Chapter 51 July 1821: The Queen Of Sweden And Her

One afternoon in February 1818 I was feeling very lonely. The rain had been falling all day, and it was already getting dark. At such times I like to drink a cup of tea with a friend. So I was glad when Marie said: "The Swedish ambassador is here."

He came in, but he didnt give me his usual smile. He stood quite still for a moment. Then he bowed very low.

"Your Majesty!" he said. "I have come with sad news. King Charles the Thirteenth is dead. His Majesty has requested me to give you this letter."

"Sit down, please, baron." I said. My hand shook as I opened the envelope. The letter was very short:

"My dearest Desiree,

You are now queen of Sweden and Norway. Please try to behave like a Queen.

I will write again soon.

Your J.B."

I tried hard to look sad and solemn, but the ambassador surprised me with a sudden smile.

"His Majesty is now King Charles the Fourteenth," he said, "and Your Majesty is Queen Desideria. His majesty will be crowned on May 11."

"My husband should not have allowed them to call me Desideria," I replied. Then I gave my first royal order: I asked Marie to bring tea, and I made the ambassador have some with me.

When he had gone, I lay down on my bed. Marie came in. She looked at me and said nothing. I thought: "Shes annoyed because Im wearing my shoes on the bed." So I quickly apologized.

"If youre going to be a Queen," she answered, "you must be a good one, Desiree. When shall we leave here and go to Stockholm?"

"We shall leave here tomorrow," I said. "But we shant go to Stockholm. We shall go to Julie, in Brussels(Capital of Belgium). She needs me. The Swedish people dont."

"They cant have a coronation without us!" Marie cried.

But I refused to change my mind. "Jean must prove that Im really wanted in Stockholm," I said. "Till then, I shant go there. I shant even put this news in my diary."

So we went to Julie. Like the other Bonapartes, she had to leave France after the battle of Waterloo. Her Joseph settled in America, but she preferred to stay in Brussels.

The rest of Madame Letitias family went with their mother to Italy. For several years I had no news of them. But today a letter arrived.

"My son Napoleon died on the island of St Helena, on May 15," it began. "While he was there, he wrote the story of his life. Lucien has been reading it to me, because Im blind now. In one place it says: Desiree Clary was Napoleons first love. So he never forgot that, Desiree. But I dont want to cause any difficulty for you. If you wish, that sentence shall to be left out."

The letter ended with news of the family. It was signed by the blind old woman herself: "Letizia, madre di Napoleone."

I said to Rosen: "Id like to put some flowers on the place where Napoleon is buried. Please ask the British ambassador. Give him some money for them. "

"Your Majesty, no flowers grow on St Helena," Rosen replied. "Its only a rock in the middle of the ocean."

I cant send flowers. But I can still show my respect. So this evening I wrote back to Madame Letitia. I asked her to leave that sentence in Napoleons story.

He was a mysterious man. He had terrible faults. His wild dreams destroyed the peace of Europe and the lives of millions of men. But he was my first love. I may be Queen of Sweden now, but Im not ashamed of those days in Marseilles.