THE FALL OF THE GERMAN EMPIRE.
The peace of Presburg had been concluded; it had deprived Austria of her
best provinces.
The offensive and defensive alliance between Prussia and France had been
signed; it had deprived Prussia of the principalities of Cleves, Berg,
and Neufchatel.
Germany, therefore, had reason enough in the beginning of 1806 to mourn
and complain, for her princes had been humiliated and disgraced; her
people had to bear with their princes the ignominy of degradation and
dependence.
Germany, however, seemed to be joyful and happy; festivals were being
celebrated everywhere--festivals in honor of the Emperor Napoleon and
his family, festivals of love and happiness.
After the victory Napoleon had obtained at Austerlitz over the two
emperors, after the conclusion of the treaty of Presburg and the
alliance with Prussia, all causes of war with Germany seemed removed,
and Napoleon laid his sword aside in order to repose on his laurels in
the bosom of his family, and, instead of founding new states, to
bring about marriages between his relations and the scions of German
sovereigns--marriages which were to draw closer the links of love and
friendship uniting France with Germany, and to make all Germany the
obedient son-in-law and vassal of the Emperor of France.
In Munich, the wedding-bells which made Napoleon the father-in-law of
a German dynasty, were first rung. In Munich, in the beginning of 1806,
Eugene Beauharnais, Napoleon’s adopted son, was married to the beautiful
and noble Princess Amelia of Bavaria, daughter of Maximilian, Elector of
Bavaria, who, by the grace of Napoleon, had become King of Bavaria, as
Eugene, by the same grace, had become Viceroy of Italy.
All Bavaria was jubilant with delight at the new and most fortunate ties
uniting the German state with France; all Bavaria felt honored and happy
when the Emperor Napoleon, with his wife Josephine, came to Munich to
take part in the wedding-ceremonies. Festivals followed each other in
quick succession in Munich; only happy faces were to be seen there,
only jubilant shouts, laughter, and merry jests were to be heard; and
whenever Napoleon appeared in the streets or showed himself on the
balcony of the palace, the people received him with tremendous cheers,
and waved their hats at the emperor, regardless of the blood and tears
he had wrung but a few days before from another German state.
No sooner had the wedding-bells ceased ringing in Munich than they
commenced resounding in Carlsruhe; for Napoleon wanted there, too, to
become the father-in-law of another German dynasty, and the niece of
Josephine, Mademoiselle Stephanie de Beauharnais, married the heir
of the Elector of Baden, who now, by the grace of Napoleon, became
Grand-duke of Baden.
And to the merry notes of the wedding-bells of Munich and Carlsruhe,
were soon added the joyful sound of the bells which announced to Germany
the rise of a new sovereign house within her borders, and inaugurated
the elevation of the brother-in-law of the Emperor of France to the
dignity of a sovereign German prince. Those solemn bells resounded in
Cleves and Berg, and did homage to Joachim Murat, who, by the grace
of Napoleon, had become Grand-duke of Berg. Prussia and Bavaria had to
furnish the material for this new princely cloak; Prussia had given the
larger portion of it, the Duchy of Cleves, and Bavaria, grateful for so
many favors, had added to it the principality of Berg, so that these
two German states together formed a nice grand-duchy for the son of
the French innkeeper--for Joachim Murat, for the brother-in-law of the
French emperor.
And when the joyful sounds had died away in Munich, Carlsruhe, and the
new grand-duchy of Berg, they resounded again in Stuttgart, for in that
capital the betrothal of Jerome, youngest brother of Napoleon, and of
a daughter of the Elector of Wurtemberg, who now, by the grace of
Napoleon, had become King of Wurtemberg, was celebrated. It is true
Jerome, the emperor’s brother, wore no crown as yet; it is true this
youngest son of the Corsican lawyer had hitherto been nothing but an
“imperial prince of France,” but his royal father-in-law of Wurtemberg
felt convinced that his august brother, Napoleon, would endow the
husband of his daughter in a becoming manner, and place some vacant or
newly-to-be-created crown on his head. Napoleon, moreover, had just then
endowed his elder brother Joseph in such a manner, and made him King
of Naples, after solemnly declaring to Europe in a manifesto, that “the
dynasty of Naples had ceased to reign, and that the finest country on
earth was to be delivered at length from the yoke of the most perfidious
persons.” And in accordance with his word, Napoleon had overthrown the
Neapolitan dynasty, expelled King Ferdinand and Queen Caroline from
their capital, and placed his brother Joseph on the throne of Naples.
[Footnote: Napoleon rewarded his generals and ministers, besides, with
duchies, which he created for them in Italy, and the rich revenues of
which he assigned to them. Thus Marmont became Duke of Ragusa; Mortier,
Duke of Treviso; Bessieres, Duke of Istria; Savary, Duke of Rovigo;
Lannes, Duke of Montebello; Bernadotte, Prince of Pontecorvo;
Talleyrand, Prince of Benevento; Fouche, Duke of Otranto; Maret, Duke of
Bassano; Soult, Duke of Dalmatia; Berthier, Prince of Neufchatel; Duroc,
Duke of Frioul, etc.]
Hence, the King of Wurtemberg was not afraid; he was sure that Napoleon
would discover somewhere a falling crown for his brother Jerome, and
give to the daughter of the most ancient German dynasty a position
worthy of the honor of her house.
But the joyful bells were not only rung in Germany; they resounded also
from the borders of Holland, which now, by the grace of Napoleon, had
become a kingdom, and to which, again by the grace of Napoleon, a king
had been given, in the person of Louis, another brother of the Emperor
of France. They resounded, too, from Italy, where, in this blessed
year of 1806, so productive of new crowns, on one day, March 30, 1806,
suddenly twelve duchies sprang from the ground and placed as many ducal
crowns on the heads of Napoleon’s friends and comrades.
The year of 1806, therefore, was a blessed and happy year; joy and
exultation reigned everywhere, and Napoleon was the author of all this
happiness.
Still there was in the German empire a city which, in spite of all these
recent festivals and demonstrations of satisfaction, maintained a grave
and gloomy aspect, and apparently took no part whatever in the universal
joy, but lived in its sullen, dull quiet as it had done for centuries.
This city was Ratisbon, the seat of the German Diet, and now the
property and capital of the archchancellor of the German empire, Baron
Dalberg.
For centuries Ratisbon had enjoyed the proud honor of having the
ambassadors of all the German states meet in its old city-hall, for
the purpose of deliberating on the welfare of Germany. From the arched
windows of the large session hall the new laws flitted all over Germany,
and what the gentlemen at Ratisbon had decided on, had to be submitted
to by the princes and people of Germany.
And, just as hundreds and hundreds of years ago, they were still in
session at Ratisbon--the ambassadors of the emperor, of the kings,
electors, dukes, free cities, counts, and barons of the German empire.
There met every day in their old hall the states of Austria, Prussia,
Bavaria, Hanover, Wurtemberg, Baden, Hesse-Darmstadt, Mecklenberg,
Brunswick, and whatever might be the names of the different members of
the great German empire.
They met, but they did not deliberate any longer; they merely guessed
what might be the fate of Germany, how long they would sit there in
gloomy idleness, and when it might please the new protector of Germany,
the Emperor of France, to remember them and say to them: “Go home,
gentlemen, for your time has expired. The German Diet has ceased to
exist, and I will deliver Germany from this burden.”
But neither the Emperor of France nor the sovereigns of Germany seemed
to remember that there was a Diet still in session at the ancient
city-hall of Ratisbon, which formerly had to sanction all treaties of
peace, all cessions of territory, and all political changes whatever, so
that they might be recognized and become valid in the German empire.
Now, the Emperor of Germany had not even deemed it necessary to submit
to the Diet at Ratisbon the treaty of peace concluded with Napoleon
at Presberg for ratification, but had contented himself with merely
notifying the Diet of its conclusion. In the same manner, and on the
same day, the ambassadors of Bavaria and Wurtemberg had risen from
their seats to announce to the Diet that they were now no longer
representatives of electors, but of kings--Bavaria and Wurtemberg, with
the consent of the Emperor of France, having assumed the royal title;
and when these two gentlemen had resumed their seats, the ambassador
of the Elector of Baden rose for the purpose of declaring that he was
representing no longer an electorate, but a grand-duchy--the Elector
of Baden, with the consent of the Emperor of France, having assumed the
grand-ducal title.
The Diet had received these announcements silently and without
objection; it had been silent, also, when, a few days later, the French
ambassador, M. Bacher, appeared in the session-hall and announced that
Murat, as Duke of Cleves, had become a member of the German empire.
Every ambassador, however, had asked himself silently how it happened
that the new member of the empire did not hasten to avail himself of
his rights, and to send an ambassador to take his seat at the Diet of
Ratisbon.
The Diet, as we have stated already, received all these announcements
in silence, and what good would it have done to it to speak? Who still
respected its voice? Who still bowed to its name?
Only for appearance sake, only for the purpose of conversing with each
other in a low tone about their own misfortunes, their weakness and
impotence, did the ambassadors of the German princes and cities meet
still, and instead of giving laws to Germany, as formerly, they only
communicated to each other their suppositions concerning the fate that
might be in store for Germany and the German Diet at Ratisbon.
The gentlemen were assembled again to-day in the large session-hall, and
all the German states, which elsewhere were bitterly quarrelling with
each other, were sitting peaceably around the large green table and
chatting about the events that had taken place in the German empire, and
might occur in the near future.
“Have you read the new pamphlets which are creating so great a sensation
at the present time?” said Prussia to Saxony, who was seated by her
side.
“No, I never read any pamphlets,” replied Saxony.
“It is worth while, however, to read these pamphlets,” said Prussia,
smiling: “for they treat of an absurd idea in a most eloquent and
enthusiastic manner. Just think of it, they advocate in dead earnest
the idea of placing the German empire, now that the power of Austria has
been paralyzed, under the protection of Bavaria, and of appointing the
new King of Bavaria chief of Germany.”
“The idea is not so bad, after all,” said Saxony, smiling; “the Bavarian
dynasty is one of the most ancient in Germany, and its power is greater
than ever, inasmuch as it may boast of the friendship and favor of
the Emperor of France. The Emperor Napoleon would, perhaps, raise no
objections in case the King of Bavaria should be elected Emperor of
Germany.”
“Oh, no,” whispered Brunswick, Saxony’s neighbor on the left; “I
received late and authentic news yesterday. The Emperor Napoleon intends
completely to restore the German empire of the middle ages, and will
himself assume the imperial crown of Germany.” [Footnote: Hausser’s
“History of Germany,” vol. ii., p. 721.] “What,” exclaimed Hesse, who
had overheard the words, “the Emperor Napoleon wants to make himself
Emperor of Germany?”
And Hesse had spoken so loudly in her surprise that the whole Diet had
heard her words, and every one repeated them in great astonishment,
while every face assumed a grave and solemn air.
“Yes, you may believe that such is the case,” said Bavaria, in an
audible tone; “important changes are in store for us, and I know from
the best source that Minister Talleyrand said the other day, quite
loudly and positively, ‘That the fate of the German empire would be
decided on toward the end of this month.’” [Footnote: Ibid., p. 723.]
“And to-day is already the 23d of May,” said Oldenburg, musingly; “we
may look, therefore, every hour for a decision.”
“Yes, we may do so,” exclaimed Wurzburg; “I know for certain that
they are already engaged in Paris in drawing up a new constitution for
Germany.”
“It might be good, perhaps,” said her neighbor, “if we should also
commence to draw up a new constitution for Germany, and then send it
to Minister Talleyrand, because we are certainly more familiar with
the customs and requirements of the German empire than the statesmen
of France. We ought to consult with the archchancellor, Baron Dalberg,
about this matter. But where is the archchancellor; where is Dalberg?”
“Yes, it is true, the archchancellor has not yet made his appearance,”
exclaimed Oldenburg, wonderingly. “Where can he be? Where is Dalberg?”
And the question was whispered from mouth to mouth, “Where is Dalberg?”
Formerly, in the glorious old times of the German empire, it had been
the German emperor who, at the commencement of the sessions of the Diet,
had always asked in a loud voice, “Is there no Dalberg?” And at his
question, the Dalbergs had come forward and placed themselves around the
emperor’s throne, always ready to undertake great things and to carry
out bold adventures.
Now, it was not the emperor who called for his Dalberg, but the Diet
that whispered his name.
And it seemed as if the man who had been called for, had heard these
whispers, for the large doors of the old session-hall opened, and the
archchancellor of the empire, Baron Dalberg, entered. Clad in his full
official costume, he stepped into the hall and approached his seat at
the green table. But instead of sitting down on the high-backed, carved
arm-chair, he remained standing, and his eyes glided greetingly past all
those grave and gloomy faces which were fixed on him.
“I beg the august Diet to permit me to lay a communication before it,”
said the archchancellor of the empire, with a bow to the assembly.
The grave faces of the ambassadors nodded assent, and Dalberg continued,
in a loud and solemn voice: “I have to inform the Diet that, as I am
growing old and feel a sensible decline of my strength, I have deemed it
indispensable for the welfare of Germany and myself to choose already a
successor and coadjutor. Having long looked around among the noble and
worthy men who surround me in so great numbers, I have at length made
my selection and come to such a decision as is justified by the present
state of affairs. The successor whom I have selected is a worthy and
high-minded man, whose ancestors have greatly distinguished themselves
in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries in the service of the German
empire. It is the Archbishop and Cardinal Fesch, uncle of the Emperor of
France.”
A long and painful pause ensued; the members of the Diet looked, as
if stupefied with terror and astonishment, at this man who, himself a
German prince, dared to inform the German Diet that he had invited a
foreigner to share with him the high dignity of a first German elector
and of inheriting it after his death.
Dalberg read, perhaps, in the gloomy mien of the gentlemen the thoughts
which they dared not utter, for he hastened to communicate to the
Diet the motives which had influenced him in making the above named
selection. He told them he had acted thus, not in his own interest, but
in order to maintain the menaced constitution of the German empire, and
to place it under Napoleon’s powerful protection. He then informed them
joyfully that the Emperor of the French had already approved of the
appointment of his uncle, Cardinal Fesch, and promised, moreover, that
he would devote his personal attention to the regeneration of the German
empire and always afford it protection.
The members of the Diet had moodily listened to him; their air had
become more and more dissatisfied and gloomy; and when the elector
paused, not a single voice was heard to propose the vote of thanks which
Dalberg, on concluding his remarks, had asked for, but only a profound,
ominous stillness followed his speech.
This, however, was the only official demonstration which the German Diet
ventured to make against the appointment of Cardinal Fesch, and their
silence did not prevent the consummation of this unparalleled measure.
A foreigner, not even familiar with the German language, now became
coadjutor of the archchancellor of the German empire--a foreigner became
the first member of the German electoral college--a foreigner was to
have the seals of the empire in his hands, keep the laws of Germany in
his archives, and preside at the election of the emperors and at the
sessions of the Diet!
And this foreigner was the uncle of the Emperor of the French, of the
conqueror of the world. But the German Diet was silent and suffered on.
The horizon of Germany became more and more clouded; the Diet continued
its sessions quietly, calmly, and inaudibly in the old city-hall at
Ratisbon.
It was reported everywhere that the Emperor of France was about to give
a new constitution to the German empire, and that the Emperor of Germany
had pledged himself in the treaty of Presburg not to oppose the plans of
Napoleon in relation to Germany.
The Diet paid no attention to these rumors; it remained in session,
and did not interrupt its silence. It remained in session while the
secondary German princes, whose ambassadors were assembled in Ratisbon,
hastened in person to Paris, in order to appear there as humble
supplicants in the anterooms of the emperor and Talleyrand, and to win
the favor of Napoleon and his minister. This favor, they hoped, would
gain for them crowns and states, render them powerful and influential,
and give them a brilliant position. For Talleyrand had secretly
whispered into the ears of all of them: “Those who oppose the emperor’s
plans, and refuse to accept his protection, will be mediatized!”
[Footnote: Mediatized position of the small German states, when their
princes were under an emperor.] Every one of these secondary German
princes hoped, therefore, that the others would be mediatized, and that
he would receive the possessions of his neighbors.
Every one, therefore, was most jealous in protesting his entire
submission to the emperor’s will, and in trying to gain as much as
possible by flattery, bribery, and humble supplication. It seemed
as though in Paris, in the anterooms of the emperor and his minister
Talleyrand, a market-booth had been opened, in which dice were being
thrown for German states and German crowns, or where they were sold at
auction to the highest bidder! [Footnote: Enormous bribes were paid by
the German princes to win the favor of the prominent functionaries of
the French empire, in order to be saved by their influence from being
mediatized, and to obtain as valuable additions to their territories as
possible. Diplomatic gifts were not even secretly distributed, but the
business was carried on as publicly as if the persons concerned in it
had been on ‘change. Everybody knew that the Prince of Salm-Kyrburg had
bought of one of the French ministers two hundred thousand bottles of
champagne at an enormous rate; that Labesnardiere, Talleyrand’s first
secretary, had received half a million of francs from Hesse Darmstadt;
and that the Duke of Mecklenburg had promised him one hundred and twenty
thousand Fredericks d’ors if he should retain his sovereignty.--Vide
Montgaillard, “Histoire de France,” vol. x., p. 115.]
The Diet heard only rumors, vague rumors, about these proceedings, and
remained quietly in session. It met every day and waited.
And at length, on the 1st of August, 1806, the large doors of the hall,
in which the ambassadors of the German empire were assembled, opened,
and the minister of the French emperor appeared in their midst, and
approached in solemn earnest the green table, on which hitherto Germany
alone had had the right to depose her notes and declarations, and on
which hitherto the German Diet alone had written laws for Germany.
But Bacher, the French minister, came to force a new law upon the German
Diet--the law of the French emperor.
The representative of the French emperor addressed the German Diet in
a solemn tone, and as the vast session-hall echoed the loud, imperious
voice of the foreigner, it seemed as if he called up from their graves
the ghosts of past centuries, and as if they then placed themselves like
a protecting gray cloud before the menaced Diet.
“The German constitution,” said the minister of France--“the German
constitution is now but a shadow; the Diet has ceased to have a will
of its own. Hence his majesty, the Emperor of France and Italy, is
not obliged to recognize the existence of this German constitution any
longer; a new confederation of German princes will be formed under his
protection, and his majesty will assume the title of Protector of the
Confederation of the Rhine. In order to maintain peace, he declared
formerly that he would never extend the boundaries of France beyond the
Rhine, and he has faithfully kept his word.” [Footnote: “Memoires d’un
Homme d’Etat,” vol. ix., p. 160.]
And after Bacher had uttered these words, sixteen members of the Diet,
twelve princes, and four electors, rose from their seats. The first of
the German electors, the archchancellor of the empire, Charles Theodore
von Dalberg, was their speaker, and he explained to the Diet, in the
name of his fifteen colleagues, their intentions and views.
“The last three wars have demonstrated,” he exclaimed, “that the German
empire is rotten and virtually destroyed; hence we German princes of the
south and west of Germany will sever our connection with a constitution
which has ceased to exist, and place ourselves under the protection
of the Emperor of the French, who is anxious to secure the welfare and
prosperity of Germany. We have formed a confederation among ourselves,
and the Emperor of the French will be the head and protector of this
league, which will be called the Confederation of the Rhine. Solemnly
and forever do we, princes of the German Confederation of the Rhine,
renounce the German empire and the German Diet, acknowledging none but
the Emperor of the French as our head and protector.”
“Yes, we renounce the German empire and the German Diet,” exclaimed the
sixteen princes, in one breath. “We renounce them now and forever!”
And they noisily pushed aside the high-backed arm-chairs, on which the
representatives of their states had sat for centuries, and left the
session-hall in a solemn procession, headed by the archchancellor of the
empire. [Footnote: The members of the Confederation of the Rhine were
Bavaria, Wurtemberg, Baden, the archchancellor with his territory,
Berg, Hesse-Darmstadt, Nassau-Weilburg, Nassau-Usingen,
Hohenzollern-Hechingen, Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, Salm-Salm,
Salm-Kyrberg, Isenburg, Aremberg, Lichtenstein, and Von der Leyen.]
The remaining members of the Diet gazed on them in profound silence,
and when the door closed behind the disappearing princes of the
Confederation of the Rhine, it seemed as though strange sounds
and whisperings filled the old hall, and as though low sighs and
lamentations resounded from the walls where the portraits of the
emperors were hanging.
The remaining members of the Diet were filled with awe; the sixteen
vacant chairs struck terror into their souls; they rose silently from
their seats and left the hall with hasty steps.
But on the following day the German Diet met again. It wanted to consult
and deliberate as to what ought to be done in relation to the desertion
of sixteen of its members.
And it consulted and deliberated for six days without coming to any
decision. But on the sixth day a stop was put to the debates.
On the 6th of August a special envoy of the Emperor of Germany
appeared at the city-hall of Ratisbon while the Diet was in session. He
approached the green table and saluted the small remnant of the great
assembly, and producing a large letter bearing the emperor’s privy seal,
said in a loud and solemn voice: “In the name of the emperor!”
And the members of the Diet rose from their seats to listen
reverentially to the imperial message which his majesty had addressed to
the German Diet in an autograph letter. He had commissioned his envoy to
read the letter to the Diet, and the minister read as follows:
“Feeling convinced that it is impossible for us to exercise our imperial
rights any longer, we deem it our duty to renounce a crown which was of
value to us only so long as we enjoyed the confidence of the electors,
princes, noblemen, and states of the German empire, and so long as
we were able to fulfil the duties they imposed upon us. Hence we are
obliged to declare by these presents in the most solemn manner, that,
considering the ties which united us with the German empire as broken by
the Confederation of the Rhine, we hereby give up the imperial crown
of Germany; at the same time we release by these presents the electors,
princes, and states, as well as the members of the supreme court and
other magistrates from the duties which they owed to us as legal head
of the German empire. Given under our own hand and seal. Francis the
Second, Emperor of Austria, and ruler of the hereditary states of
Austria.” [Footnote: “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. ix., p. 160.]
A long and awful silence greeted the reading of this letter, which put
an end to the ancient German empire after an existence of one thousand
and six years, from Charlemagne, crowned in 800, to Francis II.,
dispossessed in 1806.
The members of the German Diet then rose in their seats; they were as
silent and shy as night-owls startled from their dark hiding-places by
a stray sunbeam. They left the old session-hall at Ratisbon in gloomy
silence, and when the door closed behind them, the German Diet had been
buried, and the lid on its coffin had been closed.
The last night-owls of the deceased German empire hurried in mournful
silence from the session-hall at Ratisbon, where the old portraits
henceforth watched alone over the grave of the German empire.
When they stepped out into the market-place, a carriage just rolled past
the city-hall, and the gentleman seated in it leaned smilingly out of
the coach-door, and saluted kindly and affably the pale, grave, and sad
men who came from the city-hall.
This gentleman was Count Clement Metternich, who was going to Paris as
special envoy of the Emperor of Austria for the purpose of offering to
the Emperor of France on his birthday the congratulations of the Emperor
of Austria. [Footnote: Ibid., p. 168.]
On the 6th of August the German empire had died and was buried!
On the 15th of August the Emperor of the French celebrated his birthday;
and the princes of the Confederation of the Rhine, the Emperor of
Austria, the King of Prussia, and all the sovereigns who had been
members of the late German empire, celebrated the great day in the most
solemn manner.
Napoleon had a new victory--a victory which laid the whole of Germany at
his feet. He had buried the German empire, but stood on the grave of the
august corpse as its lord and master.
THE BATTLE OF JENA.