Part 11 (2/2)

THE EMPEROR'S RETURN.

July 28, 1807, the Emperor, who had arrived at Saint Cloud the day before, received the great bodies of the State. It would be hard to form an exact idea of the flatteries addressed to him. Let us quote a few taken at random. M. Seguier, First President of the Court of Appeal, said to the hero of Friedland: ”Napoleon is above admiration; only love can rise to him.” The Cardinal Archbishop of Paris, speaking in the name of his clergy, was perhaps even more enthusiastic: ”The G.o.d of armies,” he said, ”has dictated and directed all your plans; nothing could resist the swiftness of so many wonders.... Have confidence, Sire, in our zeal, and instruct the people in the submission and obedience they owe to all of Your Majesty's decrees and orders.” But it was Councillor of State Trochot, Prefect of the Seine, who deserves the prize in this compet.i.tion of adulation. Here is a fragment of his speech: ”Sire, now that at last Paris receives you once more after so long an absence and such prodigious feats, it would gladly express to you all its intense admiration, and yet it can only speak to you of its love. And, indeed, if it tried to contemplate in you the conqueror of so many kings, the law-maker of so many peoples, the controller of so many events, the arbiter of so many destinies, how could it dare to approach Your Majesty, and in what language could it address you? Should it speak to you of triumphs? But can any one but a Caesar himself speak of what Caesar has done? Of glory? but for ten years it has been impossible to speak of all you have won. Of genius? but who can speak of all the marvels yours has wrought, before which we are dumb and confounded. Sire, all these things are beyond us, and since they command admiration, even silence, the silence of astonishment which admiration imposes seems to be our sole manner of expressing it.” More had not been said, to Louis XIV., the Sun King.

In allusion to the illuminations in Paris the evening before, the Prefect, of the Seine added: ”Why could not you, Sire, have been an eye-witness of the joy which the announcement of Your Majesty's return spread yesterday throughout the capital of your Empire! Why could not you have heard the applause with which your faithful subjects rent the welkin daring the festivity which they gave on this occasion until well into the night!” The Prefect closed by a prophecy, alas! not too accurate: ”The august Emperor Napoleon will render war between nations impossible, and the world's happiness will date from his reign.”

The hero of Austerlitz, of Jena, of Friedland, then thought nothing impossible. His direct or indirect sway extended from the Straits of Gibraltar to the Vistula, from the mountains of Bohemia to the North Sea.

Charlemagne was outstripped. Josephine saw her husband again with joy, but also with anxiety and terror. He returned so infatuated by his wonderful fortune, he was so flattered and deified by his courtiers, in his whole Imperial and royal person there was something so formidable and majestic, that his gentle and timid wife was, as it were, dazzled by the rays of a sun, too brilliant for her to look at.

Josephine had now become afraid to address him as thou, and to call him simply Bonaparte as she had done before. When she spoke to him, she often called him Sire. She did not dare to reproach him with his infidelities at Warsaw or the Castle of Finkenstein, or to show that she noticed his attentions to many ladies of the court, notably to a beautiful Italian woman, a friend of Talleyrand's, who was one of her readers and a prominent object of Napoleon's attentions. She saw rising before her the vision of divorce, the phantom which had haunted her imagination since the expedition to Egypt. Fearful of giving her husband the slightest pretext for discontent or annoyance, she was humbler, more submissive, more obedient than ever.

So long as the oldest son of Louis and Hortense had lived, Josephine felt comparatively secure, because she knew that this boy, a special favorite of Napoleon's, was intended by his uncle to be the heir of his Empire. But his surviving brother, the little Napoleon Louis, born October 11, 1804, did not give the Empress the same confidence. The Emperor was less intimate with this child; he had not played with him as he had done with the other; he had not become attached to him. The little Napoleon Louis was staying with Josephine when the Emperor returned. She did all she could to make him love him.

Moreover, it was not an easy thing to hold the affections of a man like Napoleon. Six years younger than his wife, he was but thirty-eight, and in all the flower and prime of his Caesar-like beauty. He liked to make a conquest of beauties as well as of provinces. The thought of resistance exasperated him. In everything he demanded success, triumph, dominion. The celebration of his birthday, August 15, 1807, which was accompanied with unusual pomp and splendor, was of the nature of a deification. He made Josephine share his triumph, and held her by the hand when he appeared on a balcony of the Tuileries, in the enclosure, amid the applause of the mult.i.tude a.s.sembled in the gardens.

King Jerome's marriage with the young Princess Catherine of Wurtemberg added to the animation of the already brilliant court. The annulment of the young Prince's marriage with Miss Paterson had caused Napoleon much difficulty. When this marriage had been contracted at Baltimore, December 8, 1803, he had been only First Consul, and Jerome, a simple naval officer, was in no way under the control of the decree of the Senate, which was later to determine the civil conditions of the new Imperial family. But in his haste to marry the young and beautiful American girl, Jerome, who was but nineteen years old, had neglected, in spite of the advice of the French Consul, to demand the permission of his mother, Madame Let.i.tia Bonaparte. This omission had not prevented the Bishop of Baltimore from celebrating the marriage. Napoleon, however, regarded it as null and void. It was not till February 22, 1805, that he obtained his mother's protest, and the 21st of the next March, by an Imperial decree, he annulled the marriage which displeased him, by his own authority. Yet, in the eyes of religion, this union still existed. The Emperor asked the Pope to p.r.o.nounce it null, but Pius VII. gave the request a formal refusal, writing in June, 1805: ”It is beyond our power in the present state of things, to p.r.o.nounce it null. If we should usurp an authority we do not possess, we should render ourselves guilty of an abuse abominable before the throne of G.o.d; and Your Majesty himself, in his justice, would blame us for p.r.o.nouncing a sentence contrary to the testimony of our conscience, and to the invariable principles of the church.... That is why we earnestly hope that Your Majesty will be convinced that the desire with which we are always animated to second his designs, so far as depends on us, particularly in a matter so closely concerning his august person, has been rendered idle by the absolute absence of power, and we entreat him to receive this sincere declaration as testimony of our really paternal affection.” This was the beginning of the quarrel between the Pope and the Emperor. Pius VII. would not yield; but Napoleon found greater servility in the metropolitan officialty of Paris; and October 6, 1806, he secured a sentence p.r.o.nouncing the nullity of his brother Jerome's marriage with Miss Paterson.

The King of Wurtemberg, in the hope that a close alliance with the Imperial family would strengthen his throne, and procure him accession of land and power, had prepared to give to the Emperor's young brother the hand of his daughter, Princess Catherine. As soon as the King had formed this decision, he would not listen to a word of criticism from his family, who were already accustomed never to discuss his ideas. The King of Wurtemberg was a real giant. He was so stout that a broad, deep hollow had to be cut out of his dining-table; for otherwise he would not have been able to reach his plate. He was fond of riding, but it was not easy to find a horse strong enough to carry his enormous weight. The horse had to be gradually accustomed to it, and to accomplish this, the equerry who had to prepare the royal steed used to wear a band full of lead, to which he would add new pieces every day, until he was as heavy as the King. This monarch, who was highly respected, though greatly feared, by ids subjects, had some eccentricities. Thus he demanded that his wife should be up and fully dressed by seven in the morning; and insisted that at whatever hour of the day or evening it should please him to enter her apartment, he should find her ready to accompany him wherever he might want to go. The Queen, who was his second wife,--Princess Catherine was a child by his first marriage,--was a daughter of the King of England, and consequently she was averse to seeing her step-daughter marry the brother of England's greatest enemy; but she took good care not to make any objections. The King of Wurtemberg was severe to his family and to his subjects, but he was well educated, intelligent, and energetic. Napoleon set great store by him, and regarded him as a loyal and faithful ally.

Jerome, who had been made King of Westphalia by the treaty of Tilsitt, was the youngest of the Emperor's brothers. He was born at Ajaccio, November 15, 1784, and was not yet twenty-three when he married Princess Catherine of Wurtemberg, who was nearly two years older than he, having been born February 2, 1783. This Princess had much charm; she was tall, handsome, her expression was n.o.ble and kindly; she inspired every one with sympathy and respect. She was a woman remarkable for intelligence, virtue, and affection. She was to be a model wife and mother. She it was who, in 1814, refused to get a divorce and to abandon an unfortunate husband, a dethroned king. She it was who wrote to her father this admirable letter, without fear of his anger: ”Having been forced, by reasons of state to marry the King, my husband, it has been granted me by fate to be the happiest woman in the world. I feel for my husband love, tenderness, esteem, combined; at this painful moment would the best of desire to destroy my domestic happiness, the only sort left to me? I venture to tell you, my clear father, you and, all the family, that you do not know the King, my husband. A time will come, I hope, when you will be convinced that you have misjudged him and then you will always find him and me the most respectful and most loving children.” She was the courageous woman, the faithful wife, the devoted mother, of whom Napoleon said at Saint Helena: ”Princess Catherine of Wurtemberg has with her own hands written her name in history.”

Jerome's marriage was an event of great ceremony. It was first celebrated, by proxy, at Stuttgart, the Princess's brother representing the bridegroom. The Emperor sent presents to his future sister-in-law, among other things a set of diamonds worth three hundred thousand francs. A detachment from the Emperor's household and many of the Empress's ladies of the bedchamber went to the frontiers to meet the Princess. She reached the Castle of Raincy, August 20, 1807, and there saw her betrothed for the first time, and the 21st, Napoleon received her at the Tuileries on the first step of the great staircase. As she bowed before him, he folded her in his arms, then he presented her to the Empress, before the whole court and the deputies of the new kingdom of Westphalia, who had been summoned to Paris to be present at the marriage of their young sovereign with a Princess belonging to one of the oldest and most ill.u.s.trious families of Germany.

Sat.u.r.day, August 22, the signature of the marriage contract and the civil wedding took place at the Tuileries, in the Gallery of Diana, in presence of the Emperor, the Empress, the ladies and officers of their households and the great personages of the Empire. M. Regnault de Saint-Jean d'Angely, Secretary of State of the Imperial family, read the marriage- contract, which was then signed by the Emperor, the Empress, the young couple, the Princes and Princesses, the Prince Primate of the Confederation of the Rhine, the Prince's high dignitaries of the Empire, and the witnesses of the marriage. The witnesses were, for the court of France: Prince Borghese, Prince Murat, Grand Duke of Berg, and Marshal Berthier, Prince of Neufchatel; for the court of Wurtemberg: the Prince of Baden; the Prince of Na.s.sau; and the Count of Winzingerode, the Minister of Wurtemberg. Prince Cambaceres, Arch-chancellor of the Empire, then received the consent of the couple and p.r.o.nounced the formula of the civil marriage.

The next day, Sunday, August 23, 1807, at eight in the evening, the religious marriage was celebrated in the chapel of the Tuileries, the galleries being filled with the diplomatic bodies, the foreign princes and n.o.blemen and invited guests. The procession was brilliant. On entering the chapel, Napoleon gave his hand to the Princess Catherine, and Jerome his to the Empress. The Prince Primate of the Confederation of the Rhines, Archbishop of Regensburg, Sovereign Prince of that city, of Aschaftenburg, of Frankfort, etc., surrounded by his clergy and his court, stood at the chapel door. He gave holy water to the Emperor and the Empress, who at once went to their praying-chairs; then he gave the nuptial blessing to the young couple, while the canopy was held by the Bishop of Ghent and the Abbe of Boulogne, the Emperor's Almoners. After the ceremony, they all went back from the chapel to the grand apartments, where followed a concert, a ballet, and a reception in the Hall of the Marshals. Twice Napoleon appeared on the balcony, showing the newly married pair the vast throng filling the garden of the Tuileries. Unfortunately, a sudden storm prevented the display of fireworks.

While the thunder was roaring and the rain pouring down, the Empress, at her young brother-in-law's marriage, was the prey to sad reflections. She thought of the deserted American wife, who, far away, was weeping, while her husband, the father of her children was joyfully leading another wife to the altar. Josephine doubtless thought that soon perhaps her lot would he the same as that of the unhappy Miss Paterson; that she would he sacrificed, abandoned, repudiated in the very same way.

The Empress had another cause of grief. At the Pyrenees her daughter Hortense had become reconciled with Louis, and was soon to be the mother of the child afterwards known as Napoleon III. But in a few weeks the incongeniality of their dispositions, for a moment forgotten in their common grief, a.s.serted itself anew. On their return to Paris, at the end of August, the discord between the King and the Queen of Holland was as violent as ever. The King, more uneasy and suspicious than ever before, wanted to carry his wife to Holland, but the Queen had an aversion to the country where she had suffered so much, and to its fatal climate. She feared that if she should return there she might lose her second son like the first. Her health was wretched; she feared that her lungs were affected. In France she felt that the Emperor protected her from her husband's anger. Holland seemed to her a gloomy, damp, melancholy prison, of which the King, her husband, would be the jailor. Louis Bonaparte was furious at his wife's resistance, all the more that he was obliged to hide his feelings. Napoleon, who held his family, like his Empire, in absolute control, gave Louis, as well as his other brothers, orders which they had to obey without a word or a murmur. The King of Holland returned to his kingdom alone, his wife stayed in France, but in the gloomiest spirits, with mind and body disordered, disenchanted about all human things. ”From that time,” she said later, ”I understood that my misfortunes were beyond cure; I looked upon my life as destroyed; I conceived a horror of grandeur, of a throne; I often cursed what so many called my good fortune; I felt lost to all enjoyment of life, shorn of all Illusions, nearly dead to everything going on about me.” Under other conditions, the Empress would have been delighted to have her daughter with her, but she found her so dejected, so morose, and so unhappy, that her presence was quite as much a grief as a comfort for her. These were the feelings of the Empress of the French and of the Queen, of Holland when they went to Fontainebleau with the court at the end of September, 1807. There the Emperor lived more splendidly than ever, surrounding himself with all the pomp and majesty of monarchy.

XXV.

THE COURT AT FONTAINEBLEAU.

The court arrived at the Palace of Fontainebleau September 21, 1807, and stayed there until November 15. Napoleon felt the need of displaying unprecedented luxury. He wanted to have the Diplomatic Corps send to foreign powers the account of magnificent festivities. This splendid palace, with its proud memories of the old French monarchy, was a residence that pleased him. He liked to be surrounded by great persons, whether foreigners or Frenchmen, who rivalled one another in flattery, zeal, and homage towards him. In his opinion, festivities and battles added to the glory of the throne. Desiring to be in everything first, he was very anxious for his court to be esteemed the most brilliant in Europe.

There were various types among the guests at Fontainebleau. There was Napoleon's mother, rather Italian than French by birth, and in face and accent. She recalled the characters of antiquity, unspoiled by prosperity, austere in her life, simple in her taste, rigidly economical, less from avarice than a distrust of the continuance of her son's good fortune.

There was the beautiful Princess Borghese, d.u.c.h.ess of Guastalla, more elegant, more fas.h.i.+onable, more attractive than ever; then Madame Murat, rich in freshness and brilliancy, not satisfied with being a French Princess and Grand d.u.c.h.ess of Berg, but yearning to be a Queen; the Queen of Holland, on the other hand, in despair at having ascended the throne, and plunged in a deep melancholy in marked contrast with the splendors surrounding her in spite of herself. Then Joseph Bonaparte's wife, the Queen of Naples, whose tastes were modest, and who preferred Paris to her Italian kingdom. There were many Princes and great lords in the crowd of courtiers, the satellites of the Imperial sun. In the Gallery of Henry II.

were to be distinguished a cl.u.s.ter of German Princes: the Grand Duke of Wurzburg,--who did not seem to sigh for his Grand Duchy of Tuscany, finding ample consolation in singing Italian pieces, for music was his pa.s.sion; the Prince Primate of the Confederation of the Rhine, Archbishop of Regensburg, Sovereign Prince of that city and of Frankfort, who, in spite of his position in the church, joined the Emperor's hunt; Prince William of Prussia, who hoped by his devotion to alleviate the troubles of his country, and to modify the demands of the hero of Jena; the Prince of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, conspicuous for his formal German politeness; the young Prince of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. brother of the Queen of Prussia, less interested in the patriotic grievances of his sister, than in his a.s.siduous court to the Empress Josephine, whose respectful platonic lover he was; the Prince of Baden, who, although the brother-in-law of the Emperor of Russia, the King of Bavaria, and the King of Sweden, was proud to have married a Mademoiselle de Beauharnais, daughter of a simple Senator of the Empire, with but one regret--that his wife did not love him enough; Jerome, the young and brilliant King of Westphalia, apparently forgetful of Elisabeth Paterson, and full of mad love for his new wife, Princess Catherine of Wurtemberg.

In the Gallery of Henry II. was also to be seen Murat, who, after his triumphal entry into Warsaw, thought of nothing but crowns, anxiously wondering whether he was to be King of Poland, or of Portugal, of Spain, or of Naples. There were the high dignitaries of the Empire, the foreign amba.s.sadors, the marshals, the ministers; M. de Talleyrand with his enormous salary, his high position as Grand Chamberlain and Vice-Elector, his t.i.tle of Prince of Benevento, always sparkling with the cold, sceptical, politely contemptuous wit that distinguished those who belonged to the old regime--Talleyrand, who, in the Emperor's closet possibly spoke to him with a certain freedom, but in the Gallery of Henry II. resembled the other courtiers and kept a profound silence as his master drew near.

Then the Count of Segur, Grand Master of Ceremonies, as attractive in the court of Napoleon as he had been in that of Catherine II. as amba.s.sador of Louis XVI.; Marshal Berthier, Grand Master of the Horse, Vice-Constable, Sovereign Prince of Neufchatel, as devoted to Madame Visconti as if he were a youth of twenty; Count Tolstoi, the brilliant amba.s.sador of the Emperor Alexander; M. de Metternich, the fascinating and skilful Austrian Amba.s.sador, conspicuous by Ms admiration for Princess Murat.

When the Emperor entered, all eyes were turned towards him alone; about him centred all interest, all intrigues, all ambitions. He appeared as the dispenser of fortune, the arbiter of destiny, the exceptional being on whom depended individuals, kingdoms, empires. He filled it all with his presence; every one seemed to live only for and by the Emperor. A smile, a word, the slightest mark of attention on his part, seemed a precious reward, a marked honor, As soon as he entered, a quiver of admiration and of terror seemed to run through the air. Every one bowed like a horse who sniffs the approach of his master; they almost prostrated themselves before him. Any one to whom he spoke, stammered, feared to reply, turned pale and red; and he, rejoicing in their embarra.s.sment, gloried in the wide gulf he had set between himself and all other human beings. Even foreigners seemed to be his subjects. Whatever their position, whatever their coat-of-arms, by his side they were vulgar supernumeraries. His power appeared to be limitless, like his genius; and believing everything possible, looking upon himself as a prodigy, a living miracle, he exulted proudly and majestically in his glory.

Under the second Empire, what were called the _series_ of Compiegne and of Fontainebleau were much less ceremonious than under the first. All the guests of Napoleon III. breakfasted and dined at his table,--in the morning in frock-coat, in the evening in black coat and knee breeches; no uniforms were to be seen. Women appeared at breakfast in morning dress; they wore no especial dress at the hunt. Before dinner the Empress used to receive a few specially invited guests to drink tea. All day the Emperor left the company perfectly free. In the evening there was dancing to the music of a piano like a hand-organ, of which a chamberlain turned the handle. The Emperor was treated with great deference, but no one feared him, because his words were always marked by great affability. Napoleon I., on the other hand, was perhaps more feared than admired. Those who were charged with organizing his entertainments were perfectly happy if he was silent; for he almost never gave a word of praise and often criticised. It was a conspicuous and rare honor, even for Princes, to dine with him. There were besides at Fontainebleau, in 1807, several distinct tables: those of the Princes and Princesses of the Imperial family, who often gave grand dinners; that of the Grand Marshal of the Palace, with twenty-five places; that of the Empress's Maid of Honor, with the same number; and, finally, a last table for all those who had received no special invitation. The Princesses paid the cost--of installing themselves there out of their own purses, while under Napoleon III., at Fontainebleau, or at Compiegne, all the expenses were defrayed by the Emperor. Under the first Empire only those holding high official position were invited to the Imperial, residences; under the second, many were invited who were famous only for their elegance. Under Napoleon I., where everything was formal, scarcely anything but tragedy was played at the court; under Napoleon III., lighter plays were often given. The hunts were very simple under the second Emperor and very magnificent under the first, In 1807 Napoleon had ordered that women who went to the coursing should wear a special costume; that of the Empress and of all the ladies of her household was of amaranthine velvet, embroidered with gold, and a cap with white feathers; that of the Princesses, blue for the Queen of Holland, pink for the Princess Murat, lilac for the Princess Borghese, all adorned with silver embroidery. The Emperor and all his guests wore the same hunting-dress for coursing: a green coat with gold, b.u.t.tons and lace, breeches of white ca.s.simere, Hessian boots without tops; for shooting, a green coat, with no other ornament than white b.u.t.tons, on which were carved hunting emblems. Under the first Empire, etiquette was most rigid; under the second, it hardly existed. At every moment of day and evening, Napoleon I. wore a twofold air as commander-in-chief and sovereign; Napoleon III. was like a man of the world receiving his friends in his own castle.

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