Austerlitz was to be for the Empire what Marengo had been for the Consulate: a consolidation. In spite of the pomps of the double coronation, Napoleon did not feel firmly established on his Imperial and Royal throne. Opinions varied with regard to the stability of the new regime. The Liberals missed the Republic, and the Royalists the Bourbons. If the army and the people showed confidence in the Emperor's star, the Parisian middle class was always cool, and business men observed with anxiety the hostility of England, Austria, Russia, and possibly Prussia. Paris was gloomy; business was dull; the absence of the court depressed the shop-keepers; the theatres were empty; in short, the winter was infinitely less gay than the one before. There was general uneasiness; wives feared for their husbands; mothers for their sons. Every one had become used to the peace which had lasted five years, and the renewal of war inspired the greatest anxiety.
As for Napoleon, he felt the need of some great stroke that should astonish and fascinate the world. He understood that to maintain his fame he was condemned to work miracles. September 23, 1805, he had exposed to the Senate the hostile conduct of Austria, and had announced his speedy departure to carry aid to the Elector of Bavaria, the ally of France, whom the Austrians had just driven from Munich. Five days later he had started, confident of success, and certain that he would find his people at his feet on his return. The Empress accompanied him as far as Strassburg, and established herself there to be near the scene of war and to receive earlier news than was possible at Paris.
Napoleon's letters to Josephine during the Austerlitz campaign have been preserved; unfortunately, we have not hers to him. The Emperor writes very differently from General Bonaparte. His letters are not the ardent, passionate, romantic epistles recalling the fervid style and thought of theNouvelle Héloïse. They are substantial letters, concise and interesting, such as a good husband might write after ten years of marriage, but not at all a lover's letters. Josephine, who was quite observant, must have noticed the difference, but she had enough tact and prudence to avoid complaint. 1805 was not 1796; Napoleon still loved Josephine, but from habit, gratitude, and a sense of duty, not with mad passion. He paid her much attention, held her in high regard, felt sympathy with her, deference, and friendship, but scarcely love. Beneath the vaulted roof of Notre Dame Napoleon had given to Josephine the Imperial diadem, but he had not given her the true crown,—love.
October 1 the Emperor took command of his army, which had assembled with wonderful promptness on the Rhine. The next day he wrote to the Empress from Marenheims: "I am still very well, and leaving for Strassburg, where I shall arrive this evening. The advance has begun. The armies of Würtemberg and of Baden are joining mine. I have a good position and love you." October 4 he wrote to her: "I am at Ludwigsberg, and leave to-night. There is no news. All the Bavarians have joined me. I am well. I hope in a few days to have something interesting to tell you. Keep well and believe that I love you. There is a very fine court here, a pretty bride, and the people are pleasant, even the Elector's wife, who seems very good, although she is a daughter of the King of England."
October 5 Napoleon sent another letter to Josephine from Ludwigsberg: "I have at once to continue my march. You will be five or six days without news of me; don't be anxious; it is on account of the operations we undertake. Are you as well as I could hope? Yesterday I was at the wedding of the son of the Elector of Würtemberg with a niece of the King of Prussia. I want to give her a present of from thirty-six to forty thousand francs. Have it made and send it by one of my chamberlains to the bride when the chamberlains are coming to me. Do this at once. Good by; I love and kiss you."
These five or six days of silence were taken up by the opening of hostilities on the road from Stuttgart to Ulm, the crossing of the Danube, and the occupation of Augsburg. From this city Napoleon wrote to Josephine October 10: "I spent last night with the former Elector of Trèves, who has comfortable quarters. I have been on the move for a week. The campaign opens with noteworthy successes. I am very well though it rains nearly every day. Things have moved very quickly. I have sent to France four thousand prisoners, eight flags, and have captured fourteen cannon. Good by, my dear; I kiss you." Two days later the French army entered Munich in triumph, the Austrians having been driven out of Bavaria. The Emperor wrote to the Empress, October 12: "My army has entered Munich. The enemy is partly on the other side of the Inn; the other army of sixty thousand men I have blockaded on the Iller between Ulm and Memmingen. The enemy is lost, has completely lost its head, and everything promises the luckiest, shortest, and most brilliant campaign ever known. I leave in an hour for Burgau on the Iller. I am well: the weather is frightful. It rains so that I have to change my clothes twice a day. I love you."
The first successes of the campaign caused great excitement in Paris, as is shown by the letters of Madame de Rémusat, no great lover of military glory, to her husband, who had accompanied the Empress to Strassburg; every day this lady would jot down what had happened, and her interesting correspondence brings the period vividly before us. October 12, she wrote, the absence of the Empress leaving her time heavy on her hands: "How gloomy and ill we are in this odious Paris! Please tell M. de Talleyrand that it is really something pitiable. Not even a word of gossip! In short, we are as bored as we are virtuous. I don't know which is the cause and which the effect, but I do know that I am horribly bored. The solitude of this great city is really remarkable; the theatres are empty; I hardly ever go to them."
In two days there was a complete change. Paris woke up as if to a joyous trumpet-call, and Madame de Rémusat was full of happiness: "My dear, what good news!" she wrote October 14, "… This morning the cannon announced the victory to the city of Paris; it produced a great effect. Every one was inquiring about it in the street, and congratulating himself; in short, I send the Empress word, the Parisians were French. I have already written twenty notes, and received all the visits of congratulation…. But what a great victory! How proud I am of being a Frenchwoman! I couldn't sleep for joy. Perhaps by this time you have heard of others, and when we are rejoicing over the first victory, you have forgotten it with another. May Heaven continue to protect this noble army and its glorious leader!" This enthusiastic letter ends with these somewhat harsh criticising of the Parisians: "This victory was necessary, for these sad Parisians had begun to complain. The emptiness of Paris, its quiet, the lack of money which continues to make itself felt, gave to the malevolent a good opportunity to excite dissatisfaction, and they did their best to spread it. I was wondering this very morning why in a nation so devoid of national feeling there should be in the army such unity of action and thought. It seems to me that honor has a good deal to do with this difference, and that it takes the place of public spirit in many who in ordinary times are too happy, too rich, and too careless to care for anything beyond their own belongings."
Napoleon went from one victory to another, October 18, just before the capitulation of Ulm, he wrote to Josephine from Elchingen: "I have been more tired than I should have been; for a week getting wet through every day, and cold feet, have done me a little harm, but staying in to-day has rested me. I have carried out my plan and have destroyed the Austrian army by simple marches. I have taken sixty thousand prisoners, one hundred and twenty cannon, more than ninety flags, and more than thirty generals. I am going to attack the Russians; they are lost. I am satisfied with my army. I have lost only fifteen hundred men, and two-thirds of these are but slightly wounded. Good by. Remember me to every one. Prince Charles is coming to cover Vienna. I think Masséna ought to be at Vienna at this time. As soon as I am easy about Italy I shall make Eugene fight. My love to Hortense."
The capitulation of Ulm was arranged by Napoleon with Prince Lichtenstein, Major-General of the Austrian army. A heavy rain fell without cessation, and the prisoners were amazed to see the Emperor, who had not taken off his boots for a week, wet through, covered with mud, and more tired than the humblest drummer. When some one spoke of it, he said to Prince Lichtenstein: "Your Emperor wanted to remind me that I was a soldier. I hope he will acknowledge that the throne and the Imperial purple have not made me forget my old trade." October 21, the day after the capitulation, Napoleon wrote to Josephine: "I am very well, my dear. I leave at once for Augsburg. I have made an army of thirty-three thousand men surrender. I have taken from sixty to seventy thousand prisoners, more than ninety flags, and more than two hundred cannon. In the military annals there is no such defeat. Keep well. I am a little worried. For three days the weather has been pleasant. The first column of prisoners starts for France to-day. Each column contains six thousand men." Never had war been fought with such art. An army of eighty-five thousand men had been destroyed almost without firing a gun; its adversaries had lost only three thousand men. After this great victory Napoleon's soldiers said, "The Emperor beat the enemy with our legs, not with our bayonets."
These chronicles of war have a sad side even when they commemorate the most brilliant victories. Even while he counts the trophies the historian cannot avoid melancholy reflections. What capitulations awaited France sixty-five years after this capitulation of Ulm! But in this intoxication of victory, people have eyes only for their success. Were they reasonable, they would then reflect on the calamities of war. Hortense, who was as kind as her mother, Josephine, had this wisdom and pity. She said, "When I read these accounts I am surprised to find myself ready to weep even when I am happy at the victories." At the time Madame de Rémusat wrote to her husband: "Poor creatures that we are, how restless we are on this sandhill, and too often only to hasten our end! A good subject for the philosopher is this glory, with which we adorn our eagerness in killing one another." The triumphal music should not drown the sobs and cries of the mothers; we should think of the dead and wounded. But nations are like individuals: they never reflect.
Napoleon pushed on the war with real delight. He felt about war as a good workman feels about his work, as a great artist about his art. To war it was that he owed his power and glory. Without it, he said, he would have been nothing; by it, he was everything. Hence he felt for it not merely love, but gratitude; loving it both by instinct and calculation. He preferred the bivouac to the Tuileries. Just as the snipe-shooter prefers a marsh to a drawing-room, he was more at home under a tent than in a palace. To men who like the battle-field, war is the most intense of pleasures. They love it as the gamester loves play, with a real frenzy. They defeat the enemy, not merely without feeling, but with a fierce joy, as if it were their prey. They feel the same emotions as the Romans in a circus, or the Spaniards at a bull-fight. The rattle of drums, the blare of trumpets, shouts of soldiers, are what they hear; their ears are deaf to the cries of the wounded and dying. The varying chances of the combat, the uncertainties of fear and hope produce in them emotions that they prefer to all others, however poetic and charming. It is with a sort of intoxication that they inhale the smell of gunpowder, perhaps even that of blood. A hotly contested victory is more agreeable to them than one too easily gained. Fortune is, in their eyes, a difficult mistress, whose favors seem the dearer, the harder they are of attainment. What a satisfaction for a proud man to be absolute commander of an army which, before the fight, shouts like the ancient gladiators:Ave, Caesar, morituri te salutant!"Hail, Caesar, those about to die salute you!" an army in which even dying men shout applause, with their last breath, to their sovereign, their idol! And yet how petty is all this glory! Bossuet was right when he said: "What could you find on earth strong and dignified enough to bear the name of power? Open your eyes, pierce the dusk. All the power in the world can but take a man's life: is it then such a great thing to shorten by a few moments a life which is already hastening to its end?"
Josephine did not in the least share her husband's warlike tastes. Gentle, kindly, affectionate, full of pity for human woes, she would have liked to reconcile all parties, all nations,—to have universal peace. This woman, who had all the graces and charms of her sex, never inspired Napoleon with ambitious or haughty thoughts. While the war lasted, she was anxious, unhappy; waiting anxiously with bated breath for news, scarcely living.
Napoleon, wrote to her from Augsburg, October 28: "The last two nights have rested me completely, and I leave for Munich to-morrow; I am summoning to me M. de Talleyrand and M. Maret; I shall see them for a short time, and then leave for the Inn, where I mean to attack Austria in its hereditary states. I should have been glad to see you, but don't expect me to summon you unless there should be an armistice, or we should go into winter quarters. Good by, my dear; a thousand kisses. Remember me to all the ladies." From Munich the Emperor wrote the following letter, dated October 27; "I have received your letter from Lamarois. I am sorry to see that you have been over-anxious. I have heard many details of your affection for me, but you should have more strength, and confidence. Besides, I had told you I should not write for six days. To-morrow I expect the Elector. At noon I start to strengthen my movement on the Inn. My health is very fair. You mustn't think of crossing the Rhine in less than two or three weeks. You must be cheerful, and amuse yourself in the hope of our meeting before the end of the month (Brumaire). I am advancing on the Russian army. In a few days I shall have crossed the Inn. Good by, my dear; much love to Hortense, to Eugene, and to the two Napoleons. Keep the wedding present for some time yet. Yesterday I gave a concert to the ladies of this court. The leader is a worthy man. I have shot pheasants with the Elector; you see I am not worn out. M. de Talleyrand has come." Again, from Haag, November 3, 1805: "I am advancing rapidly; the weather is very cold; the snow is a foot deep. This is not pleasant. Fortunately, we have an abundance of wood; we are continually in the forests. I am fairly well. Everything goes on satisfactorily; the enemy has more cause for anxiety than I. I am eager to hear from you, and to know that your mind is easy. Good by, my dear; I am going to bed."
Napoleon continued his operations with startling rapidity. He wrote to Josephine November 5: "I am at Linz. The weather is fine. We are within twenty-eight leagues of Vienna. The Russians are retreating without making a stand. The house of Austria is much embarrassed; all the belongings of the court have been removed from Vienna. You will probably have some news in five or six days. I am very anxious to see you. My health is good." The Emperor of Austria, compelled to leave Vienna, had sought refuge at Brunn, where he joined the Czar and the second Russian army; and Napoleon entered the capital whence the Emperor Francis had fled. He wrote to Josephine November 15: "I have been for two days in Vienna, a little tired. I have not yet seen the city by daylight, but have only passed through it by night. To-morrow I receive the authorities. Almost all my troops are beyond the Danube in pursuit of the Russians. Good by, dear Josephine; as soon as possible I shall arrange for you to come. I send much love." The next day he wrote again to the Empress from Vienna: "I am writing to M. de Narville to arrange for you to go to Baden, thence to Stuttgart, and thence to Munich. At Stuttgart you will give the present to the Princess Paul. Fifteen or twenty thousand francs will be enough for it; the rest will be enough for a present to the daughter of the Elector of Bavaria at Munich. All that you heard from Madame de Sérent is definitely arranged. Bring presents for the ladies and officers in waiting on you. Be pleasant, but receive all their homages; they owe you everything, and you owe them nothing, except in the way of politeness. The Electress of Würtemberg is a daughter of the King of England; you should treat her well, and especially without affectation. I shall be glad to see you as soon as business will permit. I am leaving for the front. The weather is admirable; there is much snow, but everything is in good condition. Good by, my dear one." On the receipt of this letter, Josephine, who was most anxious to see her husband, hastened away from Strassburg to go to Munich through Baden and Würtemberg. At the same time Napoleon set off to meet the Austrian and Russian armies, commanded by their respective Emperors, in Moravia.
We have in the Memoirs of General de Ségur, an eye-witness, an interesting account of the eve of Austerlitz. Late in the afternoon Napoleon entered a hut, and took his place at table in the best of spirits, along with Murat, Caulaincourt, Junot, Ségur, Rapp, and a few other guests. They thought that he would talk about the next day's battle. Not at all: he discussed literature with Junot, who was familiar with all the new tragedies; he had a good deal to say about Raynouard'sTemplars, about Racine, Corneille, and the fate of the ancient drama. Then, by a singular transition, he began to talk about his Egyptian campaign. "If I had captured Acre," he said, "I should have put my army into long trousers, and have made it my sacred battalion, my Immortals, and have finished my war against the Turks with Arabians, Greeks, and Armenians. Instead of fighting here in Moravia, I should be winning a battle of Issus, and be making myself Emperor of the West, returning to Paris through Constantinople."
After dinner Napoleon wished to make a final reconnoissance of the enemy's position by their bivouac fires; he mounted his horse and rode out between the lines. One moment he came near paying dear for his imprudence; he went too far forward and suddenly fell on a post of Cossacks, and had it not been for the devotion of the chasseurs who escorted him, he would have been killed or captured, and he was scarcely able to escape at full gallop. After crossing the stream which covered the front of the French army, he dismounted and returned to his bivouac, from one watch-fire to another, on foot. On his way he stumbled over the stump of a tree and fell to the ground. Then a grenadier took some straw, rolled it up to something like a torch, and lit it; other soldiers did the same thing; the camp was illuminated, and the face of the great conqueror was plainly to be seen. The next day was December 2, the anniversary of his coronation. "Emperor," shouted an old soldier, "I promise you in the name of the grenadiers of the army that you will have to fight only with your eyes, and that to- morrow we shall bring you the flags and artillery of the Russian army to celebrate the anniversary of your coronation." Every one shouted applause. Napoleon in vain tried to stop them. "Silence," he commanded, "until to- morrow! think of nothing but sharpening your bayonets!" Shouts of "Long live the Emperor!" were repeated. Along a line of two leagues blazed thousands of fires and flames. The Russians wondered what was the cause of this unusual brilliancy, and thought the French were retreating. Napoleon was at first annoyed by this rapturous demonstration, but at last he was touched by it, and passing through a number of bivouacs, all brightly lit, he expressed his gratitude to his soldiers, saying it was the happiest evening of his life. Then he went to his tent, snatched a little sleep, and when he rose in the morning, said, "Now, gentlemen, we are beginning a great day."
A moment later, the commanders of the different army corps, Murat, Lannes, Bernadotte, Soult, Davout, came galloping up the little mound which the soldiers called the Emperor's hill, to receive his final orders. It was a solemn, impressive moment. "If I were to live," says General de Ségur, "as long as the world shall last, I shall never forget that scene…. Times have changed quickly since then. Heavens! how great everything was then, how brave the men, how glorious the time, how imposing the appearance of fate!" Never was there a more brilliant triumph. "I have fought thirty battles like that," said the conqueror, "but I have never seen so decisive a victory, or one where the chances were so unevenly balanced." And then full of admiration for his soldiers, he exclaimed; "I am satisfied with you; you have covered your eagles with undying glory."
From a military point of view Austerlitz was Napoleon's greatest triumph. War, which he loved with all its risks and emotions, then showed him its most tempting side. He was always tempting fate, and fate had always favored him. The hour had not yet struck when he was to ask more of fortune than it could give. As Sainte-Beuve truly says, it was not till in the icy plain of Eylau, from the cemetery covered with blood-stained snow, that receiving the first warning of Providence, he had a sort of terrible vision of what the future held in store for him. Then he had before his eyes a sort of rehearsal of the horrors awaiting him in Russia, and at the sight of so many corpses, and the awful scene, he said with deep melancholy, "This sight is one to fill kings with love of peace and horror of war." But at Austerlitz it was very different. The shrieks of the Russians sinking through the holes torn in the ice by cannon-balls were drowned in the shouts of the victors. The bright sunlight of that day of triumph dispelled, all traces of gloom in the conqueror's heart.
December 3. Napoleon wrote thus to Josephine about his victory: "I despatched Lebrun to you from the battle-field. I have beaten the Russian and Austrian armies commanded by the two Emperors. I am a little tired. I have bivouacked for a week in the open air, and the nights have been cool. To-night I am going to sleep in the castle of Prince Kaunitz, where I shall get two or three hours' rest. The Russian army is not merely defeated, but destroyed. Much love." December 3, he had an interview in his bivouac with the Emperor of Austria; and as if to apologize for the wretched quarters in which he received him, he said, "This is the palace which Your Majesty has compelled me to inhabit these three months." The Emperor of Austria replied, "You make such good use of it, that you certainly can't blame me on that account." And then the two Emperors embraced.
The day Napoleon wrote to Josephine: "I have made a truce. The Russians withdraw. The battle of Austerlitz is the greatest I have won: forty-five flags, more than one hundred and fifty cannon, the standards of the Russian guards, twenty generals, more than twenty thousand killed,—a horrid sight! The Emperor Alexander is in despair, and is leaving for Russia. Yesterday I saw the Emperor of Germany in my bivouac; we talked for two hours, and agreed on a speedy peace. The weather is not yet very bad. Now that the continent is at peace, we may hope for it everywhere; the English will be unable to face us. I shall see with pleasure the time that will restore me to you. For two days a little trouble with the eyes has been prevalent in the army. I have not yet been attacked. Good by, my dear. I am fairly well, and very anxious to see you." December 3, there was another letter, also from Austerlitz: "I have concluded an armistice, and peace will be made within a week. I am anxious to hear that you have reached Munich in good health. The Russians are going back after suffering immense losses: more than twenty thousand killed and thirty thousand captured; they have lost three-quarters of their army. Buxhövden, their commander-in-chief, is killed. I have three thousand wounded and seven or eight hundred killed. I have a little trouble with my eyes: an epidemic; it amounts to nothing. Good by; I am anxious to see you once more. To- night I sleep in Vienna."
Cambacérès said that the news of the victory of Austerlitz filled the populace with the wildest joy, which expressed itself in the most extravagant flattery. The Emperor was treated like a god, and naturally a sovereign so flattered did not control his love of war. It was only on his deathbed that Louis XIV. said, "I have been overfond of war!" He said nothing of the sort when the gates of Saint Martin and of Saint Denis were built in his honor, when his statue was put up in the Place des Victoires, when Lebrun painted the proud frescoes in the gallery at Versailles. Like Louis XIV., Napoleon reproached himself with excessive love of war; but it was not after Austerlitz, but after Waterloo. No man is worthy of adoration; it belongs to God alone. Woe to the princes who are fed on flattery! Extravagant laudation brings its punishment; even in this world pride has its fall.
The enthusiasm was universal; the victorious French could not contain themselves for joy, and wholly lost their heads. Thus even Madame de Rémusat, who, after the defeat, had shown herself so severe, one might almost say so cruel, towards Napoleon, wrote thus to her husband, December 18, 1805, after the news of Austerlitz: "You cannot imagine how excited every one is. Praise of the Emperor is on every one's lips; the most recalcitrant are obliged to lay down their arms, and to say with the Emperor of Russia, 'He is the man of destiny!' Day before yesterday I went to the theatre with Princess Louis to hear the different bulletins read. The crowd was enormous because the cannon in the morning had announced the arrival of news; every thing was listened to, and then applauded with cries such as I had never imagined. I wept copiously all the time. I was so moved that I believe if the Emperor had been present, I should have flung my arms about his neck, to beg for pardon afterwards at his feet. After this I supped out: every one plied me with questions. I knew the whole bulletin by heart, and kept repeating it; and was glad to be able to tell the news to so many people, to repeat those simple impressive words, with a feeling of owning them, which you can understand better than I can define. I missed you much in all my joy, which I should have gladly shared with you; but in your absence I tried to communicate my admiration to our son. Instead of making him finish the life of Alexander, which he has been reading for two days, it occurred to me to have him read aloud theMoniteur, and he was so much pleased that he said he thought it all much greater than Alexander."
Alas! thoughtful people should never forget how much greater is virtue than success. In this low world no one takes a lofty enough view of things. Not after defeat, but after victory, is the time to speak of war seriously and sadly. If Napoleon in the hour of triumph had not been flattered to excess, if at the proper moment the lessons of history, philosophy, and religion had been enforced upon him, he would not have rushed blindly into the gulf that finally swallowed him. Nothing is less humane, less Christian, than the extravagant praise lavished on the conquerors of the earth. Laymen and priests are equally to blame, for the flatterers of conquerors bear perhaps a heavier responsibility than the conquerors themselves. In the ancient triumphs, at least there was a slave charged with reminding the hero that he was but a man; in modern times, there is nothing of the sort; the hero can imagine himself more than mortal. Why does not the clergy, instead of intoning aTe Deum, take the part of that slave? Is it well to forget that those nations who are most modest in success are bravest and most resigned in misfortune? Those whose heads are turned by prosperity cannot endure reverses. For society, as for individuals, nothing is more baneful than outbursts of joy and pride. The vaster a monarch's power, the greater his need to meditate on the fickleness of fate; but the lessons of wisdom are never recalled till they are useless; they are whispered into his ears only when they can but add a sting to defeat.
Both before and after the battle of Austerlitz a great part of Germany was at Napoleon's feet. The Electors of Baden, Würtemberg, and Bavaria the last two of whom were to become kings by the consent of the new Charlemagne, testified an enthusiastic admiration for him, and were all to profit by his victory. The petty princes who were about to enter the Confederation of the Rhine were his humble vassals, and paid obsequious court to his Minister of Foreign Affairs, M. de Talleyrand. The archives of our Ministry of Foreign Affairs would have to be consulted for an exact understanding of their servility and flattery. Moreover, the populace itself shared the feelings of their princes. The Bavarians regarded Napoleon as their liberator. French manners and ideas were more than ever prevalent on the banks of the Rhine, and Germanic patriotism pardoned France the possession of the left bank of this river. If Napoleon had not abused fortune, what grand and pacific things might he not have accomplished in concert with Germany, and what progress might not have been made for the harmony of nations, for civilization and humanity!
We quote a letter written before the battle of Austerlitz, November 26, 1805, by the Elector of Bavaria to M. de Talleyrand, then in Vienna: "You are the most amiable of men, my dear Talleyrand. Your two letters which I received last evening have given me the greatest pleasure. How grateful I am that you should have thought of me and of Munich when you are in the most beautiful city in Germany, and hearing every day the famous Crescentini! I do as much for you, Your Excellency, but the merit is not the same. Every evening I express my regret that you are not here. M. de Canisy has announced the arrival of the Emperor in a week. Six days have passed, and I am hoping to see him in three days at the outside, and the Empress, Saturday next. My wife arrived day before yesterday, very anxious, as is her chaste spouse, to pay our court to Their Imperial Majesties, and to offer them all the honors of Munich. Lay me before the feet of the hero to whom I owe my present and future existence, and speak to him often of my respect, of my enthusiasm for his virtues, and of my heartiest and incessant gratitude. I hope that the coalition will soon grow tired of war; in any event, the lessons the Emperor has given it the last two months are of a nature to inspire disgust with it."
November 10, 1805, Napoleon had written to Josephine to leave Strassburg for Munich, stopping at Carlsruhe and Stuttgart. In this letter he had said:
"Be pleasant, but receive all their homages; they owe you everything, and you owe them nothing, except in the way of politeness." He was not mistaken. This trip of the Empress's through Germany was to be one series of festivities and ovations. Before she left Strassburg she received a visit from the Elector of Baden, whose grandson, the hereditary prince, was, the next year, to marry Mademoiselle Stéphanie de Beauharnais, in spite of the opposition of his mother, the Margravine. M. Massias, chargé d'affaires of France at Baden, wrote to M. de Talleyrand, November 13: "My Lord, His Most Serene Highness the Elector, has returned with his family from Strassburg, where he was most kindly received by Her Majesty the Empress and Queen. He invited her to honor Carlsruhe with her presence, and to accept quarters in his castle when she should go to join His Majesty the Emperor and King. Her Majesty the Empress seemed pleased with the invitation and promised to accept it if circumstances should permit. Before his departure, the Elector sent the Prince Electoral to the Margravine his mother, to beg her to come to Strassburg to pay her respects to Her Majesty the Empress. She replied that when the Empress of Austria was at Frankfort and the Queen of Prussia at Darmstadt, she had not left Carlsruhe to visit them, and that if the Empress of the French should pass through that town, she should gladly pay her all the respect and honor due her rank and character."
Charles Frederick, Elector of Baden, was then seventy-seven years old. He had lost his son, and his heir was his grandson, Charles Frederick Louis, Prince Electoral, then twenty years old. The mother of this young Prince, the Margravine of Baden, entertained no friendly feelings towards France; and he was the brother-in-law of the Emperor of Russia, who had married his sister, and was at war with Napoleon. His other sister, Frederica Caroline, had married the Elector of Bavaria, and he was betrothed to the step-daughter of this Electress, the young Princess Augusta. They were said to be much attached to each other, but their plans of happiness were destined to be sacrificed to Napoleon's imperious will, for he proposed to arrange the matches of the German Princes as he did those of his own brothers. The Electoral Prince of Baden and the old Elector, his grandfather, far from complaining, only showed to the Emperor most unbounded devotion.
We may judge of their attitude and their respect by this despatch of M. Massias, chargé d'affaires at Carlsruhe, addressed to Talleyrand, under date of November 23, 1805: "My Lord M. de Canisy reached here from headquarters at four o'clock this morning, and asked me to inform His Most Serene Highness the Elector that he had been sent by Her Majesty the Empress, who meant to come to Carlsruhe within two or three days. I promised to do this as soon as possible, and told him that great preparations had been made to receive Her Majesty in a suitable manner. The Elector, to whom I communicated this news at seven in the morning, expressed the greatest satisfaction, and he has sent me word that in order to carry out his desire to give Her Majesty a proper reception, he wishes me to send a message to Strassburg to find out, 1, the exact day when she will arrive; 2, the number of persons in her suite, and how many horses she will need; 3, whether she desires to eat alone or with the principal persons of her own and the Electoral court; 4, to ask to have at once sent an official of the court to arrange the quarters and the ceremonies according to the Empress's wishes. At Kehl, Her Majesty will find a carriage and eight horses from the Elector's stables. Similar relays will be placed as far as the frontiers of Würtemberg. Her Majesty will be escorted by the Electoral cavalry. She herself will determine the etiquette to be observed at the court of Carlsruhe during her entire stay.
"His Most Serene Highness, the Prince Electoral, will go as far as Rastadt to meet Her Majesty. The Margrave Louis will meet her outside of Carlsruhe at the head of his body-guard. Bells will be rung wherever Her Majesty passes. The city will be brilliantly illuminated."
November 28, at six in the evening, the Empress formally entered Carlsruhe, which was amid a general illumination. At the Mühburger gate stood an arch of triumph under which she passed. In front of the arch was this inscription:Pro Imperatrice Josephina; on the other,Votiva lumina ardent. At the entrance of the castle gate stood a little temple bearing this inscription:Salve. In the middle of the garden was a larger temple, in which was to be seen on a pedestal the Emperor's bust, crowned with laurels and surrounded with palms. The inscription ran:Maximis triumphis sacrum,—"Consecrated to the greatest triumphs." On two pyramids was to be read this motto: "Love leads to glory." November 29, there was a grand reception and concert in her honor at the court, At nine o'clock in the morning of the 30th, she left Carlsruhe for Stuttgart, after an affectionate farewell to the Electoral family.
At seven that evening she made a similar formal entrance into the capital of Würtemberg, passing under an arch of triumph bearing her name surmounted by an Imperial crown. Soldiers lined the way from the gate to the Elector's castle. The main street was decorated with Egyptian altars, and was brilliantly illuminated, as was the castle also. The Elector, his wife, a daughter of the King of England, and all the court received the Empress at the castle door and escorted her to her rooms, where she supped. The next day she sat on a platform at a state dinner in the white hall. Afterwards the company went to the Opera House, whereAchilleswas given. After they had returned to the castle there were some fine fireworks. These festivities continued until December 2, whenRomeo and Julietwas given for the first time, and the 3d, at seven in the morning, Josephine, after bidding the family farewell, pushed on towards Munich, while the troops presented arms and cannon were fired.
The Empress was not to stop between Stuttgart and Munich, but on her way she saw many places that had just become famous in the war. As she drew near them she looked at the plain where, a few days before, the enemy's army had marched out before Napoleon and laid down its arms. From Augsburg to Munich, everything made her journey most brilliant; arches of triumph, bands of music so numerous that often their notes mingled with one another, wreaths of leaves, successive guards of honor who joined her, composed of the Royal Guard of Italy, at nearly every parting station. As a letter in theMoniteursays, "Enthusiasm succeeded to fear, the whirl of festivities to the lamentation of battle; all that had been said of the Empress's benevolence seemed still to make part of her suite, and it was as if the Angel of Peace had come to visit these countries."
The Empress reached Munich December 5, eight days after leaving Strassburg. A salute of a hundred guns welcomed her. In almost every street even houses were draped, windows adorned with transparent and complimentary figures; the illuminations of private houses rivalled in expense and splendor those of the public buildings. State carriages were sent out to the city gates for the Empress and her suite, but Josephine did not get into any of them; she kept on her travelling dress. This did not mar the brilliancy of the entrance, which was conspicuous for universal joy. December 7, she went to the theatre, where Mozart'sDon Juanwas given, and she was greeted with sound of trumpets and the applause of the audience.
The Empress had scarcely reached Munich before people began to talk about an early marriage between her son, Eugene de Beauharnais, and the Princess Augusta, the daughter of the Elector, but it was still merely a faint rumor. The French minister, M. Otto, wrote December 16, 1805, the following despatch on the subject to M. de Talleyrand: "My Lord,— Immediately after the arrival of Her Majesty the Empress, the rumor spread that His Most Serene Highness Prince Eugene was likewise on his way to Munich, there to conclude a marriage with Princess Augusta of Bavaria. The rumor has taken such shape in the last few days that a foreign lady, who has been most kindly received by the Electoral family, ventured to ask the Elector if she might congratulate him on so desirable a marriage. This Prince replied that he knew nothing about it; that his daughter was promised to the Prince of Baden; that the two young people had the strongest attachment for each other; and that only day before yesterday the Electress had received from Baden a most affectionate letter on the subject; and that he loved his daughter too much to wish to oppose her inclinations. This is the first time that mention has been made at court of a matter which the public supposed settled quite differently. The Electress was present at this conversation, and corroborated everything that was said concerning her brother's attachment to the Princess. This anecdote, which comes to me straight from the castle, proves that the Baden marriage is not broken, as has been said at Carlsruhe, unless the Elector wished to conceal the truth from the lady who questioned him on this subject. Inquisitive people have tried to make out the true state of things by watching the conduct of Her Majesty the Empress and the persons of her suite. The relations of the two courts are confined to politeness on each side, to social attentions, in which Her Majesty exhibits all her natural amiability, which wins every heart. Beyond that, there prevails the greatest reserve."
Maximilian Joseph, Elector of Bavaria, was born in 1756, and was then fifty years old. He had lost his first wife, who had borne him one daughter, the Princess Augusta Louisa, who was born in 1788. His second wife, Caroline, a Princess of Baden, sister of the hereditary Prince of Baden, to whom the Princess Augusta was betrothed, was then thirty years old. Though not handsome, she was not devoid of charm, her figure was good, her manners were amiable and dignified. The young Princess Augusta was the ornament of the Munich court. She had all the freshness, brilliancy, and charm of a young German girl of eighteen. As for the Elector, he was an attractive, sympathetic man, who combined frank joviality with tact, wit, and delicacy. He was tall; his face was noble and regular. He liked the French, and they liked him; it was in France that he had spent many years of his youth. As a younger prince of the house of Deux Ponts he became Elector only by the extinction of the branch of his family that reigned in Bavaria, In his early life he had no fortune. In the reign of Louis XVI. he served in the French armies, commanding the regiment of Alsace. At the court of Versailles, as in the garrison at Strassburg, he had left behind him a reputation of good manners and chivalrous gallantry. His soldiers, who adored him, called him Prince Max. At that time he might have married a daughter of the Prince of Condé, but his father and his uncle objected to this match, because, since he was not rich, he would doubtless have been compelled to make some of his daughters canonesses, and certain chapters would have been unwilling to receive them on account of their illegitimate descent from Louis XIV. and Madame de Montespan. He was fond of recalling the last years of the old régime in France, and spoke most affectionately of that country, in which he had been very happy. He was worshipped by his family, his servants, and his subjects. There was never a kinder, more amiable prince. Often he would stroll unaccompanied through the streets of Munich, going to the markets, bargain over grain, enter the shops, talking to every one, especially to the children, whom he urged to go to their schools. He was at once familiar and full of dignity, and he was as much respected as loved. There were many points of resemblance between his character and that of the Empress Josephine, and they had a very strong sympathy for each other.
The Empress was ailing during a good part of her stay in Munich, and whether for this reason or because Napoleon, who was always moving from place to place, did not get his letters regularly, he was for some time without news from his wife. He wrote to her from Brunn, December 10, 1805: "It is a long time since I have heard from you. Have the grand festivities of Baden, Stuttgart, and Munich made you forget the poor soldier who lives covered with mud, rain, and blood? I am going to leave soon for Vienna. They are trying to make peace. The Russians have left and are fleeing far from here, going back to Russia badly beaten and sorely humiliated. I am anxious to be with you once more. Good by, my dear; my eyes are well again."
Napoleon wrote again December 19, renewing his complaint: "Great Empress, not a letter from you since I left Strassburg. You have passed through Baden, Stuttgart, Munich, without writing us a word. That is not very kind or very affectionate! I am still at Brunn. The Russians are gone; we have a truce. In a few days I shall see what is to become of me. Deign from the giddy height of your grandeur to interest yourself a little in your slaves."
From Schönbrunn he wrote to Josephine, December 20, 1805 (29th Frimaire, Year XIV.): "I have your letter of the 25th [Frimaire]. I am sorry to hear that you are not well; that is not a good preparation for a journey of a hundred leagues at this time of year. I don't know what I shall do; that depends on what happens. I have no will of my own; I am waiting to see how matters settle themselves. Stay at Munich, amuse yourself; that is not hard, amid so many pleasant people, in such a charming country. I am tolerably busy. In a few days I shall have made up my mind. Good by, my dear."
December 26, peace was signed at Pressburg between France and Austria. The treaty gave to the Kingdom of Italy, Istria, Dalmatia, and Friuli; to the Elector of Würtemberg, the title of King and the Suabian territory; to the Elector of Baden, the Breisgau, Ortenau, and the town of Constanz; to the Elector of Bavaria, the title of King, the Vorarlburg, and the Tyrol. But Napoleon had determined that these indemnifications should be paid for by three marriages,—that of his step-son, Prince Eugene, with the daughter of the King of Bavaria; that of a relative of his wife, Mademoiselle Stéphanie de Beauharnais, with the hereditary Prince of Baden; that of his brother Jerome with the daughter of the King of Würtemberg.
Napoleon, accompanied by Murat, entered Munich beneath an arch of triumph, December 31, 1805, at a quarter to two in the morning. This entrance in the night, lit up by torches, was very impressive. The next day, January 1, 1806, a herald-at-arms, escorted by numerous horsemen, passed through the different quarters of the city, and read the following proclamation, after a flourish of drums and trumpets, while an immense crowd gathering in every street and crossway loudly applauded: "By the grace of God, the dignity of the sovereign of Bavaria having recovered its old-time splendor, and this State having resumed the rank it formerly held for the happiness of its subjects and the glory of the country, be it known that His Most Serene Highness the powerful Prince and Lord Maximilian Joseph is, by these presents, solemnly proclaimed King of Bavaria and of all the countries on it dependent. Long live and happily Maximilian Joseph, our very gracious King! Long live, and happily, Caroline, our very gracious Queen!" That evening the whole city was full of joy, and the next day was celebrated as a national festivity.
Napoleon, having recaptured the twenty-nine cannon and the twenty-one Bavarian flags that had fallen into the hands of the Austrians by the chances of war and the occupation of the country, had decided to restore to his faithful allies the trophies which they had valiantly defended and whose loss they mourned. In the morning of January 2, all citizen soldiery was under arms, lining the streets through which was to pass the procession and their precious burden. The cannon were placed on carts adorned with festoons and garlands, each cart was drawn by two horses belonging to the citizens; the houses were also decorated with different colored ribbons. All the young people in the city accompanied these carts. The students of the Royal College of Cadets carried the flags. When the procession reached the grand square, a large chorus, accompanied by a large band, sang a song of thanksgiving and victory. The populace and the soldiers mingled their cheers with this song. The procession then made its way to the Church of Our Lady, where aTe Deumwas sung with great solemnity.
January 4, Napoleon wrote to Prince Eugene: "My Cousin,—Within twelve hours at the most, after the receipt of this letter, you will start with all speed for Munich. Try to get here as soon as possible, so that you may be sure to see me. Leave your command in the hands of the general of division whom you judge to be most capable and upright. You need not bring a large suite. Start at once, andincognito, and so avoid both dangers and delays. Send me a messenger to give me twenty-four hours' notice of your arrival." The Emperor had decreed the marriage of his step-son with Princess Augusta of Bavaria, but he had to go through certain formalities to overcome the objections of the Queen of Bavaria, who wanted her brother, the hereditary Prince of Baden, to marry the young Princess. Her family pride and her inmost feelings revolted against the admission into her family of a young man whom she looked on as an upstart. She sought for pretexts and devices to delay, if not to prevent, this alliance. No one would have dared to say at Munich that the Emperor's step-son was not great enough to marry a king's daughter, but she found fictitious excuses: it was said that the young Princess was ailing, and at another time that she was suffering from a sprain. Napoleon, who sometimes played the diplomatist, feigned to believe in these alleged ailments, and said that he would send his own surgeon to heal her. He would gladly have returned speedily to Paris, where he deemed that his presence was necessary, but his Chamberlain, M. de Thiard, whom his previous negotiations had made familiar with the secrets of the Bavarian court, advised him to stay in Munich until the marriage was absolutely settled. "Very well," said the Emperor; "but do you know that while I am here, your Faubourg Saint Germain is making a run on my bank, and that my stay in Munich costs me fifteen hundred thousand francs a day?" M. de Thiard insisted, and dared to show Napoleon the Queen of Bavaria's ever-present recollection of the Duke of Enghien, which was the secret cause of her aversion to the projected alliance. But this opposition could hold out for only a few hours; no one then dared to brave the Imperial wrath. The Queen, fearing that Napoleon's surgeon would discover that the Princess's alleged sufferings were only an excuse, yielded to the wishes of the hero of Austerlitz. The marriage was announced even before the couple had met. Everything was done in military fashion. Orders were issued that they should love, and they loved.
There is this to be said in behalf of Napoleon; that in the whole matter he made no use of harsh words or rough manners. He appeared in an attractive, not in a threatening light, and by dint of appearing smitten with the Queen of Bavaria, even aroused Josephine's jealousy.
Prince Eugene arrived, as commanded, January 10. He had the good fortune to please; but even if he had not pleased it would have made no difference. As soon as he reached Munich, after travelling day and night, the Emperor took possession of him and never left him. The Empress was still in bed when her son's arrival was announced. She was much moved, and began to cry at the thought that his first visit was not to her. A moment later, while she was still agitated, she saw the Emperor burst into her room, holding the young Prince by the hand, and pushing him forward as he exclaimed: "Here, Madame, is your great booby of a son whom I'm bringing to you." Josephine burst into tears, and pressed her son to her heart.
Eugene de Beauharnais, a French Prince, and Viceroy of Italy, was then twenty-four years old. Mademoiselle Avrillon, reader to the Empress, thus draws his portrait: "Prince Eugene's face, although in no way remarkable, was rather well than ill favored; he was of medium height, well proportioned, and stoutly made. He excelled in all sorts of corporeal exercises, and was an accomplished dancer. Kind, frank, simple in his manners, without haughtiness or reserve, he was courteous to every one; and although he was not devoid of deep feelings, his most striking trait was persistent good spirits. He was very fond of music, and sang very well, especially Italian songs, which all his family preferred. As he was young, he naturally paid many women attention, as I have often seen, but he always treated them with great respect." Napoleon was very fond of him, and looked upon him as his pupil, as his own child. He was delighted with the way Eugene discharged his duties as Viceroy, and when he received his despatches he exclaimed in the presence of several marshals, "I knew very well to whom I had entrusted my sword in Italy." He often gratified Josephine by saying, "Eugene may serve as a model to all the young men of his age."
The young Prince showed great tact and intelligence in his first meetings with his future wife. He sought every means of pleasing her, paid her assiduous court, as if their marriage was still undetermined. He was able to overcome the Princess's prejudices, for she had given her consent only at the last moment, as a victim sacrificed for reasons of state. Her father, the King, dreading the excitement of an interview, had written to her a letter, in which he set out all the advantages of the match desired by the Emperor, vaunted the good qualities of the young and dashing Viceroy of Italy, an to prove that it was a brilliant match, revealed to her what was then unknown, that at Pressburg the Austrian Minister had offered to Napoleon for his step-son the hand of one of their Archduchesses. "Consider, dear Augusta, that a refusal would make the Emperor as much the enemy as he has been hitherto the friend of our house." And he ended his letter with a last appeal to his daughter's patriotic devotion. The young Princess replied by writing: "I place my fate in your hands; however cruel it may be, it will be softened by the knowledge that I am sacrificed for my father, my family, and my country. On her knees your daughter prays for your blessing; it will aid me to bear my sad lot with resignation." The girl's unhappiness soon gave way to joy. The Empress had spoken to her most warmly of Eugene's qualities, his bravery, loyalty, and gallantry, and the Princess found out that Josephine was right. She forgot her cousin, the Prince of Baden, fell instantaneously in love with Eugene, and this marriage for reasons of state turned out to be a love match. It was celebrated with great pomp in the Royal Chapel, January 14, four days after the bridegroom's arrival at Munich. The Emperor adopted Prince Eugene, and gave in the marriage contract the name of Napoleon Eugene of France. This adoption wrought a great change in their correspondence; previously the Emperor when he wrote to the Viceroy addressed him as, "My Cousin"; henceforth he always wrote, "My Son." Madame Murat, who was then at Munich, was pained to see that the new Vice-Queen, as wife of the Emperor's adopted son, took precedence of her at all ceremonies, and she feigned an illness to avoid what seemed to her an affront.
On her wedding day the Princess charmed every one by her grace. She was tall, well shaped, with the figure of a nymph, and a face in which sweetness was blended with dignity. Moreover, she was very well educated, was pious and modest, and the possessor of all the family virtues. In short, she was a model wife and mother. She wrote to the Emperor a letter of thanks that touched him. He answered it, January 27: "My Daughter,— Your letter is as amiable as you are yourself. My feelings for you will only grow from day to day; this I know from my pleasure in recalling your fine qualities, and from the need I feel for your frequent assurance that you are satisfied with every one and happy with your husband. Amid all I have to do, nothing will be dearer to me than the chance to assure my children's happiness. Be sure, Augusta, that I love you like a father, and that I count on a daughter's affection for me. Travel slowly, and be careful in the new climate when you get there, and take plenty of rest."
January 21, Prince Eugene left Munich with his young wife for Milan. The next day M. Otto, the French Minister, wrote to M. de Talleyrand: "His Imperial Highness Prince Eugene left yesterday morning with his young wife. The King escorted them to their carriage with every indication of affection. It was noticed that in taking leave of the Prince he embraced him several times. The separation cost the Princess some tears. Their departure was announced by firing a hundred guns. The best wishes of all good Bavarians accompanied the pair. The stay of the French court at Munich has left the deepest and most lasting impression. The Emperor's greatness and power were known, but the effect of his extreme kindness and magnificence had to be seen at a closer view to be appreciated. I feel able to assure His Majesty that the Bavarian nation will always be his faithful and devoted allies. So many happy memories are attached to this period of our history that His Majesty can flatter himself that he has accomplished the most difficult of all conquests,—that of the love of the people who have witnessed his successes."
While the Viceroy and Vice-Queen of Italy were proceeding towards Milan, the Emperor and the Empress were on their way to France, stopping at Stuttgart and Carlsruhe, where they were warmly greeted. January 20, 1806, they found an arch of triumph built on a Roman model at Entzberg, in Baden. It bore this inscription:Imperatori Napoleoni triumphatori augusto. The bas-relief represented the capture of Ulm and the delivery of the keys of Vienna. Columns and obelisks had been erected at Carlsruhe with these inscriptions:Hostium victori.—Patriam servavit.—Pacem restituit. In front of the castle had been built a temple of Peace. At the French frontier stood an arch of triumph with this inscription:Heroi reduci Galliae plaudunt,—"Gaul applauds the returning hero." The bas- reliefs represented the battle of Austerlitz and the interview between the two Emperors. In the night of January 26, Napoleon and Josephine were back at the Tuileries. Prince Eugene's marriage put a happy ending to the campaign just finished. To create a king and to give to his step-son the hand of this king's daughter was a stroke of imagination on Napoleon's part that did honor to his omnipotence. The accounts of the triumphal festivities in Munich, Stuttgart, and Carlsruhe followed close upon the bulletins announcing the victories of the Grand Army, and produced a great impression in both Germany and France.
Napoleon arranged his return with the utmost skill. His prolonged stay at Munich kept alive the impatience of the Parisians for his return, and meanwhile there was a constant stream of flattery and enthusiasm. January 1, 1806, had just put an end to the Republican calendar, which had existed for thirteen years, three months, and a few days. The Year XIV. found itself suddenly interrupted by the return to the Gregorian calendar. Thus vanished the last trace of the Republic. The same day the new year was inaugurated with a patriotic ceremony. The Tribune carried with great solemnity to the Senate the forty-four Russian and Austrian flags which the hero of Austerlitz had entrusted to its care. All the houses in the streets through which the procession was to pass were decorated. In front of many of them were to be seen the Emperor's bust crowned with laurels. The ever lyricalMoniteursaid: "At the sight of these noble spoils, these startling proofs of the heroism of the French army, all hearts seemed to meet in a common feeling of admiration and gratitude which was but faintly expressed by the shouts issuing from the crowd and from every window, of 'Long live the Emperor!' 'Hurrah for the Grand Army!' 'Victory, victory!' 'Long live the Emperor!' It was in this way that the people of Paris, of all classes, of both sexes, of all ages, manifested in the most vivid and unanimous way their devotion and gratitude to His Majesty and his victorious armies."
One Tribune, M. Joubert, exclaimed: "Is not Napoleon the man of history, the man of all ages? May we not say that there is something supernatural in him, since it is true that God disposes of the fate of empires, and that Napoleon the Great gladly submits everything to Providence and ascribes everything to religion?" In their official enthusiasm the Tribunes, as accomplished courtiers, made one motion after another. One proposed that the Emperor on his return should receive triumphal honors, like those of ancient Rome, and the city of Paris should go to meet him. Another suggested that the sword which he wore at the battle of Austerlitz should be solemnly consecrated and placed in some public monument. Another expressed a desire that on one of the principal places in the city a column should be set up, bearing the Emperor's statue, with this inscription: "To Napoleon the Great, the grateful country." The Senate, with similar zeal, hastened to carry out the plan by a decree.
The Parisians, who always worship success of monarches, generals, or artists, then felt the wildest admiration for the victorious Napoleon. TheMoniteurwas full of dithyrambic eulogies, in prose and verse. Flattery appeared as it had never appeared before. Bishops became conspicuous for their ardent praise; some phrases from their charges may be quoted. Thus the Bishop of Versailles said: "God says: 'No one shall resist him, whom I have clothed with a special mission to re-establish my worship, to lead my chosen people; no one will resist him because I am with him, and he is with me.Dem cum eo.'"
The Bishop of Bayonne; "Behold our enemies ones more defeated. Let incredulity be silent and the atheist confounded. Our annals will be the story of the wonders of Providence… Widows, cease to bemoan the loss of a loved husband; you are not left alone; you belong to the country. Orphans, you have found another father; Napoleon has adopted you."
The Bishop of Rennes: "Did not those kings know, or did they forget in their delirium, that the French nation is now the first nation in the world? Did they not know that the man who governs it is the most astounding man in the world, and the greatest warrior history has ever known?"
The Bishop of Coutances: "The Almighty wishes Napoleon to attain this new glory and hence impresses upon him a sort of divine character. He wishes him to attain it on the day and at the same hour that the Sovereign Pontiff, one year ago, poured on his brow the holy oil."
The Bishop of Montpellier: "Let the earth be shaken, and the mountains cast into the bosom of the seas; our God blesses the views, the wisdom, the talents, and the courage of our august monarch."
The Emperor, in dividing the flags which he had captured from Russia and Austria, had given fifty-four to the Senate, eight to the Tribunes, eight to the city of Paris, and fifty to the church of Notre Dame, which he wished to adorn with his trophies as the Marshal of Luxembourg had done in the reign of Louis XIV. The day when these fifty flags were given to the Cathedral the Cardinal Archbishop of France said, "O Posterity, when you read our history you will imagine that you are reading anew the fall of the walls of Jericho, and listening to the miraculous deeds of Joshua, David, and Judas Maccabaeus.Benedictus Dominus qui facit mirabilia solus…. God of Marengo, you declare yourself the God of Austerlitz; and the German eagle, the Russian eagle, abandoned by you, became the prey of the French eagle, which you never cease to protect." A singular piece of flattery this, to call the Creator of the universe—of which this earth is not a millionth part—the God of a village, because near this village a man has wrought the death of many other men!
Paris seemed to have recovered its ardor of the first days of the Revolution in order to salute the triumphant hero. The day of his arrival, January 27, 1806, the managers of the bank, anxious that his presence should be the signal for public prosperity, ordered the resumption of specie payments. The Opera celebrated his return and that of the Empress by a grand performance which took place February 4. The bills announced thePrétendusand a divertisement, The public knew that this divertisement was to be a sort of apotheosis in honor of the Imperial glories. The house was crowded, and the passages themselves were crammed by the enthusiastic crowd. During the second act of thePrétendusthere was great excitement over the arrival of Napoleon and Josephine. Applause resounded from every side. Ladies distributed laurel branches, which all the spectators waved, shouting, "Long live the Emperor!" Musicians played the chorus of theCaravan. Meanwhile, the scenery of thePrétendusdisappeared, and applause began over the magnificent decorations that took its place. It was a semicircular enclosure with trophies forming a colonnade showing the course of the Seine from the Pont Neuf to the western limit of Paris, showing the Louvre, which Napoleon had promised to complete, the Pont des Arts, the Palais de la Monnaie, the Tuileries, and in the misty distance the Champs Elysées overlooking this fine view. The interior of the enclosure was adorned with garlands and crowded with people, awaiting the return of the Grand Army. This appeared with a military march: the sappers in front with their axes and white aprons; the grenadiers of the Guard with their high fur caps; the artillerymen with their black caps; the dragoons with their double armor; the Mamelukes with their scimetars. Then came the Bavarians, worthy comrades of Napoleon's soldiers. The people applauded their defenders. Pupils of the military schools sprang into the ranks to welcome their fathers, while old men embraced their children. A general chorus was heard. Then a warrior came to the front of the stage and celebrated in a hymn the marvels of the campaign of Austerlitz. This was followed by a ballet of foreign nations, in which joined French peasants and girls in the dress of their provinces, from Caux and Alsace, Provence, Béarn, Auvergne, and the Alps. After the dances came songs,—the words by Esménard, author of theNavigation, the music by Stobelt. The marches, evolutions, and ballet were arranged by Gardel. The principal stanzas were sung by the most distinguished artists, Lainez, Laïs, Madame Armand, Madame Branchu. When it was all over, the Emperor and the Empress withdrew amid applause, and there was sung theVivatof Abbé Rose which had made such a success at Notre Dame on Coronation Day, and was as warmly applauded at the Opera as it had been in the Cathedral.
If anything is capable of proving the admiration, terror, and fascination that the hero of Austerlitz exercised over Europe, and especially over Germany, in 1806, it is certainly the marriage of the hereditary Prince of Baden with Mademoiselle Stéphanie de Beauharnais. It was a curious sight! A Prince belonging to one of the oldest and most illustrious families in the world, whose three sisters had married, one, the Emperor of Russia; another, the King of Sweden; the third, the King of Bavaria; a Prince who might have allied himself with the oldest reigning houses had come to regard as an honor a marriage with, the plain daughter of a French senator,—a girl not united by any ties of blood with Napoleon, but only by adoption; that is to say, by a whim. One might have supposed that the Empire of the new Charlemagne was centuries old, and the German Princes bowed before it like devoted vassals before their suzerain. What a vast power he had attained, and how easily he could have kept it, if he had limited his ambition, and put bounds to his power, and had not asked of docile Germany more than it could give him!
The marriage of Mademoiselle Stéphanie de Beauharnais with the hereditary Prince of Baden was at first warmly opposed by the Margravine, this Prince's mother. M. Massias, French chargé d'affaires at Baden, had written on this matter to M. de Talleyrand, Minister of Foreign Affairs, January 6, 1806: "My Lord,—For some days there has been a rumor quietly circulating among the principal persons of the court of Carlsruhe that the object of M. de Thiard's last journey was to arrange the marriage of the Electoral Prince of Baden with the daughter of Senator Beauharnais. Last evening arrived a messenger from the Electress of Bavaria for the Margravine, the mother of this Prince. I have learned by chance the contents of this missive to his mother. She says substantially that she has had a talk of more than an hour with the Emperor Napoleon; that His Majesty promised that the marriage of the Electoral Prince of Baden with Mademoiselle Beauharnais should never take place without the consent of the Margravine; and in case of her refusal of this consent, he would only reserve to himself the right of being consulted on the choice of the wife to be given to this young Prince…. The Electoral Prince called on his mother after she had received this despatch, and was with her alone for two hours; he came away in great dejection. When he got to his grandfather's, he exclaimed, involuntarily, 'That woman is lost; she wants to ruin herself!'"
The chargé d'affaires ended his letter with this sketch of the Margravine: "I have known the Margravine for six years, and I think I can say that if she judges the match in question opposed to the pride inspired by the first ideas of her education, no persuasion can move her. She possesses to a very marked degree the confident obstinacy of feeble and timid spirits. She does not dare to dismiss an incompetent footman; and when she has once made up her mind, which is only possible in matters about which her opinions are rigidly formed, neither force nor persuasion can modify her. That is my reading of her character, and I think it the true one."
The more the Margravine opposed this match which the Emperor had suggested, the more the young Prince of Baden and his grandfather, the Elector, desired it. M. Massias wrote again to M. de Talleyrand, January 9, 1806: "His Most Serene Highness, the Prince Electoral of Baden, is to leave tomorrow for Ulm and Augsburg, to invite, in his grandfather's name, His Majesty the Emperor and King to honor Carlsruhe with his presence, and to stay at the castle on his way back to France. But, he tells me himself, the main object of his journey is to convince His Majesty that the marriage of which I had the honor to speak to Your Excellency in my last letter, is far from opposing his desires; and he hopes to dissipate without difficulty the doubts which it has been sought to raise regarding this in the mind of His Majesty, for whom he always manifested a profound devotion and a sincere attachment."
What was the origin of this young girl whose hand was thus sought by the hereditary Prince of Baden? The Marquis of Beauharnais, the father of the Viscount of Beauharnais, the first husband of the Empress Josephine, had a brother, Count Claude de Beauharnais, who was a commodore, and married Mademoiselle Fanny Mouchard. Countess Fanny, a friend of Dorat and Cubières, took much interest in literature and wrote many novels. She was a blue-stocking, and it was about her that Lebrun wrote the malicious epigram:—
"Eglé, fair and a poetess, has then two slight faults:She makes her face and does not make her verses."
By her marriage with Count Claude de Beauharnais, the Countess Fanny (born in 1738, died in 1813) had one son, named Claude after his father, who married the daughter of the Count of Lezay-Marnésia. They had a daughter, Stéphanie de Beauharnais, born August 28, 1789, who was adopted by Napoleon, married the hereditary Prince of Baden, became the grandduchess of this country, and died in 1860, much loved by her family and the people of Baden. Her father, Claude de Beauharnais, was a senator in the Empire, a peer of France at the Restoration, and died in 1819.
During the childhood of Mademoiselle Stéphanie de Beauharnais no one would have predicted the lofty destiny that awaited her. Her father, having lost his wife, entrusted her to a pious old aunt, who lived at Montauban, and there she remained in obscurity until it occurred to her uncle, M. de Lezay-Marnésia, to take her to Paris, and present her to the wife of the First Consul. Josephine, her cousin once removed, thought her pretty and bright, became very fond of her, and sent her to finish her education at Madame Campan's boarding-school at Saint Germain. Madame Campan wrote to Madame Louis about her young pupil as follows: "I am certainly surprised at the way Mademoiselle Stéphanie has turned out since she returned from Saint Leu. She may become a very charming woman, but not if she stays at Saint Cloud. Royal palaces have never been good schools; pleasures, the taste for excitement and flattery, corrupt not merely those who are young, but even those who go there already matured, unless they are protected by the highest principles. If you have the power, do try to let me keep Stéphanie until she marries; you will thereby render her a great service, and to me, too; for the result will condemn me in the eyes of the Emperor, who will say, with a sharp glance, 'That's very bad'; and will not have time to ascertain the real reason. I can assure you that in a year she will be very charming, if I can only keep my hand on her."
In the letter Madame Campan thus describes her pupil's character: "It is a curious compound of ease at learning, self-love, emulation, idleness, amiability, clear-mindedness, levity, haughtiness, and piety. There are a good many qualities to dispose of, and on this proper arrangement depends her happiness or unhappiness, and my success or failure." In personal appearance Mademoiselle de Beauharnais was very charming; she had a good figure, an expressive countenance, a brilliant complexion, bright blue eyes, light hair, and an agreeable voice. Moreover, her manners were good, she had keen mother wit, much gaiety and enthusiasm, and was, in short, a very attractive young person.
The Emperor had a sort of infatuation for her, and treated her with exceptional kindness that did not fail to excite comment. Although her father was still living, he decided to adopt her, and this was thought a singular thing to do. The young Stéphanie became an Imperial Highness and took precedence of the Emperor's sisters, while her father was merely one of the herd of senators. In the decree of March 3, 1806, it was said: "Our intention being that our daughter the Princess Stéphanie Napoleon, shall enjoy all the prerogatives due to her rank; at receptions, festivities, and at table she shall sit at our side, and in our absence she shall take her place at the right of Her Majesty the Empress." Josephine possibly thought that her young relative was a little too well treated by the Emperor, and that his feelings for her were not wholly paternal. Evil tongues asserted that Napoleon was in love with his adopted daughter, but in spite of those malicious insinuations, no serious charge can be brought against her innocence. Her betrothed, the Prince of Baden, was madly in love with her, and showed by his conduct that it was he who was making a fine marriage. Mademoiselle de Beauharnais from the moment that she assumed the name of Napoleon imagined that nothing was too good for her. It was only by condescension that she married the son of an elector, for she was never tired of saying, to her adopted father's great delight, that an emperor's daughter could marry either a king or a king's son.
The marriage was celebrated with great pomp in the chapel of the Palace of the Tuileries, April 8, 1806, at eight in the evening. The witnesses for the bridegroom were the Crown Prince of Bavaria, Baron de Gueusau, and M. de Dalberg; those of the bride were M. de Talleyrand, M. de Champagny, and M. de Ségur. The procession went from the grand apartments to the chapel in the following order: the Empress, preceded by the officers of the Princesses, accompanied by the Prince of Baden, the Princesses, and the Crown Prince of Bavaria, and followed by the ladies of her household and of those of the Princesses; the Emperor, conducting the bride, and preceded by the officers of the Princes, his own officers, the Grand Dignitaries of the Empire, the Ministers, the High Officers of the Crown, and followed by the colonel-general of the guard on duty. At the chapel door the clergy received Napoleon and Josephine beneath a canopy, and they took their places on two small thrones in front of the altar, while the Prince of Baden and the bride took their places on two stools at the foot of its steps. The ceremony began with the blessing of thirteen pieces of gold which the Cardinal Caprara, Legatea latere, gave to the Prince of Baden, who presented them to his bride. The Cardinal gave them the nuptial blessing. Meanwhile Monsignor Charier-Lavoche, Bishop of Versailles, the Emperor's First Almoner, and Monsignor de Broglie, Bishop of Acqui, his Almoner in Ordinary, were holding a canopy of silver brocade over the head of the kneeling Prince and Princess. These two prelates wore a camail and rochet. Cardinal Caprara and his assistant, Monsignor de Rohan, the Empress's Almoner, wore the golden cape.