife to the Emperor, she still, though 
 separated from him by the cruel necessities of state policy 
 and the imperial succession, held his honor and esteem. By 
 her side sat her guest of renown, Prince Eugene Beauhar- 
 nais, Viceroy of Italy, her dearly loved son, while around 
 her were grouped the ladies and gentlemen of her court. 
 
 At a signal, the doors of the salon were flung open ; the 
 Master of Ceremonies announced, " From the Emperor ! " 
 Then, in his imperial livery of crimson, green, and gold, 
 plentifully sprinkled with the imperial bees ; with his light- 
 green shoulder-knot and streamers fringed with gold and 
 stamped with the eagle and the " N "; in his hand his black- 
 and-gold chapeau, decorated with its tricolor cockade and 
 lined with white feathers enter Philip the page ! 
 
 Josephine greeted him with the gracious smile that won 
 so many to her side. 
 
 " It is young Desnouettes, is it not ? " she said. 
 
 " Yes, your Majesty," Philip replied, bowing low. 
 
 " 1 remember you well," said the Empress. " It was you 
 was it not? with whom my grandson, poor little Prince 
 Napoleon, once had so good a time under the chestnut-trees 
 of St. Cloud ? " 
 
 "Yes, your Majesty," Philip replied, all the time strug 
 gling to detach his letter from beneath his crimson vest, 
 where he had stowed it for greater security.
 
 104 A BOY OP THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 Poor boy ! He had fastened the Emperor's letter too se 
 curely. He tugged, and worked, and grew very red in the 
 face, thinking all the time, "What a fool I was not to have 
 taken it out while I was waiting below!" 
 
 But the Empress, true to her kindly nature, seemed not to 
 notice the boy's discomfiture, and talked steadily to him as 
 he worked. At last the note was detached, and, dropping 
 upon his knee, the boy presented it to the Empress. 
 
 " From the Emperor, your Majesty," he said. 
 
 Josephine took the letter eagerly, and accompanied by her 
 son, Prince Eugene, withdrew to read it, while Philip, left in 
 the saloon, was the center of attraction, and gave a glowing 
 account of the festivities in Paris. But when the ladies 
 asked eagerly how the little King looked, Philip stammered, 
 rubbed his ear, and said, " Oh, I don't know. The cradle is 
 beautiful, and it is true he is fine but, my faith ! so 
 small and so red!" 
 
 When the Empress returned, she too talked with the boy. 
 Then came dancing and games and general conversation, in 
 all of which Philip was included as an especial guest, and 
 did have " such a good time " ! 
 
 Tea was served at eleven, after which the Empress retired. 
 But first she sent for Philip, and gave him a letter. " This 
 for the Emperor," she said ; and added, with a merry twinkle 
 in her eye, " Keep it as safe and secure as you kept the 
 other." Then she handed him a packet. " This for your 
 self," she said, " as one who bore good tidings. You will be 
 going early in the morning, young Desnouettes. Thank you 
 for your faithful duty. I shall report it to the Emperor. 
 Be a loyal page, my boy. Serve the Emperor faithfully ; so 
 shall vou best serve France."
 
 THE "COURIER OF THE KING" 105 
 
 Philip kissed her extended hand, bowed, and retired. 
 But, before he slept, his eager hands opened the parcel. He 
 started with surprise and joy. The Empress had given " the 
 bearer of good tidings" a splendid diamond hat-buckle, 
 worth, so we are assured by the record, fully a thousand 
 dollars. 
 
 Philip was wild with delight ; for he dearly loved beauti 
 ful things. 
 
 He was up and away early the next morning, delighted 
 with his reception, proud of his success, and more than ever 
 in love with the kind-hearted and unfortunate lady whom 
 men still called the Empress Josephine. 
 
 Merrily his relays of horses hurried his light calash over 
 the highway. Through town and village, as before, he rode 
 in haste, " In the name of the Emperor ! " giving him the 
 right of way. But when he reached St. Germain, he found 
 himself ahead of schedule time, and bade the equerry direct 
 the postilions to change the route, and, crossing the Seine, 
 swing around so as to enter Paris by the St. Denis gate. 
 Across country to St. Denis he rode, and, passing beneath 
 the noble arch that spanned the gate, he entered the city. 
 
 Philip felt like a conqueror making a royal progress as he 
 rode down the long and dirty Street of St. Denis the 
 Bowery of old Paris. Street boys hailed him with cheers ; 
 venders offered him their wares, from waffles to hot pota 
 toes ; people stopped and stared; and still he had the right 
 of way. 
 
 Then a great desire filled the boy's heart. He would go 
 to the palace by the way of the Street of the Washerwomen. 
 That would make the triumph of his trip complete. The
 
 106 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 people of the quarter should see that the mud prince had 
 become a real prince. If only now " that pig of a Pierre " 
 could see him ! 
 
 So, obedient to his instructions, the postilions turned oft' 
 from the Street of St. Denis into the Street of the Needle- 
 makers, and thence into the Street of the Washerwomen. 
 The well-remembered street of his boyhood was but a nar 
 row thoroughfare, scarcely twelve feet wide, with barely 
 room for two carriages to pass each other. 
 
 It was as dirty as ever, and so were its people. And what 
 a shout they raised as the imperial carriage whirled along 
 the narrow street ! Pigs scampered, children scattered, dogs 
 barked, and on rode Philip like a prince in state. 
 
 But, alas ! pride goes before a fall. Just before he 
 reached the fountain which was at once the scene and 
 monument of his famous fight with " that pig of a Pierre," 
 bang ! went the carriage against some unseen obstacle ; off 
 flew the wheel ; and, out of the carriage where he rode in 
 state, went the Courier of the King head first into the 
 dirty street! The crowd rushed to the rescue. Officious 
 hands picked up the prostrate page, and brushed from his 
 fine clothes the mud of the Street of the Washerwomen. 
 The wheel was readjusted ; the boy took his seat again, 
 angry and crestfallen ; the postilions started their horses. 
 But when, suddenly thinking of his mission, Philip clapped 
 a hand to his pocket to make sure that the letter and the 
 buckle were safe, a cold sweat broke out all over the startled 
 page. Frantically he prodded himself in every spot ; fever 
 ishly he felt in every pocket. It was all to no purpose. 
 The letter and the diamond buckle both were missing !
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 "THAT PIG OF A PIERRE" 
 
 STOP, you ! Tell them to stop, Etienne ! I have lost my 
 letter ! " 
 
 Philip's voice rang out so strained and startled that 
 Etienne, the equerry, turned about with a jerk, and the 
 postilions reined up so quickly that the horses were almost 
 thrown upon their haunches. 
 
 Back to the fountain raced page and equerry, their eyes 
 upon the muddy roadway. At their coming, the crowd 
 quickly gathered again, and though Etienne, the equerry, 
 threw all possible authority into his command, " In the 
 name of the Emperor ! " it did not suffice to keep the crowd 
 at bay, nor to scatter the swarm of over-zealous street-boys, 
 who, under the pretense of hunting, only confused things all 
 the more. And, not content with poking the mud, they 
 indulged their bent in poking fun at the unfortunates 
 so openly that Etienne, the equerry, stamped with rage, 
 and Philip's flushed face showed how keenly these street 
 jokes cut. 
 
 The search was fruitless. Half distracted, Philip was 
 turning away, when there pushed through the crowd a 
 stoutly built young fellow of sixteen. He wore a sort of 
 half uniform, and had in his walk just a bit of swagger, like 
 
 107
 
 108 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 that of one who, now and then, was favored with a little 
 brief authority. 
 
 He looked searchingly at the page an instant ; then he 
 pushed forward. 
 
 " By the candle that hung the baker ! " he cried, " it 's 
 the 'prince'! You are young Desnouettes, you; he who 
 lived wdth Mother Therese, and is now page of the palace 
 is it not so ? What is wrong with you ? " 
 
 Philip greeted anything that looked like help. There was 
 a certain amount of interest in the boy's tone, and the page, 
 like a drowning man, was ready to clutch at any straw. 
 
 " We were upset here. I was thrown out, and have lost 
 a letter meant for the palace." 
 
 " Bad enough ! Bad enough ! " exclaimed the new boy. 
 " And you were fishing for it in the mud here, young Des 
 nouettes ? Off, now ! It 's easy to see you have forgotten 
 your training, before you are six years out of the streets. 
 Don't you know that sometimes one must fish in the air and 
 hunt in the sea ? I '11 wager you, now, that thing is right 
 before your eyes, if it is not under your nose; as, for ex 
 ample And, with a dash, he plunged into the crowd, 
 whirled about first one and then another, and finally 
 pounced upon an inoffensive-looking old " Bellows-and- 
 buckets-to-mend " man, who, with his basket of bellows 
 strapped on his back, was an idle gazer in the watching 
 crowd. 
 
 "So, rascal! You delay the Emperor's message, do you ? 
 See, you page, is not this your letter ? " and he pulled from 
 beneath the bellows-mender's basket-strap a paper that had 
 been slyly tucked there.
 
 "THAT PIG OF A PIERRE" 109 
 
 Philip stared in unbelief, and then fell upon his recovered 
 treasure with a shout. Etienne, the equerry, cried in a loud 
 voice: "In the name of the Emperor, seize that man! 
 Police, police ! " 
 
 But the old bellows-mender protested his innocence in a 
 torrent of denial, and even Philip was compelled to admit 
 the wisdom of his new friend's laughing taunt : " Ho ! you 
 page ; you will need to go to school to the street again. 
 Don't you know that he who is guilty is not he who is 
 caught? Old bellows-mender could never stick a note 
 under his own strap behind his back, could he, say ? Some 
 of our good friends here at hand played that trick on him 
 and you. Having the booty, let the joke pass. The letter 
 is better than the lifter." 
 
 " Wise one, let me thank you," Philip said, ready to clasp 
 his benefactor iu a warm embrace. "Your name ? " 
 
 " Then you do not know me ? " 
 
 "What, I ? Why no ! but so! Why it is never" 
 
 " Yes ? " 
 
 "That pig of a Pierre ?" Philip blurted out the words in 
 an astonishment of recognition. 
 
 " Citizen Pierre Labeau, at your excellency's service," the 
 big boy said, with a mock salute. "Oh, you are not the 
 only one out of our street, Prince Phil, to get your step. 
 Behold me! I am deputy doorkeeper at La Force !" 
 
 "The big prison?" 
 
 "The same and where you might have been, young Des- 
 nouettes, had I not been clever enough to see through an 
 old joke such as our street has ever loved to play upon the 
 
 high and mighty." 
 10
 
 110 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 Philip could scarcely speak. Shame and surprise alike 
 filled him with dismay, and almost brought the mist of 
 boyish mortification into his eyes. He had driven through 
 the Street of the Washerwomen just to make "that pig of a 
 Pierre " green with envy ; and, behold, Philip was the dis 
 comfited one Pierre, the self-possessed one ! 
 
 But, quickly, mortification turned to gratitude. He flung 
 out both hands toward his old foeman. 
 
 "My friend," he cried, "I owe you much. Where may I 
 see you to-morrow? I am on duty to-day. I wish to Oh, 
 my head ! My heart ! I forgot the other!" 
 
 "What now?" Pierre inquired, struck by Philip's sudden 
 despair. 
 
 "All is ready, Monsieur the Page," Etienne, the equerry, 
 called from the calash. 
 
 The finding of the letter had driven the morocco case from 
 Philip's mind, and now the misery broke upon him. The 
 diamond buckle and the morocco case had not been found ! 
 
 " See, Pierre," he said quickly, and speaking low ; " I car 
 ried, too, with me a diamond hat-buckle in a brown morocco 
 case. The Empress gave it me last night. That, also, is 
 gone. Miserable me! what shall I do?" 
 
 "Sparklers, eh?" Pierre exclaimed. "That 's harder yet. 
 In a brown morocco case ? So ! Go you about your busi 
 ness. As for me, I will play the detective. Trust to me, 
 and see, you hunt me up at La Force to-morrow. Adieu, 
 my prince ! My reverence to the Emperor. Tell him I yet 
 look to have Fouche's portfolio as minister of police." 
 
 Then he almost forced Philip into the carriage, and, wav 
 ing him an adieu, led off the crowd in a rousing cheer :
 
 'MY FRIEND!' PHILIP CRIED, 'i OWE YOU MUCH.'" .
 
 "THAT PIG OF A PIERRE" 113 
 
 "Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor's page!"- 
 with what was just then the popular postscript: "Long live 
 the King of Borne!" 
 
 To which courtesy not certain whether it was real or 
 sarcastic Philip replied with a wave of his befeathered 
 chapeau, and was speedily whirling into the courtyard of 
 the Tuileries. 
 
 As he rose to spring from the carriage, his foot struck 
 something small and hard, ambushed beneath the carriage- 
 mat. He pounced upon it at once. 
 
 "My faith!" he cried, with gleaming eyes, "the morocco 
 case ! Was ever boy luckier than I ?" 
 
 There it must have fallen in the overturn, and there have 
 lain during all the hunt and worry ; and, meantime, Pierre 
 was playing detective for it. Well, he should be enlight 
 ened and recompensed next day. Odd that "that pig of a 
 Pierre " should have turned out such a trump, after all. 
 
 Thinking these thoughts, Philip entered the palace, a 
 wiser and much more subdued young fellow than had left it 
 in such a blaze of glory only the day before. The boy's 
 pride had suffered sadly, but he had learned a lesson. 
 
 Hastily making himself presentable, he delivered to the 
 Emperor the letter from Josephine. 
 
 "So; 't is our royal courier. Well done, you page." And 
 taking the letter, he read its words of congratulation and friend 
 ship with interest and pleasure. Then he turned to the boy. 
 
 " And how looked the Empress ? " he asked. 
 
 "Well, Sire; and much delighted," Philip replied. 
 
 "And did she" for Napoleon was always inquisitive 
 "did she remember the messenger?"
 
 114 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 "Oh, yes, Sire; royally," the boy made answer. 
 
 "So! It was like her. But how?" the Emperor went on. 
 
 " With this, Sire." And Philip fished the brown morocco 
 case from the pocket into which he had thrust it. 
 
 Napoleon took the case from the boy, and pressed the 
 spring. It flew open, and disclosed to the Emperor 
 nothing ! 
 
 riiilip gave a start of terror ; his legs lost all their stiff 
 ness ; his eyes grew big with dismay. 
 
 " Gone ! " he gasped. 
 
 " The Empress pays liberally for favors," said Napoleon, 
 grimly ; " or else my messengers play the fool with things 
 committed to them. What was in here, boy ? " 
 
 " A diamond hat-buckle, Sire," the boy replied in a broken 
 and distracted voice. 
 
 " And where is it ? " 
 
 " Alas, Sire ! " said Philip, sadly, " I fear it was stolen 
 when the letter was lost." 
 
 " The letter ? What letter ? " cried the Emperor. 
 
 The wrath of Napoleon was not a pleasant thing to face. 
 It had withered bigger men than Philip the page. But the 
 boy knew that a straightforward story was his only salva 
 tion, and, without flinching, he told the Emperor the whole 
 affair, not even concealing his reasons for driving through 
 the Street of the Washerwomen. 
 
 The -Emperor listened impassively, and when the end was 
 reached he said : " This, then, is the way you would play the 
 messenger, you boy ? You would use the Emperor's time 
 to serve your private ends ? Had the letter been lost, your 
 head should have been the forfeit. I confer favors only
 
 'GONE!' HE GASPED."
 
 "THAT PIG OF A PIEKRE" 117 
 
 where I can trust; I command only those who will obey 
 me. Have I judged wrongly, and may I not trust you, 
 boy ? You have betrayed your trust you, the Courier of 
 the King. Ah, so ! I have it ! Come with me. The King 
 of Eome, whom you have served so carelessly, shall judge 
 your misdemeanor." And bidding the boy follow him, the 
 Emperor strode on to the imperial nursery. 
 
 In his royal cradle lay the royal baby. Napoleon stopped 
 beside the little bed of his son, looked down upon him, and 
 said solemnly : 
 
 " Your Majesty, here is your courier. He has been care 
 less in his trust. I present him to you for judgment and 
 sentence. Your Majesty's smile or frown is law. What 
 shall be the verdict ? Shall we punish or forgive ? " 
 
 All this seemed, at first, very absurd to Philip, who had 
 but a boy's contempt for a cradled baby. But he grew 
 serious as the Emperor made his point. He looked down 
 upon the helpless infant, anxiety in his heart, but concilia 
 tion in his eye ; and as he looked he winked the wink of 
 flattery at the wondering baby. 
 
 Thereupon, the royal infant began to " coo " and " goo " 
 with all the gurgle of baby good nature ; with wide-open 
 eyes he looked upon the dissembling boy, and, caught by 
 the wink of that designing eye, tossed up one little hand, 
 while the sober baby face broke suddenly into a certain and 
 perceptible smile. 
 
 "The King smiles. There you have the verdict, boy," 
 the Emperor said. " His Majesty graciously pardons your 
 misdemeanor, on the condition, if you can translate his sen 
 tence, that you never do so again." And Napoleon laughed.
 
 118 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 For this singular man had a boy-side to his nature, that 
 spent itself, now and then, in jokes and romps and ear- 
 pulling, not usually associated with an imperial majesty. 
 " Is he not a fine, fat boy, Philip ? My head, they say 
 my eyes. Some day you shall dance ' zig-zag ' for him, as 
 you did for that other boy in St. Cloud, provided you have 
 not, before that time, lost your head through heedlessness, 
 which I fear is not unlikely. But keep your head we 
 need it for the future. For this young monseigneur here 
 we must build up France ; and such as you must help him 
 wear the crown. Go now. You are pardoned. The courier 
 is a page once more. Yes and see to it that you play 
 detective, too. The diamond buckle must be found. I give 
 you three days and a release from duty to find it. Some 
 day, too, let me see that Pierre boy. He is a shrewd one, 
 and should be good for something. Go; and report the 
 result to me in three days' time." 
 
 Philip turned to go; then dropping upon one knee, he 
 kissed, not the P^mperor's hand, but clever boy that he 
 was ! the hand of the baby King. Thereby he won the 
 Emperor's favor anew ; for even the great Napoleon was 
 human and a father ! 
 
 The next morning, according to agreement, Philip pre 
 sented himself at the prison of La Force, where were con 
 fined those held "under suspicion" of crime or treason. 
 His imperial livery and his page's badge gained him easy 
 entrance, and in response to his inquiry for Pierre, the 
 deputy doorkeeper, that sturdy young fellow was soon 
 hurrying from his post in the Charlemagne Court to greet 
 his visitor.
 
 "THAT PIG OF A PIERKE" 119 
 
 " So ; it is you, Monsieur the Page ? See you, now ; I 
 have tracked three diamond hat-buckles and two brown 
 morocco cases. Eh ? Yes ; oh, yes, we can find these things 
 even after they get hidden away in the Court of the Miracles. 
 It is just knowing how to get at them, you see. But when 
 one comes to knowing every thief in the big prisons, as I do, 
 one finds just how to get his information. I have secured 
 some sparklers, I say perhaps yours, perhaps not. Now 
 what was your buckle like ? " 
 
 Philip, as well as he could, described the gift of the 
 Empress. 
 
 "Yes," Pierre nodded. "I have seen such a one but 
 not its case." 
 
 " That is here," Philip replied. " Behold, then ! I found 
 it in the carriage after I left you." 
 
 That made the whole matter clear. By cleverly using the 
 knowledge gained by his street education and his prison 
 connection, Pierre had traced out the lost buckle, and Philip 
 was overjoyed. 
 
 "To-morrow you shall have it," Pierre promised him. 
 " I can put my hands upon it in an hour when once my 
 lines are set ; but not to-day. See now, you Philip ! I will 
 deliver the sparklers to you at the Tower of St. Jacques at 
 sunset to-morrow. 
 
 "At sunset to-morrow at the Tower of St. Jacques," 
 Philip repeated. " And meantime, Pierre, my friend " (you 
 see it was no longer " that pig of a Pierre "), " tell me how 
 I can ever repay you for this ? " 
 
 "Wait until you get your sparklers," replied the deputy 
 doorkeeper of La Force ; and then Philip left the great,
 
 120 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 gloomy prison, that once had been a baron's stronghold, and 
 wandered away to the house in the Street of the Fight. 
 Here he held an audience spell-bound with the story of his 
 travels and his adventures, his mishaps and his experiences, 
 since last they had seen him, and since he had been weighed 
 in the balance and found perhaps just a little wanting as 
 the Courier of the
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE TOWER OF ST. JACQUES 
 
 GRAND and graceful, the Tower of St. Jacques over 
 topped the tiled roofs of the low buildings and the 
 straggling market that surrounded it. Springing into the 
 air one hundred and seventy-five feet, and surmounted by a 
 delicate spire, the tower stood as at once guide and land 
 mark for all that section of old Paris, from the eastern bar 
 riers to the bridges and the palace of the Louvre. 
 
 The church of which this stately tower was and is the 
 only survival had been a sanctuary for murderers in the 
 days of the ancient kings, but had itself been pulled down 
 by those later murderers the rabid revolutionists of the 
 time of the Terror who could not draw the sharp line that 
 separates liberty from lawlessness. 
 
 For so enthusiastic a student of the past as Citizen Dau- 
 nou. the grand old tower had special interest. To this inter 
 est had been added the fascinations of relic-hunting ; for 
 among the papers that had come under his eye as Keeper of 
 the Archives had been one that spoke of certain valuable 
 relics deposited a generation before in an old crypt beneatli 
 the northwestern turret. This crypt, the Keeper of the 
 Archives reasoned, might have escaped the pillage and de 
 struction by the revolutionary mob from the Paris streets; 
 and this lie wished to prove to his own satisfaction.
 
 122 A BOY OP THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 So it happened that on one of the last days of March, in 
 the year 1811, Citizen Daunou was on his way to the Tower 
 of St. Jacques, accompanied by Uncle Fauriel and Made 
 moiselle. She herself was something of an amateur investi 
 gator, and, in her way, quite as interested in the things to 
 be seen and the things to be studied in the quaint sections 
 of old Paris as was the scholarly Keeper himself. 
 
 They had left the big Bureau of Archives in the Street of 
 the Wheatfield, and with all the ingenuity and assurance of 
 the born Parisian had threaded their way through the net 
 work of narrow streets which separated the bureau from the 
 tower; for in the opening years of the nineteenth century it 
 was no easy task for any one but a born Parisian to pick a 
 secure way through the great city's narrow and tortuous 
 streets. 
 
 They had skipped the flowing gutters, jumped the piles of 
 rubbish, cleared the thousand and one impediments, dodged 
 the ceaseless, pushing throng of peddlers, pedestrians, car 
 riers, and cartmen, on both roadway and sidewalk, until 
 panting Uncle Fauriel, pausing for breath in the doorway 
 of a convenient wine-shop in the Street of the Fox, had 
 mopped his perspiring head and puffed out : " It may be all 
 well enough for you two one long and lean, and the other 
 young and frisky to rush along at this rate, but I am 
 getting too fat for your fun. I Ve dodged every cart and 
 every carrier in Paris ; I Ve jumped the gutters and pulled 
 myself in like a Gascon. Time was when I could do it as 
 well as you, and travel the streets without getting a speck 
 of dust or a spot of mud, as spick and span as Mademoiselle 
 here ; but it 's gone by it 's gone by. I 'm too fat for the
 
 THE TOWER OF ST. JACQUES 123 
 
 narrow streets, and too clumsy for the muddy ones. Go 
 slower, or get me a cab." 
 
 But Mademoiselle did not hear his complainings. She 
 was conscious only of certain words her quick ears had 
 caught from amid the passing crowd: 
 
 " One of Nicholas's boys, he is ; name of Desnouettes. 
 It 's to be a big haul, eh ? Sunset Tower of St. Jacques; 
 and he says 
 
 This was all she heard ; the voices were lost in the crowd. 
 She had not even caught sight of the speaker ; but it was 
 quite enough for Mademoiselle. Some danger threatened 
 Philip ; for he was Desnouettes. He was one of " Nicholas's 
 boys " - the nickname by which the streets of Paris recog 
 nized Napoleon's pages. 
 
 She thought quickly. Could she warn Philip ? She did 
 not know where to find him ; for he had told her he was to 
 be "off duty" as a page that day. Should she tell her 
 father? No, he would laugh at her; so, too, would Uncle 
 Fauriel. They would "pooh-pooh" the idea of danger; 
 they would tell her that Philip was big enough to take care 
 of himself, and that it was no matter for maids to meddle 
 with. 
 
 And yet that voice in the crowd might mean danger to 
 Philip. He had not told her of his rendezvous at the Tower 
 of St. Jacques; he had told her merely that Pierre had 
 promised to restore the Empress's gift that day. Perhaps it 
 was a trap. What ought she to do ? what could she do ? 
 
 A brilliant plan flashed upon her. The Emperor ! He 
 could do anything. Why, then, should he not protect his 
 pages ? And Philip was his favorite. 

 
 124 A BUY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 Her mind was quickly made up. 
 
 " Ppa, I am going back," she declared. " Go you with 
 Uncle Fauriel, and go slowly ; for he is such a hot old dear 
 just now. Perhaps I should only be in the way if you are 
 to climb and poke about in the old tower. I have just 
 thought of something I must do. Never mind me; I can get 
 back all right." 
 
 And even while the two relic-hunters looked at her, puz 
 zled over a girl's fickleness, she was off with a wave of the 
 hand before they could make a protest, and, hurrying across 
 to the historic Street of St. Hoiiore, was soon speeding away 
 to the Tuileries. 
 
 She ran along the terrace to the Floral Gate. To the 
 grenadier on guard outside she preferred her request. 
 
 " The Emperor, Mademoiselle ? Have you, then, an ad 
 mittance order ? " 
 
 "Alas, 110. I must see him on urgent affairs -a matter 
 of life and death," the girl said breathlessly. 
 
 " So ; is it as bad as that ? " the guard queried. " I will 
 summon my corporal or, see-! my faith, Mademoiselle ! 
 you are in luck, you. Look ! there is the Emperor himself." 
 
 Out of the doorw r ay that led to the private apartments of 
 the Emperor in the Floral Pavilion of the great palace came 
 a short, stout man in a green overcoat. Mademoiselle knew 
 him at once. It was her friend of the Boulogne woods ; it 
 was the Emperor. 
 
 A light carriage surrounded by a small cavalry escort of 
 guardsmen stood in the inner court. The big doors of the 
 Floral Gate were wide open. 
 
 " Hun, Mademoiselle, now," the guardsman whispered.
 
 'SAVK HIM, SIRE!' SHE EXCLAIMED."
 
 THE TOWER OF ST. JACQUES 127 
 
 " It is your only chance ! You must not lose it. As for 
 me I see nothing." And, with that, he turned away. 
 
 Almost before the words were said, the girl had scurried 
 through the open gateway. Keyed up to the demand laid 
 upon her, she was thoughtless of everything save her desire 
 to be in time to rescue Philip from danger. 
 
 The Emperor's foot was on the carriage-step. Straight 
 toward the carriage rushed the girl, her hands stretched out 
 to the little man in a green coat. 
 
 " Save him, Sire ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 Ushers and officers looked down at the girl, startled and 
 shocked by this breach of stiff court etiquette ; and even the 
 statue-like guardsmen almost moved. The Emperor, still 
 with his foot on the wide carriage-step, turned in surprise ; 
 for he had peculiar views as to the proper " sphere " of 
 women and girls, and this sudden assault quite staggered 
 him. 
 
 " Well, well, sirs," he said, " what have we here ? Who is 
 the girl ? Save whom save whom, child ? " 
 
 " Philip, Sire ; your page page Desnouettes ! " she cried. 
 " He is in danger danger of his life ! " 
 
 " Page Desnou ah ! our detective, eh ? And you are ?" 
 
 " I ? Why, I am Lucie Daunou, Sire." 
 
 " Daunou ? Daunou ? " the Emperor mused. " What the 
 Keeper of the Archives ? And you are the citizen's daugh 
 ter, and young Desnouettes's friend ? Well, then, what of 
 this danger ? What is it ? Here, sit you by me, and tell 
 the doleful tale." And he handed the young petitioner to 
 one of the small and stiff but gilded settees that stood in the 
 Floral Pavilion. " Oh, sit, child ! Never mind ceremony ;
 
 128 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIKE 
 
 this is not a public reception." And he made her sit at his 
 side. Then she told her story. 
 
 "Not much to go by, that," the Emperor remarked, as 
 Mademoiselle reached the end. " And yet it may mean mis 
 chief. Philip was to receive back the lost hat-buckle to 
 day, was he ? He has tracked it well. We must not let the 
 chance of losing it again come to him. But how could those 
 rascals know it ? Is that Pierre boy playing him false ? 
 At the Tower of St. Jacques, you say. We will set a watch. 
 Ho, Meneval ! See that we drive first to Baron Pasquier's 
 at the Ministry of Police. Never fear, child ; Philip shall 
 come to no such harm. There, run along ; or wait you 
 must be tired. Come, you shall see the baby." 
 
 " Oh, Sire ! The King of Eome ? " The girl clapped her 
 hands for joy. 
 
 " The baby, the baby, child ! " And then this ruler of 
 kings caught the girl by the hand, and together " Just as 
 if he might have been Uncle Fauriel," Mademoiselle after 
 ward said they hurried along the corridor and into the 
 royal nursery. For, despite his imperial aims and his con 
 quering schemes, no man, when he desired, was more " one 
 of the people-" than was the First Napoleon. And on the 
 subject of " that baby " he was as proud a father as ever 
 breathed. 
 
 Mademoiselle looked and worshiped to her heart's con 
 tent, and quite captured the Emperor's heart by her loyal 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 Seeing that the young girl glanced from the baby's face to 
 his own, the Emperor smiled, saying : " He looks like me, 
 this baby here ? "
 
 ' THEN SHE TOLD HER STORY." //tf'% 1 ^ 
 
 \y
 
 THE TOWER OF ST. JACQUES 131 
 
 " Oh, so much, Sire ! " Mademoiselle replied. 
 
 " Of course he does," the Emperor assented. " We all say 
 so here; is it not so, Madame ? " he added, turning to the 
 baby's governess, Madame de Montesquiou. Then to Made 
 moiselle: "Why, he is as much like me as why, as you 
 are like Philip." 
 
 " I like Philip, Sire ? " the girl exclaimed. 
 
 " To be sure," replied the Emperor, taking Mademoiselle's 
 chin between his fingers and scanning her pretty face. 
 " You should be his sister, one would say." 
 
 " But how could that be, Sire ? " said the girl. " He is 
 Desnouettes." 
 
 " And you are Daunou. Are you Daunou, child ? " the 
 Emperor said, with a searching look at Mademoiselle. 
 
 " Why, of course, Sire ; who else should I be ? " the girl 
 rejoined. 
 
 " Of course, who else ? " the Emperor echoed ; then he 
 added musingly, " I have known Citizen Daunou let me 
 see ever since the days of the Directory; and I never heard 
 of the Citizeness Daunou. Do you remember your mother, 
 child ? " 
 
 " Why, no, Sire ; she died when I was but a baby like his 
 Majesty here," Mademoiselle replied. 
 
 " Ah, yes ; to be sure, like his Majesty here. And now 
 must we take leave of his Majesty here, and think of a bigger 
 boy. For our knight is in danger, and he must be succored. 
 But see you, pretty one," the Emperor said, again taking 
 Mademoiselle's chin between his fingers and looking in her 
 eyes, " I have a message for you : My compliments to Citizen 
 Daunou, and tell him that, like all old republicans, he is but
 
 132 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 an owl when the sunlight comes, and cannot see beyond his 
 spectacles. Just tell him that for me, will you, child ? " 
 
 And dropping the girl's chin, the Emperor pinched her 
 ear till she " ouched ! " in spite of herself, whereupon the 
 Emperor laughed merrily, and even the King in the cradle 
 gurgled in fun. 
 
 " I will tell him so, Sire," Mademoiselle replied dutifully, 
 " since you command it. But is it respectful for me thus 
 to speak to my father ? " 
 
 " When the Emperor uses you as a mouthpiece, girl, any 
 thing is respectful," was the Emperor's decision. " And 
 now, kiss his Majesty's hand. The audience is over." 
 
 Mademoiselle dropped prettily on one knee beside the 
 golden cradle, and kissed the dimpled little hand that the 
 nurse uncovered for her. Then a page conducted her to 
 the outer gate, but not before she had received the Emperor's 
 parting word : " I will see to Philip's safety, little one. 
 And do you remember my message to Citizen Daunou : an 
 owl in the sunlight, eh ? " 
 
 And in the royal "nursery Madame de Montesquiou, the 
 little King's governess, said: "Well, nurse, if the Emperor 
 is to bring all the children in Paris to see the little King, 
 we might as well be in the House of St. Vincent de Paul as 
 in the imperial palace. We shall have his little Majesty 
 catching some disease yet, with all this hand-kissing." But, 
 then, Madame de Montesquiou was very jealous of her royal 
 little charge, and, if possible, would have kept him under a 
 glass case. 
 
 The Emperor did not forget his promise to Mademoiselle. 
 That very afternoon, fully an hour before sunset, the Tower
 
 THE TOWER OF ST. JACQUES 133 
 
 of St. Jacques was put under watch by detectives, while in 
 the market at its foot a detachment of armed police held 
 themselves in readiness to answer a call for help. The 
 market was searched, the surrounding space was watched, 
 even the old tower itself was twice hunted through for sus 
 picious characters. But no Pierre, no Philip, and no am 
 bushed kidnappers were to be seen or " spotted." 
 
 What could it mean? Had Mademoiselle's ears deceived 
 her ? Had she " fooled " the Emperor ? 
 
 And, meantime, where was Philip ?
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD 
 
 rriHE Emperor had been " fooled." For even while de- 
 _l_ tectives and policemen were searching the old Tower 
 of St. Jacques, Philip the page, who had never been near it 
 at all, was walking calmly toward the Street of the Fight, 
 with the recovered hat-buckle safe in his pocket, and in his 
 mind an ardent desire somehow to repay Pierre. 
 
 He had haunted the crooked streets of the dirty quarter 
 in which he had come so signally to grief, hoping to gain 
 some clue that would put him on the track of the marau 
 ders. When a boy's pride is hurt he will not rest until he 
 can regain his self-esteem, and Philip felt that his duty lay 
 in bringing the guilty ones to justice. If he could do this 
 without the help of Pierre, the deputy doorkeeper, it would 
 prove that boys could be just as wide-awake in the Tuileries 
 as among the strange things that went on at La Force. 
 
 So, no longer in his imperial livery of crimson and gold, 
 but in the every-day dress of a Paris boy, Philip was seeking 
 to put to good use his old education of the street, when sud 
 denly, in the narrow and dirty Street of Jean Lantier, near 
 to the unsavory Court of the Miracles, he ran plump against 
 Pierre. 
 
 The amateur detectives looked keenly at each other. Then
 
 THE PUPILS OF THE GUAED 135 
 
 the boy from La Force said to the boy from the Tuileries: 
 " What, it is you, young Desnouettes ? And doing what ? " 
 
 " Hunting those fellows down, my Pierre," Philip replied. 
 " I don't like to let things go unsettled." 
 
 " And could you not trust me, Monsieur the Page ? You 
 gain nothing by pushing things." 
 
 " I can gain my lost standing at the palace," Philip re 
 sponded. 
 
 " But leave it to me, my boy," said Pierre. " Such a hunt 
 is more in my line than in yours. And we are both ahead 
 of time, we two ; but I have your sparklers." 
 
 "Good boy, Pierre!" cried jubilant Philip; and added, 
 with boyish assurance, " the Emperor will repay you. Give 
 me the buckle." 
 
 " But not in the street, stupid ! Would you lose it again ? " 
 the young detective whispered. " Come you with me 
 say to Citizen Popon's. You remember the place ? " 
 
 Kemember it ? Did he not, though ? It was the dark 
 wine-cellar in which Philip had overheard the plot against 
 the Emperor, and from which he reckoned the days of his 
 good fortune. 
 
 So it came to pass that in the dingy wine-cellar of Citi 
 zen Popon, rather than at the old Tower of St. Jacques, 
 the page recovered his lost treasure, and said again and 
 again : " My faith ! but you are a clever one you Pierre. 
 However can I repay you ? " 
 
 " Wait until I ask you for payment, my Philip," was 
 Pierre's reply ; and then and there this successful young 
 amateur detective flatly refused any compensation for track 
 ing the lost gift of an empress. In so doing lay his shrewd-
 
 136 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 ness ; for Pierre, though a good fellow, was always looking 
 out for Number One. " Philip is a page of the palace, a 
 favorite of the Emperor, and bound to rise," he reasoned. 
 " If he owes me return for a favor he will always bear me 
 in mind, and I may gain a new step by not taking from him 
 now. It is better to be generous than greedy, and in the 
 end it pays better." 
 
 Thus sharply he reasoned ; but he simply said, " It 's for 
 old friendship's sake, my boy." And so, after a long talk, 
 the boys separated. Pierre went back to his post at the 
 prison of La Force ; Philip, hugging close his rescued trea 
 sure, sought, not the imperial palace, but the house in the 
 quiet Street of the Fight. There Mademoiselle met him. 
 
 " Oh, Philip ! " she cried. " And it is you ? Tell me 
 quickly ! What happened ? How did they save you ? " 
 
 " What happened ? " Philip queried. " 'Save ' me ? 
 Where ? " 
 
 " Why, at the Tower of St. Jacques," Mademoiselle replied 
 impatiently. " I found it all out. What happened ? " 
 
 "But I do not understand you, Mademoiselle," said 
 puzzled Philip. " I have not been to the Tower of St. 
 Jacques." 
 
 " No ? " Mademoiselle cried excitedly. " And you were 
 not set upon by brigands ? " 
 
 " Why, no," said the boy. " You see, I met Pierre in the 
 Street of Jean Lantier, before I had reached the tower. 
 And see, here is the buckle. I have it safe once more." 
 
 " But, mercy ! what must the Emperor think ? " Made 
 moiselle almost wailed, scarce noticing the brilliants that 
 had made all the bother. "He will say I misled him.
 
 THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD. 
 
 137 
 
 PHILIPS GRATITUDE. 
 
 Dear me, dear me ! Now it is I that am in the wron** and 
 
 O" 
 
 who will right me ? " 
 
 Much perplexed, Philip asked for an explanation, and
 
 138 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 
 
 Mademoiselle told her story, and how she had petitioned the 
 Emperor. 
 
 " But you saved my life, Mademoiselle," exclaimed the 
 grateful Philip, "even if tlie danger did not come to me. 
 For, had I not met Pierre before the time appointed, I should 
 have been at the Tower at sunset. Mademoiselle, I thank 
 you " ; and, true to the courtliness which had become a part 
 of his daily training, Philip bent over the girl's hand, and 
 kissed it in knightly fashion. 
 
 " It is not for me to remain here," he said. " I must 
 hasten to the palace and explain it all. Trust me, Made 
 moiselle ; I will set you right with the Emperor." 
 
 Then Citizen Daunou, who had entered the room while 
 Mademoiselle was telling her story, said : " I may be an 
 owl, Mademoiselle, though why the Emperor should say so 
 passes my knowledge. But this explains certain things. 
 Uncle Fauriel and I lingered late over our researches in the 
 tower; and would you believe it? Uncle Fauriel was 
 very nearly arrested by two officials from the Ministry of 
 Police. Uncle Fauriel is so rabid a republican, you know, 
 that he is ever under suspicion ; and but for my being recog 
 nized by the sergeant of police who came from the market 
 with his men, we should, I think, have been compelled to 
 accompany the detectives as suspicious persons. My faith, 
 though ! Is not that the rarest joke ? Uncle Fauriel and I 
 were, I now see, very nearly under arrest as the intending 
 assassins of my friend Monsieur the Page, under the special 
 protection of the Emperor. Away, Sir Page ! It is not safe 
 for you to linger here. Behold your assassin ! " 
 
 And Citizen Daunou laughed so heartily that even Made-
 
 THE PUPILS OF THE GUAED 139 
 
 moiselle's perplexed face broke into smiles, and Philip ap 
 preciated the joke quite as fully. But, all the same, it did 
 not free him from a little trepidation as, on his way back 
 to the palace, he thought over the affairs of the day, and pre 
 pared himself for a scene with the Emperor. 
 
 The " scene," however, was but a mild one. Napoleon 
 had far more important things on his mind than the trials 
 of pages and the woes of over- zealous maidens. Philip, too, 
 had the advantage of being first on the ground. He had 
 made his explanations before the report came from the 
 police ; and the Emperor, being spared the confusion that 
 this report might otherwise have created, held the key to 
 the situation, and, happily, looked on it all as a good joke. 
 
 " But you were never cut out for a detective, young Des- 
 nouettes," he said. " Leave that to others, and do, rather, 
 the duties that are nearest you. As for the girl, she is a 
 bright little creature and a wise one. She meant well. It 
 was only you that blundered into safety without knowing, 
 and so spoiled her excellent little drama. That boy Pierre 
 seems to have been the cleverest one of the lot. I must 
 see here, you boy ; do you know anything of your father ? " 
 
 Startled at this sudden change of subject, Philip looked 
 surprised, but said, " Nothing more than you do, Sire. I 
 have told you all I know of him." 
 
 " Nor of your family ? " 
 
 " Nothing, Sire." 
 
 " So ! Well let me see that Pierre boy ; some day I 
 may find use for his cleverness." 
 
 And Philip was dismissed, relieved but puzzled. 
 
 But so many other tilings were afoot in that busy sum-
 
 140 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 mer of 1811 that a boy's concerns were speedily forgotten, 
 and even the boy himself was so full of crowding duties as 
 to have little time for queries and conjectures. 
 
 The month of June was one round of festivity, ceremonial, 
 and display. It was the baptismal month of the baby King 
 of Rome. 
 
 Napoleon the Emperor was at the height of his power. 
 Kings were his vassals, and conquered nations were his 
 domains. All of Europe, save only Eussia and the British 
 Isles, was subject or ally to France. The little man in the 
 green uniform was the foremost man of all the world. 
 
 He had won his eminence by the force of his genius, the 
 strength of his will, the brilliancy of his successes, and by 
 hard work. For in all his vast domain there was no more 
 tireless worker than the Emperor Napoleon the First. 
 
 No one appreciated this more than Philip the page. 
 Many a time, far into the night, had he waited the imperial 
 commands, or run upon the imperial errands, until tired 
 legs refused to do their duty, and the curly head dropped, 
 dead with sleep, upon the wearied arm. 
 
 The month of June in the year 1811 seemed the crown 
 ing point of all the magnificence of the First Empire. It 
 was a month of display one continued fete in honor of 
 the little King's baptism. 
 
 Philip had been one of the retinue that had escorted the 
 imperial family from St. Cloud to the Tuileries on the after 
 noon of the sixth of June. With the other pages he had 
 hung upon the backboard of the imperial coach, as on the 
 next day Sunday, the seventh of June it was driven 
 through a living lane of glittering helmets and nodding
 
 THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD 141 
 
 plumes, where a double row of the troops of the line and of 
 the Imperial Guard stretched from the palace of the Tuileries 
 to the cathedral of Notre Dame. Under the garlanded 
 portal and into the brilliantly lighted church he had passed 
 as one of the glittering procession. Within, as one amid that 
 notable throng of princes and peers, of great officials of the 
 crown, of cardinals and bishops and archbishops, of the sen 
 ate, the court, and the mayors of the great cities of the Em 
 pire, Philip had " assisted " at the ceremony. It was a sight 
 never to be forgotten, when, regal in a coat of silver tissue 
 embroidered with ermine ; with his train upheld by a mar 
 shal of the Empire ; with his mother, the Empress, walking 
 in imperial state under one gorgeous canopy, and his famous 
 father, the Emperor, under another gorgeous canopy ; witli 
 a princess bearing his baptismal candle, a princess holding 
 his chrism-cloth, a countess carrying his salt-cellar, and all 
 about him princes and dukes, chamberlains and marshals, 
 grand " eagles," grand equerries, grand masters, and grand 
 lots of other things ; with ushers and heralds and orderlies 
 and pages; supported by his nurses and governesses; with 
 an emperor for a godfather and a queen for a godmother 
 this one little baby, Francis Charles Joseph Napoleon Bona 
 parte, King of Eome and heir to France, was presented for 
 baptism at the high altar of the grand old church which had 
 been the scene of so many great and marvelous and curious 
 ceremonials, but never of one more magnificent than this. 
 
 So the baby was baptized. Then, in sight of the whole 
 assembly, while the organ pealed out the " Jubilate," and the 
 First Herald at Arms, standing in the choir, cried out, 
 " Long live the King of Eome ! " the baby's proud father
 
 142 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 held his son aloft where all might see His Little Magnifi 
 cence. Then all the crowded church, all the packed square 
 without, and all the listening city raised a mighty shout: 
 " Long live the King of Rome ! Long live the Emperor ! " 
 
 Do you imagine that Philip would have missed that ? 
 Not for the world ! His voice was hoarse from shouting ; 
 his face was flushed with enthusiasm. He was proud of 
 his position; proud that he was alive; proud that he was a 
 Frenchman, that he was a boy of Paris, that he was a page 
 of the Emperor ! 
 
 Nor would he willingly have missed the great entertain 
 ment at the City Hall, where, after the baptismal ceremony, 
 the Emperor dined in public, with his crown upon his head, 
 the Empress by his side, kings and queens on his right and 
 left, for all the world like that great Emperor of old, 
 Charlemagne, whose state he patterned after, and whose 
 title he assumed. For, you see, the Emperor Napoleon was 
 always dramatic, always startling, always effective, in what 
 ever he undertook. Whether he kidnapped a king, or stole 
 a pope, or " absorbed " a kingdom, or won a battle, or gave a 
 ball, he did it so splendidly that even his enemies marveled, 
 and all the world wondered at the audacity of this little 
 man who had carved his way from nothing to a throne, and 
 had filled the world with his name. 
 
 To this baptismal ceremony and banquet succeeded days 
 and .days of magnificence. And Philip was able to make 
 the claim of the old Roman : "All of which I saw, and part 
 of which I was." For, as the page of the palace, he was on 
 duty at almost every " high function." 
 
 There were banquets and balls, shows and processions,
 
 
 NAPOLEON REVIEWS THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD.
 
 144 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 festivals and fetes, street parades and water parades, tourna 
 ments, fireworks, and balloon ascensions, and everything that 
 busy brains could devise or lavish expenditure could procure 
 to please the people, show the grandeur of the Empire, and 
 do honor to the one who, probably, took the least interest 
 in it all a pretty little baby boy, only three months old. 
 
 At the Tuileries, at St. Cloud, at stately Versailles, and 
 at beautiful Eambouillet, the summer passed in pleasure and 
 parade and blaze of glory; for these were the palmy days of 
 the Empire, the climax of Napoleon's power. 
 
 And one day in the Place of the Carrousel, the great open 
 square in front of the palace of the Tuileries, where the 
 Emperor held his weekly reviews of the Imperial Guard, 
 there came a new surprise. 
 
 It was a beautiful August day. The splendid palace, out 
 lined against the clear Parisian sky, made a grand back 
 ground for the mass of moving color, as battalion after bat 
 talion wheeled and circled and charged and manceuvered. 
 Cavalry and infantry marched and countermarched, plumes 
 nodded, bayonets flashed, helmets glittered, bands played, 
 display was everywhere. 
 
 Then, while the regiments stood at rest, the gay strains 
 of other military bands were heard, and into the square, 
 beneath the triumphal arch crowned by the great bronze 
 horses of St. Mark's (which "the conqueror" had brought 
 from Venice), there came, rank upon rank, in soldierly array, 
 spick and span in their new uniforms of green and gold, 
 eight thousand little foot-soldiers, not one of whom was yet 
 in his teens. 
 
 As steadily as veterans, as solid as the Old Guard itself,
 
 THE PUPILS OF THE GUAKD 145 
 
 every boy doing his best, every eye " front," every hand 
 shouldering a toy musket or carrying a dwarf sword, the 
 Lilliputian battalions halted and faced the smiling veterans. 
 
 The Emperor appeared. The boys went through their 
 maneuvers with precision and ease. And when the review 
 was over the Emperor, standing midway between his veter 
 ans and his boy brigade, pointed to the little soldiers, and 
 said to his grenadiers : 
 
 " Soldiers of my Guard, behold your children ! These are 
 the Pupils of the Guard, the sons of those who have fallen 
 in battle for France, the defenders upon whose valor the 
 future of my empire must rest. To them I confide the 
 guarding of my son, as I have confided myself to you. For 
 them I require, from you, friendship and protection." 
 
 Then facing the boyish brigade, he said : " My children, in 
 attaching you to my Guard I give you a difficult duty. But 
 I shall trust in you. I know that some day it will be said 
 of you : ' These children are worthy of their fathers.' Pupils 
 of the Guard! from this day you are in the service of the 
 King of Rome." 
 
 " Long live the Emperor ! " From the Guard and its 
 " Pupils," and from the thousands who witnessed the double 
 review, the mighty shout went up. Philip's voice helped to 
 swell the shout. He had regarded the little Pupils of the 
 Guard with all that patronage of superiority that fifteen 
 accords to ten. But he was enthusiastic none the less, and 
 led off in a fresh hail of " Long live the King of Rome ! 
 Long live the Pupils of the Guard ! " 
 
 In the midst of this outburst his shout changed suddenly 
 to a cry of recognition and joy. For, in the little knot of
 
 146 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 non-commissioned officers who had accompanied the Pupils 
 of the Guard, and whom he supposed to be their preceptors, 
 he caught a glimpse of a familiar face. That wooden leg, 
 that grizzled mustache, that stalwart figure, that proudly 
 displayed cross of the Legion of Honor, that air of confi 
 dence and self-recognized ability it could be none other ! 
 In a moment Philip had rushed across the parade, and flung 
 himself upon the unresisting veteran. 
 
 The boy's eyes had not played him false. It was old 
 Corporal Peyrolles Peyrolles the wooden-legged Pey- 
 rolles of St. Cyr !
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 HOW PHILIP BAITED THE KUSSIAN BEAR 
 
 PEYKOLLES! Dear old Peyrolles ! Where, then, do 
 you come from ? " Philip cried, hugging the veteran in 
 a frenzy of delight. 
 
 "Why, your Serene Mightiness, if your Imperial Mag 
 nificence will hut grant me space to breathe," Corporal Pey 
 rolles replied, struggling to salute his captor, " I would say 
 in answer, from the School of the Pupils of the Guard at 
 Vincennes, most Noble Nobility." 
 
 " And when did you leave St. Cyr ? " 
 
 " With your Excellency's permission, I would answer, 
 your Serene Mightiness, just two months ago." 
 
 " But whatever is the matter with you, ' high-mightiness- 
 ing ' me like that, you Peyrolles ? " Philip cried, casting a 
 laughing look of puzzled inquiry upon the veteran's stolid 
 face. "Why don't you know me? me Cadet Desnou- 
 ettes of St. Cyr ? " 
 
 " So ! Is it young Desnotiettes ? " exclaimed Peyrolles, 
 catching the boy by the arm. "Why, to be sure the very 
 same boyor, pardon me your Imperial Excellency. 
 And what may you be, all so fine in your crimson and 
 gold?"
 
 148 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 " Why, what should I be ? " Philip replied. " A page of 
 the palace, of course." 
 
 " What ! over a year at court, and only a page yet ? " 
 Peyrolles exclaimed. " You are slow, you boy. By this 
 time, as titles are going yonder, you should be a Hereditary 
 Grand Duke, or a First Grand Marshal of the Blood Eoyal, 
 at the very least." 
 
 " You dear old grumbler ! " cried Philip, giving the veteran 
 another hug. And then he laughed ; for now he saw through 
 Peyrolles's perplexing play with imperial adjectives. The 
 old fellow did not approve of this flow of titles and honors 
 that pervaded the court of the Emperor. Corporal Peyrolles 
 was jealous. 
 
 " Why, look you, young Desnouettes," he said ; " you can't 
 throw a stone in Paris, anywhere, without hitting a title. 
 And what were they all ? No better than Peyrolles once. 
 Murat a king ! I marched with him at Arcola. Ney a 
 prince ! I fought beside him at Marengo. Bessieres a 
 duke ! I saved his life at Austerlitz. Duroc a grand some 
 thing or other at the palace ! I helped him through the 
 sand at the Pyramids. Why, even old Limpfoot, Talleyrand, 
 whom we drove out of the republic for an emigrant, is a 
 prince, if you please, and weaves his web about the Emperor." 
 
 The old corporal grew so heated over this title-giving to 
 those whom he had known as " nobodies " and subalterns, 
 that Philip was forced to stop the tirade for fear of listeners. 
 
 But Peyrolles was right, none the less. The craze for 
 titles and position was undermining the Empire. The Cor- 
 sican lieutenant who had been the friend of the Eobespierres, 
 the general of the Eevolution who had made the Republic
 
 HOW PHILIP BAITED THE EUSSIAN BEAR 149 
 
 triumphant over the kings of Europe, had now become as 
 great a royalist as Louis XVI., as firm an upholder of the 
 divine right of kings as his father-in-law, the Emperor of 
 Austria. He was welcoming back the emigrant nobles who 
 had been exiled because they were royalists, and was scat 
 tering titles among his supporters like prizes at a rifle- 
 match. 
 
 But though an old soldier of the Eepublic like Peyrolles 
 might grumble, and an old revolutionist like Uncle Fauriel 
 might growl, the attache of an imperial court like Philip, 
 a boy who adored his Emperor, and had place and perqui 
 sites at the court, could look neither beneath nor beyond 
 the daily life of 'which he was a part. " Who knows ? " he 
 said : "I may be a prince some day. There is a chance for 
 every boy now, in France." An ambitious lad, even if he 
 did stop to think of things, would be a believer in honors 
 and titles and rewards of merit. 
 
 But Philip was delighted to be so near his dear old Pey 
 rolles once more, and they talked of old times until the call 
 to duty drew the veteran to his barracks and the page to his 
 palace. 
 
 This very day of the review of the Pupils of the Guard, 
 there was a grand reception at the Tuileries. The Emperor 
 received. 
 
 The splendid palace was thronged with guests repre 
 sentatives of every nation in Europe vassal kings, allied 
 princes, titled ambassadors, peers and marshals of France, 
 high officials, famous citizens, dashing soldiers, grand ladies, 
 ushers and pages. 
 
 Among the pages was Philip. With a half-dozen of his
 
 150 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 brothers in livery, he stood by the big door that opened into 
 the splendid Hall of the Marshals. Here they awaited the 
 arrival of the Emperor, who was making a tour of the 
 palace and greeting or conversing with the great ones who 
 were present at the reception. 
 
 The pages, boy-like, were discussing everything criticiz 
 ing this person, making fun of that, and getting food for 
 talk in whatever came uppermost, from the toilets of the 
 ladies and the awkwardness of the "provincials" to the last 
 hotly contested game of " bars," the greased-pole climbing at 
 the public sports in the Field of Mars, and the foreign policy 
 of the Emperor ; for in all ages boys have been the same 
 making " talk " out of everything. 
 
 In all such boy-talks Philip always stood as the champion 
 of the Emperor. He was at once apologist and applauder; 
 but, with him, approval was real. Boys who have faith in 
 their heroes are the most uncompromising of partizans. 
 Whether Napoleon trod on the toes of Prussia, or snapped 
 his fingers in the face of England, Philip was ready to ap 
 prove without thinking why, and to shout : " Serves 'em 
 right ! Long live the Emperor ! " 
 
 Especially was this true of our page when, cautiously, sys 
 tematically, and determinedly, the Emperor of the French 
 began to prepare the field for a great hunting of the Russian 
 Bear. And, on the day of the reception, talk of this now 
 historic hunt was rife at Paris; for the relations between 
 Emperor and Czar were daily growing more and more 
 strained. 
 
 So, as the pages grouped themselves about the doorway 
 of the great Hall of the Marshals, the conversation gradu-
 
 HOW PHILIP BAITED THE EUSSIAN BEAR 151 
 
 ally drifted toward the subject that was uppermost, where 
 upon one of the boys boldly declared that when England 
 was whipped out of Spain, as of course England would 
 be, that would end the war. For Prince Talleyrand, he 
 said, wanted peace. 
 
 " Pouf ! Old Limpfoot ! What has he got to say about 
 it ? " Philip exclaimed indignantly. 
 
 " Careful, young Desnouettes," one of the pages whispered, 
 with a not very gentle nudge. " Limpfoot 's around some 
 where. Not so loud, you, or your ears may smart." 
 
 " Well, it makes me mad, that ! " Philip declared, but with 
 lowered voice. " Much Talleyrand knows about it ! He 
 got his discharge long ago. He 's nothing to say. The Em 
 peror, he 's the one to decide ; and the Emperor, I tell you, 
 is bound to take it out of Eussia. The Czar has been wild 
 ever since he had to give in that day on the raft at Tilsit." 
 
 " That may be," the peace page* rejoined ; " but he 's not 
 mad enough to fight. If he were, he would have pitched 
 into us when the Emperor said ' No, thank you,' at the time 
 liussia offered him the princess for a wife. The Czar won't 
 fight. Catch-a-Sneezy said so." 
 
 " Ah ! did he ? And what does Catch-a-Sneezy know about 
 it ? " Philip exclaimed, a bit contemptuously. " He is but a 
 spy, anyhow." 
 
 " No, sir ; he is a fine man, Catch-a-Sneezy is," declared 
 Victor. " He gave me two napoleons for slipping him into 
 the Emperor's study one day." 
 
 " Yes ; to listen and to spy," Philip retorted, so forgetful 
 as to raise his voice again. " I am surprised at you, you 
 Victor. I tell you, Catch-a-Sneezy was a spy."
 
 s 
 
 152 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 
 
 "And who, now, might this Catch-a-Sneezy be, young 
 sir ? " 
 
 The query came from a big, bejeweled man close at 
 Philip's elbow. The pages caught their breath, and nudged 
 each other excitedly. " Young Desnouettes has got himself 
 into a pretty mess," they whispered. The questioner was 
 Prince Kourakin, the Russian ambassador. 
 
 Philip looked around, a trifle dismayed. But, with true 
 boyish heedlessness, he went on: "Why that 's what we 
 call Monsieur de Sneezy Zernzy Czernicheff, your high 
 ness," Philip explained, struggling with the unpronounceable 
 name of the Russian who, it was claimed, had played the 
 spy in Paris. 
 
 " And you dare to call the aide-de-camp of the Czar a 
 spy, you boy ! " the Ambassador said indignantly. " Have 
 a care ; have a care, young sir ! Such a word spoken at the 
 court of the Czar would cost even you boy though you 
 are your liberty, and cause you to feel the whip." 
 
 "But this is France, and not Russia, your highness," 
 Philip replied with spirit. "Our Emperor does not knout 
 his boys as Old Alec does." 
 
 " Old Alec ? Rascally one ! But this passes a jest," cried 
 the angry Ambassador. " Be careful, young Insolence ! You 
 speak of the Czar of all the Russias. He is too great a man 
 for a graceless boy like you to nickname thus." 
 
 "What if he is?" cried heedless Philip, while the other 
 pages felt alternate pride and terror at the audacity of their 
 colleague. " Great as he is, our Little Corporal could eat 
 him at a mouthful." 
 
 The quick temper of the Russian, irritated at the thought
 
 HOW PHILIP BAITED THE ETJSSIAN BEAR 153 
 
 of being thus badgered by a boy, and for the instant forget 
 ful of his dignity and surroundings, stirred, too, by other 
 things that had come to his ears that day, flamed up at 
 this boyish impudence. The words had scarce passed the 
 page's lips when the hand of the Ambassador flew out, and 
 a sudden and stinging cuff fell upon the boy's ear. 
 
 Then Philip lost his temper. He even forgot for an in 
 stant to be a gentleman the thing upon which he most 
 prided himself. 
 
 " Ah, Cossack ! " he cried. " But that is like you Eussians 
 to strike at those not your size. This is not Poland, sir ; 
 this is France. And you, Monsieur the Ambassador you 
 are a coward ! " 
 
 The pages stood ready to back up their comrade, and in a 
 ring about the minister glared at him like angry dogs hold 
 ing a bear at bay. But the Ambassador had recovered him 
 self, and with a scornful laugh turned on his heel and walked 
 away to join his brother ambassadors. At that instant the 
 voice of the usher announced, " The Emperor ! " and there, 
 in the doorway, while the pages lined up on both sides to 
 honor the entrance of their master, stood the little man in 
 the chasseur's uniform the Emperor Napoleon. Philip 
 hoped his indiscretion had escaped the imperial eye; for few 
 indeed, save those concerned in it, had noticed the serio 
 comic drama. With an ear yet tingling, and a face yet hot 
 with the flush of anger, but feeling, nevertheless, that he 
 had the best of the encounter, Philip bowed low among the 
 other pages as the Emperor passed between them. 
 
 And Victor whispered, " My faith ! but that was a narrow 
 escape for you, my Philip. I only wish it were over.
 
 PHILIP AND THE RUSSIAN AMBASSADOR.
 
 HOW PHILIP BAITED THE RUSSIAN BEAR 155 
 
 You '11 catch it yet, I fear. The bear is sharpening his 
 teeth for you; and he bites. If he growls at the Emperor, 
 though whoop ! " 
 
 He must have growled a bit; for ere long the boys heard, 
 as did every one else in the room, the voice of Napoleon 
 rising loud and cuttingly, while the Eussian statesman, con 
 cealing his discomfiture under a smile, took the scolding 
 with scarce a word of protest. 
 
 That scolding is now historic. It grew into a harangue, 
 and for full ten minutes it continued unchecked. Philip 
 indeed had baited the Russian Bear, and now Sir Bruin 
 stood at bay before the chief of the pack. Over his back 
 Napoleon barked at Russia and snapped at the Czar. 
 " Choose," he said, " between the English and me. I alone 
 can help you. If you threaten, I can fight ; and where then 
 will you be ? You Russians are like a hare shot in the 
 back : it gets up on its hind legs to look around, and ouf ! 
 another shot takes the fool in its head." And so on, and 
 so on, while Philip hugged himself with glee, and the other 
 pages looked and listened with astonishment. 
 
 Prince Kourakin, when the Emperor's breath had spent 
 itself in words, withdrew in haste. 
 
 " I am suffocated ! " Philip heard the Russian declare to his 
 colleague the Ambassador of Prussia. "I must get into the 
 air. It is very hot in the audience-room of the Emperor." 
 
 As he passed he glared at Philip, and the page, true to the 
 boy-love for teasing, could not restrain a passing shot. " It 
 is not Poland, it is France, your highness," he said. " But, 
 now who gets the knout ? "
 
 156 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE . 
 
 The next instant, however, he regretted his hasty speech. 
 He knew he had violated all the proprieties of court eti 
 quette and dignity. And this, he was well aware, the Em 
 peror never overlooked. 
 
 A hand fell upon his shoulder, and he recognized the voice 
 of Malvirade, the First Page. 
 
 "To the Emperor, young Desnouettes. He calls you. 
 Come quickly, quickly ; he is in haste." 
 
 And Philip, bracing himself for a " scene," faced about and 
 went boldly forward " to take his medicine like a little man." 
 For Philip, though heedless often, was never a coward.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET 
 OF ST. ANTHONY 
 
 THE great Hall of the Marshals had almost emptied 
 itself of guests as the Emperor had scored the Am 
 bassador. When big nations quarrel, little states stand 
 from under. After such a bout as was this, when France 
 taunted Eussia, none knew upon whom the imperial bolt 
 might fall next ; and both vassals and allies had business 
 elsewhere. 
 
 Men whispered to one another : * It means war. Thus 
 did the Emperor break out against Whitworth, the English 
 man, before the war that ended in the subjugation of Ger 
 many; thus did he score Metternich, the Austrian, before 
 the campaign that ended in victory at Wagram. It is peace 
 no longer." 
 
 But Philip thought not of the quarrels of states, as he 
 stood before the Emperor. He knew he had been indiscreet. 
 He expected what English boys call a " wigging," and what 
 American boys know as a " hauling over the coals." 
 
 " So, young Desnouettes," the Emperor broke out, " you 
 forget yourself in the presence of my guests ; is it not so ? 
 You dare to bandy words with the representative of a nation, 
 do you ? Feather-head ! Can I, then, not trust my pages 
 to learn manners ? "
 
 158 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 "Sire, the Russian angered me, and I forgot myself," 
 the boy confessed. 
 
 " And does that make matters right ? " cried Napoleon. 
 " Courtesy should never forget itself." 
 
 Then Philip looked squarely into the imperial eye. 
 " Sire," he said, " I did but follow my Emperor." 
 
 At this bold declaration every listener looked aghast. 
 Courtiers knew not whether to smile or to frown. Pages 
 held their breath. Only Victor, the irrepressible, whispered : 
 
 " My faith ! there goes boy Philip's head." 
 
 But one never knew how to take that curious compound 
 of severity and sentiment Napoleon the Emperor. At 
 Philip's words a gleam of anger filled his eye; then, suddenly 
 and strangely, it changed to a twinkle. He tweaked the 
 page's ear that ear still smarting from the Eussian cuff. 
 
 " Monkey ! " he said. " One might say the Emperor did 
 but follow the page. What caused it all ? " 
 
 " I said, Sire," Philip replied, " that Catch-a that Mon 
 sieur de Czernicheff was a spy." 
 
 " My faith, boy, you spoke the truth. I tell you, gentle 
 men, the lad spoke the truth," Napoleon cried, turning to his 
 courtiers, who now saw that it was policy to smile, and to 
 cultivate this plucky young page. " That silken Cossack was 
 a spy, and none of you dared tell him so. But you did 
 wrong, you page, to meddle thus with what is not your con^- 
 cern. You are too honest, I fear, to succeed at court. You 
 will be forever in the water that is hot. We must use you 
 elsewhere. Report in the morning at my study. I will de 
 vise some return for your over-zeal. Go ! " 
 
 And Philip went.
 
 WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STEEET 159 
 
 In the Blue Room he ran against Citizen Daunou. 
 
 "What is this I hear, my son? " that good man said, draw 
 ing the page into a deserted corner. " You have been bait 
 ing the Russian bear, have you ? Tell me of it." 
 
 Philip told his story. 
 
 " So ! see what hot fires we kindle at the court," Citizen 
 Daunou said. " A bad air, a bad air, I fear. When boys 
 bluster, old men hold their peace. And what is to come of 
 it all?" 
 
 " That I do not know, Citizen," the page replied. " The 
 Emperor is to render judgment in the morning." 
 
 " And our Philip will be a victim or a marshal before an 
 other sunset," Citizen Daunou declared. " Well, if the one, 
 you have a friend in me, my boy; if the other pray let me 
 have a friend in you, Monsieur the Marshal ! One never 
 can count on the Emperor. He is full of surprises. But, 
 Philip, this means war. We must face the bear at bay; and 
 what France needs now is peace." 
 
 " But the glory of it, Citizen Daunou ! There is no glory 
 in peace," cried warlike Philip. 
 
 " My son," said the old republican solemnly, " peace hath 
 the greater victories nay, peace is the greatest of all vic 
 tories. He who holds back the sword when it is in his 
 power to strike is the hero, the victor, the conqueror, whom 
 time will applaud, and posterity praise. Remember this. 
 Oh, that the Emperor might feel it ! Oh, that France might 
 make test of it ! But the blood-madness is upon us, and 
 the Empire is doomed." 
 
 Philip pondered long for a boy over these solemn 
 words of Citizen Daunou. But he dismissed them finally
 
 160 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 as the theories of one who had no love for the Emperor's 
 methods, and he felt glad that none but himself had heard 
 the remarks. For just then it was scarcely wise to talk 
 peace in the imperial palace, whose indomitable master de 
 sired a new war of conquest. 
 
 Next morning Philip obeyed orders, and reported at the 
 Emperor's study. As he awaited the summons to enter, 
 what was his surprise to see coining from the imperial sanc 
 tum his old friend Pierre, the deputy doorkeeper of La 
 Force ! 
 
 "What, Pierre ! You in the palace ! " he cried. 
 
 " And why not, young Desnouettes ? " the deputy door 
 keeper replied. " Others than pages are sometimes here. 
 As for me I had an appointment with the Emperor!" 
 
 " That is good ! " Philip exclaimed heartily. " I hope he 
 did something fine for you. I thought he might. I spoke 
 to him about you." 
 
 " Thanks, Monsieur the Page ! I am yours forever " ; and 
 the deputy doorkeeper bowed so very low that Philip was 
 not certain whether it was in thanks or in fun. A queer 
 little smile, too, played about the corner of the big boy's 
 mouth. " Some day, my Philip," he said, " I may do as 
 much for you. The Emperor thinks well of me, and I may 
 yet get my step. He has given me a special service. What ? 
 Oh, we shall see ; and so, too, some day may you. Adieu ! " 
 
 Then he passed on ; and even while Philip was puzzling 
 over his hint the summons came, and the page entered the 
 Emperor's study. 
 
 " So ! you are there, young Desnouettes. And how old 
 are you now, you boy ? " This was the Emperor's greeting.
 
 WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET 161 
 
 " I shall be sixteen next February, Sire," the boy replied. 
 
 " And now it is August. Sixteen is some months away 
 yet," the Emperor said. " But yet, sixteen is coming and 
 sixteen is the age for effort. See, you Philip ! Champion 
 ship is excellent. Did I not one day make you champion in 
 ordinary to the Emperor ? You are a loyal knight ; but 
 sometimes championship embarrasses. You were unwise 
 last night. But you were plucky, and pluck is what the 
 boys of France need, if France is to profit by their service. 
 I shall send you to Alfort." 
 
 " To Alfort, Sire ! " the boy cried. 
 
 "Yes to Alfort, Sire," mimicked the Emperor. "But 
 not to doctor horses, or to feel the pulses of pigs, Monsieur 
 the Page. You shall join the cavalry class, and learn how 
 to ride, and how to care for horses, as one should who, in 
 time, may become a special aide to the Emperor." 
 
 " Oh, Sire, you are too good ! " exclaimed delighted Philip. 
 " It is what I most desire." 
 
 " See, then," said the Emperor, " that you give attention to 
 your duties, and heed the instruction of those set apart to 
 make a man of you. For there are men, my friend, who 
 really do know more than boys, though I sometimes feel that 
 my pages know all there is to know or think they do." 
 
 So Philip went to Alfort, and in that institution, since 
 made into a great veterinary college, the page spent several 
 months, learning the nature and needs of horses. With 
 thirty other boys he received instruction in the cavalry class, 
 and became a daring and expert horseman. The Polytech 
 nic School also he entered, as a " special," to perfect himself 
 in drawing, in topography, and in penmanship ; for the Em-
 
 162 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 peror had, evidently, special service in view for this protege 
 of his, who, in spite of his propensity for getting into scrapes, 
 was honest, plucky, and loyal the three things that would 
 best combine to make a faithful follower of the Emperor. 
 
 A pleasant thing about Alfort was its nearness to Vin- 
 cennes, where Peyrolles was stationed as one of the drill- 
 masters of the Pupils of the Guard. Philip frequently vis 
 ited the Corporal, and often, on "leave days," he took the 
 veteran to his friends in the Street of the Fight, where he 
 would listen with glee to the worshiper of the Emperor, and 
 the hater of the Corsican, as they debated long and loud over 
 their pet topic Napoleon. 
 
 " Cresar has become Charlemagne," Uncle Fauriel declared ; 
 " and the republic is dead, indeed. Why was I not a Brutus 
 years ago? Now alas! I am too fat to be deliverer or 
 conspirator." 
 
 Mademoiselle and Philip laughed merrily over the idea of 
 so fat a Brutus, though Brutus was quite a portly person, 
 Uncle Fauriel informed them. As for Peyrolles, he played 
 a good second to Fauriel's grumbling. " Why did I leave a 
 leg at Austerlitz?" he cried. " Was it to let another iniui 
 step into the shoes I could no longer wear, and be made the 
 duke or marshal I might have become ? " 
 
 " Never mind, my Peyrolles," said Philip. " You are drill- 
 master at Vincennes. You are helping to make dukes and 
 marshals for France out of your little Pupils of the Guard." 
 
 " Not so easy, that," said the Corporal, shaking his head. 
 " I tried to make of you, young Desnouettes, at St. Cyr, a 
 duke, or at least a marshal and behold you ! only a page 
 yet, or perhaps a horse-doctor ! "
 
 WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET 163 
 
 "Which may not be so bad a profession after all, Old 
 Mustache," cried Uncle Fauriel. "For what is the saying: 
 'Set a beggar on horseback, and he will ride to destruction.' 
 The Corsican is mounted already; if Philip will but keep his 
 horses in good trim, the tyrant will ride all the speedier to 
 the end all true patriots most desire. And out of all this 
 may spring a new France, a greater republic. Good Doctor 
 Philip, look to your horses' hoofs." 
 
 The Emperor, indeed, was mounted and riding: no one yet 
 could say to what end. For, as 1811 grew into 1812, the 
 'war-cloud swelled in bigness, and darkened. In June, 1812, 
 it burst. Napoleon crossed the river Niemen with half a 
 million men. To cross that river in arms was to break the 
 peace: France and Russia were at war. 
 
 During the spring months of 1812 the Emperor had drunk 
 deep of power; and Philip, too, from the Emperor's cup 
 had drunk deep of glory. For, though on the eve of a war 
 that was to embroil all Europe, Napoleon sought, first, to 
 dazzle all Europe with his splendor, his resources, and his 
 power. Six hundred thousand men followed the imperial 
 eagles the mightiest army since the days of Alexander. 
 He set out for the war encompassed by glittering soldiers, 
 and attended by princes and kings. At Dresden he spent 
 three weeks in a blaze of display, marshaling his host. Re 
 ceptions, festivals, levees, audiences, balls, reviews, shows, 
 and ceremonials crowded each other in dizzy succession; 
 everywhere orders gleamed and diamonds blazed; and where 
 he who once had starved himself as a sub-lieutenant now 
 held state as a monarch, sovereign princes flocked to do honor 
 to this " Marvel of the Age," and vassal kings stood as sup-
 
 164 
 
 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 
 
 pliants in the palace of him whom men called " The New 
 
 Agamemnon." 
 
 Amid all this homage, Napoleon kept his head. While 
 the French served him with idolatry, and the Allies with 
 
 "NAPOLEON PULLED THE PAGE'S HAIR VIGOROUSLY IN 
 APPRECIATION OF THE JOKE." 
 
 adulation, he sought to give no visible sign of superiority; 
 he could even see the funny side of it all. For one day 
 Philip the page, delaying an answer he should have brought 
 with speed, met the Emperor's impatient demand : " How, 
 then, you page ! what are your legs for ? Why are you 
 late ? "
 
 WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STEEET 165 
 
 True to his habit, Philip straightway told the truth. 
 
 " Sire," he replied, " I could not help it. I came with the 
 answer straight. But out here in the antechamber I got 
 tangled up in a lot of kings, and had to just crowd my way 
 through them to get in." 
 
 Whereat Napoleon laughed, and pulled the boy's ear and 
 hair so vigorously, in his appreciation of the joke, that the 
 tears fairly started in the page's eyes. 
 
 For, as you see, Philip was in the thick of it all. Eecalled 
 from his studies to grace the progress to Dresden as one of 
 the imperial pages, the boy Philip had been a part of the 
 display that attended it, and, much to his disgust, was sent 
 back to Paris when the Emperor sounded the advance " On 
 to Moscow ! " and the Empress returned, by way of Prague, 
 to her palace in France. 
 
 In France there was much unrest. The Emperor was fif 
 teen hundred miles away, and nearly every household had 
 been drawn upon for soldiers to fight against Eussia. At 
 first came tidings of victories. Then bulletins fell off; news 
 came less regularly ; anxiety and rumors filled the air. None 
 knew what to believe; and though, from the heart of Kussia, 
 Napoleon ruled France, the people of France were uneasy, 
 and wished their Emperor were back again, with all the 
 brave Frenchmen whom he had led to the war. 
 
 But to Philip, dividing his time between his special studies 
 at the Polytechnic School and his duties as a page of the 
 palace, there came but little of this unrest. While the 
 fathers and mothers of France were waiting anxiously for 
 bulletins, sticking pins in their maps of Eussia at every place 
 mentioned in the news that came home, and thus following 
 
 ' o
 
 166 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 
 
 the advance of the troops, the boys of France were puffed up 
 with glory, and longing for the day when they might be old 
 enough to join the Young Guard, and march to victory with 
 their never-conquered Emperor. Philip's only feeling of un 
 easiness lay in the fear that the war might close before the 
 Emperor should summon him to the field. Indeed, he plead 
 hard for permission to go east on special service, when a relay 
 of couriers bore from the palace of Versailles to the camp 
 before Moscow a gift the Emperor would prize the most, the 
 portrait of his dearly-loved son, the little King of Rome. 
 
 Philip coveted that mission. It would bring him into the 
 heart of the war ; it would carry him close to his Emperor ; 
 it would call from the lips of the man from whom praise 
 sounded sweetest, thanks and commendation. 
 
 But Philip could not have his will in this. Other swift 
 riders than the heedless page bore the precious gift from the 
 heart of France to the heart of Eussia, and Philip heard, alike 
 with interest and envy, how delighted with the portrait Na 
 poleon had been, how royally the couriers were thanked, and 
 how, in the camp, the portrait of the baby King was publicly 
 displayed, while all about and before it gathered the grizzled 
 veterans of many battle-fields to admire and do homage to 
 the baby son of their " Little Corporal." 
 
 So, when this desire failed him, Philip was certain that the 
 Russians would be completely conquered before he could 
 even have " a drive at them." This fear he confided often 
 to Corporal Peyrolles, and almost as frequently to Made 
 moiselle. 
 
 Peyrolles applauded "my boy," as he called Philip; but 
 Mademoiselle was full of anxieties, conjured alike from Citi-
 
 WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET 167 
 
 zen Daunou's gloomy forebodings and young Philip's extrav 
 agant notions. 
 
 These occupied her thoughts one bright October morning 
 in this year of 1812, when, accompanied by her old nurse, 
 Marcel, now grown into a sort of chaperon to the young girl 
 who had been her charge from babyhood, she set out for a 
 walk from the Street of the Fight to the straggling Street of 
 the Suburb of St. Anthony. For, in that quarter of the city, 
 in the funny old streets (long since swept away by change) 
 known as the Pig-sty and the Tree of Cracow, lived certain 
 poor pensioners , to whom Mademoiselle was a helpful angel 
 of mercy. 
 
 She had passed the towering plaster elephant of the Bas 
 tille (that ambitious memorial of tyranny overthrown, de 
 signed by the Emperor, but never to be changed into bronze 
 as he intended), and had almost reached the dingy side street 
 known as the Little Picpus, when a carriage, dashing fu 
 riously down the Street of St. Anthony, almost overturned 
 her as she was picking her way across the foaming gutter ; 
 for it had rained heavily in Paris the night before. 
 
 Bulky Nurse Marcel caught at the girl's arm. Before she 
 had done so, however, an alert young fellow, stockily built, 
 caught Mademoiselle's other arm, and drew her back to the 
 pavement and Nurse Marcel's care. But while her rescuer 
 had one eye for the girl, he had, also, another for the occu 
 pant of the hurrying carriage. 
 
 " So, Mademoiselle," he said, " that was a narrow escape. 
 And you could have secured no redress, had you been hurt. 
 Tt was the carriage of the Prefect of the Seine. He rides as 
 if sent for. Something is afoot." 
 
 " Thank you so much," Mademoiselle said prettily. " I
 
 168 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 did not see him coming. Even when one is sent for, one 
 need not ride so furiously, and scare people half out of their 
 wits." 
 
 " Ah, Mademoiselle," the boy declared with amusing im 
 portance, " when one is, like us, in an official station, one 
 must do many things that do not seem gentle even to 
 running down pretty girls, out for an airing." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, to me ! " came Nurse Marcel's warning 
 voice. But Mademoiselle was inquisitive, and was now 
 determined to hear more from this young official. 
 
 " And you are an official, then, Monsieur ? " she asked the 
 big boy. 
 
 "A deputy doorkeeper at La Force, Mademoiselle," he 
 replied. 
 
 " La Force ? the prison ? Then you must know Pierre. 
 I mean Pierre Labeau a boy on duty there." 
 
 " I am that Pierre Labeau, at your service, Mademoiselle. 
 And you ?" 
 
 " Oh, we have heard of you so often from Philip ! Have 
 we not, Nurse ? This is Monsieur Philip's friend, Pierre." 
 
 " And a very forward young man he is ! " cried Nurse 
 Marcel. " Come away with me at once, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " Monsieur Philip ! " cried Pierre. " Is it, then, young 
 Desnouettes, the page, of whom you speak ? Then you 
 you, Mademoiselle, perhaps, are " 
 
 " Mademoiselle Lucie Daunou, of the Street of the Fight," 
 said the girl. 
 
 " But not Citizen Daunou's daughter is she now, Nurse?" 
 Pierre demanded, so quickly, indeed, that Nurse Marcel 
 flushed, and said sharply, " And why not ? Who else, Mon 
 sieur Stupid ? Why, I have known her ever since the day
 
 WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET 169 
 
 Citizen Daunou brought her to his home bah, then ! what 
 am I saying ? " she cried in startled confusion. 
 
 " Brought me me ! Why, what are you saying, Nurse ? 
 What does it mean, that ? " Mademoiselle cried. " I never 
 heard of it ! Oh ! but what is this ? " 
 
 It was a bit of torn paper blown by the wind into the girl's 
 hand. Even in her surprise at Nurse Marcel's words, Made 
 moiselle's curiosity as to the bit of torn paper displaced her 
 first inquisitiveness, and she spread it out to read. 
 
 It was baffling ; for this is what she saw : 
 
 To the Count Frochat, Prefect 
 he Seine, wherever he may be found. 
 Hide with speed I 
 
 GENERAL HEADQUARTERS, 
 
 PLACE VENDOME. 
 23d October, 1812, 
 
 6 o'clock, A. M. 
 REFECT. I have the honor to 
 py of the decree of the Sen- 
 nouncing the sad ti- 
 of the Emperor, by a 
 walls of Moscow on 
 of this month of October 
 on of their command, 
 e the City Hall for 
 provisional gov- 
 the Republic 
 th speed. 
 LET. 
 
 Army of 
 Paris.
 
 "'WHAT is THAT, PIERRE?' SHE SAID, POINTING TO THE WORDS."
 
 WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET 171 
 
 " How strange ! " cried Mademoiselle. " What can it all 
 mean, Pierre ? " 
 
 The deputy doorkeeper, equally curious, took the letter, 
 and scanned it curiously. 
 
 "'The Count Frochat, Prefect of the Seine,'" he read. 
 "It came from his carriage then, Mademoiselle 'decree of 
 of the Senate announcing sad tidings of the Emperor 
 walls of Moscow month of October the City Hall pro 
 visional government the Republic Army of Paris ' why, 
 what is it, then ? I said something was up. Something is ! " 
 
 He turned the torn paper over, puzzled enough. Made 
 moiselle's sharp eyes caught sight of some bold handwriting 
 on the back of the letter. 
 
 " What is that, Pierre ? " she said, pointing to the words. 
 
 " Fa it," the boy spelled out. " I do not know, Made 
 moiselle. It is not French, this. What is it ? " 
 
 It was not French. It was Latin. Mademoiselle read 
 the two bold words, looking 'over Pierre's shoulder. " ' Fuit 
 Imperator!' That means, 'The Emperor has been.' The 
 Emperor has been ? Oh, Pierre ! What have I found ?" she 
 cried. " The Emperor is dead ! " 
 
 Pierre excitedly struck his hand upon the torn bit of paper. 
 
 " So ! I see it all!" he cried. "Killed under the walls 
 of Moscow! Whew! but here is a tangle, though!" 
 
 And without a word of adieu the deputy doorkeeper 
 turned sharply, and dashed down the Street of the Suburb of 
 St. Anthony, heading as straight as its crowded ways would 
 permit for the City Hall and the " General Headquarters " 
 in the Place Vendome.
 
 CHAPTEE XIV 
 
 WHY PHILIP WAS MAD AT THE CLEKK OF THE WEATHER 
 
 MADEMOISELLE stood for a moment looking after the 
 flying Pierre. Then she said : " Oh, that poor little 
 baby ! Why, he is emperor now ! Come with me, Nurse. 
 I must go to the palace and tell Philip. Perhaps he does 
 not know it, and he might wish to hear of it in time." 
 
 " But we are not for palaces, Mademoiselle," Nurse Marcel 
 objected. "How would I be received there I, the widow 
 .of a sansculotte ? They will send me to La Force, if they do 
 but know that once I was ' Citizeness ' and danced the Car 
 magnole." 
 
 "Never fear that, Nurse," Mademoiselle reassured her 
 companion. " They cannot know ; and I I must see Philip." 
 
 So, grumbling still, Nurse Marcel turned with the young 
 girl, and together they hastened westward ; for, though the 
 Empress was at St. Cloud, Philip's duties were largely at the 
 Tuileries when he was not at the Polytechnic School. 
 
 Mademoiselle saw that soldiers were marching that way, 
 and that in the City Hall Square the whole Tenth Cohort 
 was drawn up before the city building. Clearly something 
 had happened. 
 
 At the palace Mademoiselle soon found Philip. To him 
 
 172
 
 WHY PHILIP WAS MAD 173 
 
 she told the news. Had he heard it ? she asked. Was it 
 not dreadful ? 
 
 " Dreadful ? Why, it is never true," Philip declared. " The 
 bullet is not made that can kill the Emperor. The letter 
 was a trick. Wait here a moment, Mademoiselle. Let me 
 report what you tell me, and inquire." 
 
 He returned speedily. 
 
 " Something is wrong," he said. " The square is filling 
 with soldiers. The horse-guards have just galloped to St. 
 Cloud. Every one seems mystified. Strange things, they 
 say, have happened. The Minister of Police has been locked 
 up in La Force. So, too, has Pasquier, the prefect. The 
 commander of the Paris garrison has been assassinated. The 
 City Hall is surrounded ; the Ministry of War is in the hands 
 of the republicans ; the Senate, it is said, has issued a decree 
 announcing the death of the Emperor, and proclaiming the 
 Republic." 
 
 " The Republic ! " exclaimed Mademoiselle. " Why, Philip, 
 how may that be ? If the Emperor is dead, the little King 
 of Rome is Emperor. Why should the republicans have the 
 power ? Dear me ! I hope my father is not in it all. Of 
 course Uncle Fauriel is." 
 
 " For all they say, I will not believe it," Philip declared. 
 " The Emperor dead ! How absurd ! The Emperor cannot 
 die. What would become of France ? " 
 
 "Why, Philip, I suppose emperors have died before," 
 Mademoiselle suggested. 
 
 " But not T/ie Emperor," said Philip, proudly. " But, true 
 or not, I am in a muddle ; and what a ferment will France 
 be in ! So, too, will the city. Were it not wise, Mademoi-
 
 174 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 selle, for me to conduct you, and Nurse here, to the Street 
 of the Fight or at least to Citizen Daunou's safe-keeping 
 in the Archives ? The streets will soon be in an uproar." 
 
 So, dodging the crowds that thronged the streets, and yet, 
 with the curiosity of youth, unwilling to let slip any chance 
 of seeing what was afoot, the young people, with Nurse Mar 
 cel clutching at Mademoiselle's arm, arrived at last at the 
 Palace of the Archives in the Street of the Wheat-field. 
 
 There, in his office, they found the good Keeper of the 
 Archives, as cool and as calm as ever, poring over his dusty 
 documents, and apparently indifferent to all the rumors and 
 excitement that filled the city. 
 
 Breathless, they told what Mademoiselle had found, and 
 what Philip had heard. 
 
 " The Emperor dead ? That is now but ancient history, 
 my children," remarked the old Keeper. " Was I in it ? No ; 
 nor yet Uncle Fauriel. Do you take us for lunatics, you 
 two ? Why, it was but a scare and a sell. And yet, it might 
 have proved a tragedy that I will admit. But, bless you 
 both ! the Emperor is as alive as you or I ; and the hot-heads, 
 the crazy-pates, who sought to raise an insurrection, are safe, 
 now, under lock and key. Yes, it was nearly accomplished 
 that I may not deny ; but by a lucky chance or shall we 
 say an unlucky one? who can tell? by a lucky chance 
 let us call it, the plot failed ; and thanks to whom, think you ? 
 To your friend Pierre, my Philip Pierre, the deputy door 
 keeper of La Force. He is the hero of the hour. I have 
 but just heard the whole story. That crazy-pate Malet, late 
 general under the Republic, you must have heard Uncle 
 Fauriel tell of him, was at the bottom of it all ; and now he
 
 WHY PHILIP WAS MAD 175 
 
 is in prison once more, and his life is not worth a button. 
 So, come, get you back to home and duty, my children. It 
 is but an incident. See it is over. Leave me to my 
 papers." 
 
 Citizen Daunou was right. It was but an incident, but it 
 well-nigh proved an event. A cleverly laid plot against the 
 Empire, which included an announcement of the Emperor's 
 death, a forged decree of the Senate, a surprise of the heads 
 of departments, and the transfer of all commands to the con 
 spirators, had been so skilfully carried out that it would have 
 succeeded but for the quick eye of Pierre, the deputy door 
 keeper of La Force. 
 
 The account of the attempt is one of the most dramatic 
 chapters in the Napoleonic story ; but, save for Pierre's con 
 nection with it, the conspiracy of General Malet, as it is 
 called, has no especial bearing upon our narrative. It was 
 one of those historic oddities that might have changed the 
 world's history had it succeeded. But it failed ; and, to-day, it 
 is almost forgotten, though certain foolish and certain brave 
 men paid with their lives for their connection with it. 
 
 Philip lost no time in hunting up Pierre at La Force. 
 From him he learned the details of that lynx-eyed young 
 fellow's part in the drama. 
 
 " After I left Mademoiselle," the deputy doorkeeper said, 
 " I hurried to the City Hall. I could learn nothing certain ; 
 but that homely little commander Laborde you know him, 
 my Philip, that bunged-up aide-de-camp of Doucet the adju 
 tant he spied me. ' Here, then, you Labeau, come with me 
 to headquarters,' he said ; ' you may be of service to me.' You 
 see, he knew I was on duty at La Force, and I suppose he
 
 176 A BOY OF THE FIKST EMPIRE 
 
 thought if he should happen to be arrested and sent there, it 
 would be well to be in my care. So to headquarters we 
 went in the Place Yendome. The troops were all about 
 the building, and the sentries would not let us pass. Our 
 little Laborde cried: ' Fools ! I am here on duty. Let me 
 enter.' And they did. We went to the adjutant's office. 
 Laborde left me without. I heard high words. Then La 
 borde called me. I broke past the sentry at the door, and 
 entered. Doucet the adjutant was there ; Laborde was there ; 
 a man in a general's uniform was there. I looked at him. 
 I knew him. ' What, General Malet ! ' I said, ' you here ? 
 Who gave you leave to quit La Force ! ' My faith, Philip ! 
 He was one of my prisoners Malet the republican, from the 
 prison hospital. Oh, but he was mad ! ' Fool ! ' he hissed 
 at me. ' Fool, yourself ! ' said I. ' Here is something wrong, 
 gentlemen. This is an escaped prisoner. Arrest him, and I 
 will go for the Minister of Police.' With that, the runaway 
 tried to pull his pistol. We jumped at him and pinned him 
 down. ' An escaped lunatic ? ' asked Doucet the adjutant, 
 as he sat on the fallen general. ' And the decree of the Sen 
 ate ? ' he asked. ' Forged, Monsieur the Adjutant,' I said ; 
 ' it must be a forged decree. This Malet is a clever lunatic.' 
 Laborde ran to the window. ' A trick ! a trick ! ' he cried. 
 < The Emperor is not dead. To your barracks, soldiers ! The 
 Emperor lives, I say ! You have been sold by a lunatic ! ' 
 That is all there is to it, my Philip. The plot is discovered. 
 The scare is over. Malet is in La Force, and I 
 
 " You have saved France, Pierre," Philip cried, hugging 
 the deputy doorkeeper in delight. 
 
 " Well perhaps. Thanks to your Mademoiselle Daunou
 
 WHY PHILIP WAS MAD 177 
 
 if she is Daunou," said Pierre. " If Mademoiselle had not 
 found that bit of torn paper in the Street of St. Anthony, I 
 should not have been on hand ; I should not have recognized 
 Malet ; he would have succeeded, and whew, though ! what 
 a tangle we should have been in ! " 
 
 Philip felt proud of his friends. Mademoiselle and Pierre 
 had saved the Empire, and won the thanks of the. Emperor. 
 
 " Long life to both of you ! " he cried. " Pierre, you will 
 get your step." 
 
 Pierre did get his step. For when the Emperor returned 
 to Paris, Pierre was made a police inspector, the youngest 
 on the force, -and he received the thanks of the Emperor. 
 
 " You were the only one, you boy," said Napoleon, " among 
 all those imbeciles in power, that had eyes, and could see : 
 that had brains, and could use them. I said you were clever. 
 I was right. My faith ! if you were but old enough I would 
 make you Minister of Police. You are the best duke among 
 them all." 
 
 For, you see, Napoleon did come back. That coming back 
 is historic. The world has not yet finished talking of it. 
 
 Philip was on hand when it happened. It was December 
 18, in that eventful year of 1812. Paris was depressed. France 
 was distressed. The world was astonished. Only the day 
 before there had been made public a bulletin from the army 
 in Russia, in which the Emperor told France that he had not 
 succeeded in conquering Russia. He had not lost a battle. 
 His soldiers had been brave and heroic. But the weather 
 had proved their enemy. The cold had been so intense that 
 men and horses had perished. Order had been lost. Woe 
 and disaster fell upon the armies of France. The Cossacks
 
 178 A BOY OF THE FIBST EMPIRE 
 
 had harried them. In recrossing the Beresina Eiver many 
 had been drowned. But the Emperor was alive and well. 
 
 Men shook their heads gravely over this unexpected news. 
 But boys are ever hopeful. Philip had said : " Ah ! the Em 
 peror is there. He will soon set matters right." And he had 
 thought but little of disaster. For his Emperor had never 
 known defeat ! He never could know it ! 
 
 It was half-past eleven o'clock on the night of December 
 18. Philip was on duty at the Tuileries. At his post out 
 side the drawing-room of the Empress he sat nodding, half 
 asleep. 
 
 Suddenly he started to his feet. The sound of voices in 
 dispute, as if demanding an entrance, came to his ears. They 
 were in the corridor below him, at the very entrance to the 
 palace. 
 
 The door of the antechamber in which the listening page 
 was stationed was flung open. Two men hurried in. They 
 were wrapped in furs, and looked rough and excited. 
 
 " Is it a new plot ? " Philip wondered. Beyond him were 
 the apartments of the Empress and the little King of Eome 
 the heir to the Empire. Philip's breath came fast. His 
 heart beat excitedly. He was but a boy, he thought, but he 
 would defend the Empress with his life. 
 
 " Stand back, sirs ! " he cried. " This is the apartment of 
 the Empress. None may enter here ! " 
 
 He had no weapon at hand, but he caught up a chair, and 
 threatened the strangers, blocking their advance. 
 
 " What, boy ! Why, young Desnouettes," cried the smaller 
 of the two men, " do you not know me ? " 
 
 It was the Emperor ! Philip almost dropped in surprise.
 
 '"STAND BACK, SIRS,' HE CRIED. 'THIS IS THE APARTMENT OF THE EMPRESS.''
 
 WHY PHILIP WAS MAD 181 
 
 " You, Sire ?" he exclaimed in amazement. "And the Rus 
 sians ? Are they defeated already ! " 
 
 " Already ? " the Emperor repeated, almost sadly, placing 
 a hand upon the boy's head. " We are alone. You are a 
 brave boy, you Philip. Come, Cauliancourt." 
 
 And, without another word, the Emperor and his equerry 
 pushed past the page, and entered the drawing-room of the 
 Empress. 
 
 Philip was puzzled. The Emperor ? and alone ? He could 
 not understand it all. 
 
 But too soon he did. And so did France. Napoleon had 
 suffered his first defeat. 
 
 Of all that vast army, the fugitive Emperor was the only 
 man who had yet returned. Thousands upon thousands of 
 brave Frenchmen had left their bones bleaching upon Russian 
 snows. Of the half-million men who with streaming banners 
 and flashing bayonets had crossed the Niemen to conquer 
 the East, only a paltry seventy thousand recrossed a tat 
 tered, frost-bitten, starving, straggling, desperate, and weary 
 band of defeated fugitives. The invasion of Russia was a 
 terrible failure. 
 
 It was the cold that had done it. The Clerk of the Wea 
 ther had taken the field against Napoleon, and the uncon- 
 quered Emperor had been vanquished by the thermometer. 
 
 That was what he declared. That was what Philip ac 
 cepted ; and, with many a sigh and many a bitter thought, 
 the boy, who believed so firmly in the prowess and puissance 
 of his Emperor, blamed the Clerk of the Weather and cried, 
 " Hard luck ! This General Frost is a beast ! If only, now, 
 the weather were a man, how the Emperor would have beaten 
 him ! "
 
 182 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 Poor Philip ; poor France ; poor Emperor ! Malet's con 
 spiracy and Russian frosts were to begin a new chapter in 
 the history of their homeland, and bring, to all three, changes 
 and adventures of which none of them had ever dreamed.
 
 CHAPTEE XV 
 
 THE PRISONEK OF FONTAINEBLEAU 
 
 IN the days of discussion that followed the Emperor's 
 return from Russia, Philip found his greatest comfort 
 in Corporal Peyrolles. The veteran of Austerlitz would come 
 stumping along the Street of the Fight, and in the quiet 
 home of the Keeper of the Archives would second all Philip's 
 extravagant claims as to the invincibleness of the Emperor, 
 and would " have it out " with Uncle Fauriel, who pretended 
 to see in the Russian disaster the vengeance of Heaven on 
 the " Corsican ogre " who had, so he said, " betrayed the 
 Republic." 
 
 " Did I leave a leg at Austerlitz," demanded Corporal Pey 
 rolles, " to drag the other around after a defeated Emperor ? 
 No, Citizen ! It was to have one good leg left, with which to 
 dance in joy over every victory. And let me tell you, I 
 can dance on one leg better than some of those dukes and 
 marshals at the palace can on two with all their titles. 
 Faith '. but I can, Mademoiselle. See, now ! " and, catching 
 Mademoiselle round the waist, the old fellow actually swung 
 the girl about the room, humming meanwhile one of the lively 
 airs of the camp, to keep step to. Then, while the others 
 applauded, they sank into chairs, the Corporal panting and 
 Mademoiselle laughing merrily. 
 
 183
 
 184 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 " You see, Peyrolles is good for something yet," said the 
 Corporal. " And as for the leg, Citizen," he cried to Uncle 
 Fauriel, " it has been a good republican leg ; yes, I grant you 
 that. But it was a good First Consulate leg; and it is a 
 good^ Empire leg, too. For, look you, it is the Emperor's 
 leg ! " and he slapped his one sound limb so heartily that 
 Mademoiselle and Philip laughed aloud, and the page cried 
 enthusiastically, " Long live the leg ! Corporal Peyrolles's 
 one is better than the Czar's million ! " 
 
 " True for you, my Philip ! " said the Corporal. " What is 
 a Cossack's leg good for but to run away with ? or a Prus 
 sian's ? or an Englisher's ? or the leg of any enemy of the 
 Emperor ? I said to the Little Corporal the night before 
 Marengo I stood on guard in front of his tent that night 
 ' General,' I said, ' strike 'em on the flank, and they '11 run 
 with all the legs they have left.' And they did ! ' Pey 
 rolles,' said the Little Corporal to me the night after Ma 
 rengo I was on guard before his tent that night, too 
 ' Peyrolles,' he said, ' your advice was good. Did you see 'em 
 run ? ' 'I did, my General,' said I, ' I knew they would. Do 
 you keep at it, and you will have all Europe running.' And, 
 my faith ! run they have. From that day to this." 
 
 " But the Corsican's legs are sound yet, my Corporal," said 
 Uncle Fauriel, " and he is running too. He is running to 
 destruction, and dragging all France with him." 
 
 " Bah ! " cried Corporal Peyrolles. " It is the home-made 
 dukes and marshals who are running that way if any one 
 is : with their thirst for titles and their greed for riches. 
 Reduce 'em to the ranks, I say ; reduce 'em to the ranks ! and 
 put true men in their place even if they should be one-
 
 THE PRISONER OF FONTAINEBLEAU 185 
 
 legged ones. Then I '11 back the Little Corporal against all 
 Europe, and Russia in the bargain." 
 
 For Corporal Peyrolles would never admit that the Rus- 
 sians were Europeans. " They 're Cossacks," he said ; " and 
 a Cossack is a pagan. Scratch him, and every time you '11 
 find a Tartar underneath. That 's what the Emperor says, 
 and so say I." 
 
 But Citizen Daunou said : " Ah, my friends, it is not a 
 question of France and her salvation. If the Emperor will 
 but be warned by this Eussian disaster ; if he will but heed 
 the wail going up from thousands of French homes ; if he 
 will but keep friendship with Austria or Prussia or the Con 
 federates of the Rhine ; if he will but remember that a single 
 card may lose as well as win the game, France may not need 
 to stand at bay against all Europe ; and both the Empire 
 and the Emperor may be saved. It is wise, when your ship 
 is drifting toward the breakers, to throw something overboard, 
 and thus save ship and cargo. But, alas ! the Emperor never 
 was anything of a sailor. He will crowd on sail, and head 
 straight for the rocks." 
 
 Philip did not believe this. He thought his old friend was 
 what to-day we call an " alarmist." Philip was, indeed, a 
 boy of the Empire. He had faith in Napoleon as the greatest 
 man in all the world. To him Napoleon was France ; France 
 was the Empire ; and the Empire would one day be Europe. 
 So, as much as any boy cares to think on such questions, 
 Philip thought the future was clear. He believed that the 
 Russian campaign had, indeed, been a victory. Did not Na 
 poleon plant the eagles 011 the walls' of Moscow ? And what 
 is that but victory ? He knew that the Emperor would yet
 
 186 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 humble Europe, punish Eussia, and give new glory to France 
 as conqueror and as ruler. 
 
 On January 1, 1813, at the Emperor's New Year's day re 
 ception, Philip saw only the greatness and glory of Napoleon. 
 Alike at review and fete that ushered in that disastrous year 
 for France, this optimistic and vivacious young page was full 
 of boastfulness as to the Emperor's invincibleness and " the 
 Emperor's luck." 
 
 France was arming again. Almost drained of men for the 
 struggle with Eussia, she was now girding herself anew 
 for a death-grapple with all Europe. Old men and young 
 men, veterans and boys, filled the ranks. The shattered regi 
 ments were refilled. The Young Guard, drawn from the 
 freshest blood of France, was formed into squadrons and bat 
 talions in blue ; and Napoleon, looking at his new fighting- 
 men that France had given him, cried with pleasure as they 
 passed in review before him : " Ah, with these one may con 
 quer every one and everywhere ! " 
 
 The Emperor was continually on the go in those busy days. 
 And so, too, was Philip. For the page, growing in strength 
 and favor, was constantly in attendance on the Emperor 
 at the palaces, in the city, at the hunt, and in the home 
 apartments. 
 
 Here, on a certain January day, as he was helping the 
 Emperor put on his coat of green and gold, Philip overheard 
 Napoleon say to his confidant, the Marshal of the Palace : 
 " To-morrow we hunt at Grosbois, Duroc. We must keep 
 moving. I must be active, so that the newspapers will talk 
 of it, and the English, who say I am sick, will see that they 
 lie. Sick ! I never was better, Duroc. But I am getting too
 
 THE PRISONER OF FONTAINEBLEAU. 187 
 
 fat, my friend, and action makes one thinner. Have 
 patience. I will soon show Europe that I am the healthiest 
 man alive." 
 
 There was no doubt as to the truth of this statement. The 
 Emperor was growing fat. The thin and sickly -looking con 
 queror of Arcola and Marengo had grown into the fat and 
 " well-groomed " lord of the land ; and even Philip's loyalty 
 could not deny that some day his hero and idol might even be 
 as fat as Uncle Fauriel. But he hoped not. 
 
 Philip was glad of the hunting at Grosbois. He revelled 
 in the action and excitement of the chase, and could manage 
 to cover more ground, and be in more places at once, than 
 any page of his size in the imperial train. So he was on 
 hand betimes next morning when, with but a few attendants, 
 the Emperor rode toward the barriers, on his way to join the 
 Empress and certain of the court at Grosbois, the estate of 
 Prince Berthier, near Melun, some thirty miles from Paris. 
 
 As they rode along the crowded Street of the Suburb of 
 St. Anthony, that street in which Mademoiselle had found 
 the famous bit of torn paper that had led to the knowledge 
 of Malet's plot, Philip saw a boy not much older than 
 himself spring from the watching crowd straight in the 
 Emperor's path. 
 
 "Is it, then, an assassination?" Philip asked himself. "The 
 Emperor is in danger ! " And, quick as thought, he sprang 
 from his horse and seized the boy's arm. 
 
 But the Emperor said : " Hold, there, young Desnouettes ! 
 What do you wish, you boy ? " 
 
 " My freedom ! " cried the boy. " See ! your boy-stealers 
 have drawn me to fiijlit against the Cossacks. What do I
 
 188 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 care for the Cossacks ? My old mother is more to me. What 
 do I care for your throne ? My home is dearer. My mother 
 needs me more than you do. If I go, she starves. If I am 
 killed, she dies. Hands off, palace-cub, Nicholas-dog ! " he 
 cried to Philip. " I do not seek to kill this Bonaparte. I 
 would kill no one. I would keep my skin for my mother. 
 I am a Paris boy, and too good to feed Eussian wolves ! " 
 
 The police made a dash at this boy who braved the Em 
 peror ; but from the crowd came threatening cries : " Touch 
 him not, prison-sheep ! " " Yah ! Bonaparte ! Nicholas ! 
 give us peace ! We have had fighting enough ! " 
 
 The police faced the crowd. The Emperor sat calm and 
 immovable. Then, with a rush such as is known only to 
 Paris mobs, the crowd made a dash for the prisoner. The 
 police were forced off; Philip was rolled over in the mud, 
 and when he struggled to his feet the boy was gone, while 
 cries of delight and derision came from the victorious crowd. 
 There had been a rescue, and the conscript had been smuggled 
 away by his friends. 
 
 And still the Emperor sat immovable. This was a new 
 experience for him. But it was not his policy, just now, to 
 antagonize the people. His success depended upon their 
 agreeing to his demands. 
 
 " Let the boy go," he said. " The fools do not know what 
 they want. A mob is but a pig, and you police bah ! you 
 are imbeciles. To horse, my page ; ride on, gentlemen ! And 
 you," this to the discomfited police, "let not this thing 
 happen again." 
 
 Bent on his purpose, Napoleon would not listen to the 
 voice of his people. They might be tired of war ; so, too,
 
 THE PBISONER OF FONTAINEBLEAU 189 
 
 was he. But with' one end in view supremacy he could 
 ignore both his own and the people's wish. Incidents like 
 this had, therefore, but little weight with him. " It is but a 
 yell of the mob," he said ; " I will quiet it by a victory. My 
 hope is in my army." 
 
 So they rode on to Grosbois the "great wood" where 
 was the villa of Prince Berthier, that dragoon captain who 
 had fought for American freedom under Lafayette, had de 
 fended King Louis of France in the days of the Terror, and 
 had helped Bonaparte win his way to a throne. And there, 
 on the edge of the great forest of Fontainebleau, they hunted 
 the boar that January afternoon, and Philip had a glorious 
 time. 
 
 Flushed with the excitement of the chase, he rode hither 
 and thither, in close attendance on the Emperor. This touch 
 of danger and uncertainty just suited the boy. 
 
 But once, when the prickers had driven the big boar straight 
 toward the imperial spear, Philip was surprised to see the 
 Emperor, forgetful of the sport, with his head bent and his 
 reins slack on his horse's neck, lost in thought. 
 
 " On guard, Sire ! " cried the page. " The pig will escape 
 you." And, fearing this, he dashed forward to head off the 
 beast and drive him back for the Emperor's spear. 
 
 "Eh? So, boy! I was thinking. I had the Prussians 
 almost cornered. Kill the pig yourself." 
 
 Philip sought to do this, but he had lost his chance. 
 His horse turned about sharply ; the boar, darting between 
 the horse's legs, disconcerted the steed ; it snorted, reared, 
 and plunged, and over on his head went Monsieur the Page. 
 The boar turned to charge, and the Emperor, now aroused
 
 190 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 from his reverie, at once saw the boy's danger. Spurring his 
 horse to the spot, with an expert plunge of the spear lie ran 
 the boar through, just as its murderous tusks were within an 
 ace of impaling the prostrate page. 
 
 " Why, Philip ; why, boy ! " cried the Emperor ; "your train 
 ing at Alfort must have been poor. Can you not keep your 
 saddle better than that ? How can you expect, then, to ride 
 a cavalry charge ? " 
 
 Philip rose, feeling very small indeed. Thrown by a mob ! 
 Thrown by a pig ! This was not exactly a day of laurels for 
 Monsieur the Page. But the Emperor cried gaily : " 'T is the 
 fortune of war, young Desnouettes ! Up and try it again ! " 
 and, much chagrined at his clumsiness, Philip mounted his 
 horse and dropped behind the Emperor. 
 
 Next morning the talk at the grand breakfast in the castle 
 of Grosbois was all of the hunt that was planned for the 
 day. Horses and huntsmen were in readiness when, sud 
 denly, the Emperor sprang a surprise upon the company. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," he said, " we shall not hunt to 
 day. We ride to Fontainebleau." 
 
 " To Fontainebleau, Sire ! " cried the ladies in dismay. " To 
 Fontainebleau ? Why, we have only our hunting-dresses 
 with us ! " 
 
 " I weep for you, ladies," said the Emperor, in mock sym 
 pathy ; " but such are my plans. The Holy Father will, I 
 am sure, excuse your hunting-dress. Boy Philip, is the post- 
 chaise ready for me ? " 
 
 " It waits in the court, Sire," Philip replied. 
 
 " Good," said the Emperor. " Do you, then, mount your 
 horse and gallop on ahead to the palace. Tell Monsieur the
 
 I 
 
 THE PRISONER OF FONTAINEBLEAU 191 
 
 THE EMPEROR SAVES PHILIP FROM THE BOAR. 
 
 Chamberlain that I shall be there within the hour. But let 
 him on no account acquaint the Holy Father of my coining. 
 Now, then, off with speed ! Eide on, boy ; ride on ! " 
 
 It was well that Philip had snatched a hasty bit to eat 
 that morning with the chief page of Prince Berthier. Other-
 
 192 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 wise lie would have gone breakfastless. For lie was 011 his 
 horse in an instant, galloping through the forest to the palace 
 at Fontainebleau, where, for more than a year, the Emperor 
 had held a close prisoner that Pope of Rome known as Pius 
 the Seventh. 
 
 The quarrel between the Emperor and the Pope has no 
 bearing on our story. Suffice it to say that when Napoleon 
 assumed the sovereignty of Italy he took away from the Pope 
 what is known as his temporal power the right to rule the 
 States of the Church as a landed prince. And when that 
 spirited old Pontiff objected to Napoleon's ways, the Emperor 
 stole him bodily first from Rome, and then from Savona, 
 until finally he shut the Pope up in this palace of Fontaine- 
 bleau until such time as the Holy Father would yield to the 
 imperial will. This the Pope refused to do ; and, living the 
 life of a recluse in that great gilded palace, he had come to 
 be known to men as the Prisoner of Fontainebleau. 
 
 Through the crisp winter's morning Philip rode on to Fon 
 tainebleau. Into the wide forest he galloped ; on under its 
 great leafless trees ; on past the meadows, lawns, and cliffs 
 that make the forest of Fontainebleau one of the world's 
 picture-spots ; on past the Cross of the Specter Huntsman, 
 the Gorge of the Wolf, the Pool of the Elves, the Miraculous 
 Weeping Rock, and the Robbers' Cave, up the Grand Prome 
 nade of the Queen, and so through the great gardens into the 
 splendid Court of the White Horse. Here he threw his reins 
 to the groom, and sought in the palace Monsieur the Captain 
 Lagrosse of the Imperial Guard, who, while really the jailer, 
 posed as the chamberlain of the Prisoner of Fontainebleau. 
 
 Philip delivered his message. At once there was the bustle
 
 THE PRISONER OF FONTAINEBLEAU 193 
 
 of preparation. Not for a year and more had the Emperor 
 or his court been seen at the great palace. 
 
 Philip, left to his own devices, wandered through the 
 splendid building, prying into the magnificent rooms, in which 
 kings and queens had held high festival in days gone by 
 and wondering, boy-like, as he peeped and pried, in just what 
 rooms the captive Pope of Borne lived in priestly state. 
 
 Along a wide hall that looked out upon the Court of the 
 Fountain, Philip strolled and loitered, trying door after door 
 in his curiosity. One of these opened to his touch, and the 
 page, passing through, found himself in a little room that 
 looked like a very plain and poorly furnished bed-chamber. 
 Within the room a spare and pleasant-faced man sat, busy 
 with needle and thread, mending a pair of breeches. 
 
 " Eh, there ! Grandfather," cried the heedless page. " I 
 knew no one was here. Could you tell me, you now, where 
 one might see the prisoner ? " 
 
 " The prisoner, my son ? " the old man repeated, looking at 
 the boy in gentle inquiry. 
 
 " I mean the Pope, the Pope Pius," explained Philip ; 
 " he whom men call the Prisoner of Fontainebleau." 
 
 " I am that unfortunate, my son," said the old man, rising. 
 " What would you with me ? Speak. I am the Pope." 
 
 "You the Pope! You and in this mean little room 
 mending old clothes like that ! Oh, Father your Holiness, 
 forgive me ! I I did not know " and down on his knees 
 before this sweet-faced old man dropped the prying page, 
 now deeply mortified at his heedlessness of speech and act.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 FOR FRANCE 
 
 AT that moment a voice was heard in the outer room 
 /"\_ into which the prisoner's apartment opened; then 
 came the sound of swinging doors and hurrying feet. 
 
 The Pope, living in an atmosphere of uncertainty, gave 
 quick ear to the disturbance. He drew away his hand from 
 the head of the kneeling boy, and looked with anxious in 
 quiry into Philip's upturned face. Did this boy's presence, 
 this sudden noise of intrusion, mean a new danger for him ? 
 Recollections flashed across him of how a conqueror had, 
 in earlier days, dared, with gauntleted hand, to buffet a Pope 
 in the face, and how that very room in which he sat had, long 
 years ago, been the apartment of that stanch Archbishop 
 Thomas a Becket, whom an English king had murdered at 
 the very altar. He threw aside the well-worn breeches he 
 had been mending, and stood erect, defiance and resignation 
 curiously mingled on his face. 
 
 Philip, too, sprang to his feet. 
 
 " It is the Emperor ! " he cried. 
 
 " The Emperor ? here ? " echoed Pope Pius. He strode 
 to the door and flung it open. There, in the opposite door 
 way, stood his persecutor and his opponent. But not as a 
 foemau, nor an assassin, did the great Emperor appear. In-
 
 FOE FRANCE 195 
 
 stead, his broad, handsome face beamed with friendship ; 
 from eyes and lips sprang the smiles of welcome and good 
 will. Crossing the Pope's antechamber, which once had been 
 the boudoir of the famous Anne of Austria, the mother of 
 Louis Fourteenth, he almost ran, with extended arms, to 
 where in the open doorway stood the startled Tope, with 
 the troubled page behind him. 
 
 Napoleon flung his arms about the Pontiff. 
 
 " My father ! " he cried, and kissed him on the cheek. 
 
 " My son ! " the Pope responded, tenderly but with dignity, 
 and returned the embrace and the kiss. 
 
 Thus, after years of resistance and persecution, did Pope 
 and Emperor meet. Pope Pius saw only the man whom, ten 
 years before, he had anointed Emperor of the French ; Na 
 poleon saw but the man from whose hands he had received 
 the imperial crown, and whom it was now his policy to 
 reconcile ; and all seemed lovely once again. 
 
 How, even then, the Emperor had his way, and by his own 
 peculiar method forced the Pope to sign, one week later, in 
 that very room, the famous agreement known as the Con 
 cordat of Fontainebleau, is history, but not especially a part 
 of our story. 
 
 For nearly ten days the court remained at Fontainebleau, 
 though how the Empress and her ladies managed with sim-. 
 ply their hunting-dresses as their toilets the record fails to 
 show. But when Napoleon rode back to Paris he had accom 
 plished what his surprise-party to the Pope was intended 
 to achieve. 
 
 As for Philip, he experienced for days no little uncertainty 
 and chagrin, although he managed, of course, to have a good
 
 190 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 
 
 time at Fontainebleau, and received many friendly words 
 from the Pope he had so unceremoniously accosted. 
 
 He had not made a dazzling success of himself, however, 
 on this semi-official outing. He had been tumbled into the 
 mud when he had tried to protect the Emperor from a fancied 
 assassination; he had been flung heels over head and almost 
 disabled on the hunting-field, when he had the chance to 
 show his valor and his skill ; he had intruded most unwar 
 rantably upon the privacy of a Pope, and used language of 
 which he was ashamed. Certainly, as a page of the palace, 
 he had displayed an ability for blundering into scrapes, in 
 which only his loyalty and the Emperor's favor saved him 
 from ridicule and a scolding. 
 
 The Emperor saw this, too. For, one day, standing in the 
 gorgeous vestibule that led to the private apartments of the 
 Emperor, Philip was suddenly accosted by Napoleon. 
 
 " Well, my Philip," the Emperor said, " you look big 
 enough to be a man. How old now, you boy ? " 
 
 " Seventeen next August, Sire," said the page. 
 
 " Within the legal age for conscription, eh ? " queried the 
 Emperor. " And smart and sound enough, although some 
 thing of a blunderer. We must find active service for you. 
 Sometimes you appear to be more a bull in a china-shop 
 than a quiet page of the palace. But you do your best, you 
 boy ; you do your best. We must put your overflow of spirits 
 to better service for France." 
 
 For France ! That was the Emperor's one thought now ; 
 that, too, was Philip's desire, and he hailed with delight the 
 promise of a change of duty. 
 
 For France ! that was the wish alike of Emperor and peo-
 
 FOR FRANCE 197 
 
 pie, though opinion as to how France would best be served 
 differed with people and Emperor. With one it meant peace 
 without war ; with" the other it meant peace through war. 
 And the Emperor generally had his way. 
 
 One night, after the return to the Tuileries, the page came 
 with a message, searching for the Emperor. He found him 
 in the rooms of the little King of Home, just as the imperial 
 two-year-old was being prepared for bed. 
 
 The Emperor raised his hand for silence as the page en 
 tered the room. The little King was kneeling by his gov 
 erness, good Madame de Montesquieu, saying his prayers. 
 And as the page waited in the doorway, he heard these words 
 lisped by the baby lips : " Bless my dear papa, Lord God ! 
 and fill him with the desire to make peace for the happiness 
 of France, and of us all." 
 
 The Emperor smiled, and laid his hand tenderly on his 
 son's head. He knew that the inspiration of the child's 
 prayer came from the little King's governess, a devout and 
 loyal Frenchwoman. 
 
 " [ desire peace, my little one, as deeply as does any one 
 in France. But how ? but how ? " he said ; and then, turn 
 ing to Philip, he demanded his message. 
 
 Next day, in the Street of the Fight, Philip told of the 
 little King's prayer, and Citizen Daunou said, solemnly, 
 "Out of the mouths of babes comes, sometimes, the Lord's 
 truth. If but the Emperor would heed it ! But, alas ! he 
 will not. He has yet to learn the grandeur of the victory 
 through peace. Heaven send he may not learn it at the 
 cost of his crown, his country, and his life ! " 
 
 Pierre was there that day. The young inspector of police
 
 198 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 was becoming a frequent visitor at the house of the Keeper 
 of the Archives, who, like the good republican he was, dis 
 dained the distinctions of rank and of title, if but men were 
 true at heart, and welcomed at Mademoiselle's salon all his 
 friends on equal footing and with equal good will. 
 
 Pierre beckoned the old Keeper aside. 
 
 " I have found something, Citizen Daunou," he said, " that 
 for nearly two years I have been hunting down at the Em 
 peror's request, mark you. Only to-day did I unearth what 
 may be the thing I seek. I found it well, no need to tell you 
 where. We of the police have to go underneath as well as 
 overhead, you know. Enough that I have found it. Will you 
 read it, Citizen ? See if you can fit it to anything you have." 
 
 Citizen Daunou took from Pierre's hand the piece of paper 
 the inspector held out to him. It was a frayed and dingy 
 slip, yellow with age, and with the appearance of having been 
 torn, years before, from a larger document. The old man 
 adjusted his spectacles, and read the words upon the slip. 
 They were not many, but they seemed to startle him. He 
 gave a glance of rapid inquiry at Pierre. Then he read the 
 lines again. 
 
 " Why ? What is it ? " he said. " This is most singular. 
 This is my faith ! Pierre, it may be it is the missing 
 record ! And you found it where ? " 
 
 Pierre shrugged his shoulders. " That is my affair, Citizen," 
 he said. " Does it tell you anything ? " 
 
 Did it not, though ? For this is what good Citizen Daunou 
 read on that frayed and dingy bit of paper : 
 
 "... izen Jules Marcel of the Street of the Straight Wall, to bring 
 up as good patriots and as children of the Republic."
 
 
 NAPOLEON S VETERANS VIEWING THE PORTRAIT OF THE KING OF ROME.
 
 FOE FRANCE 201 
 
 " Marcel ? Marcel ? Jules Marcel ? " mused Citizen Dau- 
 nou, tapping his forehead. " Why, that was the husband of 
 Mademoiselle's nurse. He was a sansculotte. And from her 
 must have come A light ! A light ! Pierre ! I see a 
 light ! And the Emperor said I was but an owl ! I was, my 
 faith ! I was. Will you give me this, lad ? I must study 
 it out, and think it over. And why is it with you ? " 
 
 " The Emperor's commission, Citizen," said the boy in 
 spector. " He said to me, ' Find this out for me.' And' 
 look you, I have found it." 
 
 " Have you shown it to him yet ? " asked Citizen Daunou. 
 
 " No, Citizen," Pierre replied ; " for have you not the rest 
 of the paper ? " 
 
 " To be sure ; so I have at the Archives," the Keeper 
 admitted. "Let me but take this there and fit the pieces to 
 gether; then may I unravel the tangled threads. I must 
 study it out with certainty. Trust me, you shall have all 
 the glory of the find, my Pierre. 
 
 "Oh, as for that, my friend," another shrug, "if it 
 solves the riddle, and does those we know a service, it is 
 glory enough forme. It is my life such things as this 
 riddle-solving, Citizen." 
 
 Citizen Daunou wrung the young inspector's hand. Then 
 he fell upon him, and embraced him with true French enthu 
 siasm. 
 
 " You should be minister of police, my Pierre," he said. 
 
 " So, once, the Emperor told me," Pierre commented 
 quietly. 
 
 " You carry a wise head on those young shoulders of yours," 
 the Keeper of the Archives said. " But more of this matter
 
 202 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 later. Come to me at the Archives on your next leave day, 
 and together we will study out this mystery." 
 
 There was no doubt that Pierre's cleverness had brought 
 about an important result. But so, too, had Philip's loyalty 
 led to results equally important in that young patriot's esti 
 mation. For one bright day in March, as he awaited in the 
 Tuileries garden the pleasure of good Madame de Montes- 
 quiou, the governess of the little King of Rome, he spied the 
 Emperor pacing the path, head bent, and hands behind his 
 back his best-remembered attitude. 
 
 " So, Monsieur the Page, are you there ? " he said. " T 
 have been thinking of you. Almost seventeen, eh ? And 
 here is all France rallying around the eagles. It is Young 
 France's opportunity for glory. It shall be yours. And 
 you yon, my Philip," he went on eagerly; "look now! 
 You are nearly seventeen. You are sturdy and strong. 
 Sometimes you play the fool, but you are true-hearted and 
 faithful. You know the ways of palaces. You can read ; 
 you can write ; you can ride ; you can draw plans ; you can 
 foot up figures ; you can obey orders quickly and with 
 brains. You are too good for a private soldier, or even a 
 sub-lieutenant ; you are not good enough for a captain or a 
 private secretary. You shall join my new flying squadron 
 of field secretaries my unofficial aides-de-camp. You shall 
 go to the wars with me as one of my new officers of ordon- 
 nance." 
 
 " Oh, Sire ! in that splendid uniform of blue and silver ? " 
 cried the page. 
 
 " Hear the boy ! " laughed the Emperor, tweaking the 
 page's ear. " I give him a chance for glory, and he chatters
 
 FOE FRANCE 205 
 
 about his uniform. Look, your Majesty," and he pulled Philip 
 toward the little King's carriage, once again in his path, 
 " here 's a fellow who thinks more of his rig-out of blue and 
 silver than of France and the Emperor. What can your 
 Majesty make of such a dandy ? " 
 
 " No, no, Sire ; do not say that ! " Philip protested, flushed 
 with excitement and pleasure. " But you quite took away 
 my breath with your kindness. I have never dreamed of 
 anything so glorious. And I ? Hear me, Sire ! I will 
 serve you faithfully." 
 
 " I believe you will try, boy Philip boy no longer, now," 
 the Emperor said kindly. " See that you keep that promise. 
 And remember ! It is not for me, but for France, that you 
 labor. For France, the mother of us all." 
 
 There were others besides Philip to stand up for France ; 
 to shed their blood for France ; to conquer, even to die, for 
 the glory of France. But there were others, forced to serve 
 in the great army of three hundred thousand men which as 
 if by magic had risen from the earth at the Emperor's com 
 mand, who were drilling and marching against their will, 
 and only because of the strong arm of military despotism. 
 There were many who might willingly fight for France, but 
 not for the Emperor. The nation desired peace, the Em 
 peror commanded war; and many followed his eagles against 
 their will. 
 
 But let justice be done Napoleon. 
 
 " I desire peace," he said at the opening of that battle- 
 spring of 1813. " It is necessary to the world. But I will 
 never make any peace which is not honorable and in con 
 formity with the greatness of my Empire. Our enemies
 
 206 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 seek the disruption of the Empire. They proclaim universal 
 war. I will conquer them, and bring peace through victory, 
 and give greatness and glory to France." 
 
 So, bent on his purpose, the Emperor hastened his prepa 
 rations for war. The Empress was made Regent of France, 
 to reign in his absence and in his name ; and, rank upon 
 rank, the battalions in blue marched toward the Prussian 
 frontier. 
 
 On April 15, 1813, Napoleon left St. Cloud to take com 
 mand of his assembled armies. 
 
 Philip was to accompany him. The boy was full of con 
 fidence and hope, and so inspired his friends with his bright 
 enthusiasm that even Uncle Fauriel gave the lad his blessing, 
 while Mademoiselle went into ecstasies over his fine appear 
 ance, and Corporal Peyrolles was sure "his boy" would 
 return a marshal at least. 
 
 At the Tuileries the Emperor joined his staff and his 
 escort of the Guard. There Philip was to meet him, and 
 there, on the morning of that momentous fifteenth of April, 
 the boy ordonuance-omcer reported for duty. 
 
 Thither had come Pierre and Peyrolles to bid him good- 
 by ; and, with Uncle Fauriel as escort, thither came Ma 
 demoiselle, bravely smiling through her tears. 
 
 The Emperor, in his well-known green uniform and fa 
 mous cocked hat, appeared in the portal of the palace ; the 
 last good-bys were being said ; and, now that the time for 
 separation had actually come, Philip and Mademoiselle felt 
 just a trifle awkward. 
 
 Even the Emperor had an eye for this little scene, and 
 was on the point of making some characteristic remark,
 
 FOR FRANCE 207 
 
 when through the crowd burst Citizen Daimou, his chapeau 
 awry, his white hair all about his ears. 
 
 Excited and unceremonious, he cried out as soon as he 
 found the little group, " It fits, Sire ! The paper fits. I am 
 an owl no longer. Embrace our Philip, Mademoiselle. It 
 is your right. Bid him God-speed for France ! I have 
 made a discovery. You are not Mademoiselle Daunou, as 
 you thought ; nor Lucie Marcel, as I thought when I adopted 
 you as my daughter from the home of the sansculotte. Em 
 brace our Philip, Mademoiselle. It is your duty, I say. 
 For you are Mademoiselle Lucie Desnouettes. You are of 
 the best blood of France. And Philip Philip is your 
 In-other ! "
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 
 
 IT was a dramatic method and a tremendous background 
 for springing this surprise. Citizen Daunou, most 
 practical and prosaic of men, could not have arranged things 
 better had he studied to please the Emperor that lover of 
 startling situations. 
 
 To the brother and sister, thus theatrically made known 
 to one another, the revelation was overwhelming. Philip 
 turned white with surprise; Mademoiselle flushed deeply, 
 then paled, as swiftly, and looked with an almost piteous 
 expression upon the man she had always regarded as her 
 father. 
 
 Then came the reaction from, bewilderment to joy. 
 
 " Is it so ? " cried Philip. 
 
 " What ? it is Philip ? " exclaimed Mademoiselle. 
 
 And then brother and sister fell into each other's arms. 
 Citizen Daunou's eyes streamed with tears. Uncle Fauriel 
 tossed his chapeau in air. Corporal Peyrolles danced on his 
 one good leg, for joy. Pierre looked on with the satisfaction 
 of one who had been in the secret all along, and actually 
 contemplated one of the old-time hand-springs of his street- 
 boy days. The Emperor walked swiftly to Citizen Daunou 
 and clapped that staid old republican on the back.
 
 BEOTHER AND SISTER 209 
 
 " Daunou, is this your work ? " he cried. " It is great ! 
 You have exceeded my expectations." But Citizen Daunou, 
 just, even in his excitement, said nothing, but waved his 
 hand toward Pierre. 
 
 Philip and Mademoiselle, still hand in hand, looked into 
 eacli other's eyes, laughing and crying in the same moment. 
 For them, the fate of nations, the importance of that historic 
 day, the clouds of war, the peace of Europe, were all forgot 
 ten. In all the world there was no one just then but Philip 
 and Lucie. They had found what neither knew, what 
 neither dreamed of. 
 
 " I cannot believe it, Philip ; can you ; can you ? " cooed 
 the happy girl. 
 
 " My sister ; my sister ; my sister ! " the boy repeated, 
 lingering lovingly on each word. " Tell us, tell us, my 
 father," he said, turning to Citizen Daunou ; " what does all 
 this mean ? I know it is the truth, but how did you find 
 it out ? " 
 
 Then the Emperor broke in : " You shall have time for 
 explanation you two you three," he said. "Look you! 
 People say I break up families for my own ambition. They 
 say I sever them in my greed for war. They lie. When 
 France demands her youth for her service I act but as her 
 instrument. But here is no need for haste. Lieutenant 
 Desnouettes," he said, emphasizing, to Philip's delight, the 
 rank thus conferred upon him, " I grant you an unlimited 
 leave of absence. Go home with your sister. When I need 
 you, I will summon you to my side. No ; no words. I know 
 your willingness to serve me. This is my will. Be happy, 
 my children, for a brief season. I am no ogre to devour a
 
 210 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 new-found family though some do deem me so," he added, 
 with a slap, this time, on the fat shoulders of Uncle Fauriel. 
 " Take them home with you, Citizen Daunou. When Philip 
 sees me again, he can tell me all that he has learned. My 
 friend the inspector," this to the delighted Pierre, " I 
 am proud of you. Some day you will yet be a Minister of 
 Police. Adieu, my children ! " he said, placing a hand 
 affectionately on the heads of 'Philip and Mademoiselle. 
 " Until I need you, my Philip, wait here at home. My 
 horse, Constant ! " he cried to his valet. Then, vaulting 
 to his saddle, he commanded : " Forward, gentlemen ! to 
 Prussia and victory ! " 
 
 "Long live the Emperor !" rose the shout. The trumpets 
 sounded ; the drums rolled ; the escort wheeled into line ; 
 the green coat and the three-cocked hat disappeared in the 
 distance, as out of the courtyard of the Tuileries and oft' 
 toward the barriers, the Emperor and his glittering escort 
 galloped through the applauding streets of Paris, off, for the 
 war. 
 
 So it came to pass, after all, that Philip did not go to the 
 front with the Emperor, and Citizen Daunou said in a whisper 
 to Pierre : 
 
 " Did I not do it well, my friend ? I have known this 
 you know for how many days. But I planned it for a de- 
 noument; and, my faith ! my little plan worked even better 
 than I had hoped." For a staid and sober citizen, the kind 
 old Keeper of the Archives had certainly shown himself a 
 clever and shrewd conspirator. 
 
 Still wondering, still hand in hand, the brother and sister 
 walked back to the Street of the Fight. And there, while
 
 BEOTHEE AND SISTEE 211 
 
 all the air was electric with excitement and the presage of 
 battle, they passed the days in close companionship, careless 
 of the future, happy in the knowledge and enjoyment of 
 their new relationship, and making Citizen Daunou tell them, 
 again and again, the story of how he had unravelled the 
 mystery and given them, thus, to each other. 
 
 The delighted old Keeper never wearied of the tale. He 
 knew that he had done a good thing and one that would bear 
 retelling. He told them of their father, the emigrd the 
 man who had died for a principle, almost the last victim of 
 the tyrants of the Terror. He told them how Nurse Marcel, 
 the widow of the sansculotte, had, through fear of the con 
 sequences, passed off Mademoiselle as her daughter, when 
 Citizen Daunou had adopted the baby girl into his home, and 
 how she had lived with her as nurse and companion. He 
 told how he had found the document that had established 
 Philip's identity and given him a clue to the discovered re 
 lationship. He told of the missing part of the record and 
 the Emperor's knowledge of the affair; and he gave to Pierre 
 the inspector all the credit and glory for the discovery that 
 completed the reading of the riddle. 
 
 And then he had to tell it all over again ; while Philip 
 and Mademoiselle sat, listening, hand in hand, and Pierre, 
 listening also, nudged Philip excitedly and said, " Not so bad 
 for ' that pig of a Pierre,' was it now, young Desnouettes ? " 
 
 Babette, too, Philip's young foster-sister, came in for her 
 share of the enjoyment, and even Mother The'rese, sly and 
 gruff though she was, had to hear the recital and tell her 
 part of the story, and how the Directory gave her this boy 
 to bring up ; what a good boy he always was (though Philip
 
 212 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 wondered when she found that out!), and how she had always 
 said he would be a great man before he died. 
 
 So the days passed, happily, quietly, joyfully. Then 
 came news from the front to increase the general joy. The 
 Emperor had marched to new and glorious victories. At 
 Llitzen and at Bautzen he had met and conquered his foes. 
 Triumph was in the air. Peace was surely at hand. All 
 Europe would soon be at the feet of the conqueror. In 
 spite of the Russian campaign the Emperor was again 
 supreme. 
 
 Paris went wild with delight. The Empress Eegent rode 
 in state to the great church of Notre Dame to hear the Te 
 Deum in praise of the victory; and, when the war was over, 
 the Empress and the King of Eome, it was said, were to be 
 crowned by the Emperor in token of the supremacy and 
 triumph of France. 
 
 The battles of Liitzen and Bautzen had been stubborn and 
 bloody. Many thousands of brave men had fallen on either 
 side. But what of that ? They were victories for France, 
 won by the boys of France for the fighting-stock of 
 that bloody campaign of 1813 was largely drawn from 
 the youth of France and Germany. Philip had heard 
 with pride how Marshal Ney, " the bravest of the brave," 
 had declared that the boys were better than veterans, 
 and that he could lead them anywhere; and how, at 
 Llitzen, the Emperor, in the supreme moment, dashed 
 into the thick of the fight and shouted to the young con 
 scripts who held the center : " My children, I rely upon you 
 to save the Empire! Forward! France is watching you! 
 Learn how to die for her!" And they did. For, with ringing
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 213 
 
 shouts of "Long live the Emperor!" the boys then charged 
 the Prussians, and, with the bayonet's point, turned the tide 
 of battle and won the day for France. 
 
 This was most inspiriting. Already, notwithstanding the 
 happy days with his new-found sister, Philip felt himself 
 growing uneasy and wishing for the call to action. It came 
 at last. One day an order was delivered to him bearing the 
 imperial seal : 
 
 Lieutenant Philip Desnouettes, of the Officers of Ordonnance, 
 is directed to accompany the Empress to Mayence and report for 
 duty to the Emperor in person. 
 
 An armistice had been declared. Liitzen and Bautzen 
 had called for a truce in the war; overtures for peace 
 were made by Austria, a neutral power, and agreed to by 
 France on the one side and by the allied powers of Russia, 
 Prussia, and Sweden on the other. And, in July, Napoleon, 
 resting from battle, requested his Empress to join him for a 
 few days at Mayence; for the armistice declared a cessation 
 of hostilities until the tenth of August following. 
 
 " I go to join the Emperor," Philip announced joyfully to 
 his sister and his good friends in the Street of the Fight. 
 " But, alas ! I am destined never to see service in the field. 
 We shall have peace, and the Emperor will be the master of 
 Europe." 
 
 " I hope so, my son," Citizen Daunou said; "but I do not 
 believe it. The enemies of France are too many and too 
 determined. They will fight to the death and crush us by 
 numbers. This conflict is not like those that have gone be 
 fore. Our foemen have learned the art of war from the
 
 214 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 Emperor. They will turn their knowledge to fatal account. 
 This armistice is but the prelude to a yet more bloody fight, 
 and a defeat will be our death-blow. Oh, that the Emperor 
 would see his opportunity! France asks for peace; the 
 world asks for it. By it the Emperor might confound his 
 enemies and bring about results more glorious than the most 
 victorious war. But he will not. See, Philip! Already the 
 report is abroad that on the summit of the Alps Napoleon is 
 to erect a monument on which will be inscribed : ' Napoleon 
 to the French People, in memory of its noble efforts against 
 the coalition of 1813.' To-day the Emperor is great; he is 
 victorious. How much greater, how much more the victor 
 would he be, if he would sign a treaty of peace, giving up the 
 needless provinces he has conquered, and inscribe upon that 
 treaty the words : ' These are the sacrifices to peace made by 
 Napoleon for the welfare of the people of France.' But 
 he will not do it, my son. He will not do it." 
 
 Philip could not agree with his old friend. What young 
 fellow, living in an atmosphere of victory, would believe 
 that there was such a thing as a giving that was gaining ! 
 
 He bade his dear ones adieu, reported for duty as one 
 of the cortege of the Empress, and in high spirits set out 
 to join the Emperor, then resting at Mayence. 
 
 They rode from St. Cloud on the twenty-third of 
 July, stopping on the way at Chalons and at Metz, and 
 on the twenty-sixth reached Mayence. And there Philip 
 again saw the Emperor. 
 
 " So, my noble young lieutenant of ordonnance," cried 
 Napoleon, pulling Philip's ear by w r ay of friendly greeting, 
 " you are ready for duty, eh ? And how is the pretty
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 215 
 
 sister in Paris ? It was an excellent bit of acting, that. 
 Do you know, my Philip, I half suspect good Citizen Daunou 
 of springing it upon us for a purpose. He is a shrewd old 
 schemer, I fear that Daunou for all his quiet ways as a 
 browser among dusty documents. But it gave you a pleasure 
 you and Mademoiselle, your sister. Xow, see what you 
 can do to make her proud of her relationship. You will. Be 
 but less heedless than of old, and more the man you are now 
 big enough to be." 
 
 Festivities made brilliant the brief visit of the Empress to 
 Mayence. Princes and potentates, thronged the audience 
 chamber. Fetes and illuminations, reviews and receptions, 
 balls and banquets, crowded each other for ten days, and the 
 old Rhenish city was full of stir and splendor. 
 
 But, beneath all this, lay anxiety. The world wished for 
 peace ; yet the world would know, all too well, the unbend 
 ing will of the Emperor. 
 
 One day Philip received a shock. After a grand dinner 
 given by the Emperor to his titled tributaries, the boy ac 
 companied Napoleon for a sail on the Rhine. The shores of 
 the historic river lay picturesque and pleasant under a sum 
 mer sun, and the Emperor, passing the castle of Biberich 
 stood with one foot on the gunwale of the boat, studying the 
 shore through his field-glass. 
 
 As the Emperor leaned dangerously over the edge, Philip 
 heard the prefect of Mayence a stout old republican of the 
 Directory days say in an undertone to his neighbor, the 
 governor of Berg : " Look there ! What an opportunity ! 
 The fate of the world hangs on a single kick ! " 
 
 " In heaven's name, hush ! " whispered the terrified gov 
 ernor.
 
 216 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 " Bah ! do not fret," returned the old prefect : " resolute 
 men are rare." 
 
 Philip glanced at the old republican in ill-concealed terror. 
 Kick the Emperor overboard ! Would he dare do this ? 
 Why, it was worse than Uncle Fauriel. 
 
 But the old prefect turned from temptation with a sigh. 
 " Ah, my friend," he said to the trembling governor, " let me 
 tell you, we shall all of us lament with tears of blood that 
 this boat-trip was not the Corsican's last." 
 
 Philip mused over this startling incident. It was, indeed, 
 the undercurrent of talk that he had heard far too often of 
 late. His loyalty to the Emperor made him nervous and 
 angry, and he wondered whether it were not his duty to re 
 port it all. Then he reassured himself with the thought: 
 " The Emperor will have his way, and all these traitorous 
 grumblers will humbly eat their words and give him greater 
 glory than ever." 
 
 The Emperor did have his way. He refused to listen 
 to the appeals of Austria and the demands of Russia. Not 
 an inch of French conquest would he resign. The enemies 
 of France should sue to him as to a victor. He would 
 never be a suppliant. 
 
 The tenth of August came. Hostilities were resumed. 
 Austria broke her pledges and joined the enemies of France ; 
 and under the walls of Dresden, Napoleon, with less than 
 a hundred thousand men, hurled himself against the allied 
 powers of Europe, nearly two hundred thousand strong. 
 
 There Philip first " smelled gunpowder." There he re 
 ceived his " baptism of fire." There for the first time he 
 heard the thunder of hostile cannon, the clash of opposing
 
 "THE EVE OK THE EMPEROR, HE KELT, WAS UPON HIM."
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER 219 
 
 steel, the shrill neigh of the war-horse, the hoarse shouts of 
 command, the mingling cries of combatants, the swelling 
 cheer of the victor, the sullen growl of the vanquished, the 
 backward note of retreat, the forward yell of pursuit, the 
 sharp scream of the wounded, the muffled groan of the dying, 
 and all the pomp and pain, all the glory and misery of that 
 legalized murder that men call war. 
 
 He heard all, he saw all, he was a part of all. At first, 
 kept busy in writing and despatching orders rapidly dic 
 tated by the Emperor that master of the art of war, whose 
 eye seemed everywhere, whose ear heard everything Philip 
 paid but little attention to the details of the conflict. Then, 
 despatched on some imperative mission, he came face to face 
 with death looked at it, paled before it, trembled before it, 
 braced himself before it, and at last, all on fire with excitement, 
 desire, and duty, hardened himself in the midst of it, and be 
 came as reckless, as daring, as heedless and as unconcerned 
 as any of the thousands of young conscripts who made up 
 the victorious army of Napoleon that brilliant day of 
 struggle and achievement beneath the walls of Dresden. 
 
 Three times his duty carried him into the thick of the 
 fight, amidst flying bullets, falling fighters, the rush of bat 
 talions and the clash of steel. The eye of the Emperor, he felt, 
 was upon him that Emperor who, braving death a hundred 
 times, saw this weak spot, reckoned on that movement, hurled 
 his squadrons against this wall of men, massed his infantry 
 for a charge upon that yielding break, and fighting, sword in 
 hand, like any sub-lieutenant in the ranks, unmindful of the 
 torrents of driving rain, heedless of the oceans of clogging 
 rnud, cried : " Forward, my children ! again ! again ! I
 
 220 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 cannot be beaten ! " and added to his laurels as a con 
 queror the masterly victory of Dresden. 
 
 Philip was roused ; he was electrified ; he grew full of the 
 fury of the battle. He galloped this way and that, command 
 ing, crying, cheering, carried away with excitement. And 
 when he rode with the hussars, pursuing the routed Russians, 
 he saw the only enemy that remained to face the victorious 
 Frenchmen a great, alert, watchful-eyed Danish hound, 
 searching for his master. 
 
 Philip whistled cheerily, and the dog came at the call. 
 Then it bristled with growl and bark, as this boy it did not 
 know leaned from his saddle to pet and capture it. The 
 chase slackened ; the bugles sounded the recall ; and when, 
 the battle over, the enemy flying, the victory won, Philip 
 rode back to the French lines, he brought with him as the 
 only trophy of his valor a single prisoner this dog. 
 
 He glanced at the hound's gleaming collar. Upon it he 
 read : / am General Moreau's dog. 
 
 " Moreau ? Moreau ? " he queried. " It is a French 
 name." Can it be that renegade ? 
 
 " Ha ! Moreau the deserter ! Moreau the renegade ! 
 Moreau the traitor! Kill the dog!" cried the soldiers; 
 for the presence of Moreau, once the greatest of French 
 fighters, Moreau, the victor of Hohenlinden as a leader 
 
 O J 
 
 in the ranks of the enemy, infuriated and enraged the army. 
 
 " Hands off! the dog is my prisoner ! " Philip cried. 
 
 The soldiers yielded to the young lieutenant with a laugh. 
 And when Philip rode through the gates of Dresden, he car 
 ried with him this captured pet of Napoleon's old-time com 
 rade and rival now dying among the enemies of France.
 
 " THE CLAWS OF THE COKSICAN " 
 
 PHILIP dismounted, and, still followed by his prisoner, 
 entered the palace of the Saxon kings, in which the 
 Emperor had his headquarters. 
 
 There he found Napoleon wet, bedraggled, tired, but 
 triumphant with the brim of his cocked hat hanging in ruin 
 upon his shoulder, and the famous gray overcoat black with 
 mud. The Emperor had been three days without rest, and 
 twelve hours in the pouring rain. But he had won the fight; 
 he had sent the enemy flying across the Saxon borders, and 
 satisfaction and delight shone upon his face. 
 
 " Ah, ha ! my ordonnance boy," he cried. " You. are there, 
 eh ? And how is it with you ? You have worked hard ; 
 you have worked faithfully. He who writes and rides may 
 be as brave as he who carries the eagles or waves the sword. 
 I am proud of you, young Desnouettes." 
 
 Praise is a wonderful medicine. It is rest for tired bones ; 
 it is balm for smarting wounds ; it is even comfort in dying. 
 To a boy who feels that he really has done his duty, it .is 
 especially sweet to hear the words, " Well done ! " And 
 praise from Napoleon was both a reward and an inspiration. 
 
 Philip grasped the Emperor's extended hand, and kissed it 
 in acknowledgment. " Sire," he said, " you can never be
 
 222 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 
 
 beaten ! I would not have missed this day for all the pal 
 aces in Paris." 
 
 Napoleon smiled again. Then he spied the hound and 
 asked, " Ah, that dog ? Is it Moreau's, as I have heard ? " 
 
 " So says his collar, Sire," Philip replied. " I took him 
 prisoner in a cottage at Eacknitz." 
 
 " Eacknitz ! " exclaimed the Emperor. " But that was 
 where I trained the guns upon the Eussian staff. Philip, 
 Philip ! it may have been I who killed the renegade ! Poor 
 Moreau ! " said Napoleon, passing his hand over his brow, 
 " to die a traitor because he hated ' that rascal Bonaparte,' as 
 he called me ! I honored him once, though he was ever 
 jealous of me. France ! I have avenged you of a degenerate 
 son. Well ; all goes finely. Eest yourself, Lieutenant Des- 
 nouettes, and to-morrow prepare to ride with me very 
 early, remember to our camp at Pirna. We must follow 
 fast on the runaways and smother them in the hills. And 
 then on to Berlin ! " 
 
 To the great camp at Pirna ten miles southeast of Dres 
 den Philip rode with the Emperor, and was at once busied 
 in writing orders directing the pursuit of the demoralized 
 allies. 
 
 Suddenly, in the midst of an order to General Yamlainme, 
 who was to head off the retreat near Kulm, a hundred miles 
 to the north, the Emperor gave a sharp cry, clapped a hand 
 over his lowest waistcoat buttons, and doubled up completely, 
 unable to think or act. 
 
 Napoleon had the stomach-ache. 
 
 You laugh at this ; but, let me tell you, there is nothing 
 so demoralizing as pain. Headache and indigestion have
 
 "THE CLAWS OF THE CORSICAN" 223 
 
 wrecked more than one great cause. Men who can command 
 armies have surrendered to the toothache. Napoleon was 
 never victorious on the sea, because he was always too sea 
 sick to command in person. Washington bore pain without 
 flinching, and set the government of the new United States 
 on its feet, while nearly dying from a boil on his leg ; Na 
 poleon could not endure pain, and lost his crown through a 
 stomach-ache. For the cramp that caught him that day 
 at Pirna kept him from pursuing his routed foes, and, with 
 that failure to act, began the conqueror's downfall. 
 
 At all events, he gave up his plan of conducting the pur 
 suit in person. He returned to Dresden. Disaster fell upon 
 his generals whenever they fought without him. Oudinot 
 was beaten at Grossbeeren ; Macdonald was overthrown at 
 Katzbach ; Vandamme was captured at Kulm ; Ney was 
 routed at Dennewitz. The Allies turned back ; with fresh 
 troops swelling their recovering ranks, they drew about the 
 man they had sworn to destroy. 
 
 His vassals forsook him ; his tributaries deserted him. 
 France was left alone; and, yielding to the advice of his mar 
 shals rather than following his own wise judgment, Napoleon 
 gave up his plan of marching upon Berlin. His enemies 
 drew about him ; they inclosed him in a ring of steel ; and 
 on the sixteenth of October, in that year of 1813, the Em 
 peror stood at bay under the walls of quaint old Leipsic 
 a handful against a host 
 
 That bloodiest battle of modern times has been called the 
 Battle of the Nations. It was France against all Europe. 
 For three days it raged. One hundred and ten thousand 
 men were killed or wounded. Then the Saxons in the ranks
 
 224 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 of France went over in a body to the enemy. Eetreat was a 
 necessity. Napoleon was beaten. 
 
 But he would not admit it. Neither would Philip. The 
 boy was worked nearly to death. He rode, he wrote, he ran ; 
 he scurried about amid flying bullets, looked almost down 
 the throats of belching cannon, got himself entangled in 
 moving masses of infantry, and dodged many a sweeping 
 cavalry charge. He was growing heedless of danger ; he 
 was becoming used to war. 
 
 He was angry to see that, instead of pursuing, the French 
 were really in retreat. But Philip did not call it a retreat ; 
 he spoke of it as " a backward movement." He scowled 
 with rage as he railed at the " treacherous Saxons " ; and, 
 when the crowning disaster came the blowing-up of the 
 bridge over the Elster, which cut off the French rear-guard, 
 the wagon-train, and the wounded Philip echoed the Em 
 peror, and declared that it was disaster and not defeat that 
 took away the glory from the great victory of Leipsic the 
 "victory" that all the world now knows to have been a 
 most disastrous defeat. 
 
 Then came the fight at Hanau, the last gleam of sun 
 shine through the gathering clouds for Napoleon turned it 
 into a success and, on the first day of November, Philip 
 was despatched to Paris as the herald of victory, carrying 
 to the Empress Regent the twenty hostile standards cap 
 tured at Leipsic and Hanau. 
 
 His coming cheered people greatly, for it showed them 
 that the Emperor was victorious ; and Philip was praised 
 and petted on every hand. 
 
 From the palace, as soon as his duties were over, Philip
 
 "HE SHOWED HER WHERE A TATAR ARROW HAD TORN AN UGLY HOLE.'
 
 226 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIEE 
 
 flew to the Street of the Fight, the great hound stalking at 
 his heels. 
 
 " Mademoiselle my sister," he said, after the glad greeting 
 was over, " I bring you the first captive of my bow and 
 spear. I lay my trophy at your feet. Down, 'Marshal!' 
 Crouch!" and the big Dane, trained by his captor for this 
 very act of homage, first hung his head, as if in acknow 
 ledgment of his defeat, and then crouched, a suppliant, at 
 the feet of the delighted girl. 
 
 " O Philip ! for me ? How lovely ! What a beauty ! 
 See, Nurse, I shall not need you longer as a chaperone. 
 Here is my protector," and she rested her little hand on the 
 great dog's head. "But, Philip, did you really fight with 
 bow and spear ? They tell us the Cossacks do." 
 
 Philip laughed with the superior air of a veteran. " Well, 
 we do . not, Mademoiselle," he replied. " But the Tatars 
 and Bashkirs do. Pestiferous little Eussian wasps ! I caught 
 one of their arrows through my chapeau. See ! " and, draw 
 ing his hat from beneath his arm, he showed where a Tatar 
 arrow had torn an ugly hole. " My best one, too," he added, 
 gazing on it ruefully ; while Mademoiselle regarded the rent 
 with awe, and then cried : 
 
 " Oh, but suppose it had not gone so high, my Philip ! 
 Oh, dear!" and with a little shriek she transferred her 
 caressing hand from the great Dane's neck to her bro 
 ther's curly head. 
 
 Soon his other friends gathered in welcome and admira 
 tion, and the boy's rattling chatter almost dispelled the 
 gloom he noted on all their faces. For despite the elation 
 over the pretended victories, Paris was downcast and 
 anxious.
 
 "THE CLAWS OF THE CORSICAN" 227 
 
 " A fine mess your Corsican is getting us into, young Des- 
 nouettes ! " blurted out Uncle Fauriel. " Why, before we 
 know it, we shall liave the Allies storming into Paris itself. 
 And what then ? " 
 
 " Never ! " cried Philip, hotly. " Paris will never be oc 
 cupied by the foes of France while the Emperor lives. I 
 tell you he is master ! " 
 
 "How can he be, my Philip, with half a million men 
 crowding him against a wall ? " Citizen Daunou said, sadly. 
 " I acknowledge the Emperor's greatness. I know his mighty 
 will. He will not give up without a blow. The hour for 
 great souls is that when everything is lost. But even his 
 valor cannot withstand a host. We have no men left to 
 fight for him. Let him make peace, or his empire is doomed." 
 
 " I know his valor, too," said Uncle Fauriel. " But your 
 Emperor is no Frenchman. He is a Corsican. And the 
 Corsican, like the cat, persists in spitting, and squirming, 
 and scratching, even when one holds him by the nape of the 
 neck. Europe holds your Emperor thus. But let Europe 
 beware. Your Emperor at bay is but a cat in a corner. 
 You shall yet see the claws of the Corsican." 
 
 Within a few days after Philip's arrival the Emperor him 
 self returned to Paris. He came unannounced. He came 
 almost in disgrace. Again he had lost an army for France. 
 But pride was in his heart and determination in his eye. 
 
 " Peace ? " he cried. " Who talks of peace with the enemy 
 at our gates ? We must fight once more. We must fight 
 desperately, and, when we have conquered, then we will talk 
 of peace. I desire peace, but it must be solid and honor 
 able. France depends upon me. I am a man who may be
 
 228 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 killed, but never will be insulted. The French will be 
 worthy of themselves and me." 
 
 With that he set about to raise a new army for the de 
 fense of France. " In three months we shall have peace," 
 he said. The enemy will be driven out, or I shall be dead. 
 My soldiers and I have not forgotten our trade, and those 
 who dared profane our frontier shall soon repent of having 
 stepped foot on French soil." 
 
 Already " the Corsican," as Uncle Fauriel had declared, 
 was sharpening his " claws." 
 
 The foot of the foeman was on French soil. The Allies 
 crossed the Rhine ; they had invaded France. The nation, 
 accustomed only to attack, was unprepared to defend ; Paris 
 was without fortifications ; the fighting material the Em 
 peror demanded was not easy to procure. Twenty years of 
 war had well-nigh drained France of men. 
 
 But the Emperor was imperative. " Give me soldiers ! " 
 he said. Men-soldiers ! I cannot fight your battles with 
 children. Our boys of the Young Guard fought nobly at 
 Dresden and Leipsic ; nothing can exceed their courage. 
 But in the struggle before us, if I am to conquer, I must 
 have men, men, men ! " 
 
 The men came, and the boys as well. Though all France 
 cried for peace ; though Paris wailed, " This insatiate one 
 wishes to sacrifice all our children to his wild ambition " ; 
 and though this wail was echoed in every town and village 
 of the Empire, still the Senate, accustomed to obey the Em 
 peror, voted both the men and the money he demanded ; 
 and in January, 1814, France had collected nearly three 
 hundred thousand men with which to oppose an invading 
 force of almost a million.
 
 "THE CLAWS OF THE COKSICAN " 229 
 
 Philip was speedily summoned to join the Emperor. His 
 duties had permitted him frequent glimpses of that charm 
 ing home-life that was one phase of this strange man's 
 character, when he would play like a child with his boy, 
 the little King of Rome ; and Philip, too, was with the Em 
 peror that sad and eventful January day when Napoleon 
 committed to the care of the Home Guard of Paris his wife 
 and child, and left to face his foes. "Gentlemen," he said 
 to the officers of this Home Guard, " France is invaded. I 
 place myself at the head of my army, and with the help of 
 God and the valor of my troops I shall drive the enemy be 
 yond the frontiers." Then, giving one hand to the Empress 
 arid one to the little King, he presented them to the Guards: 
 " To you, gentlemen," he said, " I confide the protection of 
 my wife and my son, on whom so many hopes rest. I in 
 trust them to you ; I intrust them to the affectionate care 
 of my faithful city of Paris." 
 
 The Guards wept; the Guards swore fealty; the Guards 
 shouted : " Long live the Emperor ! " Then he was gone ; 
 and, straightway, with all the wariness and all the ferocity 
 of a tiger, he sprang at the throat of his foe. 
 
 It was a death grapple, desperate, brilliant, dramatic. It 
 was a struggle magnificent in its intensity, masterly in its 
 conception, wonderful in its devices. It is too little known 
 in history, overshadowed by the glory of Austerlitz, the dis 
 aster of Moscow, the carnage of Leipsic, the tragedy of Wa 
 terloo. It Was the conqueror at bay. 
 
 Ten times, in that short campaign, did Napoleon face and 
 overthrow his hunters. All his strategy, all his daring, all 
 his brilliant methods were brought into play ; and, each
 
 230 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 time, the invaders reeled back, defeated, bleeding, and 
 broken. The "claws of the Corsican" struck swiftly and 
 sank deep. 
 
 Twice was Philip sent to Paris with flags as trophies and 
 prisoners as signs of triumph. Then, one March afternoon, 
 the Emperor summoned him in haste. 
 
 " Lieutenant Desnouettes," he said, " I intrust you with 
 this letter to the Empress. Be wary and be vigilant. 
 Guard it with your life. Deliver it only into the Empress's 
 own hands. It is because I know your courage and your 
 loyalty that I repose this trust in you. Eide, for life or 
 death!" 
 
 Philip sprang to his saddle and galloped toward Paris. 
 
 The sun was nearly set as he rode out of the little ham 
 let of St.-Dizier (where Napoleon, next day, was to win his 
 last victory) and headed for Paris. The night favored the 
 rider; for, with the continual changing of positions, one 
 was always in danger, and darkness was a convenient cloak. 
 If but he could escape the enemy's outposts or their forag 
 ing parties, his way was clear. 
 
 So he rode on with speed. From St.-Dizier to Perthe and 
 Yillotte and Vitry-on-the-Marne he rode ; and, crossing the 
 river, spurred on to Cosle and Comiantray and La Fere-Cham- 
 penoise, where, one to ten, the French had fought the in 
 vaders, and Pacthod's guards had proven themselves heroes. 
 Soon he galloped into Sezanne. Thus far all was well. But, 
 as he rode from Sezanne, he hesitated. The road to Coulom- 
 miers was the most direct ; but he knew the upper road bet 
 ter, where, from Montmirail, the road led westward to Meaux. 
 
 He decided for the upper road, and there was his mistake.
 
 "THE CLAWS OF THE CORSICAN" 231 
 
 For, as he saw the lights of Montmirail shining across the 
 narrow Little Morin, and looked for the white streak that 
 meant the road to Meaux, he spied, ahead, a moving blur, 
 magnified by the darkness into an uncertain but threaten 
 ing mass. He tried to force his horse from the road and 
 into the bordering fields, although he knew that thus he 
 would miss the bridge across the Little Morin and have to 
 swim for it. 
 
 In the gloom of the night his horse, like a sensible beast, 
 refused to leave the road or jump the low wall that flanked 
 the roadway. 
 
 The moving mass came on with shout and swing. Philip 
 had been seen. The challenge rang sharply out, but Philip 
 held his peace, refusing a reply. Then bullets whistled by 
 him, and the boy, thinking safety lay only in his own legs, 
 dismounted and let his horse go free. 
 
 With the " Hurra ! " that he now knew so well as the Cos 
 sack war-cry, his foemen swooped upon the riderless horse ; 
 but, seeing through the boy's plan, dashed across the bridge, 
 and stretched themselves in a crescent from wall to wall. 
 
 Then Philip sought to climb the wall, and escape across 
 the fields to the bank of the stream. But he was stiff with 
 riding, and, in the darkness, his footing was insecure. He 
 slipped arid fell almost beneath the hoofs of the oncoming 
 horse. 
 
 Again he heard the guttural call, the terrible Cossack 
 " Hurra ! " Then something pounced upon him in the dark, 
 before he could free his pistol-hand or draw his sword. 
 Eager hands felt for and grabbed him. He squirmed and 
 dodged and wriggled and kicked, but all to no purpose.
 
 232 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 The next instant he was lifted to his feet; a light was 
 flashed full upon him ; fierce faces encircled him ; words he 
 did not understand shot from bearded and swarthy lips. 
 He could neither defend nor assail. He could not even die, 
 as he had sworn he would, if cornered. Philip was a prisoner 
 in the hands of the Cossacks.
 
 CHAPTEE XIX 
 
 HOW THE SCHOOLBOYS FOUGHT AT PARIS 
 
 PHILIP struggled desperately in the hands of his cap 
 tors, but to no avail. He was speedily secured and 
 conducted to headquarters, only to find just see how curi 
 ously things come around ! that he had fallen into the 
 hands of the Cossacks of Czernicheff' s command that Eus- 
 sian about whom Philip the page got into trouble by calling 
 the Czar's envoy " Catch-a-sneezy the spy," the day when, 
 in the Hall of the Marshals, he had angered the Eussian 
 ambassador. 
 
 Philip felt a little uncertain when he discovered this. 
 He recalled the stories of Eussian vengeance he had so of 
 ten heard, and expected the worst. But there was no es 
 pecial danger. Czernicheff did not recognize in this be 
 draggled young courier the spruce palace page of the days 
 of magnificence. He saw that it was a bearer of despatches 
 his Cossacks had captured, and he hurried the prisoner on to 
 Marshal Bliicher's headquarters for examination. 
 
 Old "Marshal Forward," as Bliicher had been nick 
 named because of his continual cry of " Forward to Paris !" 
 questioned his prisoner sharply as to the mission on which 
 he rode ; but Philip answered never a word. 
 
 " Thunder and lightning ! Has the boy no tongue ? 
 Search him ! " Bliicher cried hotly.
 
 236 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIEE 
 
 And they did search him, more thoroughly than gently. 
 Philip was punched and pummeled and pinched and fingered 
 and finally stripped, in this eager search for the letter he 
 was supposed to be carrying to court. At last it was ripped 
 out from the secret pocket in the boy's crimson vest, and 
 with a hurrah ! of discovery handed to the old Prussian 
 leader, who, meanwhile, had stood by, watching the proceed 
 ings, pulling his long mustache, and growling in choicest 
 German at the boy's obstinacy. 
 
 Bllicher tore open the letter and read it hastily. m " So ! 
 for the Empress, is it? And not in cipher," he cried. " That 
 is good ! As I thought ! " he exclaimed. " The Corsican is 
 in sore straits, and what ! means to inarch to the east ? 
 Ha ! he would strike at our rear, would he ? and draw us 
 back to the Rhine ? We shall see ; we shall see. It is but a 
 desperate man's last device. Yes, this proves it this last 
 line here what is it ? ' This step saves me or ruins me.' 
 So ! Quick ! copy it copy it, Rudolph ! " he cried, throwing 
 the letter into the hands of one of his staff secretaries. " The 
 commander-in-chief shall read it and see that my advice 
 was best. Now he shall come to my way of thinking." 
 
 The commander-in-chief of the allied armies that same 
 Prince Schwarzenberg at whose famous and fatal ball Philip 
 had first met Mademoiselle evidently did speedily come 
 to Bliicher's way of thinking. For, before two days had 
 passed, the Allies were racing for Paris, eacli division anxious 
 to be the first to attack the imperiled and helpless capital ; 
 while Napoleon's shrewd, though desperate move to draw 
 back the enemy was thwarted, because he had been in too 
 much of a hurry, and had not written in cipher his letter 
 to the Empress.
 
 
 PHILIP BKFORE MARSHAL BLUCHER. THE LETTER IS FOUND.
 
 HOW THE SCHOOLBOYS FOUGHT AT PAEIS 239 
 
 But before this came about, Philip was released ; and, es 
 corted to the French outpost at Meaux, was sent on to 
 Paris as bearer of the letter, which the enemy had already 
 read and profited by. 
 
 He felt small enough as he rode dejectedly from Meaux, 
 through the forest and village of Bondy, and along the Canal 
 of Ourcq. As he entered the city by the temple-like gate 
 at the Villette barrier, he felt almost tempted to fling him 
 self into the broad basin into which the canal flows. He 
 had been a miserable failure. He had promised to defend 
 his mission with his life ; and here he was, a cat's-paw for the 
 enemy, bearing the letter, to be sure, but only after it had 
 been taken from him and turned to such terrible account. 
 What would the Emperor say ? What would be the end 
 of it all? 
 
 With a shrug of the shoulders his convenient French 
 way of saying, "Well, I can't help it !" he threw off the un 
 pleasant thought, and said to himself, " After all, it is as 
 the Emperor himself says in such cases the fortune of 
 war ! I did my best." And then he rode down the Street 
 of the Suburb of St. Martin and on to the Tuileries. 
 
 Philip sought the Empress and gave her the letter and 
 the truth. The girl looked troubled after all, she was but 
 a girl. 
 
 " How careless ! " she exclaimed. " Both you and the Em 
 peror ! How could you be thus caught, young Desnouettes ? 
 And why oh, why, did the Emperor write, when he has 
 always sent his other letters in a cipher the enemy can 
 not read ? How dreadful ! Listen : ' This step saves me or 
 ruins me,' he says. I see only ruin now. What shall I do ? 
 whom can I trust ? who will advise ? "
 
 240 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 " Madame, stay ! " cried Philip, impulsively, dropping upon 
 his knee. " Stay, and save Paris. The Home Guard swore 
 to protect you and the little King. Stay ; and all Paris will 
 die in defending you." 
 
 " Monsieur the lieutenant, for all your boasting, you are 
 but a fool," returned the young Empress, sharply, snatching 
 away her robe from the touch of the appealing boy. " Paris ! 
 You do not know the town. It would not turn a h'nger to save 
 the daughter of Austria. Paris ! It is like the champagne it 
 loves too well all fizz to-day, all dead to-morrow. It is 
 full of traitors and turncoats men who will cry, 'Long live 
 the Emperor ! ' in the morning, and ' Down with Bonaparte ! ' 
 at night. And the Emperor ? He bids me go. He declares 
 he had rather see his son in the Seine than in the hands of 
 the Allies. Did I come to Paris but for this ? Am I to be 
 like my grand-aunt, poor Marie Antoinette, whom your dear 
 Paris murdered ? Boy, boy you are no better than the 
 others ! No one can advise me. Everything is crumbling. 
 We are lost ! " 
 
 Was there no hope ? Philip, roused to frenzy over the way 
 things were going, hurried to the Street of the Fight. It was 
 as quiet there as ever Mademoiselle at her tasks, Citizen 
 Daunou lost in his dusty documents of by-gone days, Nurse 
 Marcel stolidly industrious. 
 
 They greeted Philip with joy. They exclaimed in sur 
 prise at his torn and discolored uniform. " You look tired and 
 worried, my Philip. What have you been going through ? " 
 Mademoiselle asked. 
 
 Philip told his story of the mission and the capture. He 
 begged them to do something.
 
 HOW THE SCHOOLBOYS FOUGHT AT PARIS 241 
 
 " Paris is in danger in danger ! " he cried to Citizen 
 Daunou. " Cannot you, my father, do something ? Cannot 
 we rouse men to its defence ? " 
 
 " And wherefore, my Philip ? What may we hope to do ? " 
 Citizen Daunou said. " We are but drinking the cup I 
 promised you months ago. You see now the Emperor's 
 greatest mistake. He has given grand fortifications, arsenals, 
 troops, all necessary defenses, to his distant cities to Dan- 
 tzic, to Hamburg, to Flushing, to Venice. But to Paris 
 nothing ! ' Paris could never be invaded ! No foeman's foot 
 could ever press the sacred soil of France ! ' Oh, no ! But to 
 day that foot is here here at the very gates of Paris. And 
 what have we to protect us? Nothing, Philip; nothing 
 not even the Emperor ! Here is no armament ; here are no 
 muskets, no cannon, no fortifications. And for defenders 
 not thirty thousand men to drive back half a million ! And 
 the Emperor is not here ! " 
 
 " But he will be here," cried Philip, bravely. " He will be 
 here, and then let the Cossacks tremble ! The Emperor 
 alone is worth half a million men." 
 
 " If he were here, yes," replied Citizen Daunou. " But lie 
 is not here ; and through the ranks of the enemy even he 
 cannot break to save us. He is not here, and at the palace 
 are only weaklings and traitors. The Empress is but a child 
 and a foreigner. Her father leads our foes. King Joseph 
 is timid and dares not take a step for fear of his brother the 
 Emperor. The War Minister is an incompetent ; the Police 
 Minister is an imbecile ; the Arch-Chancellor is an old 
 grandfather ; Prince Talleyrand is a traitor. They will leave 
 us, you will see. They will leave us, and Paris will fall."
 
 242 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 The old republican was right. Next day the Empress and 
 her council fled from Paris the only one of them with 
 spunk enough to stay being the three-year-old King of 
 Home, who cried and kicked, and refused to leave and who 
 never saw Paris again. 
 
 And, even as the Court fled, the watchers could see from 
 the heights about the city, and from the towers of Notre 
 Dame, the head of the Eussian column winding out of the 
 Bondy woods, leading the advance of that army of invasion 
 that drew steadily toward the capital Paris, beautiful Paris, 
 which for centuries had not seen the smoke of hostile camp- 
 fires, nor the gleam of hostile steel, and yet which its own 
 citizens seemed to have neither the spirit nor the patriotism 
 to defend. 
 
 However, the next morning, the thirtieth of March, 
 1814, when at day-break the booming of the Russian can 
 non told that the attack had begun, there were those who 
 rushed to the aid of the men outside the barriers, already 
 drawn up in line of battle. Militiamen with the loaf of bread 
 that must be their dinner sticking on their bayonet points ; 
 workingmen carrying pistols or the rusty pike that was a 
 relic of their fathers' valor in the days of the Sansculotte; 
 citizens carrying fowling-pieces as if they were bound on a 
 bird-hunt, these all ran through the streets crying "To 
 arms!" and headed for the barriers. 
 
 In line of battle beyond the barriers, extending in a 
 semicircle about the eastern side of the city, from the Seine 
 on the south to the gate of Clichy on the north, were ranged 
 the real defenders twelve thousand soldiers of the grand 
 army under the Marshals Marmont and Mortie, a few thou-
 
 HOW THE SCHOOLBOYS FOUGHT AT PAEIS 243 
 
 sand Home Guards, a few thousand raw recruits drawn from 
 their barracks, veterans from the Soldiers' Home, and the 
 schoolboys of the military and scientific schools of Paris. 
 
 It was these last who bore the brunt of the battle. Philip 
 felt a thrill of pride as he saw among the defenders of the 
 city he loved the boys of his old school at Alfort, and 
 the Polytechnic boys. He waved his hat excitedly as he 
 galloped past them, and cried again and again : " Stick to 
 your guns, fellows ! We boys will do it yet ! " 
 
 Philip knew that, rightly, he should have broken through 
 the lines and gone to report to the Emperor. But how 
 could he? There was to be a battle. Could he leave 
 when every fighting-man was needed while hostile cannon 
 were playing against his city, his friends, his school- fellows ? 
 He elected to stay, and, full of ardor and determination, he 
 reported to Marshal Marmont as a special aide, and galloped 
 from point to point, from barrier to barrier, bearing messages, 
 and striking a blow for Paris whenever he had the chance. 
 
 For ten hours the battle raged. Here, the shattered ranks 
 of the Sixth Corps heroes of sixty-seven battles within the 
 last ninety days stood stoutly against the foemen, whom, 
 again and again, they had seen break and run before their 
 charges ; there, the old soldiers, whose fighting days were 
 over, once more leveled their muskets against the foes of 
 France. The conscripts, yet new to war, fought with the 
 dash of veterans ; and in the woods of Romainville, by the 
 bridge of Charenton, on the heights of Montmartre, and at the 
 Clichy gate, the boys of the Paris schools served the guns 
 like trained artillerists, and fought from tree to tree like 
 seasoned frontiersmen in American forests. They were de 
 termined to do or die for France.
 
 244 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 Even valor may be overborne by numbers. 
 
 Again and again were the Allies driven back. Again and 
 again, with ever-increasing numbers, did they return to the 
 assault. Men and boys were falling everywhere. The battle 
 of Paris was one of the most stubborn and one of the most 
 hopeless of all the conflicts of that hopeless campaign of 
 1814. If but Napoleon had been there, that last of the 
 battles might have proved a victory. 
 
 Philip had rallied with the boys of the Young Guard as 
 they drove the Prussians back to the suburbs of Pantin 
 and St. Gervais ; he slashed and shot in the wood of 
 Remain ville ; and, spurring in the advance, cheered on his 
 schoolfellows of Alfort as- the cavalry class charged straight 
 upon the Russian grenadiers at the bridge of Charenton. 
 When, flanked and outnumbered, the boys crossed the Seine 
 and made a desperate stand on the Beauregard slope, Philip 
 was with them to cheer and wave his sword as their brave 
 commander urged them to stand firm, and shouted, " At them 
 again, boys ! Behind you is Paris ; before you is the foe ! " 
 
 Galloping to the north with a message for the dauntless 
 Marshal Mortier, he joined in the fight before the Barrier of 
 the Throne, where stood the three hundred Polytechnic boys, 
 one of whom, when taken prisoner, cheekily demanded of the 
 Russian genera} a letter of recommendation to Siberia in 
 order that he might teach mathematics there ! 
 
 Behind their battery, holding their crazy fort, the Poly 
 technic boys stood like a wall. Philip cheered his old 
 schoolfellows until he was hoarse as, again and again, they 
 drove back the Russian cavalry charges ; and, when they 
 were outnumbered, and their battery was taken, he galloped
 
 CORPORAL PEYROLLES AND THE POLYTECHNIC BOYS FIGHTING IN THE 
 DEFENSE OF PARIS.
 
 HOW THE SCHOOLBOYS FOUGHT AT PARIS 247 
 
 amid their mass, as with an irresistible rush they swooped 
 upon their assailants, recaptured, and dragged off their pre 
 cious guns. 
 
 He waved his shako wildly, as, dashing past the hillock 
 of Chaumont, he saw at the guns, with a schoolboy on one 
 side and a veteran on the other, dear old one-legged Pey- 
 rolles, who, begrimed with powder-smoke, stopped just an 
 instant while sighting his unerring piece, to wave his hand 
 to Philip and shout, " Eh, there, my Philip ! Long live the 
 Emperor ! " 
 
 And, as he reached the barriers at the Clichy gate, where 
 brave old Marshal Moncey made the last desperate stand 
 behind the hastily-made barricades which soldiers, students, 
 citizens, women, and children had helped to build, Philip, 
 as he sprang from his reeking horse, leaped almost into the 
 arms of a fat man who, blackened with powder, and with 
 the perspiration streaming from every pore, was reloading 
 an old fowling-piece, now hot from rapid firing. 
 
 " What ! Uncle Fauriel ? " cried Philip. " You here ? " 
 
 " And why not ? " Uncle Fauriel answered, ramming home 
 another charge. " Where is the Corsican ? " 
 
 " Coming, coming, if we will but wait," Philip answered, 
 with a wail of anxious fear. " Don't let us give in ; I know 
 he will come." 
 
 " Bah ! " said Uncle Fauriel. " And why is he not here 
 now, boy ? making peaceable fellows like us good citizens 
 look after his business ! " he grumbled. 
 
 " But why you ? " queried Philip. 
 
 " Why me, boy ? " cried Uncle Fauriel, deliberately sight 
 ing his piece toward the Eussian ranks ; " why not, then ? If
 
 248 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 the Corsican is beaten the White Cockade comes in ; and, 
 as between Bonaparte and the Bourbons, give me the Cor 
 sican. I did not build up the Eepublic, my Philip, to let the 
 Empire, which is the child of the Eepublic, give in to the 
 aristocrats we kicked out in '93. What is that you say 
 the fight is over ? the foreigners have whipped us ? Never ! 
 Down with the Allies ! Down with the Eoyalists ! " here 
 he fired again " Long live the Emperor ! " 
 
 There came a flash of flame from the Eussian guns, and 
 Uncle Fauriel staggered, reeled, and fell back dead. 
 
 Even as he fell, the white flag fluttered out ; the guns of 
 assailants and defenders were silent; the battle was over; 
 Paris had surrendered. And Philip, gazing on the face of his 
 old friend, gave to it both a smile and a tear. 
 
 "Dear Uncle Fauriel!" he cried. "Victor though van 
 quished ! Dying for the man whose empire he hated ; 
 fighting for the cause he detested only less than the cause 
 he fought against; a loyal son of France his last words a 
 wish for the man he had all his life resisted ; his last thought 
 a prayer for the Corsican ! Dear Uncle Fauriel ! "
 
 CHAPTEE XX 
 
 THE FALL OF THE TRICOLOR 
 
 BESIEGERS and besieged fell back from their positions. 
 The wounded were borne off ; the dead were removed ; 
 and Philip, desperate over the defeat, broken-hearted at the 
 death of his old friend, hurried to the Street of the Fight to 
 tell the sad story. 
 
 Mademoiselle mingled her tears with those of her brother 
 as he told of Uncle Fauriel's death. But Citizen Daunou 
 smiled sadly and said, " After all, my children, it was the 
 taking-off that best suited that stanch old Convention-man. 
 One half his talk was bluster, but the other half was real 
 patriotism. As against Napoleon the Corsican, Uncle Fauriel 
 was ever hot and bitter ; but Bonaparte, the hope of the 
 Directory, as against the Bourbons whom that Directory 
 drove from France, was a cause which, when the hour 
 came, our dear old patriot was ready to defend with his 
 blood. He was right in his fears ; the Bourbons will come 
 in again; and I should never have been able to restrain 
 Uncle Fauriel's fierce hatred against the cause they rep 
 resent. He would ever have been in trouble. Better for 
 him the glorious death he met, there at the Clichy gate, than 
 to be the tool of political plotters and the dupe of foolish 
 conspirators. In this world, my children, it is better to be 
 
 249
 
 250 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 loyal than uncertain. Trust me, our France, though defeated 
 now, will never forget such valiant sons of France as Uncle 
 Fauriel." 
 
 And, to-day, the striking and beautiful monument which 
 Paris has raised in memory of those brave citizen-soldiers 
 who fell at the Clichy gate attests the truth of Citizen Dau- 
 nou's prophecy. 
 
 But, in life, one must think of the living ; and Philip felt, 
 now that his duty as a defender was done, that his place 
 was at the side of his Emperor. 
 
 At two o'clock on the morning of March thirty-first, the 
 authorities in command at Paris signed the capitulation, and 
 the tricolored banner came down from its staff on the 
 Tuileries. Before daybreak Philip was far from Paris, gal 
 loping along the road by which, according to the latest re 
 ports, the Emperor was hurrying to the relief of his capital. 
 
 As the dusk was just turning to dawn, Philip rode into the 
 little hamlet of Fromenteau, some twelve miles from Paris ; 
 and, in the dim morning light, he saw before him a well- 
 known figure walking in the direction of the fallen city. 
 
 He understood at once. The Emperor had received the 
 news of the defeat and the surrender, and, fretting at every 
 delay,, without waiting for horse or carriage, was starting to 
 walk toward Paris, a dozen miles away. For once, even his 
 coolness had yielded to impatience. Almost on his heels 
 hurried certain of his officers, expostulating and explaining. 
 
 " Who goes there ? Eh, it is you, young Desnouettes ? " the 
 Emperor cried, as the boy sprang from the saddle. " Well, 
 what news ? what news ? " 
 
 " Nothing but what you have already heard, Sire," Philip
 
 THE FALL OF THE TEICOLOE 251 
 
 replied, sadly. " We fought like tigers, but the Cossacks 
 were too much for us. Ah, had you but been there, Sire ! " 
 
 "Yes, yes; I know I know. But one cannot be every 
 where," Napoleon said, flicking the ground with his riding- 
 whip, as was his wont when he was perplexed or excited. 
 " But now it is no time for complaints ; now it is time to 
 act. We must repair the evil. Run, my Philip ; run to the 
 post-house. Bid them hurry up my carriage. Every one is 
 an imbecile to-day. Why are they so slow ? Come ! my 
 carriage, my carriage, my carriage ! " 
 
 It was almost King Eichard's despairing cry repeated : "A 
 horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! " 
 
 " But it is too late, Sire," Philip explained. " The enemy 
 is already in Paris." 
 
 " What ! you too ? " the Emperor cried. " You are all 
 singing the same song. Suppose he is I am going there, 
 too. I will lead on my army, and drive the enemy from 
 Paris my Paris ! my Paris ! " he repeated. " Forward, 
 gentlemen ! Let us clear out the barbarians ! " 
 
 " Too late, Sire," said General Belliard, the leader of the 
 cavalry advance. " Our troops are marching away from the 
 city. We cannot go back. We have signed a capitulation." 
 
 " A capitulation ! " the Emperor blazed out. " Who has 
 been so cowardly ? " 
 
 " No cowards, Sire," Belliard replied. " Brave men who 
 could not do otherwise." 
 
 Still Napoleon walked on toward Paris. Still he called 
 again and again for his carriage. Still his generals followed 
 at his heels. Then other soldiers advanced toward him. 
 The same questions were asked: the same replies given.
 
 252 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 And the Emperor, realizing at last that his wish indeed was 
 hopeless, flung himself upon the stone seat that flanked the 
 fountain of Juvisy and buried his face in his hands. All 
 were silent. No one broke in upon the crowding thoughts 
 that marked the tearless anguish of a conquered conqueror. 
 
 At last he rose. Calm succeeded to despair. Dignity, 
 composure, energy, came again to the face that so seldom be 
 trayed emotion. 
 
 Then reaction came. Napoleon had ridden nearly two 
 hundred miles without rest, and all to no purpose. Going 
 into the little posting-house near to the fountain, he dropped 
 into a chair and, for an instant, rested his head upon the 
 table. But, no ! He must not sleep ; he must work. He 
 called for lights. He spread out his war-maps upon the 
 table, and sticking his pins here and there, as was his cus 
 tom, at once began to study the situation. Philip never 
 forgot that scene the gray of the morning, the group of 
 silent soldiers, and, through the open door of the cottage, 
 in the circle of flickering light, the tired and defeated 
 leader of men poring over his maps, planning a new cam 
 paign. 
 
 But that campaign never came. Fate was too strong for 
 him ; and, yielding to the inevitable, Napoleon finally gave up 
 his determination to make an instant march on Paris witli 
 the troops who were following him from the eastern frontier, 
 and rode wearily to his palace at Fontainebleau, a few miles to 
 the south. There he would rest ; there he would plan things 
 more carefully ; and, calling around him his scattered bat 
 talions, he would mass them for an irresistible march on 
 his foes, whom he declared he now had " trapped in Paris."
 
 THE FALL OP THE TEICOLOR 253 
 
 Bad news travels quickly. And bad news speedily found 
 its way to Fontainebleau. The allies entered Paris. The 
 city "faithful Paris," as the Emperor had called it instead 
 of rising against the invaders, welcomed them. France was 
 weary of war. The dignitaries of the Empire, following the 
 lead of Talleyrand, " that arch- conspirator," one by one de 
 serted the Emperor who had made them rich and loaded 
 them with honors. They gave in their allegiance to the new 
 government. The white cockade and the white flag of the 
 Bourbons appeared on the streets. " Long live the King ! " 
 began to be heard where " Long live the Emperor ! " had 
 so often been shouted. The abdication of the Emperor was 
 demanded, and fickle Paris ran easily down the scale from 
 homage to nickname, from the Emperor to Napoleon 
 Bonaparte " the Corsican " " Nicholas ! " until at last it 
 made ready to welcome back the Bourbons, whom a genera 
 tion before it had hacked to death on the guillotine and 
 driven away in the days of terror. 
 
 Treason hastened the work. Napoleon's army, upon which 
 he had depended for his revenge, dwindled away ; and 
 Marmont brave Marmont, who had so valiantly defended 
 Paris went over with his entire army corps, and for ever 
 after was esteemed a traitor by the France he hoped to serve 
 and save. 
 
 The marshals, whom the Emperor had raised to rank and 
 riches, joined in the cry for his abdication. They conspired 
 against their old leader ; it is claimed they even doomed him 
 to death if he refused to obey their will. 
 
 Thus, deserted by his companions-iri-arms, worn out with 
 a useless struggle loath, now, to plunge France into civil
 
 254 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 
 
 war by appeals to the people who were loyal and the old 
 soldiers who were faithful to him Napoleon, with that ser 
 enity that marks a great soul, yielded to the inevitable, and, 
 on the eleventh of April, 1814, signed his abdication as Em 
 peror of the French, and quietly stepped down from the high 
 position he so long had occupied. It was the noblest act of 
 his life, even though men might say it was compulsory. 
 
 This is the act of renunciation he signed this victor, 
 vanquished by Fate, and by his own ambition : 
 
 The Allied Powers having proclaimed that the Emperor is the sole 
 obstacle to the reestablishment of peace in Europe, the Emperor, faith 
 ful to his oath, declares that he renounces for himself and for his family 
 the thrones of France and Italy, and that there is no sacrifice, even to 
 that of his life, which he is not ready to make for the interests of 
 France. 
 
 The tricolor had indeed fallen. The man who, for so 
 many years, had given glory and greatness to France, who 
 had distracted England with war, startled the whole Con 
 tinent with his success, and filled the world with his name, 
 stepped down from his throne, and Europe once more 
 breathed freely. Great in everything he did, Napoleon was 
 as great in his fall as in his glory. The Empire was dead. 
 
 Through all these days of watching and waiting, of plan 
 ning and plotting, of hopes and fears, Philip stood by the 
 Emperor, serving him as best he could, riding to Paris, bear 
 ing messages now to the friends and now to the foes of the 
 man he clung to alike in victory and defeat. 
 
 He stood by the Emperor's bedside, that sad night on 
 which, for the only time in his life, Napoleon played the
 
 THE FALL OF THE TEICOLOE 255 
 
 coward and tried to commit suicide. He was near him that 
 famous morning when in the Court of the White Horse, in 
 the beautiful palace of Fontainebleau, Napoleon bade fare 
 well to his Old Guard, and left for the island principality that 
 had been given him as his home it was almost a prison 
 the little island of Elba, in the Mediterranean. 
 
 That was the moment when Philip's pent-up feelings had 
 overflowed, and the tears he would not have checked if he 
 could came tumbling down his cheeks. Already the Em 
 peror had said farewell to this boy who had so faithfully 
 served him. 
 
 Standing in the splendid gallery of Francis I., which opens 
 upon the famous Horseshoe Staircase, down which Napoleon 
 walked to say good-by to his Guard, the boy had begged 
 and implored the Emperor to let him be one of the chosen 
 four hundred soldiers who were to accompany the dethroned 
 monarch to his tiny island realm. 
 
 But, " No, my Philip," the Emperor said, " it cannot be. 
 Go home to your dear ones, the sister you have found, the 
 good Citizen Daunou, who is like a father to you. There lies 
 your duty to them and to France. Serve France, my son, 
 as loyally as you have served me ; and when she needs your 
 strong young arm and that sometimes flighty but always 
 truth-telling tongue of yours, I know she will not call in 
 vain." 
 
 Then Napoleon passed on amid his officers, down the 
 Horseshoe Staircase and into the White Horse Court. 
 
 The drums beat a salute. Then they were silent, and 
 Napoleon, in a voice first strong, then broken and full of 
 feeling, said farewell to his stalwart soldiers of the Guard, 
 his never-failing reliance on every field of battle.
 
 256 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 It was one of the most pathetic moments in history. Every 
 man was thrilled; and when, breaking off his speech, Napo 
 leon flung his arms about the standard-bearer, grasped the 
 imperial standard and touched his lips to the eagle that 
 crowned it, Emperor, generals, soldiers, all were in tears. 
 
 Philip clung to the step of the carriage. Tears blinded the 
 bright young eyes that looked up to his master in the final 
 farewell. The Emperor placed a hand upon his head. 
 " Good-by, my boy. God bless you ! " he said. Then the 
 horses started ; the carriage rolled out of the courtyard, and 
 to Philip it seemed as if all the glory, all the promise, and 
 all the pride of living passed from his brave young life. 
 
 But boys rally quickly, even from deeper sorrows. Philip 
 returned to the. Street of the Fight, proud and happy over the 
 Emperor's words of praise, and delighted to find that this pa 
 thetic " Passing of Napoleon " had conquered even the stout 
 old republican, who had served his Emperor faithfully, even 
 when he most questioned the imperial measures. Eor now 
 the old Keeper of the Archives looked upon the fallen mon 
 arch almost as devotedly as did the hero-worshiping boy 
 and girl who brightened his quiet home. 
 
 The tricolor had fallen. The white standard waved above 
 the Tuileries. The Bourbons returned to power. Old Louis 
 XVIII. was king of France, and those who had served the 
 bees took service under the lilies. 
 
 But this Philip stoutly refused to do. One day, Citizen 
 Daunou said : " My son, you can be a page of the palace 
 still, if you wish. The King recalls your father's services 
 in the days before the Eepublic. He knows how he died, 
 and he will gladly give the son of Desnouettes the Emigre
 
 THE FALL OF THE TEICOLOR 257 
 
 a place of honor in his train." Then Philip replied, un 
 hesitatingly, " I cannot ; I cannot, my father. The Em 
 peror found me poor and friendless. He stood me on my 
 
 "THE EMPEROR PLACED A HAND UPON HIS HEAD." 
 
 feet; he tried to make a man of me. While he lives, 
 there is for me no other king. I would not be page to the 
 Bourbons for all the gold in their palaces. If ever the 
 foreigner threatens France I will remember the Emperor's
 
 258 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 charge, and serve France as well as I may; but never 
 the Bourbons ! Let me, rather, if I ma} 7 , stay here with 
 you and Mademoiselle, my sister." 
 
 " There spake my boy," Citizen Daunou said ; and Made 
 moiselle kissed her brother tenderly and cried, " There is no 
 truer friend than our Philip, is there, my father?" 
 
 The days passed by. France accepted the Bourbons. 
 Paris paid court to them. There were fetes and receptions, 
 balls and illuminations, processions, shows, and displays, 
 even as there had been in the Empire days though there 
 were people who said these could not compare with those for 
 magnificence. But in all such doings Philip had neither in 
 terest nor part. He took up the studies he had dropped 
 when the stress of France called him to ride and write for 
 the Emperor. He perfected himself in military science, and 
 the drawing and mathematics which delighted him. Citizen 
 Daunou praised him highly for this. 
 
 " Be strong in your mathematical study, Philip, my boy," 
 he said. " That best tries a boy's patience and builds up a 
 boy's brain. I wish I had your head for figures." 
 
 Whereat Philip laughed ; for he thought Citizen Daunou 
 knew everything. He laughed, also, it must be confessed, 
 when he heard the notes of discontent that were growing 
 each day louder over what folks called "the mistakes of the 
 Bourbons," and he discussed many times with Citizen Dau 
 nou, and sometimes with clever young Mademoiselle, the 
 embarrassment of the new government, the disputes of roy 
 alists and republicans, the discontent of the army, and the 
 attempts of the famous " Congress of Vienna " to straighten 
 out the mixed-up affairs of Europe.
 
 THE FALL OF THE TRICOLOR 259 
 
 Even the good old Keeper of the Archives was sometimes 
 " out of sorts " and disgusted at the things that were going 
 on. He said one day to Philip, "After all, Napoleon was 
 but right when he declared, ' The Bourbons will reconcile 
 France with the rest of Europe, but set her at war with her 
 self.' You will see ; you will see ! " 
 
 Philip especially enjoyed hunting up Corporal Peyrolles 
 and having a good talk with him. The old veteran was a 
 bitter partizan. To him the marshals were renegades ; the 
 dignitaries who had accepted the Bourbons were traitors ; 
 the Bourbons were knaves and cowards. 
 
 " Look now at that old pig of a Capet, Philip ! " he cried 
 for to the old soldier of the Revolution the brother of Louis 
 XVI. was, like that unfortunate, no king, but only a man 
 whose name was Capet " Look on him, riding the very 
 streets our Emperor has trod. An invalid, say you ? Yes, 
 but not from wounds like those of us who have dropped 
 our blood for France ! An invalid, he, from age, with never 
 a touch of glory. What is he, then ? A puppet show worked 
 by Cossacks." 
 
 Then, in high glee, Peyrolles pulled from his pocket one 
 of the comic pictures of the day. " Look you, my boy. Here 
 is that Capet. This is he!" And Philip laughed, too, at the 
 rudely-colored picture of old King Louis XVIII. riding be 
 hind a hairy Cossack on a sorry-looking horse, and hugging 
 the barbarian tightly for fear of falling off. But both the 
 boy and the veteran stamped with rage at sight of the high 
 way over which Cossack and King were riding the bodies 
 of French soldiers who had died for the Emperor. 
 
 Peyrolles, by this time, was an inmate of the Soldiers'
 
 260 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 Home that splendid building with the magnificent dome, 
 then called the Temple of Mars, but famous now as the 
 great Hotel of the Invalids. The old corporal had no ob 
 jection to being cared for there. " For," said he, " the Em 
 peror sent me there, and it is the money of France and not 
 of the Bourbons that pays for my keeping." 
 
 Here Philip would often visit the veteran ; and here, one 
 February day in the year 1815, he and Mademoiselle had 
 made their weekly call upon the old soldier. Their talk 
 had been of Uncle Fauriel and of Pierre of Pierre who 
 had lost his place in their good graces because he had con 
 tinued as police inspector after the Bourbons had returned 
 to power. 
 
 " One can see," said Philip, " how one may hold on to his 
 place in a civil bureau, as does Citizen Daunou, or live at 
 the Soldiers' Home, as do you, Peyrolles, after the Bourbons 
 have come in ; but how one can serve on their police, those 
 who must do their dirty work, you know, as Pierre is serv 
 ing, is more than I can understand." 
 
 All of which is drawing a fine distinction ; but opinions 
 as to office -holding often admit of fine distinctions even in 
 other countries than France and Philip therefore felt jus 
 tified in saying, " No, I cannot understand it. I am disap 
 pointed in Pierre ! " 
 
 With Mademoiselle, that February day, he had left the 
 Soldiers' Home and had taken a roundabout way for their 
 return, extending their walk into Philip's old quarter, from 
 which the Emperor had rescued him the Fourth Ward of 
 Paris and the Street of the Washerwomen. 
 
 At the identical fountain, at the foot of that narrow and
 
 THE FALL OF THE TEICOLOE 261 
 
 dirty street, where Philip and Pierre had fought their fa 
 mous fight, it seemed to Philip as if that were ages ago, 
 Philip and Mademoiselle stopped for a moment to look at a 
 detachment of troops marching from the barriers to the mili 
 tary bureau in the Place Vendome. Philip winced as he 
 looked at them, as he always winced for they were no 
 longer the soldiers of the Emperor ; they were the soldiers of 
 the King. The white flag instead of the tricolor was borne 
 in their ranks ; the white cockade instead of the tricolor de 
 corated their shakos ; the white of the Kingdom rather than 
 the blue of the Empire predominated in their uniforms. 
 
 The people in the poorer quarters of Paris, never en 
 thusiastic for the King, recalling the days when they and 
 their fathers had put down this very race of Bourbons, 
 had no ringing shout of " Long live the King ! " as, they had 
 once shouted " Long live the Emperor ! " 
 
 So the watching throng about the fountain was silent or 
 sarcastic. But it was an uneasy crowd. It jostled and 
 swayed and pushed, and Philip was forced to grasp Madem 
 oiselle closely for her security. Gradually they were forced 
 back against the stone coping of the fountain, and, as Philip 
 struggled to maintain his own footing and save Mademoiselle 
 from a crushing, he was startled almost to stupidity to hear 
 a low but distinct whisper in his ear : " Be watchful and 
 wary ! The eagle will swoop on the geese. Be swift and 
 silent. The bees will soon be swarming!" 
 
 What did it mean ? Who had spoken such a singular 
 message. Philip turned slowly, not wishing to attract at 
 tention. But to no purpose. The only familiar face he 
 saw was that of his sister. What could it mean ?
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE SWARMING OF THE BEES 
 
 FOR a moment Philip was too bewildered to speak. Then 
 he turned a white face toward his sister. 
 
 " Who was that ? " he asked her. 
 
 Mademoiselle was intently watching the vanishing ranks 
 of the white cockades. Philip repeated his question. Made 
 moiselle looked puzzled. 
 
 " Who was who, my Philip ? " she queried. 
 
 " Why, did you see no one ? Did you hear nothing ? " 
 Philip asked in a voice trembling with surprise and ex 
 citement. 
 
 " Why, my Philip, what can you mean ? " the girl replied. 
 " What has startled you ? I saw none save the soldiers 
 yonder. I heard nothing but the people all about us." 
 
 " What was it, then ? It is all very strange, this ! " her 
 brother murmured, only half aloud. Then he said sud 
 denly : " What was the picture we laughed over so you 
 and I a few days ago, Mademoiselle ? The one Corporal 
 Peyrolles brought us ? " 
 
 Mademoiselle rounded her pretty lips in thought. "A 
 picture?" she said. "What, then do you mean that one 
 where those funny fat geese were waddling up the steps
 
 THE SWARMING OF THE BEES 263 
 
 of the Tuileries, and an eagle was flying away from the 
 dome ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes; that was it," Philip answered. "The geese 
 and the eagle ? How odd ! But can it be so, then ? And 
 why the bees ? " 
 
 Philip pushed his chapeau back upon his head, and gave 
 a long, low whistle through his half-closed teeth. Made 
 moiselle looked anxious ; she began to fear something was 
 the trouble with her vivacious brother. 
 
 " What do you mean, you Philip ? " she asked him. 
 " What is odd ? Can what be so ? Why do you whistle ? 
 And why that picture ? " 
 
 " Something I have just heard," was Philip's unsatisfac 
 tory reply. " Let me think ; let me think. I will tell 
 you later." 
 
 Mademoiselle possessed all the curiosity which, we are 
 assured, is the privilege of her sex. Philip had a secret; 
 she must know what it was. So she grew more and 
 more inquisitive as they hurried home ; but her brother 
 answered her not a word in explanation until they were 
 safely within the house on the Street of the Fight. Then 
 he sought out Citizen Daunou, and told him the story of 
 the mysterious message. 
 
 The worthy Keeper of the Archives rubbed his white 
 head thoughtfully. 
 
 " You were dreaming, boy," he said ; " or else the whisper 
 was but a Fourth Ward joke. They raise but rattlepates, 
 you know, there in the Street of the Washerwomen. As, 
 for example " ; and he clapped Philip on the shoulder. 
 
 But the boy was in no mood for pleasantry. "Dreaming
 
 264 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 or awake, joke or no, my father, I heard the words," he 
 declared. Then he added swiftly, "Which way, now, lies 
 this Elba?" 
 
 It was now Citizen Daunou's turn to look startled. 
 
 " Elba ? " he said. " Why, to the southeast some two 
 hundred leagues or so. But why do you ask ? " 
 
 Mademoiselle, who had stolen in to hear, was even 
 quicker-witted. She clasped her brother close. 
 
 " To Elba, Philip ? " she cried. " You would surely not 
 go there. And why?" 
 
 "Where the bees swarm and the eagle soars," said the 
 boy, more theatrically than he really intended, "there is the 
 place for him who with the bees would swarm and who 
 would soar with the eagle ! " 
 
 " My faith, Philip ! " exclaimed practical Mademoiselle. 
 " But what is all this we hear about bees and eagles ? Does 
 it mean What ? does it, now? the Emperor ?" 
 
 " It does ! it does, my sister ! " Philip cried, flushed with 
 ardor and excitement. "Let not your tongue speak the 
 wonderful message outside this house. The Emperor is 
 coming back!" 
 
 " Philip ! " the girl exclaimed, catching her brother's ex 
 citement. " My father, is this so ? " 
 
 Philip nodded energetically. And Citizen Daunou said, 
 " It may be but a joke of the Washerwomen's quarter to 
 stir up our Philip here, as I have told him ; but yet 
 nothing is impossible to Napoleon. Nothing can surprise 
 me in the ways of that wonderful man. Pray heaven he 
 does not come, even though France calls him and all men 
 marvel at him ! It will be a terrible mistake. No crood can
 
 THE SWAEMING OF THE BEES 265 
 
 come of it. Better let the Bourbons unhorse themselves by 
 their own blundering than that France should be ruined 
 by a profitless frenzy and a dream of glory that can lead 
 only to ruin." 
 
 " But the Emperor is coming, you say ? " Mademoiselle 
 repeated, heedless of the old man's moralizing. " Why, 
 men tell us he is peaceful and satisfied there at Elba, and 
 has no desire to return." 
 
 Citizen Daunou shook his head in disbelief. " They are 
 but fools who say it, -then," he replied. "Napoleon is no 
 Diocletian an emperor out of business, content to raise his 
 own cabbages at Salona ; he is no Charles V., resigned to 
 patter prayers at St. Just. The world is not done with 
 when one is but forty-five ; and abdication does not kill 
 ambition. The Emperor has not yet fed full of war and 
 glory. Elba is all too small a world for him to govern, and 
 he will tire of it, if lie has not already done so. The Eagle 
 will beat his wings until he breaks his cage bars, and will 
 try a flight to Notre Dame. I know his ambition ; it is 
 boundless. But such a flight will never succeed. Once 
 again the Eagle may flap his wings above the dome of the 
 Tuileries; but the fowling-piece that kills crows- may bring 
 down an eagle, and the hunters will speedily be abroad. 
 Let Napoleon stay on his island, or die in escaping from it ; 
 his mission for France is ended. Fontainebleau was his 
 climax. To return would be but anti-climax ; and that is 
 always a mistake, is it not, you boy of the Paris schools ? " 
 
 No doubt the wise old scholar was right. But Mademoi 
 selle could not admit it; and Philip surely would not. 
 When did youth ever neglect to bow before glory, or re- 
 
 23
 
 266 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 fuse to yield to the spell of adventure ? Great thoughts 
 were stirring in the boy's busy brain; high hopes were 
 surging in his brave young heart. 
 
 "Brush up my very best page suit, Mademoiselle my 
 sister," he said ; " and keep it ready for use. Citizen Dau- 
 nou, I crave your permission to go on a quest. Within a 
 week I will be with you again." 
 
 " 'A boy's will is the wind's will,' " the quiet old Keeper 
 remarked. " 'T is a fool's errand, Philip, but I cannot say 
 no to you. Only guard yourself, my son; be not rash. 
 Eemember what I told you the hunters will speedily be 
 abroad, if your message at the fountain was a true tale. 
 Guard yourself for Mademoiselle's sake, for my sake, for 
 France ! 
 
 And within two hours' time Philip had left his dear ones 
 in the Street of the Fight, and was off to the southward. 
 
 The whispered message by the fountain in the Street of 
 the Washerwomen was not a dream. It was a fact. The 
 Emperor had escaped from Elba. He was on his way to 
 France. 
 
 He risked his head to recover his throne ; and France 
 fickle France flamed out to welcome him back, though it 
 knew his return might mean disturbance, distress, even war 
 and death once more. 
 
 Philip met the truth at Lyons. The air was full of ru 
 mors that speedily became facts. With less than a thou 
 sand of his grenadiers his " brave growlers " as he some 
 times called them the Emperor had landed in France. 
 The army had gone over to him, wild with joy. The Em 
 pire would be proclaimed once more. France would be free 
 of the Bourbons.
 
 THE S WARMING OF THE BEES 267 
 
 Philip found Lyons in a ferment. Napoleon was almost 
 at its gates. The Bourbon prince who commanded the 
 troops gathered at that important city ordered his soldiers 
 to the wall to repel or capture "the bandit from Elba." 
 But what was a Bourbon prince before " our Emperor ? " 
 
 The tidings of the imperial adventurer came thick and 
 fast. Napoleon had landed near Cannes ; he had marched 
 over the mountains to Dijon ; he had first fronted the white 
 standard with his tricolor at Laffrey ; with bared breast he 
 had faced the soldiers of the King in the Vale of Beaumont, 
 bidding them welcome him or kill him ; and behold ! the 
 soldiers of the King had fallen on their knees before him, 
 cried " Long live the Emperor ! " and hailed him as their 
 " father." He had kissed the restored eagles at Vizelle ; he 
 had entered Grenoble, through the gates burst open by the 
 peasants without and the revolted soldiers within ; escorted 
 by mountaineers and farmers singing the Marseilles hymn, 
 he had advanced from Grenoble to Lyons with his little 
 "army of deliverance," already grown from one thousand 
 to six thousand soldiers, wearing the tricolored cockade. Off 
 hurries the Bourbon prince in terror of his life ; down go 
 the barricades, wrecked by the very soldiers who had piled 
 them up ; " Long live the Emperor ! " shout garrison and 
 citizens ; and to the accompaniment of twenty thousand wel 
 coming voices Napoleon enters Lyons. 
 
 And there, on the steps of the Archbishop's palace, to 
 which the Emperor was conducted, Philip greeted him with 
 tears and laughter and a voice thrilling with passionate 
 welcome. 
 
 " What ? is it you, young Desnouettes ? " the Emperor
 
 268 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 cried, catching the page around the neck. " My brave boy, 
 is it you ? " 
 
 " Yes, from Paris, Sire," answered the boy ; " to greet you 
 and die for you." 
 
 " No ; live for me ; live for me, you Philip," the Emperor 
 said. " And what do they say at Paris ? " 
 
 " Sire, I did not wait to hear," answered truthful Philip. 
 " I ran to join you as soon as they whispered that you had 
 left for France." 
 
 " As heedless as ever ; eh, you boy ? " and then came the 
 ear-pinching that seemed so like old times come again. 
 " Well ; to me, to me, my Philip ! I shall have duties for 
 you." 
 
 Three days the Emperor rested at Lyons, reviewing his 
 troops, organizing his government, writing despatches, and 
 sending broadcast over France those two masterly pro 
 clamations that are so marked a specimen of Napoleonic 
 eloquence and so rich a combination of sublimity, senti 
 ment, metaphor, and, it must be admitted, what we 
 should call "the highfalutin." 
 
 Philip galloped from Lyons a day in advance of the Em 
 peror, bearing messages to the friends of Napoleon in Paris, 
 and spreading the wonderful tidings as he rode. France 
 seemed wild with joy. Down went the white cockade ; up 
 went the tricolor ; the Emperor's flower the violet blos 
 somed in countless buttonholes. The lilies drooped: the 
 bees were swarming everywhere. 
 
 Philip burst into the quiet house on the Street of the 
 Fight and filled it with his wonderful news. 
 
 " He has come ; he has come back ! " he shouted. " I 
 have seen the Emperor ! "
 
 THE SWAEMING OF THE BEES 269 
 
 Mademoiselle laughed and cried in her excitement ; Nurse 
 Marcel tore off her bonne's cap and waved it frantically: 
 " Down go the aristocrats ! " she shrilled out. Citizen 
 Daunou, forgetting his philosophy, pounded on the table 
 and shouted " Long live the Emperor ! " Marshal, the big 
 Dane, put off his dignity, and barked and capered like any 
 thoughtless young puppy ; and Philip, seizing the page's 
 livery that Mademoiselle thrust into his restless hands, kissed 
 them all excitedly, not omitting even the vociferous Marshal, 
 and rushed off to the Tuileries. 
 
 " Eh, you boy ! Hurrah, young Desnouettes ! Where so 
 fast, now? I told you the truth, did I not?" Philip paused 
 in his running long enough to recognize his questioner. 
 
 " What is it, you, Pierre ? " he cried. " Long live the 
 what do you mean, though ? You told the truth ? What, 
 then was it you ?" 
 
 " At the fountain, yonder ? To be sure," Pierre said com 
 posedly. " I have known what was afoot for many a day. 
 Oh, we know something at headquarters, now and then. 
 
 " And you did not seek to stop him ? Oh, Pierre ! and I 
 thought you a royalist and a renegade. Kick me, Pierre. 
 It is your right. How could I have doubted you ? " Philip 
 was almost hysterical in his mixture of surprise and joy, as, 
 repentant and rejoicing, he fell upon Pierre. 
 
 "We who know how to open our ears and hold our 
 tongues, Monsieur the page, Monsieur the lieutenant, can 
 sometimes work our ways better than those who grumble 
 and shout," the young inspector said. " Those who chatter, 
 too often dance with the sky-mother ; l and, faith, I have no 
 1 The Paris boy's name for the terrible guillotine.
 
 270 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 liking for her. Yes, I dropped that word of warning into 
 your ear at our old fountain, and then vanished. It was 
 all I dared do, then. But it worked, I see, it worked. And 
 you are for ? " 
 
 "The Tuileries, Pierre. See me again, my friend. I 
 would get there before the Emperor," and in a flash Philip 
 was speeding again toward the Tuileries. 
 
 As he reached the palace, soldiers and veterans were fill 
 ing the Place of the Carrousel. Among the latter Philip 
 was not surprised to see old Corporal Peyrolles, proud and 
 radiant. 
 
 The veteran from the Soldiers' Home swung his cocked 
 hat, graced with the tricolored cockade, and brought his 
 cane to the salute, as Philip greeted him. 
 
 " Death of my life, my infant ! " the old man cried, his 
 gruff voice breaking in a high key; " but is not this glorious? 
 Look at us here Arcola, the Pyramids, Marengo, Auster- 
 litz, Wagram, Lutzen, Moscow, and the Clichy Gate ! we are 
 all here ; and he is coming. Wait till he sees me. I '11 put 
 him on the throne if I have to prop it up with my wooden 
 leg, here. , Open the palace ! Pull down the white rag ! 
 Out with old Grandfather In-the-soup ! In with Corporal 
 Violet!" 1 
 
 And all the old veterans tuned their cracked voices into 
 the mighty yell : " Down with the white flag ! Long live 
 the Little Corporal ! " 
 
 Sure enough, to Philip's amazement and the old soldiers' 
 disgust, the white flag of the Bourbons still floated from the 
 
 1 "Father Panade" and " Corporal Violet" were soldiers' names for Louis 
 XVIII. and Napoleon.
 
 THE S WARMING OF THE BEES 271 
 
 Clock Tower of the Tuileries. King Louis had fled, but 
 there was still a show of resistance from the National 
 Guardsmen he had left in the palace. 
 
 It is two in the afternoon. The increasing throng grows 
 more insistent. The growls of the veterans, the shouts of the 
 soldiers, become ominous and threatening. Then a great 
 cry goes up. The gates are thrown open. Another shout. 
 Down goes the white flag ; up goes the tricolor ; and, as the 
 Imperial banner once again streams from the great Clock 
 Tower, all Paris knows that the Bourbons have given up 
 the struggle, and that the Empire has won. 
 
 Evening came that eventful evening of Monday, the 
 twentieth of March, in the year 1815. The Tuileries was 
 filled with guests dressed as if for a fete night. Those who 
 were in hiding, and those who had deserted King Louis, 
 met to await the coming of the Emperor. The great man 
 sion blazed with lights, and a page of the palace, resplen 
 dent in his imperial livery, with almost beside himself for 
 
 joy- 
 it was Philip Desnouettes. He had seen the Emperor. 
 He had been charged by him with messages to Paris. Philip 
 was the lion of the waiting hours. He was petted and 
 praised by every one. He began to feel very important 
 once more. 
 
 He could scarcely contain himself. He wished to keep 
 busy, to be doing something to prove his devotion. 
 
 The palace looked just the same. Philip could scarcely 
 believe that a year had passed since he had been there. 
 " Here are the same hangings," he said to himself ; " the 
 same stiff, straight furniture, the same bureaus and cabinets,
 
 272 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 tete-a-tetes, couches and chairs, decorated with their brass 
 or ormolu wreaths and festoons, sphinxes, and victories, 
 and sprinkled with the no ! Halls ! What is this ? The 
 lilies ? Then where are the bees ? Have the royalists dared 
 remove from the palace decorations the bees of Napoleon, 
 and put in their place the lilies of the Bourbons ? Why, 
 this will never do ! " 
 
 Frantic with indignant loyalty, Philip shouted : "Off with 
 the lilies on with the bees ! " and falling upon the un 
 offending decorations, Philip, helped by many ready hands, 
 tore down the lilies from the tapestry, and stripped them 
 from the coverings. From some hiding-place were brought 
 the hangings that bore the bees, and reawakened loyalty 
 was satisfied. 
 
 At nine o'clock a mighty shout was heard without. 
 
 " The Emperor ! the Emperor ! " 
 
 The palace echoed the cry, as, across the Bridge of the 
 Palace and along the Seine embankment, in through the 
 Tuileries gate, thronged about by a clamorous crowd, and 
 surrounded by his soldiers and his generals, Napoleon en 
 tered the courtyard of the great palace. 
 
 Then it seemed as if Paris had indeed gone mad. The 
 veterans flung themselves at the Emperor's carriage. They 
 seized their hero in their arms. They dragged him out ; and, 
 bearing him on their shoulders, they rushed with him through 
 the doorway even to the foot of the great staircase. 
 
 The palace rocked with the shouts of welcome. The crowd 
 bearing in the Emperor, and the throng pouring down the 
 staircase to greet him, blocked the way. Progress was impos 
 sible. People were everywhere, and Philip, standing at the
 
 "'OFF WITH THE LILIES ON WITH THE BEES!'
 
 THE SWAEMING OF THE BEES 275 
 
 top of the noble Stairway of Honor, laughed as he cheered, 
 to see Corporal Peyrolles sitting astride the great silver statue 
 of Peace, his chapeau waving at the end of his cane, his face 
 red with shouting and streaked with tears of joy. 
 
 At last a passage-way was broken through the crowd. 
 Philip and Monsieur de Lavalette backed their way aloft to 
 keep the passage open ; and so, up the clamoring stairway, 
 along the Gallery of Diana, through the Blue Eoom, and 
 into the Emperor's study, amid tears and cheers and shouts, 
 and tossing of hats, and waving of handkerchiefs, the Emperor 
 came to his own again. In twenty days after leaving Elba 
 Napoleon had regained his empire. With but a thousand 
 grenadiers he had conquered thirty millions of people. The 
 swarming of the Bees closed in a carnival of joy. 
 
 In the Emperor's study, breathless and weeping with the 
 excitement of the home-coming, Napoleon looked about him. 
 The closed doors of the study shut out the happy crowd. At 
 his feet he saw a kneeling figure, dressed in the crimson, 
 green, and gold of a page of the palace. 
 
 " What, it is you again, my Philip ! " exclaimed the Em 
 peror. " And in your page's livery. Eise, my boy. You 
 are a page no longer. Such devotion merits a higher service. 
 See ; my fortune shall be yours ! Did I not tell you once 
 that he who rides and he who writes merit often as much 
 esteem as he who bears the musket or wields the sword ? I 
 make you a member of the Legion of Honor. Here, Bert- 
 rand, Lavalette, some one give me a cross ! What ! none 
 will spare me one ? " No one would. Crosses of the Legion 
 were to be displayed just then ; they were treasured too 
 highly to be given to a boy. " Here then ! " and impulsively
 
 276 
 
 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 the Emperor tore the cherished decoration from his own 
 breast, pinned it on the lad's green coat, and pinching his 
 
 THE EMPEROR DECORATES PHILIP WITH HIS OWN CROSS OF THE 
 LEGION OF HONOR. 
 
 ear affectionately, cried to General Bertrand, who stood be 
 side him, " Grand Marshal, here is a new officer of my house 
 hold ! Captain Desnouettes page and lieutenant no longer,
 
 THE SWARMING OF THE BEES 277 
 
 you are a brevet-officer^ specially attached to my person. 
 Serve me as comrade as faithfully as you have as page, and 
 France shall be proud of you." 
 
 And, while the boy trembled with delight and pride, the 
 Emperor caught him to his breast and kissed him on the 
 cheek. 
 
 So Philip, by a faithfulness that never faltered, and a 
 loyalty that never wavered, gained the prize all French 
 men coveted. 
 
 Thus he won the Cross.
 
 CHAPTEE XXII 
 
 "INTO THE FURNACE-FLAME" 
 
 AT once Philip was head over ears in business. If the 
 -^- Emperor was gracieus and appreciative, he was also a 
 hard taskmaster when work was to be done. And there 
 was work unending to be done when, once again, in the 
 palaces of Paris, the imperial government was in active 
 operation. Day and night Napoleon, desiring peace, but pre 
 paring for war, was closeted in consultation with his ministers. 
 
 His return from Elba flamed like a comet in the skies 
 of Europe. Kings were startled, princes trembled, allies who 
 had deserted and foes who had plotted against him read 
 vengeance in his return ; and with a united growl of rage the 
 nations of Europe combined for his overthrow. All the 
 sovereigns signed that declaration of hate and terror, drawn 
 up by a Frenchman whom Napoleon had loaded with favors, 
 which proclaimed to the world that " Napoleon Bonaparte, by 
 reappearing in France, is placed outside of all relations, both 
 civil and social, and, as an enemy and disturber of the peace 
 of the world, he is handed over to public vengeance." 
 
 Thus did the kings and ministers who once had bowed in 
 homage to the Emperor now proclaim him outlaw and out 
 cast. Napoleon sought peace with all nations. He wished 
 only to unite France. 
 
 278
 
 "INTO THE FURNACE-FLAME" 279 
 
 " The first desire of my heart," he wrote to the kings of 
 Europe, " is to repay the affection of my people by maintain 
 ing an honorable tranquillity." 
 
 And when told that one of the Bourbon princes would 
 perhaps be captured in France, he said, " If so, treat him 
 with every respect. I wish that Europe should see the dif 
 ference between me and the crowned brigands who have set 
 a price upon my head." 
 
 But though he worked and wished for peace, he knew he 
 must prepare for war. All Europe was arming against 
 him. France must be ready to resist. 
 
 So the Emperor and those about him worked day and 
 night. They worked until even Philip's vigorous nature 
 gave out, and one night, set to a certain task, weariness got 
 the better of ability, his head dropped upon the table before 
 him, and the secretary slept at his post. 
 
 How long he slept he did not know, but he awoke with a 
 start to see the Emperor in a chair beside him, doing his 
 work for him. 
 
 Mortified beyond measure Philip sprang to his feet. The 
 Emperor wrote on. Then he said to the secretary : 
 
 " Well, sir, you see I have been doing your work, since 
 you would not do it yourself. No doubt you had a hearty 
 supper at Tortoni's or the Thousand Columns, and after that 
 a good time with the other boys. It was all very pleasant, 
 no doubt ; but that is no excuse. Business is business and 
 must not be neglected." 
 
 " A good time ! I, Sire ? " exclaimed honest Philip. " Does 
 this look like it ? I have worked for your majesty night 
 and day ; I have scarcely had a full night's sleep in a week,
 
 280 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 and this is the consequence. I am sorry for it, Sire. I ask 
 your pardon." 
 
 It was now the Emperor who was moved. "My poor 
 boy ! " he said. " I did not know of this. My Philip, I am 
 no slave-driver. I have no wish to kill you. A healthy 
 boy needs his sleep. Go to bed; go to bed at once, sir. 
 Good night to you ! " 
 
 But Philip pleaded to remain and retrieve himself, pro 
 testing his ability to work now that he had stolen a nap ; 
 and the Emperor, laughing, said, "Well, Captain Philip, 
 we will compromise ; we two. Do this bit, and then get you 
 to bed. Copy this draft of a decree. You can read my 
 villainous handwriting and we need not wait for Baron 
 Fain. I wish to issue it at once. I told you but now, did 
 I not, that I was no slave-driver ? This, too, will prove it." 
 
 And in the still hours of that March night, in the Em 
 peror's study at the Tuileries, Philip copied, and Napoleon 
 signed, a paper which undid the Bourbons' feudal brutality, 
 anticipated the ponderous pens of the slow-going diplomats 
 of the Vienna Congress which had declared him an outlaw, 
 and gave to the "hundred days" of Napoleon's fleeting 
 second reign a glory which the world has not yet sufficiently 
 acknowledged the decree abolishing forever in all the col 
 onies of France the hateful and degrading slave-trade. 
 
 Philip, it must be confessed, thought but little of this act 
 of justice, which the nations tardily followed. But when, 
 dismissed for his sleep, upon which the Emperor insisted, he 
 went, later, to breakfast with his sister, Citizen Daunou 
 hailed the news of the Emperor's decree with delight. 
 
 " I take back my words," the liberty-loving Keeper of the
 
 "INTO THE FURNACE-FLAME" 281 
 
 Archives said. " I told you no good could come of the Em 
 peror's flight from Elba. I was wrong. Good has come of 
 it. For, if he shall accomplish nothing else, he has re 
 affirmed the principles of the Eepublic and set the world a 
 lesson in liberty. Toussaint 1'Ouverture is avenged by the 
 very man who, years ago, crushed that black patriot beneath 
 his imperial will." 
 
 The days went on. In Europe a million men were arm 
 ing for the fray that all the world saw was inevitable. In 
 France, the Emperor was preparing for resistance. The old 
 regiments were filled up. The veterans drew from their 
 hiding-places at the bottom of knapsacks or inside their 
 drums the discarded tricolor they would not throw away, 
 and hastened to rally around the eagles ; the conscripts 
 gathered at the stations with knapsacks, cartridge-box, and 
 musket. Steadily and surely the day of Waterloo drew 
 near. 
 
 " The flag we have dyed with our blood will lead us again 
 to glory ! ," cried Corporal Peyrolles, turning to his own use 
 the words of his Emperor's proclamation. But Mademoiselle, 
 always practical, declared she could not see how Corporal 
 Peyrolles could do any more than stump along to glory, and 
 that for her part she thought it would be best for him to 
 stay at home and protect Paris while the Emperor faced the 
 foreigners. It would be too distracting for the Emperor, 
 she said, if Peyrolles were along; for, of course, the 
 Corporal would wish to run things, and that, she declared, 
 would be quite too confusing and would read so oddly in 
 the bulletins. Whereupon Corporal Peyrolles called her a 
 saucy minx, but admitted that he thought himself quite as
 
 282 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 competent to advise the Emperor as those dukes and mar 
 shals he still kept about him. 
 
 " Let but Philip get speech for me with the Emperor," the 
 Corporal protested, " and I will show him how to get rid of 
 these pigs of Prussians, these curs of Englishmen, these 
 beasts of Russians. Take 'em on the flank, take 'ern on the 
 flank, I say. Why, at the Pyramids no, it was before 
 Jaffa I said to the Emperor he was not Emperor then, 
 you know I said to him, ' My General,' said I " 
 
 But Mademoiselle saucily pulled the Corporal's long 
 moustache and ran away. " That is what the Emperor did, 
 my Corporal, did he not now at the Pyramids no, it was 
 before Jaffa," she cried merrily ; and then left poor old Pey- 
 rolles fuming "over the " heedlessness of these women," who 
 always will " spoil a good story," so he grumbled. 
 
 The invaders of France gathered beyond its borders ; the 
 defenders of France marched to the frontiers. The Em 
 peror, professing his desire only to promote the good of 
 France, granted a new constitution which would give greater 
 liberty to the people, and held, on the Field of Mars, fronting 
 the flashing Seine, a splendid fete and open-air display, still 
 famous as the gorgeous "Field of May." There on his 
 throne, surrounded by his brothers and his great officers of 
 state, Napoleon reviewed his fifty thousand troops and 
 aroused the cheers of the people, always ready to enjoy 
 a show in which glitter and gorgeousness and imperial 
 splendor, music and marching, and all the theatrical acces 
 sories were spread before their eyes with all the old-time 
 magnificence. 
 
 Seated upon his throne, the Emperor reviewed his troops,
 
 "INTO THE FURNACE-FLAME" 283 
 
 received the electors and dignitaries of the Empire, and 
 swore allegiance to the new constitution. 
 
 " Frenchmen ! " he said, " my will is that of the people. 
 My rights are theirs. My honor, my glory, my happiness 
 cannot be other than the honor, the glory, the happiness of 
 France. 
 
 "Soldiers ! I confide to you the imperial eagle of the na 
 tional colors. Swear to defend it with your blood against the 
 enemies of the fatherland. Swear to die rather than to 
 suffer strangers to make laws for the fatherland." 
 
 And all the soldiers cried, " We swear it ! " and the people 
 shouted " Long live the Emperor ! " 
 
 But the enemies of France were marching ; the " strangers " 
 were coming to bring blood and ruin to the fatherland. 
 The shadow of the conflict seemed already to rest upon the 
 imperial adventurer throned in his splendid palace of the 
 Tuileries. 
 
 " Is not the Emperor glorious ? " cried enthusiastic Philip, 
 after the gorgeous ceremonial of the Field of May was over, 
 as he walked into the dear house in the Street of the Fight. 
 " Was not that fete magnificent ? " 
 
 " Call it a funeral rather than a fete, my son," Citizen 
 Daunou said, sadly. His momentary enthusiasm after the 
 Emperor's dramatic return was gone. His clear vision saw 
 the trouble that was in store for France. " And the Em 
 peror ? Glorious, perhaps, as you say, with his imperial robes 
 and his words of fire. But to me he is no longer the Em 
 peror of 1810. His counselors are nerveless ; they are 
 timid ; to me, they seem to have the vertigo. He, alas ! is 
 languid ; only on great occasions does the old spirit flame
 
 284 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 out. He seems full of melancholy. His haughtiness has 
 softened almost to entreaty ; his pride to gentleness. Good 
 signs if all were well, my Philip ; but all is not well, my 
 Philip. The Emperor sees the shadow of failure. France 
 is noisy in her crowds ; she is vociferous in her soldiers ; but 
 this is not the zeal Napoleon hoped for is not the zeal of 
 a united nation. His enemies are pitiless ; his friends are 
 uncertain. He has no ally, no vassal, no imperial power. 
 He wishes peace, he must have war. How will that end?" 
 
 Philip, as usual, scoffed in his heart at this gloomy pic 
 ture, and expressed to Mademoiselle the wish that Citizen 
 Daunou were more patriotic. "Why does he talk of failure ? " 
 the boy demanded. " The Emperor cannot fail. The army 
 and the nation are at his back. Defeated ? Never ! That is 
 no way for a Frenchman to talk. I really must bring Pey- 
 rolles here again to reason with our excellent father." 
 
 Boys and girls can seldom go beneath the surface of things, 
 as do their elders. And it is well, perhaps; for youth is the 
 time of hope. Philip certainly saw none of the signs of 
 sadness that Citizen Daunou detected. " Just let him work 
 beside the Emperor for a day as I do," the boy declared, "and 
 my faith ! it is he that will be the sad one from too much 
 work." To Philip the Emperor was still the Emperor great, 
 powerful, victorious, invincible. Philip knew that he would 
 conquer ; that once again he would give the law to Europe. 
 This, each day, was the burden of the brave boy's song. 
 
 The work increased in the palace, as the time for the con 
 flict approached. Napoleon had done marvels. Within two 
 months he had raised, equipped, and officered an army of 
 three hundred thousand men. Arsenals, factories, and mili-
 
 "INTO THE FUKNACE-FLAME" 285 
 
 tary shops were busy ; trade was good ; business was flourish 
 ing. What more could France wish ? 
 
 Philip, growing older and more observant, saw and 
 treasured up many of the ways of this remarkable man, upon 
 whom the eyes of the world were fixed. Many times in after 
 years would he recall the picture of the Emperor in those 
 last busy mornings in his study the stout, short-legged, 
 long-bodied figure, now grown somewhat heavy in face and 
 person, sitting at the desk, or restlessly pacing the floor, head 
 down, hands clasped behind his back, forever sniffing at the 
 snuff he did not take, reading letters, dictating replies and 
 messages, keeping his marvelous memory in full play as to 
 methods, details, and men, pleasant of voice, courteous in 
 manner, with but little of the old-time impatience and im- 
 periousness, and in his eyes that tinge of melancholy that 
 even thoughtless Philip had noted ever since the sad day 
 when the Emperor found that his Austrian wife had de 
 serted him, and the son whom he loved so dearly had been 
 stolen from him. 
 
 Thus Philip studied him one day, as Napoleon paced the 
 room dictating, advising, commanding. The shapely fingers 
 that were the Emperor's "pride," and which he could often be 
 caught admiring, were dipped again and again into the tor 
 toise-shell snuff-box crowned with the imperial N. Philip 
 stood at the table waiting for a message he was to deliver. 
 The Emperor, laying his snuff- box on the table, turned to con 
 sult a letter that bore on the matter in hand. The snuff-box 
 stood invitingly open, and Philip, heedless as ever, could not 
 resist the temptation. With a wink at young Gudin, the 
 Emperor's page, as if to say : " See, you boy ! how ' chummy'
 
 286 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 are the Emperor and I," Philip dipped his fingers into the 
 open snuff-box and took a pinch. 
 
 Page Gudin was duly horrified and duly impressed. But, 
 as luck would have it Philip's usual luck the Emperor, 
 raising his eyes at just the wrong instant, caught sight 
 of Philip's bold act in the mirror before him. Turning 
 sharply, Napoleon took the snuff-box from the table and 
 with a quick motion thrust it straight toward the mortified 
 Philip. 
 
 " Still the same old Philip, eh, you boy ? " the Emperor 
 said. " Even the Cross of the Legion has not fully made 
 the page into the man ! Here ! Keep the box, Captain 
 Desnouettes. It is too small for both of us." And, with a 
 silent laugh at the young fellow's discomfiture, the Emperor 
 went on dictating as if nothing had happened, while Page 
 Gudin had to stuff his shoulder-ribbons into his mouth to 
 keep from laughing aloud, and all the other secretaries ex 
 changed winks and shrugs. 
 
 But Philip kept the box. 
 
 At last came the June Sunday when, with his old-time 
 ease and affability, as if peace and not war were universal, 
 the Emperor held his final reception in the great gallery of 
 the Louvre. 
 
 The whole front of the Tuileries was ablaze with light, 
 and the people coming from the public games that had been 
 given them in the Elysian Fields, cheered the Emperor as he 
 came out to them on the iron balcony of the Clock Tower 
 and watched the display of fireworks. 
 
 Philip marveled at the self-possession of the man ; he 
 knew how great a host was gathered beyond the frontiers
 
 "INTO THE FURNACE-FLAME" 287 
 
 for the Emperor's overthrow, and how soon Napoleon must 
 hasten there to resist and repel invasion. 
 
 On the twelfth of June, 1815, Napoleon left Paris for 
 the seat of war. On the fifteenth the French army crossed 
 the river Sambre and fell upon the enemy. Then came 
 Waterloo. 
 
 Waterloo ! that famous battle, where Napoleon first met 
 the unconquerable English face to face ; where Wellington 
 made his name immortal ; that battle glittering in its array, 
 brilliant in its manoeuvres, terrible in its intensity, horrible 
 in its loss of life ; that battle remarkable for little blunders 
 that led to great results, and magnificent attempts that 
 amounted to nothing ; that battle so nearly a defeat for 
 England, so nearly a victory for France, that to this day men 
 cannot see just how it turned the other way, and historians 
 and military writers are even yet disputing as to the re 
 sponsibility and discussing the operations ! 
 
 It is not for us to describe nor discuss it here. Napoleon 
 was beaten conquered, it may be, as the English say, by 
 Wellington; conquered, it may be, as the Germans claim, by 
 Bliicher ; conquered, it may be, as declares Victor Hugo, the 
 Frenchman, by the will of Heaven, because " for Bonaparte 
 to be the conqueror at Waterloo was not in the law of the 
 nineteenth century. Napoleon had been impeached before 
 the Infinite and his fall was decreed. He had vexed God." 
 
 The end of it all the inexplicable, the unexpected, the 
 impossible, Philip did not see. In his uniform of a special 
 officer of ordonnance, he was in constant attendance on the 
 Emperor, riding here, writing there; now in the saddle, now 
 by the Emperor's side, despatching messages, bearing mes-
 
 288 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 sages, galloping from point to point, now on the rear of the 
 battle, now in its very front, dodging bullets, dodging 
 charges, restless, active, exultant. He knew from the start 
 that "his Emperor" would win. He heard Napoleon say, 
 making fun of Wellington, " The little Englishman must 
 have his lesson " ; he heard him declare of those same Eng 
 lish soldiers, " I had rather cut them to pieces than repulse 
 them"; he heard him cry to Ney, "We have ninety chances 
 in a hundred ! " His faith in his leader never for an instant 
 wavered. 
 
 In all those terrible three days of desperate fighting Philip 
 had been in the thick of it ; cutting his way, when need 
 was, through every living obstacle, escaping, with his usual 
 " Philip's luck," the pitiless pelting of that rain of fire and 
 death. He had waved his hat exultantly as the Prussians 
 fell back, defeated, at Ligny ; he had watched breathlessly, 
 the stubborn fight at Quatre Bras ; he had cheered fran 
 tically as his old schoolfellow, big Vieux of the Polytechnic 
 heaved down the door of the farmhouse at Hougoumont that 
 sheltered the English line; he had caught the gleam of 
 victory in the Emperor's eye, as, rising in his stirrups, Napo 
 leon saw Wellington's troops pushed back toward the 
 Soignes Forest. He knew the battle was won. 
 
 He saw that never-forgotten figure, now familiar to all the 
 world the clear-cut profile beneath the plain chapeau, the 
 green uniform of the chasseurs, with its white facings, its 
 broad red sash, and the long gray overcoat, the leather 
 breeches, the high boots, the big white horse with the crim 
 son velvet housings. He heard the quick, brief order to 
 Milhaud's cuirassiers to charge the English on the plains of
 
 "'RIDE I.IKE THE WIND TO PARIS. TELL THEM THE BATTLE IS WON."'
 
 "INTO THE FUKNACE-FLAME" 291 
 
 St. Jean ; then he caught the voice of the Emperor, satisfied, 
 abrupt, triumphant : " Captain Desnouettes, about ! Eide 
 like the wind to Paris ! Tell them the battle is won I " 
 
 And Philip rode to Paris eager, flushed, exultant, proud 
 of the news he bore. 
 
 Alas ! he did not see the end the splendid charge of 
 those mail-clad squadrons; the terrible tragedy of the sunken 
 road of Chain ; the unyielding stand of the English squares ; 
 the repulse; the coming of Bliicher ; the wild flight; the race 
 with death ; the panic ; the disgrace ; the last charge of the 
 Guard ; the heroic stand of that immortal company who died 
 but never surrendered, who, marching on to certain death, 
 never flinched, never faltered, never gave one backward look, 
 but 
 
 Saluting their divinity, erect amid the storm, 
 
 One cry, " Long live the Emperor ! " the last their pale lips form. 
 
 Then, with the music on ahead, all passionless and slow, 
 
 And smiling at the English guns, black yawning there below, 
 
 With lifted heads, with flashing eyes, with hearts no fear can tame, 
 
 The Imperial Guard went forward into the furnace flame. 
 
 Then they, too, died. "Waterloo was won. Napoleon's 
 star had set forever. 
 
 Changing horses as he rode, Philip galloped on. He car 
 ried his news to Paris. The city heard it with shouts of joy. 
 The young captain, wearied with his desperate ride, reported 
 at headquarters, and then flung himself into the quiet house 
 on the Street of the Fight to rest awhile, and then go out for 
 later tidings of the victory. 
 
 Alas ! all too soon the tidings came. The courier whom
 
 292 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 Philip had passed, riding out as he was galloping in, brought 
 back the sad news that met him on the way. Philip's ride 
 had been in vain. In the early morning, the defeated Em 
 peror came wearily into the courtyard of the little Elysian 
 palace on the Street of St. Honore 1 , conquered, ruined, over 
 thrown. 
 
 But as he stepped from the carriage, and one of his gene 
 rals said, sadly, " All is lost," Philip, broken with rage and 
 disappointment, saw the Emperor lift his head proudly, and 
 reply in those famous words of an earlier, and, like him, a 
 conquered king of France, " Save honor ! " 
 
 And Philip felt that even yet there was hope.
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII 
 
 IT was a stubborn fight with Fate that went on in the 
 gilded Elysian palace on the Street of St. Honore in those 
 bright days of a Paris June. An Emperor was trying the hard 
 task of ruling his own spirit ; a conqueror was set to the bit 
 ter struggle of conquering himself. Than this there is no 
 harder task in the world, whether for boy or Emperor. 
 
 In this fight, allies were not to be depended upon ; foes 
 really \vere friends. For the first would have tempted 
 the overpowered monarch to stand at bay against victorious 
 Europe and mistrusting France ; the others were determined 
 to drive him from France at all hazards. And, in his case, 
 to go was his only safety ; though had he died fighting for 
 his lost crown, history would have given him even greater 
 glory. 
 
 The end came. When his ministers set themselves up to 
 be his masters ; when those he had most richly rewarded 
 became his most relentless foes ; when France refused to ac 
 knowledge as its ruler a man twice "overthrown"; when from 
 those to whom he looked for counsel came only lukewarm 
 loyalty, false protestations, or unwelcome truth ; when, from 
 anger at the unreliable Chamber of Deputies, whom he, like 
 Cromwell, threatened to turn out " neck and heels," he would
 
 294 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 change to indecision, silence, even timidity, it was plain 
 there was but one thing to do. He did it. On June 22, 1815, 
 Napoleon signed a second abdication, proclaimed his little 
 son, whom Austria had kidnapped, Emperor of the French, 
 and three days after left Paris forever. 
 
 He drove to Malmaison, twelve miles from Paris, that 
 beautiful estate, half palace, half villa, which had been the 
 home of the Empress Josephine. Here Napoleon had spent 
 many happy hours in his days of power and prosperity ; here 
 Josephine had died while he was at Elba ; here the Emperor 
 had planned out his greatest campaigns, his most glorious 
 victories. And here Philip came to him. 
 
 Philip could not he would not renounce his loyalty, his 
 devotion, his love. There are some natures which are truest 
 when clouds are darkest, and when days are most threaten 
 ing. Such was that of Philip Desnouettes. 
 
 Such, indeed, were yet many of the people of France and 
 the soldiers who had fought for the Emperor; old friends who 
 had shared alike his pomp and his vicissitudes ; men and wo 
 men who had sent their sons to die for France and the Em 
 peror, and would not admit his weakness even when fate 
 seemed so set against him; boys who had been brought up to 
 have faith in Napoleon's glory as in the sun, and would not 
 believe there was such a thing as eclipse. 
 
 So Philip, loyal and hopeful still, followed the Emperor to 
 Malmaison. He had almost had a falling-out with Citizen 
 Daunou, because that stanch old republican had favored the 
 removal of Napoleon, and, with Lafayette, had cried for the 
 restoration of the Republic. 
 
 Philip cared nothing for a republic. To him, knowing 
 nothing of such a relief from tyranny, a government meant
 
 HOW PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 295 
 
 only the Emperor. So here he was at Malmaison, ready to 
 fight for the Emperor if need be to die with him or for him, 
 so constant was his loyalty, so deep his affection. 
 
 " Get me speech with the Emperor, young Desnouettes," a 
 voice said at his elbow, as he was about to enter the palace ; 
 " I have something for his good." 
 
 Philip turned about. The speaker was Pierre, the inspector 
 of police. 
 
 " It is you, Pierre ? " Philip exclaimed. " What have you 
 to say ? " 
 
 " That is for his ear, yonder, my friend," Pierre replied. 
 " Get me speech with him, and quickly. Time presses both 
 him and me." 
 
 " So, my boy ! it is you ? " Napoleon exclaimed as Philip 
 was ushered into his presence. " Ever faithful, eh ! " and 
 he embraced the boy warmly. 
 
 The Emperor looked worn and "heavy," colorless and 
 sad. Philip was almost startled at the change; but "My 
 faith ! " he said to himself, " think what he has gone 
 through ! Who would n't look badly after such a strain ? " 
 and then he burst out with the feelings that were tugging at 
 his heart. 
 
 " I had to come, Sire," he cried. " My place is by your 
 side, if but you will permit me. Use me as you will. See ; 
 I am ready. I will work for you ; I will follow you ; I will 
 die for you. Your enemies are afoot. They plot your ruin. 
 Bid me remain by you. I swear to kill the first traitor who 
 dares to lay hand upon my sovereign." 
 
 Napoleon's eyes filled with tears as he listened to the ex 
 cited boy's pledges of affection. His listlessness gave way to 
 interest.
 
 296 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 " Brave boy ! " he said. " Were others like you I might 
 yet save France. But no. They are all the slaves of the 
 Allies those sovereigns of Europe whom once I spared, and 
 who now dishonor themselves in persecuting me. Imbeciles ! 
 They would give me up to-day to save France so they say; 
 to-morrow they will give up France to save their own pre 
 cious heads. I alone could retrieve all." 
 
 Philip fired with enthusiasm. " You can, Sire. You will. 
 Your ariny is gathering almost within call. It will rally 
 around you. In your soldiers yet remain patriotism and the 
 hope of glory. They are for France and the Emperor. With 
 you to lead them, nothing is to be despaired of." 
 
 The Emperor reflected. Already action was becoming a 
 task. " A divided nation and all Europe to face ! " he said. 
 " It is too desperate a chance. I dare not plunge France 
 again into war. And yet, we must think of it carefully, my 
 Philip." 
 
 Then Philip remembered that Pierre was waiting. He 
 communicated the young inspector's request. 
 
 " What ! he who is one day to be minister of police ? " 
 said the Emperor. " Bid him enter." 
 
 Pierre came speedily. 
 
 " At great risk I am come, Sire," he said, " for things are 
 not going your way at headquarters. But while a chance 
 remains to aid him who gave me my step, I seize it. I bring 
 you word from friends. I am charged with an offer for safety. 
 See ; at Havre awaits an American merchant- vessel ; her cap 
 tain stays for you in Paris. Horses are ready. Everything 
 is prepared. At your orders the captain will sail. To-mor 
 row you may be at sea, safe under the American flag, secure
 
 HOW PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 299 
 
 from your enemies, free to go wherever you choose. Sire, 
 will you accept ? " 
 
 Napoleon sat silent. Then he said, " You are a clever one, 
 Monsieur the inspector. And you will swear to me this is 
 not a blind a plot ? I thank you and my friends. It 
 might be well. I could go to America get some land be 
 a farmer end my days in peace. Or, if the land of Wash 
 ington rejects me, I could go to Mexico ; I could lead the 
 Independents there ; I might perhaps even found a new 
 Empire of the West. But no," he said, shaking his head; 
 "flight I disdain. It is not for me to skulk in secret from 
 my foes. It is the duty of France to protect me." 
 
 Philip, too, was in doubt. He could not bear to think of 
 his hero as flying secretly from France. To him, indeed, 
 France without Napoleon was as day without the sun. 
 
 " But, Sire," said Pierre, " reflect ! The allies are marching 
 on Paris. They will surround Malmaison. Bliicher swears 
 your destruction. At any moment his cavalry can cross the 
 Seine, capture you, and carry you off. Listen ! do you hear 
 that ? It is the sound of the Prussian cannon." As he spoke 
 the distant boom of cannon fell upon their ears. The enemy 
 was, indeed, at Compiegne. 
 
 The guns of his foemen acted upon the Emperor like a 
 tonic. His indecision flamed into action. "The enemy at 
 Compiegne ? " he cried. " To-morrow they may be in Paris ! 
 It is time to act. Those people at Paris are fools and trai 
 tors. Boys, there are a hundred thousand of my soldiers be 
 hind the Loire. At their head I can conquer. Here, Philip; 
 write ! and you, Monsieur the inspector, deliver the message 
 I would send at once to those waverers at Paris. I may yet 
 save France."
 
 300 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 At the Emperor's dictation, Philip wrote rapidly, to the 
 Provisional Government at Paris : 
 
 "In abdicating power I have not renounced the noblest 
 right of the citizen the right of defending my country. 
 The enemy's approach to the capital no longer leaves the 
 least doubt as to their intentions or their bad faith. In these 
 grave circumstances I offer my services as general. I ask to 
 serve France for the last time, and I swear to save it." 
 
 " There, Monsieur the inspector," said Napoleon, signing 
 the note, " give this to Caulaincourt. He is my faithful friend. 
 It need not compromise you. Assure him that when the 
 enemy is driven from France I will myself retire. Go." 
 
 "And the American vessel, Sire ? " queried Pierre. 
 
 " It must sail without me. Now it is for us to save 
 France." 
 
 Philip caught the Emperor's flash of enthusiasm. He hur 
 ried Pierre from the palace. 
 
 " But it is to no purpose, my Philip," the inspector said. 
 " Touche* and those others at Paris will listen to no such 
 splendid schemes. Above all else they wish to get the Em 
 peror away and make their peace with the Bourbons. They 
 fear Napoleon; and now that they have him down, they will 
 keep him down. He should have accepted my offer." 
 
 Napoleon was pacing his room when Philip returned ; he 
 was issuing his orders with his old-time energy. So sure 
 was he of this call from Paris, so filled was he with the idea 
 of action and leadership again, that he dressed himself in his 
 chasseur uniform, called his aides about him, had his horses 
 saddled and in readiness to mount, and waited anxiously for 
 the summons.
 
 HOW PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 301 
 
 He paced the room restlessly. "Why does no answer 
 come ? " he cried. " Perhaps Caulaincourt could not arrange 
 it. Captain Desnouettes, go you. Take one of the horses. 
 Hasten to Paris. See Caulaincourt, see Fouche, anyone. 
 Tell them I am ready. Arrange for my coming." 
 
 Philip caught the spirit of his master. He was goon riding 
 in haste to Paris. The first official he encountered at the 
 Tuileries was Davout, minister of war Davout, whom Na 
 poleon had raised from lieutenant to be marshal, duke, and 
 prince of the Empire. 
 
 To him Philip told the Emperor's desire. The " butcher 
 of Hamburg," as the Prussians called Davout, fumed with 
 rage. 
 
 " You are fools, you and your Emperor ! " he cried. " Tell 
 Bonaparte to get out. We do not want him. We have had 
 far too much of him. We can neither fight nor negotiate 
 while he remains. If he thinks he can be chief and master 
 again, he is mightily mistaken. Tell him to get out, to go 
 anywhere and speedily too, or I will have him arrested, 
 even if I have to grab him by the collar myself." 
 
 Philip was almost speechless at such brutal and vindictive 
 words from one of Napoleon's old-time friends and followers. 
 Then he assumed his most dignified bearing. 
 
 " Monsieur the marshal," he said, " T have far too much 
 respect for the Emperor and for you to carry such a mes 
 sage." 
 
 The war minister turned on him savagely. "Who are 
 you, boy ? " he said. " What are you ? An officer of France, 
 sir. I am your superior. Get you to the station at Fontaine- 
 bleau straight and there await my orders."
 
 302 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 " Sir," said plucky Philip, " I take orders from no one 
 save my master, the Emperor. I, at least, will not desert 
 
 "'l WILL PUNISH YOU FOR THIS ! ' THE ENRAGED MARSHAL CRIED." 
 
 the man to whom others, even more his debtors, deny their 
 oath of loyalty." 
 
 " Puppy ! " the enraged marshal cried. " Do you hear me ? 
 I will punish you for this."
 
 HOW PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 303 
 
 " You shall not. I will give you no chance," Philip re 
 turned, quite as hotly. " I resign my commission as captain 
 in the army. I notify you of this, Monsieur the marshal. 
 Henceforth I obey only my honor." 
 
 Then, turning, he sprang to his horse and rode to Malmai- 
 son, leaving the war minister fuming with rage. And thus 
 Philip threw away his commission. 
 
 " What ? " cried Napoleon, when, as Philip returned to 
 Malmaison, he read failure in the young man's face. " They 
 do not refuse, do they ? " 
 
 " They do, Sire," Philip replied, and told of his reception. 
 
 At first Napoleon blazed out in wrath. "Arrest me ? me? 
 Davout says so ? " he cried. Then the reaction came. He 
 ilung oft' his uniform. He sank into a chair. " Well, let him 
 come," he said resignedly. " I am ready, if necessary, to lay 
 my head on the block. I will be a sacrifice for France." 
 
 Again he sank into lethargy ; again Philip, alarmed for the 
 Emperor's safety, dashed out for news. He feared, lest Da 
 vout should carry out his threat. But he learned news even 
 more serious. 
 
 " The enemy have surrounded Paris," he reported. " They 
 have almost Hanked Malmaison. Bliicher swears to take you 
 prisoner, and hang you in sight of the invading armies. It 
 is either fight here, or fly at once. Sire, which shall it be ? 
 We can defend you. We will to the death ! But it would 
 be your death, too; for we could not long hold Malmaison 
 against the enemy. Say but the word, though, and here we 
 are, ready to shout, ' For France and the Emperor ! ' and die 
 defending you." 
 
 Again Napoleon started to his feet. He drew his sword.
 
 304 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 " Let us defend ourselves, my friends," he cried. " Let us 
 die for Trance ! Alas ! " he said, changing from energy to 
 sadness, " it is of no avail. It would be but a useless sacri 
 fice. The people at Paris have no patriotism. They have 
 no energy. All is over. Let us go into exile." 
 
 Swiftly the orders were given. The Emperor assumed the 
 citizen's dress. He said good-by to his mother, his brothers, 
 his household, little thinking he would never see them again ; 
 and that same evening two carriages drove from Malmaison, 
 carrying Napoleon and his few personal friends to the sea- 
 coast, where, at Eochefort, it was said, a French frigate waited 
 to carry the discrowned Emperor to a place of safety. 
 
 Philip rode on the coachman's box as in his palmy days of 
 pagedom. He would not desert his hero. 
 
 The journey into exile was full of exciting adventures. 
 Wherever he was recognized Napoleon was greeted with the 
 hail that had ever been as incense and inspiration : " Long 
 live the Emperor ! " His exile was almost a triumph. Philip 
 felt that if the Emperor would but exhibit his old-time en 
 ergy and take a determined stand, the return from Elba 
 might be repeated. But it was too late. The old fire smol 
 dered ; its flaming-up was only momentary. Napoleon still 
 hoped against hope for a recall to Paris. 
 
 At last he reached Eochefort. He had delayed too long. 
 Escape was impossible. The harbor was blockaded by the 
 English fleet. 
 
 Then Napoleon, ready with devices and quick with sur 
 prises, outdid himself in surprising. " I will board one of 
 the English vessels," he said. " I will throw myself on the 
 hospitality of England. General Gourgaud, you and Captain
 
 HOW PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 305 
 
 Desnouettes shall go to London for me. I will send a re 
 quest to the Prince liegent." 
 
 Protests were unavailing. Napoleon had made up his 
 mind. And then it was that he wrote the famous letter 
 which Lamartine called the appeal of a great soul struggling 
 with the extremities of fate : 
 
 ROYAL HIGHNESS : A victim to the factions which divide my coun 
 try and to the enmity of the great powers of Europe, I have ended my 
 political career, and come, like Themistocles, to sit down beside the 
 hearths of the British people. I place myself under the protection of 
 their laws, which I claim from your Royal Highness, as the most pow 
 erful, the most constant, and the most generous of my enemies. 
 
 NAPOLEON. 
 
 This was the letter which, accompanying General Gour- 
 gaud, Philip bore to London. The boy was well-nigh dazed 
 with this unexpected decision of the badgered Emperor. 
 They sailed on a small vessel, which the English permitted 
 to pass the blockade, and were soon in London. 
 
 Then Napoleon, bidding adieu to France to France which 
 had once exulted in him and now cast him out went on 
 board the English frigate Bellerophon, as guest and not as 
 prisoner, and sailed for England. 
 
 But England feared its dethroned rival too greatly to be 
 magnanimous ; it feared him too much to be hospitable. The 
 ministers of the Prince Eegent refused Napoleon's request. 
 They had " the Corsican ogre " at last in their power. They 
 would punish and imprison him. 
 
 Thus Philip's mission proved a failure, and when, by the 
 side of brave General Gourgaud, he rode into Plymouth, he 
 knew that there was now neither safety, salvation, nor the
 
 306 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 hope of rescue for his Emperor. Already, he knew, the de 
 cree had gone forth that consigned the most marvelous man 
 of modern times, the conqueror of Europe, the terror of Eng 
 land, to a lifelong captivity at St. Helena that prison-rock 
 across five thousand miles of sea. 
 
 Napoleon was transferred to the frigate Northumberland. 
 His protest was recorded : 
 
 I am not the prisoner, I am the guest of England [he wrote] .... 
 I appeal to history. It will say that an enemy, who for twenty years 
 had fought the English people, went of his own accord in the hour of 
 misfortune to seek an asylum under the protection of their laws. What 
 more striking proof could he give of his esteem and confidence ? But 
 how did England reply ? It pretended to hold out a hospitable hand 
 to this enemy ; and, when he had taken it with confidence, England 
 immolated him. 
 
 The Emperor's protest was of no avail. England was de 
 termined. Napoleon must go. 
 
 The farewells were said with all the accompaniment of 
 tears and embraces that are a part of the impulsive French 
 nature. " Farewell, my friends," said the Emperor. " Be 
 happy. My thoughts will never leave you, nor any of those 
 who have served me. Tell France that I pray for her." 
 
 But where was Philip ? Included among those who had 
 been permitted to come on board the Northumberland to say 
 good-by to Napoleon, he had no sooner felt the warm embrace 
 of the Emperor than he had disappeared. 
 
 Half- crazed with the defeat of all his high hopes ; unable 
 even yet to feel that his Emperor's " star " had set ; cast down 
 by the refusal of the English to let him accompany his mas 
 ter into exile ; tenderly commanded by Napoleon to go back
 
 "DIVING DOWN INTO THE HOLD."
 
 HOW PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 309 
 
 to his sister and his home in Paris, Philip had taken a sudden 
 and desperate resolve. 
 
 What were sister and home to him if this man he had so 
 long served, reverenced, and worshiped was to be consigned 
 to so monstrous a fate ? He would go with his Emperor. 
 They should not deny him this. 
 
 In the confusion of farewells and departure, while the 
 calm, dignified, and imperial figure of the conqueror was the 
 center of all eyes, Philip had slipped from sight. 
 
 Diving down into the hold of the great frigate swiftly and 
 unobserved, the boy hid himself among the orderly array of 
 stores for the voyage that filled the vessel's hold. Good luck 
 the usual " Philip's luck" favored his choice of a hiding- 
 place. He had blundered upon a " snuggery," flanked on one 
 .side with chests of sea-biscuits and on the other by casks of 
 water. " Now, let them find me if they can," he said. " Good- 
 by, France ! " 
 
 Philip was bound for St. Helena as a stowaway.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE CITY OF REFUGE 
 
 THEEE was a reign of terror in France. The King had 
 returned to his own again. The white flag waved over 
 the Tuileries once more ; the white cockade was again osten 
 tatiously displayed. The Bourbons ruled in France. 
 
 Angry, pitiless, vindictive, the new government includ 
 ing, alas ! many of those who had selfishly deserted the man 
 who had made them sought to work vengeance on those 
 who had been loyal to him. " The White Terror " ran its 
 course through France. 
 
 Not so bloody nor so long continued as that greater and 
 historic " Reign of Terror " it mimicked, the era of prosecu 
 tion and persecution, which had for its badge the white cock 
 ade of the Bourbons, fell upon its victims with assassinations, 
 arrests, and exile. Brave and devoted Frenchmen who had 
 fought and suffered for France, who had contributed to her 
 power, and, by their valor, had secured her glory, were 
 " listed " for punishments and death by those who had been 
 first time-servers and then traitors, or those who had returned 
 from exile hating the man who had made France great. 
 
 With a cowardice that was cruelty and a hate that was 
 persecution, France, goaded on by royalists and renegades, 
 murdered its bravest, exiled its best, and created such a feel-
 
 THE CITY OF REFUGE 311 
 
 ing of insecurity among those who had supported the plans of 
 Napoleon after his return from Elba that many Bonapartists, 
 or " brigands " as they were now called, went into voluntary 
 exile with the proscribed ones, and deprived France of their 
 services and their ability. 
 
 Down the Street of the Fight there came one August day 
 in that sad year of 1815 a well-built young fellow of nine 
 teen, walking bravely, as if confident of a hearty welcome in 
 the house he sought. 
 
 The home was reached. It was closed. No answer came 
 to his demand for entrance. No sign of life appeared within 
 or about it. Dazed and distressed the young man regarded 
 that silent house. A hand fell upon his shoulder. 
 
 " Philip Desnouettes, brigand and Bonapartist, this is no 
 place for you." 
 
 It was Philip, indeed. He looked into the face of his ac 
 cuser. 
 
 " Where are they, Pierre ? " he asked anxiously, of the one 
 who had thus accosted him. 
 
 " Skipped," was Pierre's laconic reply. " Citizen Daunou 
 was both republican and Bonapartist. The Bourbons do not 
 love him. He was removed from the Archives. He is 
 Keeper no longer. He was listed for proscription. He was 
 wise, and went into hiding before the bloodhounds got upon 
 his trail." 
 
 " And Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 " Gone also." 
 
 " But where ? " 
 
 " Come and see. I have protected them for old time's 
 sake," said the clever inspector of police. " I can protect
 
 312 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 you but only long enough for you to leave Paris. You, 
 too, are on the accusing list, ray Philip." 
 
 Then, through side-streets and by roundabout ways, into the 
 poorer quarters of the town, even to the Street of the Wash 
 erwomen, Pierre conducted Philip, and there, in the old house 
 of Mother Therese, Philip found his dear ones. They were 
 in hiding refugees from the absurd " White Terror." 
 
 They welcomed joyfully this boy they had almost given 
 up for lost. Mademoiselle clung to him; Citizen Daunou 
 embraced him; Nurse Marcel showered tears upon him; 
 Babette gloried in him; Mother Therese patronized him, 
 and Marshal, the big Dane, fawned upon him with the de 
 votion of that most loyal of all animals the dog. 
 
 In the joy at his return even their own hardships and 
 danger were, for the moment, forgotten. From all came 
 the demand for his story. 
 
 " It is but a story of failure," Philip confessed. 
 
 Then he told them how, when but a few hours at sea, 
 his hiding-place had been discovered by a prying seaman 
 "Bah! that imbecile," Philip cried, in parenthesis, "what 
 business had he to blunder upon my retreat ? " how he 
 had been dragged out and almost dumped into a passing 
 Dutch hoy "May it sink forever for having thus been in 
 the way ! " he cried again, in indignant parenthesis without 
 even a chance to be seen by the Emperor. 
 
 " But I did get one last glimpse of him, in spite of those 
 rascal English and those imbecile Dutch," Philip said. " It 
 was after I had been flung into the Dutch hoy. We were 
 just casting off from the Northumberland, when the Em 
 peror came on deck. In the distance the headland of Cape
 
 THE CITY OF REFUGE 313 
 
 La Hague rose dimly through the mist. The Emperor rec 
 ognized the shore ; he knew it was his last look at France. 
 He stretched out both hands toward the misty coast-line 
 as if in farewell. I could hear him plainly as he cried : 
 'Adieu, land of heroes ! Adieu, dear France ! A few less 
 traitors, and you would be mistress of the world!' Alas! it 
 was my last sight of his face, my last hearing of his voice. 
 For even as I would have cried out my farewell, those pigs 
 of Dutch hustled me below, and my Emperor was gone from 
 me forever. But not forever ; no, not forever ! He will 
 yet return to save France. He will yet return to be again 
 the master of the world." 
 
 From Amsterdam, to which the Dutch vessel had carried 
 him, Philip said he had made his way into France, hearing 
 of the proscriptions, but never dreaming that he or his 
 would be marked for revenge. 
 
 " And now," he said, " what are we to do ? " 
 
 " What indeed ? " Citizen Daunou echoed. Plotting and 
 planning were never the dear old scholar's work, and in the 
 face of his misfortunes he was almost powerless. 
 
 " Listen," said clever Pierre, ever ready with devices. 
 "My old chief, the Count Real, late prefect of police, is 
 one of the 'brigands' as at headquarters they call all 
 Bonapartists now. He is to go to America. I know his 
 retreat. So, too, do I know that General Lallemarid, who is 
 your friend, my Philip, is gathering a company of exiles to 
 sail across the sea to America. Friends there are to arrange 
 for land for a colony. Lallemand and his following will 
 build, somewhere in the western forests, a city of refuge for 
 all Frenchmen in distress; for all driven from their homes; 
 
 27
 
 314 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 
 
 for all who love Napoleon and sorrow over the fall of 
 France. Why not join them, you ? " 
 
 " Why not, indeed ? " cried Philip, catching gladly at the 
 plan so well suited to his restless nature. " Let us begin 
 life again in a free land. What say you, my sister, will 
 you go ? And you, my father ? " 
 
 "As for me," said Citizen Dainiou, "I am an old man, 
 my children. What matter a few years more ? Let me die 
 in France." 
 
 " As for me," said Mademoiselle, wavering between duty 
 and desire, " what can I say ? I would go with you, my 
 Philip. I would stay with you, my father. What shall I 
 do, then ? " 
 
 Here Babette made so startling a suggestion that Pierre 
 looked at her closely. He had scarcely noticed her before. 
 
 " Why not all be White Cockaders ? " she said. " It is 
 much easier to give in than to stand out." 
 
 Philip caught her by the arm. " What, Babette ! you ? " he 
 cried, " you whom the Emperor educated ? " 
 
 Then Mademoiselle followed suit. " What, Babette ! you ? 
 You to whom the Emperor promised remembrance ? " 
 
 And Citizen Daunou said, " What, Babette ! you ? you a 
 philosopher like Talleyrand and the turncoats ? " 
 
 Whereupon Babette replied, " But where now is this Em 
 peror with his education and his promises ? And Talleyrand 
 remains yet a prince ! " 
 
 Pierre, the inspector, looked again at this girl with a 
 philosophy. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Babette is most sensible," he declared. 
 " She has the wisdom that gets advancement. I gained my
 
 THE CITY OF REFUGE 315 
 
 step through the Emperor. But now he is gone; and I 
 I am of the White Cockaders. He who turns his coat has yet 
 a coat to wear." 
 
 But Philip could brook no such selfish doctrine. " Better 
 no coat," he cried, indignantly, " than a turned one. I make 
 no peace with the Bourbons. They are no true French 
 men." 
 
 " And your Emperor ? He was but a Corsican," croaked 
 Mother Therese. 
 
 "But the proscribed can make no peace," said Citizen 
 Daunou. " It is for them only to vanish. My children, I 
 go with you." 
 
 So it was settled. In two days Citizen Daunou, with 
 Philip, Mademoiselle, and Nurse Marcel, vanished from 
 Paris, thanks to Pierre's secret help and hasty preparations. 
 Before the month was out they were crossing the Atlantic, 
 seeking a home in the new lands of the West. 
 
 Many others fled across the sea. By different routes, 
 landing in different ports, more than a thousand of the best 
 men and women of France sought refuge in America. 
 
 Of these, a certain number four hundred in all after 
 many hardships, after discouragement, privation, disaster, and 
 shipwreck, finally reached the haven they had selected, and 
 under the lead of General Lallemand, a brave officer of the 
 Imperial Guards, and wise old Citizen Daunou, they laid out 
 and occupied on the banks of the Eiver Trinity, in the pro 
 vince of Texas, their famous City of Eefuge. 
 
 I should like to tell you the experiences of our friends of 
 the Street of the Fight as they tried to make for themselves 
 a new home, amid strange and baffling surroundings. I
 
 316 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 could tell you how Philip led an exploring party, and how 
 he and his companions would have been poisoned, save for 
 the kindly offices of a friendly Indian; how Mademoiselle 
 was chased by wild cattle and kidnapped by Spaniards; how 
 Nurse Marcel almost married an Indian chief ; how Citi 
 zen Daunou was made vice-president of the military re 
 public, and how Marshal, the big Danish hound, held at bay 
 twenty Spaniards and Indians, and saved the City of Eefuge 
 from capture and pillage; 
 
 But this is all quite another story, and has no bearing on 
 this tale of the early fortunes of our Boy of the First Empire. 
 
 For our Boy of the First Empire became an American 
 citizen. 
 
 "The White Terror" ran its short but sorry course in 
 France. Valiant soldiers, like Marshal Key, " the bravest of 
 the brave," were murdered; patriots, like Citizen Daunou, 
 were exiled. Finally, reason returned. France was ashamed 
 of her ungenerous acts. Amnesty was granted, and many of 
 those who had come to America because they had been faith 
 ful to Napoleon, returned at last to the dear old homeland 
 which, in time, honored and exalted the memory of its most 
 famous man. 
 
 Among those who returned was Citizen Daunou. He 
 never held office under the Bourbons ; but, when he died, 
 he left behind him the name of a profound scholar, a thought 
 ful writer, with a memory revered by his countrymen as 
 that of " one of the purest characters of the Revolution and 
 the Empire." 
 
 As for Pierre, he rose to high honors in the police de 
 partment of Paris ; and, although he did not reach the goal
 
 THE CITY OF KEFUGE 317 
 
 prophesied by the Emperor, and become minister of police, 
 he did live to be a chief or prefect. And, yes he mar 
 ried whom do you think ? Babette. And they were both 
 of them loyal to the white cockade until the tricolor again 
 came in with the Third Napoleon. 
 
 Philip and Mademoiselle remained in America. When the 
 Champ d'Asile, or City of Eefuge, in Texas, was abandoned 
 because of the demands of Spain, the brother and sister 
 determined to join another French colony, known as "the 
 State of Marengo," in Alabama. But they only got as far 
 as New Orleans. They made many pleasant friends among 
 the French inhabitants of the "Crescent City" so many, 
 in fact, that Mademoiselle took one of them for life. She 
 married him, and lived and died a lady of New Orleans. 
 
 Philip pushed further north. He went into business in 
 Philadelphia, married an American girl, and became a loyal 
 and devoted citizen of his adopted country. 
 
 It may not please you to know it ; but the fact is, he suf 
 fered so much from hearing Americans try to pronounce his 
 unpronounceable name, only to make a terrible mess of it, that 
 at last, in desperation, he determined to change or, at least, 
 to Americanize it. 
 
 He looked into the matter, and finding that des nouettes 
 meant " tiles," he deliberately took the name of Philip 
 Tyler; and when he became a man, in the famous days Of 
 " Tippecanoe and Tyler, too," Philip was often spoken of as 
 " a distant connection of the President." 
 
 But, though he learned to look on things differently as he 
 grew older, he never forgot his Emperor. Good American 
 citizen though he became, the stirring experiences of his
 
 318 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 youth, when he was a frisky page of the palace in the days 
 of the splendid First Empire, were never forgotten by him. 
 
 In a small room in his fine Philadelphia home Philip kept 
 what he called his sanctuary. In the center stood a bronze 
 statue of Napoleon, draped with the tricolor and surrounded 
 with trophies of the days that were gone. And not the least 
 interesting of these trophies in his sanctuary were the green 
 and crimson suit of a page of the palace and the light-blue 
 uniform of a lieutenant of ordonnance. 
 
 Philip mourned the death of Napoleon ; he treasured for 
 years an unquenchable hatred against the jailer England 
 "perfidious Albion," as he persisted in calling the nation 
 which he also spoke of as the " Emperor's murderer." 
 Though his preference was for a republic, he still did not 
 conceal his joy when, by a questionable method, in the 
 middle years of the century, the Bonaparte power came 
 again to France ; when, once more, the tricolor waved over 
 the Tuileries ; the eagle and the bees returned ; and, at the 
 head of the Second Empire, reigned, as Napoleon the Third, 
 the brother of the same bright little fellow for whom, in 
 days long gone by, Philip had danced " zig-zag " in the great 
 park of St. Cloud, on that never-forgotten June morning 
 when, beneath the chestnuts, the ragged boy of the Street of 
 the Washerwomen first met Uncle Bibiche. 
 
 But he did not wait for that day before returning to 
 France. In the year 1840 the world heard great news. 
 England yielded up the dead. Napoleon's body was given 
 back to France. 
 
 The desire so ardently expressed in the great Emperor's
 
 THE CITY OF REFUGE 319 
 
 will was at last carried out, and, sailing northward from St. 
 Helena, a French frigate bore to France the ashes of the man 
 who once held in his shapely hand the destinies of Europe. 
 
 Philip hastened to France. With his eldest son, Philip 
 Daunou Tyler, he stood in Paris that December day when, 
 with pomp and circumstance, amid tolling bells and boom 
 ing cannon and marching soldiers, with the tricolor every 
 where and through a double row of imperial eagles, the 
 body of Napoleon was borne to the great Hotel of the Inva 
 lids the splendid Soldiers' Home in the very heart of 
 Paris, the noble building in which dear old Corporal Pey- 
 rolles had lived and died. 
 
 Napoleon had conquered. The exile had returned to 
 France forever. His bones rest at last where he so greatly 
 desired "by the banks of the Seine, among the French 
 people I have loved so well." His glory is that of France. 
 His fame fills the world. 
 
 As a boy and a Frenchman Philip had gloried in his Em 
 peror. As a practical and thoughtful American he learned 
 to look deeper and to appreciate what Napoleon really was. 
 That he was a despot Philip acknowledged ; that he inflicted 
 misery and death upon his fellow-men, Philip could not deny. 
 But that his life was really of value to the world, apart from 
 its glory and its imperial splendor, Philip also knew. Eaised 
 from the people to save them from themselves when terror 
 filled the land, Napoleon the Corsican made the France he 
 served influential, powerful, and progressive. He remade 
 Europe, shed the light of advancement into Russia, gave to 
 Germany the idea of national unity that has made her great, 
 and awoke Italy to the knowledge that she, too, might be an
 
 320 
 
 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 
 
 undivided nation. By his very despotism he advanced the 
 cause of liberty. And since his day the people, learning 
 from his wonderful story their own power and strength, 
 have given the law to kings and the death-blow to tyr 
 anny, so that never again shall liberty be throttled by 
 aristocracy nor smothered by the dead weight of a throne. 
 And to all this Philip felt he had contributed when, amid 
 the splendor of the palace, the gorgeousness of ceremonial 
 and fete, the brilliancy of review, and the smoke and roar of 
 battle, he had lived the life, and done the duty, and seen the 
 sights, and enjoyed the sport of one who exultantly shouted 
 " Long live the Emperor ! " as a loyal, vivacious, truthful, 
 happy-go-lucky Boy of the First Empire.
 
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