The Exiled Queen Epub Download 11
Gerarda Zmuda
Perfect for readers of Tolkien and Garth Nix, The Bone Queen is the highly anticipated prequel to the original Pellinor sequence, and will delight fans of critically acclaimed author Alison Croggon, as well as newcomers to the world of Pellinor. Cadvan of Lirigon, one of the most powerful Bards of his time, has been exiled from the School of Lirigon for a grievous crime that unleashed the power of the Bone Queen. Isolated and guilt-ridden, he is burdened by memories of his dealings with the Dark. Meanwhile, across Edil-Amarandh, a number of disturbing events suggest that the Bone Queen may not have been successfully banished, as was previously believed. The Light is under threat, but does Cadvan have the strength to face the Bone Queen again?
A touchingly-beautiful figure amid the drama of the Napoleonicdays was this gentle and yet high-spirited queen, who, when she haddescended from the throne and had ceased to be a sovereign,exhausted and weary of life, found refuge at length in the grave,yet still survived among us as a queen--no longer, indeed, a queenof nations, but the Queen of Flowers.
The flowers have retained their remembrance of Josephine'sbeautiful daughter; they did not, like so many of her own race,deny her when she was no longer the daughter of the all-powerfulemperor, but merely the daughter of the "exile." Among the flowersthe lovely Hortense continued to live on, and Gavarni, the greatpoet of the floral realm, has reared to her, as Hortensia, theFlower Queen, an enchanting monument, in his "FleursAnimées." Upon a mound of Hortensias rests the image ofthe Queen Hortense, and, in the far distance, like the limnings ofa half-forgotten dream, are seen the towers and domes of Paris.Farther in the foreground lies the grave of Hortense, with thecarved likeness of the queenly sister of the flowers. Lonelinessreigns around the spot, but above it, in the air, hovers theimperial eagle. The imperial mantle, studded with its golden bees,undulates behind him, like the train of a comet; the dark-redribbon of the Legion of Honor, with the golden cross, hangs aroundhis neck, and in his beak he bears a full-blooming branch of thecrown imperial.
When Hortense ceased to be a queen by the grace of Napoleon, shenone the less continued to be a poetess "by the grace of God." Herpoems are sympathetic and charming, full of tender plaintivenessand full of impassioned warmth, which, however, in no instanceoversteps the bounds of womanly gentleness. Her musicalcompositions, too, are equally melodious and attractive to theheart. Who does not know the song, "Va t'en, Guerrier,"which Hortense wrote and set to music, and then, at Napoleon'srequest, converted into a military march? The soldiers of Franceonce left their native land, in those days, to the sound of thismarch, to carry the French eagles to Russia; and to the samewarlike harmony they have marched forth more recently, toward thesame distant destination. This ballad, written by Hortense,survived. At one time everybody sang it, joyously, aloud. Then,when the Bourbons had returned, the scarred and crippled veteransof the Invalides hummed it under their breath, while theywhispered secretly to each other of the glory of La BelleFrance, as of a beautiful dream of youth, now gone forever.
To-day, that song rings out with power again through France, andmounts in jubilee to the summit of the column on the PlaceVendôme. The bronze visage of the emperor seems to melt intoa smile as these tremulous billows of melody go sweeping around hisbrow, and the Hortensias on the queen's grave raise dreaminglytheir heads of bloom, in which the dews of heaven, or the tears ofthe departed one, glisten like rarest gems, and seem to look forthlovingly and listen to this ditty, which now for France has won soholy a significance--holy because it is the master-chant of areligion which all men and all nations should revere--the "religionof our memories." Thus, this "Va t'en, Guerrier," whichFrance now sings, resounds over the grave of the queen, like asalute of honor over the last resting-place of some bravesoldier.
She had much to contend with--this hapless and amiablequeen--but she ever proved firm, and ever retained one kind ofcourage that belongs to woman--the courage to smile through hertears. Her father perished on the scaffold; her mother, thedoubly-dethroned empress, died of a broken heart; her step-father,the Emperor Napoleon, pined away, liked a caged lion, on a lonerock in the sea! Her whole family--all the dethroned kings andqueens--went wandering about as fugitives and pariahs, banishedfrom their country, and scarcely wringing from the clemency ofthose to whom they had been clement, a little spot of earth,where, far from the bustle and intercourse of the world, they mightlive in quiet obscurity, with their great recollections and theirmighty sorrows. Their past lay behind them, like a glittering fairytale, which no one now believed; and only the present seemed, tomen and nations, a welcome reality, which they, with envenomedstings, were eager to brand upon the foreheads of the dethronedNapoleon race.
Yet, despite all these sorrows and discouragements, Hortensiahad the mental strength not to hate her fellow-beings, but, on thecontrary, to teach her children to love them and do good to them.The heart of the dethroned queen bled from a thousand wounds, butshe did not allow these wounds to stiffen into callousness, nor herheart to harden under the broad scars of sorrow that had ceased tobleed. She cherished her bereavements and her wounds, and kept themopen with her tears; but, even while she suffered measureless woes,it solaced her heart to relieve the woes and dry the tears ofothers. Thus was her life a constant charity; and when she died shecould, like the Empress Josephine, say of herself, "I have weptmuch, but never have I made others weep."
But it was necessary to go to work cautiously and wisely, inorder to avoid exciting the hatred and vengeance of those who,coming from the scum of the people, were now the rulers of France.An imprudent word, a look, might suffice to cast suspicion upon,and render up to the guillotine, this good Madame Ho1stein, thiscourageous friend of the two children. It was in itself a capitalcrime that she had taken the children of the accused into herhouse, and it was therefore necessary to adopt every means ofconciliating the authorities. It was thought necessary thatHortense should, in company with her protectress, attend thefestivals and patriotic processions, that were renewed at everydecade in honor of the one and indivisible republic, but she wasnever required to take an active part in these celebrations. Shewas not considered worthy to figure among the daughters of thepeople; she had not yet been forgiven for being the daughter of aviscount, of an imprisoned ci-devant. Eugene had beenapprenticed to a carpenter, and the son of the viscount was nowoften seen walking through the streets in a blouse, carrying aboard on his shoulder or a saw under his arm.
Viscountess Josephine left her prison; she was restored toliberty, and could now hasten to her children, but she came back tothem as a poor widow, for the seals of the "one and indivisiblerepublic" were on hers and her children's property as well as onthat of all other aristocrats.
Madame Tallien, the all-powerful wife of one of the fivedirectors who now swayed the destinies of France; MadameRécamier, the friend of all the eminent and distinguishedmen of that period; and Madame de Staël, the daughter ofNecker, and the wife of the ambassador of Sweden, whose governmenthad recognized the republic--these three ladies gave to Paris itsdrawing-rooms, its reunions, its fêtes, its fashions,and its luxury. All Paris had assumed a new form, and, although theChurch had not yet again obtained official recognition, the beliefin a Supreme Being was already re-established. Robespierre hadalready been bold enough to cause the inscription, "There is aSupreme Being," to be placed over the altars of the churches thathad been converted into "Temples of Reason." Yes, there is aSupreme Being; and Robespierre, who had first acknowledged itsexistence, was soon to experience in himself that such was thecase. Betrayed by his own associates, and charged by them withdesiring to make himself dictator, and place himself at the head ofthe new Roman-French Republic as a new Caesar, Robespierre fell aprey to the Tribunal of Terror which he himself had called intoexistence. While engaged in the Hôtel de Ville in signingdeath-sentences which were to furnish fresh victims to theguillotine, he was arrested by the Jacobins and National Guards,who had stormed the gates and penetrated into the building, and theattempt to blow out his brains with his pistol miscarried.Bleeding, his jaw shattered by the bullet, he was dragged beforeFouquier-Tainville to receive his sentence, and to be conductedthence to the scaffold. In order that the proceeding should beattended with all formalities, he was, however, first conducted tothe Tuileries, where the Committee of Public Safety was thensitting in the chamber of Queen Marie Antoinette. Into thebedchamber of the queen whom Robespierre had brought to thescaffold, the bleeding, half-lifeless dictator was now dragged.Like a bundle of rags he was contemptuously thrown on the largetable that stood in the middle of the room. But yesterdayRobespierre had been enthroned at this table as almighty ruler overthe lives and possessions of all Frenchmen; but yesterday he hadhere issued his decrees and signed the death-sentences, that lay onthe table, unexecuted. These papers were now the only salve theghastly, groaning man could apply to the wound in his face, fromwhich blood poured in streams. The death-sentences signed byhimself now drank his own blood, and he had nothing but a rag of atricolor, thrown him by a compassionate sans-culotte, withwhich to bind up the great, gaping wound on his head. As he satthere in the midst of the blood-saturated papers, bleeding,groaning, and complaining, an old National Guard, with outstretchedarms, pointing to this ghastly object, cried: "Yes, Robespierre wasright. There is a Supreme Being!"
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