His early training was excellent; as Madame de Montesquiou had an unbounded influence over him, owing to the manner at once gentle and grave in which she corrected his faults. The child was generally docile, but, nevertheless, sometimes had violent fits of anger, which his governess had adopted an excellent means of correcting, which was to remain perfectly unmoved until he himself controlled his fury. When the child returned to himself, a few severe and pertinent remarks transformed him into a little Cato for the remainder of the day. One day as he was rolling on the floor refusing to listen to the remonstrances of his governess, she closed tie windows and shutters; and the child, astonished by this performance, forgot what had enraged him, and asked her why she did this. "I did it because I was afraid you would be heard; do you suppose the French people would want you as their prince, if they knew that you gave way to such fits of anger?"--"Do you think they heard me?"
he inquired; "I would be very sorry if they had. Pardon, Mamma Quiou [this was his name for her], I will not do it again."
The Emperor was passionately devoted to his son; took him in his arms every time he saw him, and jumped him up and down most merrily, and was delighted with the joy he manifested. He teased him by carrying him in front of the glass and ****** grimaces, at which the child laughed till he cried. While at breakfast he took him on his knee, dipped his finger in the sauce and made him suck it, and smeared his face with it; and when the governess scolded, the Emperor laughed still more heartily, and the child, who enjoyed the sport, begged his father to repeat it. This was an opportune moment for the arrival of petitions at the chateau; for they were always well received at such times, thanks to the all-powerful credit of the little mediator.
The Emperor in his tender moods was sometimes even more childish than his son. The young prince was only four months old when his father put his three-cornered hat on the pretty infant.
The child usually cried a good deal, and at these times the Emperor embraced him with an ardor and delight which none but a tender father could feel, saying to him, "What, Sire, you crying! A king weeping; fie, then, how ugly that is!"
He was just a year old when I saw the Emperor, on the lawn in front of the chateau, place his sword-belt over the shoulders of the king, and his hat on his head, and holding out his arms to the child, who tottered to him, his little feet now and then entangled in his father's sword; and it was beautiful to see the eagerness with which the Emperor extended his arms to keep him from falling.
One day in his cabinet the Emperor was lying on the floor, the king riding horseback on his knee, mounting by jumps up to his father's face, and kissing him. On another occasion the child entered the council chamber after the meeting had ended, and ran into his father's arms without paying attention to any one else, upon which the Emperor said to him, "Sire, you have not saluted these gentlemen." The child turned, bowed most gracefully, and his father then took him in his arms.
Sometimes when going to visit the Emperor, he ran so fast that he left Madame de Montesquiou far behind, and said to the usher, "Open the door for me, I want to see papa." The usher replied, "Sire, I cannot do it."
--"But I am the little king."--"No, Sire, I cannot open it." At this moment his governess appeared; and strong in her protection he proudly repeated, "Open the door, the king desires it."
Madame de Montesquiou had added to the prayers which the child repeated morning and evening, these words: "My God, inspire papa to make peace for the happiness of France." One evening the Emperor was present when his son was retiring, and he made the same prayer, whereupon the Emperor embraced him in silence, smiling most kindly on Madame de Montesquiou.
The Emperor was accustomed to say to the King of Rome when he was frightened at any noise or at his grimaces, "Come, come! a king should have no fear."
I recall another anecdote concerning the young son of the Emperor, which was related to me by his Majesty himself one evening when I was undressing him as usual, and at which the Emperor laughed most heartily.
"You would not believe," said he, "the singular reward my son desired of his governess for being good. Would she not allow him to go and wade in the mud?" This was, true, and proves, it seems to me, that the greatness which surrounds the cradle of princes cannot eradicate from their minds the singular caprices of childhood.
