A STORY OF A BUNCH OF VIOLETS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 391, 14 August 1869, Page 2

A STORY OF A BUNCH OF VIOLETS.

{From the Queen.) Some years ago a numerous company of distinguished guests often met in a pretty villa belonging to a Spanish family, close to the Seine at Passy. The Duchess was a most agreeable hostess, and her two beautiful and accomplished daughters, like a double magnet, attracted all hearts. There was often great excitement in the brilliant saloons ; ladies and gentlemen, old and young, had eyes and ears only for one man, who now jested with his hostess, now chatted confidentially with some other lady, now formed the centre of a group of gentlemen, who all gave way to him respectfully. When he spoke there was a dead silence, as if a monarch were present. He- wore a plain black coat, like the other gentlemen present, but da- his breast was a small silver star, half concealed, as if it hardly dared to show itself. The servants bowed nearly to the ground when they offered him ices or lemonade, and called him " AUesse ;" ths guest* merely said, " Monsieur le President." Louis Napoleon (for it was he) came more and more frequently to the villa of Passy. It was soon remarked that the chief object of his visits was the elder daughter of the house. The Princess Eugenieherself perceived this, hut at first her Spanish pride induced her to reject the president's attention, although he was already talked of privately aa heir to the Imperial throne of Napoleon. But the Prince must have inherited something of his uncle's conquering talent in this respect also, for one evening, at a brilliant assembly at the Duchess', the Princess Eugenic appeared in an exquisite " violet toilette," if I may be allowed the expression — violets in her hair, violets looping up her dress, and tbe historical, significant bouquet of violets in her hand. The Prince understood the language of flowers ; the Princess had accepted his offer of marriage. Ths 15th of November ia the Empress

Eugenie's name-day, and violets are then perceptibly dearer in Paris. In the earlier days of the Becond Empire there was a perfect violet ovation on that day ; bunches of violets, not in hundreds nor in thousands, hut in tens of thousands, were thrown through the iron railings of the court-yard of the Tuileries. The palace servants piled them up into enormous pyramids, which reached as high as the first-floor windows; the various doors were decked with them, and the great central balcony, from which the Empress greeted the people seemed made of violets. Pinaud, who is the first perfumer in Paris, and employed by the Court, scents almost all his essences, pomades, &c., with violets. It ia said that in the Duchy of Parma, the finest violet-growing country in the world, Pinaud possesses large fields planted with violets, jvhieh, when in flower, perfume the district, and transform it into a vast blue carpet. Let us now explain how the violet came to be chosen as the badge of Napoleonic dynasty. It was in the early days of the present century. The great general, who, as he himself boasted, carried the fate of France ■ and Europe at his sword's point, had already been elected First Consul for life, and was rapidly advancing towards the Imperial throne. His wife, the never-to-be-forgotten Josephine, was living at Malmaison ; he himself inhabited the Elysee (he never lived in the Tuileries until after his coronation). Bonaparte rode almost every day to Malmaison, accompanied only by one servant, or perhaps by the faithful Rustan. One February morning the First Consul was on his way to Josephine, riding faster than usual, for he was late. The cause of his delay was a bouquet of violets which he had expected from Versailles, and which had not arrived. In those days violets in winter were rarities, and it jvas impossible to get them from ordinary gardeners. Bonaparte, however, had a promise to perform ; it was Josephine's name-day, and when a few days before he asked what present he should bring her, she had replied, "Only a bouquet of violets." And now he could not fulfil this simple request — he who a year later was to present her with an Imperial crown 1 Two messengers had already been dispatched to Versailles. Bonaparte was worse off than Louis XIV., for he was really obliged to want. Just then he received from an unknown hand a magnificent bouquet of violets, ten times more beautiful than the Versailles flowers would have been. The Consul, surprised and touched— could he guess the giver —sprang on his horse and galloped to MJalmaison ; there he found that the friends of the family had brought splendid presents. Bonaparte entered, embraced his wife, and presented the bouquet with a smile. Napoleon's great love of violets dated from this incident. That particular bouquet was taken care of like a pet child by his special desire. When at length it faded, Josephine, although she could not comprehend her husband's sudden passion for violets, took cara to procure fresh ones, and after she became Empress she still had violets alwaya about her. Even at St. Helena Napoleon planted violets ; and when hia coffin touched French soil at Cherbourg, it was covered in a few minutes with bouquets aad wreaths of violets.