The autocratic powers of the Crown had then been greatly reduced, so that Sweden had become a constitutional Monarchy, with a Diet to be re-elected every five years, and Gustavus' uncle had ascended the throne as Charles XIII. Having no son, he had recognised as his heir a Danish connection, Prince Christian Augustus, and made peace with Russia by ceding Finland. But in the following year, which was the present one, Prince Christina had died as a result of a fit of apoplexy.
That much Roger knew, and from there Bourrienne took up the story. Charles XIII being old and feeble, and it having become apparent that inbreeding had brought madness into the Vasa strain, the Swedish magnates had decided to invite some healthy and vigorous man to become heir to the throne.
For several years past Napoleon had been gobbling up Europe, so what better insurance could there be against his deciding to swallow Sweden than to ask one of his Marshals to become their Prince Royal? Their choice had fallen upon Bernadotte for the following reasons:
He was not only a general of the first rank. When, as Napoleon's Viceroy, he had governed north Germany, he had shown himself to be a brilliant, humane and just ruler. Moreover, during the later stages of the Franco-Prussian war, when he had driven a Swedish army from Pomerania, he had captured one of their crack cavalry regiments in Lubeck, invited its officers to dinner and given them some very sound advice on the policy that should be pursued in the best interests of their country.
When approached, Napoleon, who had always been jealous of Bernadotte, had been loath to agree to his aggrandizement, and endeavored to fob off the Swedes with one of his lesser Marshals. But they would not have it. They had sent direct to Bernadotte a deputation consisting of their veteran Field Marshal, Count Hans Henrik von Essen, and several of the officers with whom Bernadotte had talked in Lubeck. And he had accepted.
To the Emperor's fury, when summoned by him Bernadotte had arrived in the uniform of a Swedish Field Marshal, and a most acrimonious discussion had followed, Bernadotte had asked to be relieved of his Princedom of Ponte Corvo, his rank as a Marshal of the Empire and above all, his French citizenship. Napoleon could not believe his ears. He had made three of his brothers and his brother-in-law Kings of foreign countries; but they had all remained Frenchmen and subservient to him. He expected Bernadotte, like Murat, to remain a Marshal, govern as he, Napoleon, directed and, whenever called upon, leave his Kingdom to command an army in his was.
But Bernadotte remained adamant. Courageously he insisted that, if he was to be Prince Royal of Sweden, he must become a Swede. At length, Napoleon gave way but demanded that Sweden should become his ally and place her army at his disposal in any future war. To that, too, Bernadotte refused to agree, maintaining that peace or war was a matter to be decided solely by the will of the Swedish people. Angry, bewildered and not knowing what to reply, the Emperor had succumbed and, in September, Bernadotte had left France to become not, like Napoleon's brothers, a puppet King forced upon a hostile people, but a Royal Prince elected by the will of a nation.
Roger wondered how Bernadotte's wife, Desiree, would like being Princess Royal among a haughty, ancient aristocracy. She and her sister Julie were the daughters of a Marseilles silk merchant named Clary; and Julie, having married Napoleon's elder brother, Joseph, was now technically Queen of Spain.
He knew Desiree much better than he did her husband, as he had been acquainted with the Clarys for many years. When Bonaparte had been a down-at-heels artillery officer, the wealthy Clarys had welcomed him and Joseph into their family circle. As both the girls had large dowries, the brothers had asked for their hands in marriage. Their father was dead, and their brother had reluctantly consented. Joseph had married Julie, but Napoleon, although Desiree was his first love, had jilted her to marry the aristocratic Josephine de Beauharnais. But the Emperor had always retained a soft spot for Desiree; and it was he who, as he happened to be reading a book with a hero named Oscar at the time of her son's birth, had insisted that she should give the child that name.
As things had turned out, it could not have been more appropriate, and Roger wondered how much Napoleon's affection for his old love had contributed to his letting Bernadotte have his way, instead of having him arrested as a potential danger. But he could not think that, having been brought up in the sunshine of the South of France, pretty, retrousse-nosed, little Desiree was going to enjoy much the bitter cold of a northern Kingdom.
When he asked Bourrienne how Bernadotte had been doing during his first months as Prince Regent, his friend shook his head.
'Owing to her wars of the past seventeen years, Sweden has become a miserably poor country. Ponte Corvo was of course, extremely wealthy. While a Marshal of the Empire he had amassed the fortune of a multi-millionaire, and my spies tell me that he is using it all to pay Sweden's debts. But his position is very precarious. The Emperor has demanded that he should subscribe to the Continental System and prohibit all commerce with England. If he does so, Sweden will face final ruin. If he does not, his old enemy, Davout, has orders to use his army here to invade Sweden. From Denmark that could be done with ease. Our allies, the Danes, would be delighted, and Sweden has no army worth the name with which to defend herself.'
Roger nodded. 'So that's how things stand. Well, Bernadotte is undoubtedly a courageous man and, by the standard of the times, an upright one; so one can only hope that he pulls through.'
Three days later Roger said good bye to his old friend and went aboard an American ship that plied regularly between Hull and Hamburg, bringing English woollens over to the Continent. The weather proved fair and the voyage uneventful. On the evening of October 18th, he landed in England, and the following night he arrived in London; now home for good, all his adventures and perils behind him, and about to start a new life with his divine Georgina.
As was his custom, he went straight to the Earl of Amesbury's mansion in Arlington Street, as his Lordship's son, Lord Edward Fitz-Deverel lived there, and whenever Roger came to London, was delighted to have him as a guest.
When the front door was opened by a footman, it chanced that Droopy Ned was just crossing the hall. Turning to see who the visitor was, he peered at Roger with his short-sighted eyes. Suddenly, he dropped the book he was carrying and cried:
'God stap me! I'm seeing a ghost?
Advancing, Roger laughed, 'No, dear Ned. I am no ghost, although I know you believed me dead. Tis my very self, home again at last, and overjoyed to see you.'
The two old friends hugged each other, then Roger asked, 'What of Georgina; is she well?'
'She was, as ever, in bounteous health when I saw her not long since.'
'Where is she, Ned? Down at Stillwater’s? I cannot wait to see her.'
'Nay, she is not at Stillwater’s, but down at Newbury, Droopy replied.
Roger grinned. 'And what, pray, is she doing there? What e'er it be, I'll fetch her back within twenty-four hours. For, know you, before we parted seven months ago, she at last promised to marry me.'