NAPOLEON AT DRESDEN.
Joy, happiness, and love, reigned at the court of the King of
Saxony, Napoleon had honored the royal house of Saxony with a visit;
he had come to Dresden to spend a few days in the family circle of
Frederick Augustus, whom he flatteringly called his "cher papa." He
had also come to embrace his father-in-law, the Emperor of Austria,
before setting out for Russia, and to shake hands with his ally the
King of Prussia; and, finally, to gather around him again his
vassals, the princes of the Confederation of the Rhine, and, in the
face of Europe, to receive the homage of kings, emperors, and
princes.
Amid the ringing of bells and the light of torches, Napoleon and
Maria Louisa made their entry into Dresden. The late hour of the
night, when the imperial couple arrived, prevented the population
from greeting them with cheers. But the good people of the Saxon
capital were not to be deprived of the happiness of bidding Napoleon
welcome, and seeing his beautiful young empress. The court,
therefore, arranged a drive in open calashes on the day after; and
everywhere on the streets through which the procession passed the
people stood in vast crowds. The windows of the houses were opened,
and beautiful ladies looked out of them. The imperial and royal
carriages made but slow headway, for thousands of excited spectators
preceded them, and thousands more surrounding the carriages looked
up with inquisitive eyes to the distinguished persons who, greeting
and smiling, bowed to them on all sides. But the multitude were
silent; not a cheer resounded--not a "Vive l'empereur"--and the
praise of Napoleon, that was uttered by the lips of princes, lacked
the wonted accompaniment of popular enthusiasm.
Good-natured King Frederick Augustus felt all this as a rebuke
administered to himself, as a reflection on his hospitality, and he
looked with an expression full of uneasiness and affection at the
emperor, who was sitting beside him. But Napoleon's countenance was
as calm and cold as it always was. Not a flash of inward anger was
seen in those unfathomable eyes. He conversed quietly and almost
smilingly with his consort, the Empress Maria Louisa, and did not
even seem to notice that the people received him in silence.
"Well, he shall have a most gratifying compensation at the theatre
to-night," said Frederick Augustus to himself. "The audience will
there at least receive the great Napoleon with enthusiastic cheers;
and when, on his return, he sees all Dresden glittering in the
illumination that is to take place, he will have to admit, after
all, that my good Saxons, like their king, love and admire him."
King Frederick Augustus was not mistaken.--The vast and brilliant
audience, that in the evening assembled at the royal theatre,
received the members of the court, on their appearance, with
deafening cheers; all rose from their seats and shouted with
constantly recurring enthusiasm, "Long live Napoleon: Long live the
Emperor Francis! Long live our dear King Frederick Augustus!" The
band accompanied these cheers, the ladies waved their bouquets, and
the gentlemen their hats and handkerchiefs, and when this outburst
subsided, hundreds of eyes were fixed on the royal box, to watch
every motion of Napoleon's countenance, and admire him in the circle
of his family; for this large gathering of princes and kings were
now his family, and the son of the Corsican lawyer was its head.
There was the Emperor Francis of Austria, who had arrived but a few
hours before, to greet his beloved son-in-law, whom he had not seen
since the battle of Austerlitz. The emperor was accompanied by his
young consort, the Empress Ludovica. Every one knew that she hated
Napoleon; that her proud heart never could forgive him the
humiliations which he had inflicted on Austria, and that she had
consented only with the utmost reluctance, and with bitter tears, to
the marriage of her step-daughter, the Archduchess Maria Louisa,
with the conqueror of Austria. And yet, notwithstanding her hatred,
grief, and humiliated pride, the Empress Ludovica had likewise come
to Dresden to witness the triumph of Napoleon, to be the second lady
at this court, and the first in the suite of the Empress Maria
Louisa. There were the King and Queen of Westphalia, sister-in-law
of Napoleon and daughter of the King of Wurtemberg, who deemed
himself happy that Napoleon was a relative of his. There were,
besides, the Grand-Duke of Wurzburg, brother of the Emperor Francis,
and now uncle of Bonaparte; the Grand-Duke of Baden, Napoleon's
nephew, and the King of Saxony, the cher papa of Napoleon; and
finally, the crowd of the petty German princes of the Confederation
of the Rhine, who had eagerly hurried to Dresden in order to do
homage to their protector, and seek after new gifts of territories
and titles from the all-powerful master of Germany. But these
personages formed only part of the suite; no one paid attention to
them; they stood humbly and modestly in the background, and only the
two emperors and empresses, the Queens of Saxony and Westphalia, and
the King of Saxony, occupied front seats. The King of Saxony
conducted Napoleon to the first gilded easy-chair on the right side;
to him belonged the seat of honor here as everywhere. He was first
in the line of emperors and kings. By his side sat Maria Louisa,
sparkling with diamonds, which covered her head, neck, arms, and the
golden belt around her slender waist. Her countenance was joyful,
and never had she feasted her eyes on her husband with more heart-
felt pride than during this evening, when, sitting beside him, she
eclipsed her imperial step-mother in the magnificence of her toilet
and the splendor of her rank. It was only when Napoleon had taken
his seat that the Emperor and Empress of Austria, and all the other
kings and princes, followed his example. The band immediately
commenced the overture, and the festive cantata began. On the stage
was seen the radiant temple of the sun, surrounded by the
brilliantly-adorned crowd of priests and priestesses. They raised
their arms, not to the temple of the sun, but toward Napoleon's box,
and, amid their soul-stirring chorus, the high-priest stepped forth
from the temple. Advancing to the edge of the stage, he bowed to the
imperial sun, and commenced singing in a powerful voice, "The sun
rises gloriously on the firmament, illuminating and heating the
world; but thou, his greater brother, thou conquerest him, and he
drives back his car, acknowledging that, since thou art here, the
world needs no other sun." While the high-priest sang these words
the temple on the stage suddenly paled, and over its entrance the
following words appeared in large letters of gold: "Di Lui men
grande e men chiaro il Sole." [Footnote: "Less great and brilliant
than he is the sun." The author of this cantata, performed in honor
of Napoleon, was Orlandi, an Italian; Morlacchi bad composed the
music.]
At this sight, cheers burst from all sides of the brilliantly
decorated house; the audience rose from their seats and turned
toward the imperial box to salute Napoleon; the Emperor of Austria,
the King of Saxony, and the princes of the Confederation of the
Rhine, joined in the applause. But Napoleon, to whom these cheers
were addressed, did not even seem to notice them. He had suddenly
risen and turned his back to the stage, regardless of the high-
priest and his emphatic words. Heedless of the cheers and applause,
he left his place and hastened to the Emperor Francis, who was
sitting on the left side, close to the two empresses. "Sire," said
Napoleon, "I request your majesty to exchange seats with me, and
pardon me for erroneously taking the chair that was intended for
you."
"No, no; it is no mistake at all," exclaimed the Emperor Francis,
hastily. "It is all right as it is, and your majesty must stay
there, for that easy-chair is the seat of honor."
"That is precisely the reason why it should be occupied by your
majesty, the august Emperor of Austria, my beloved and revered
father-in-law," said Napoleon, bowing his head lower than he had
ever before done to any prince in the world. "Come, sire, permit me
to conduct you to the seat that is due to you alone." With gentle
violence he took the emperor's hand and conducted him to the seat at
the right side of Maria Louisa.
"My dear Louisa," he said, turning to his consort, "I renounce the
happiness of sitting beside you, because this seat is due to the
head of our family, the father of my consort, the grandfather of my
son. You may embrace the opportunity to tell our dear papa all about
the little King of Rome." He greeted Maria Louisa with a beaming
smile, and then repaired to the seat which the Emperor Francis had
occupied, at the left side of the Empress Ludovica. The smile was
still on his face; he sat down on this chair, and, turning to the
empress, his mother-in-law, asked her, almost humbly, if she would
grant him the happiness of sitting by her side.
Ludovica felt flattered; the gentle, suppliant voice of the emperor,
his smile, and flashing eyes, exerted their wonted charm upon her.
She had armed her heart against the arrogant master of the world,
but, before the kind and almost humble bearing of Napoleon, her arms
sank to the ground, and she who had hitherto felt nothing but hatred
against him, regarded him now with mingled astonishment and
admiration.
Napoleon seemed to have read the depths of her heart, for his face
grew even milder, and his smile more fascinating. "Your majesty has
hated me intensely, I suppose?" he asked, in a low voice. "Oh, do
not deny it; I have been portrayed to you in very repulsive colors?"
Ludovica looked at him admiringly. "I must confess, sire," she said,
"that not one of the portraits of your majesty which I have seen, is
like you."
"Oh, I believe so," exclaimed Napoleon, hastily; "they have always
painted me too dark, and the portraits shown to your majesty
doubtless have been of that description; but before you, madame, the
Moor would like to wash his face, and I wish you could see me
painted less repulsively."
"Sire," said the empress, smiling, "did we not see but a few minutes
since that your image is even more radiant than the sun?"
"Ah, those are silly coups de theatre," exclaimed Napoleon. "It is
no great honor, indeed, to surpass the splendor of a sun made out of
paper. If the lamplighter had approached too close to it it would
have burned, while I think that I can stand in fire without running
the risk of perishing. However, the fire of anger flashing from your
eyes, madame, would annihilate me, and I pray you, therefore, to
have mercy on me. Pray, let us be frank. Why do you hate me?" He
looked at the empress with so mild and smiling an expression, that
she felt confused by it, and a faint blush suffused her beautiful
face.
"No," she said, in a low voice, "who tells you that? How would it be
possible to hate the man to whom all Europe bows in admiration?"
"I have put my foot on the neck of Europe; I have tamed the wild
horse, and it acknowledges me as its master," said Napoleon,
proudly. "But is that a reason why you should hate me? Let all lie
in the dust before me, but Austria shall stand erect by my side, for
the Emperor of Austria is my father-in-law, and though I do not
venture to say that the beautiful young Empress of Austria is my
mother-in-law, I may be allowed to say that she is the mother of my
consort, and that I admire and esteem her with all my heart. Austria
has nothing to fear, so long as she is friendly toward me. She shall
share my triumphs; and, when at last all Europe is prostrate, the
Emperors of France and Austria will stand side by side, and divide
the world between them."
"And one will take his Herculaneum, and the other his Pompeii," said
the empress, sarcastically.
"Ah, you mean to say that the world we shall have conquered will
consist only of ruined cities and dead subjects?" asked Napoleon,
gloomily.
"Sire," said Ludovica, gently, "I mean that when Vesuvius shows
itself to the wondering world in its whole majesty and beauty, it
cannot prevent the molten lava, which rises from its crater, as a
natural consequence, from rushing down its sides, and spreading
everywhere death and destruction."
"Well," exclaimed Napoleon, smiling, "if your simile is correct, the
molten lava will soon inundate Russia, and carry terror, death, and
destruction into the empire of the arrogant czar."
"Ah, sire," said Ludovica, gravely, "Russia is so very cold that I
believe even the fires of Vesuvius would be extinguished there, the
molten lava would freeze, or, flowing back, injure Vesuvius itself."
"Oh, no, madame," exclaimed Napoleon, hastily, "Vesuvius will not be
extinguished, for divine fire is burning in its heart."
"And Russia will not thaw, for it is a divine frost that freezes
every thing approaching her," said Ludovica, gently.
Napoleon cast on her one of his quick, angry glances. "Madame," he
said, "I--"
At this moment the whole audience burst into loud and enthusiastic
cheers, and shouted, "Long live the emperor! Long live the hero who
conquers the world!"
Napoleon interrupted himself, and turned his eyes toward the stage.
The temple of the sun was still dark, but a new brilliant light was
beaming over it; in its middle was the word "Napoleon" in large
flaming letters, which illumined the whole scene. In this sight the
audience were unable to restrain their delight, and burst into the
deafening cheers which had interrupted Napoleon's words.
The King of Saxony was evidently pleased with this outburst of
enthusiasm. "Now," he thought, "the great Napoleon will forget the
disagreeable scene of this morning. The people then were silent, and
admired, but to-night they have recovered their speech; and when we
leave the theatre, and behold the whole city in a flood of light,
Napoleon will feel convinced that my subjects love him sincerely.--
But what is that? The emperor rises. Does he intend already to leave
the theatre?" And he hastened to Napoleon, who advanced toward him.
"Let us leave, sire," he said. "These flatteries are more than
enough. You see the sun has set here."
"But he is still among us, sire," said Frederick Augustus. "And if
it has grown dark on the stage, the reason is simply, that all the
light now fills the streets of Dresden, to prove to the great
Napoleon that there is no night where he is--that his presence turns
darkness into light, and night into day."
"Ah," said Napoleon, in a tired, wearied tone, "an illumination then
has been arranged?"
"Sire, my people, as well as I, cannot find words to utter to your
majesty the transports with which your visit has filled our hearts,
and I hope you will see this in the lights shining at every window.
I request your majesty not to return directly to the palace, but
first ride through the city."
Napoleon nodded assent. "Let us do so, cher papa," he said; "let us
take a look at your illumination!" He offered his arm to Maria
Louisa, and left the box with her. The crowd of kings, dukes, and
princes, followed him in haste.
As the King of Saxony descended the staircase with his consort,
Chamberlain von Planitz met him with a pale and frightened face.
"Well," asked the king, "I suppose the illumination has already
commenced? It must be a splendid spectacle!"
"Your majesty," said the chamberlain, in a low voice, "the royal
palace and the public buildings are brilliantly lit up, but the
houses of the citizens are dark, and the streets are deserted."
"But," exclaimed the king, in dismay, "did not the police command
the citizens to illuminate their houses?"
"Yes, your majesty, the police have done their duty."
"And yet--"
"And yet, sire, all the houses are dark. It is as if the whole
population had conspired to disobey the order. The police have again
given orders; they received everywhere the same reply, that neither
oil nor candles were to be had any where."
"The stubborn people ought to have been told that they would be
punished for this."
"The police tried this, too, your majesty, threatening that every
citizen who did not obey should be fined a dollar, and all declared
their readiness to pay rather than illuminate."
"That is open rebellion," said the king, sighing. "The streets,
then, are dark?"
"Yes, sire."
"Then we must not take the intended ride through the city,"
exclaimed the king, anxiously. "Make haste, baron, countermand the
ride, and--"
At this moment the first carriage rolled from the portal. "It is too
late," groaned the king. "The emperor has already started. He will
witness our humiliation."
"Possibly, he may drive immediately to the palace," said the queen.
"He seemed tired and exhausted--"
"No, no," said the king, "he consented to see the illumination, and
the outriders are instructed accordingly. I myself marked out the
route. But, an expedient occurs to me. Quick, Baron von Planitz! Go
to the outrider of my carriage. Tell him to follow the imperial
carriage as fast as he can ride. He must overtake it, though his
horse die under him. He must order the driver to turn and pass down
Augustus Street to the Linden, and then slowly across the square, to
the palace. Make haste!" The chamberlain hastened to carry out the
king's orders.
"And we?" asked the queen--"shall we also follow him?"
"No, we return to the palace, and will wait for him there. The
others, of course, will follow the imperial carriage, and I hope we
shall soon see the two emperors again." Profoundly sighing, the king
conducted his consort to the carriage, and drove with her toward the
palace. A flood of light beamed upon them in the palace square. Huge
pillars, covered with festoons of colored lamps, stood in front of
the long palace bridge, and were connected with each other by
brilliant girandoles. Four similar pillars were in front of the main
portal of the Catholic church at the entrance of Augustus Street.
Around the square altars were erected, on which naphtha was burning.
On the royal palace the Austrian and French coats-of-arms displayed
all their colors with heraldic accuracy. It was a dazzling
spectacle, and even the king himself rejoiced at the beautiful and
imposing effect. "I think," he said, pointing to the pillars, "I
think this will be agreeable to him."
"Yes, but I am afraid that will be disagreeable to him," said the
queen, pointing to the Neustadt, lying dark on the other side of the
Elbe.
"Heaven grant that he may not see it!" said the king, sighing; he
then leaned back and closed his eyes until they halted in front of
the portal. "I shall remain here until the emperors arrive," he
added, bowing to his consort. With anxious eyes he gazed upon the
place, and listened in suspense to any distant noise. After waiting
fifteen minutes, the roll of approaching wheels was heard, and now
they thundered across the square and entered the palace portal. King
Frederick Augustus, hat in hand, stepped up with a most submissive
air to the first carriage, the door of which was just opened by
lackeys in gorgeous liveries. He lifted the young empress Maria
Louisa out, and then offered his hand almost timidly to Napoleon to
assist him also. With a quick wave of his hand he refused
assistance, and alighted. Anger was burning in his eyes.
"We left the theatre at an earlier hour than the citizens expected,"
said the king, timidly, "and that is the reason why the illumination
has not yet generally commenced."
"Oh, no," said Napoleon, in a petulant voice; "YOUR illumination is
magnificent; as to the inhabitants of Dresden, it seems to me, they
are the children of the sun that we saw at the theatre--their lights
have gone out." And the emperor, coldly bowing to the king, and
offering his arm to his consort, walked with her into the palace.
"He is not in good humor," muttered Frederick Augustus, in dismay.
"Oh, he is incensed at me!"
At this moment the Emperor Francis, with his consort, met him. "A
very pretty idea," said the emperor, with a laughing face, "to unite
the coats-of-arms of Austria and France in such a blaze of
variegated light! It gladdens one's heart to behold them. I thank
your majesty for having thus exhibited my coat-of-arms. It looks
admirably by the side of that of France."