When the nineteenth century dawned, a new and striking figure had
appeared in Europe. Napoleon Bonaparte had arisen with a bound from
obscurity in Corsica to supreme authority in France, and with audacious
display of power wielded by genius, hurled his battalions across the
face of Europe.
He seemed the embodiment of some new and irresistible force. Kingdoms
melted before him, and kings and princes vied with each other in doing
his bidding quickly, as he tore down old political divisions, and, as
it were, etched a new map of Europe with his sword; distributing
thrones as boys do marbles, until there was not an uncrowned head in
his own or his wife's family, or scarcely among his intimate friends.
He made his brother Joseph king of Spain; Bernadotte, his friend, king
of Sweden; Murat, his brother-in-law, king of Naples. Created the
kingdom of Holland and gave it to his brother Louis; and another
kingdom of Westphalia, which he gave to his brother Jerome. Appointed
Eugene Beauharnais, his stepson, viceroy of Italy. Married Hortense,
his step-daughter, to Louis, King of Holland; and Stephanie, Empress
Josephine's niece, to the Grand Duke of Baden.
It will be observed that when there were not enough thrones to go
around, he simply created a kingdom! Certainly, with all his faults,
no one can accuse him of not having provided well for his family!
At a touch from this Man of Destiny, the shadowy fabric of the German
Empire crumbled to dust. Just one thousand years from the crowning of
its first emperor Charlemagne, its last, Francis II., laid down his
arms and his sceptre before Napoleon, and with them the proud title of
"Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire," assumed on that Christmas day, in
the Cathedral of St. Peter's, in the year 800.
When Napoleon married Marie Louise, daughter of this deposed monarch
who had occupied the throne of the Caesars, his dream of universal
empire seemed realized. The continent of Europe was actually under his
feet. History had only twice before witnessed such a display of power,
and contained only three men as colossal in triumphs--Alexander, Julius
Caesar, and Charlemagne.
But it was the mantle of these last two that he felt he was destined to
wear, the glittering pinnacles of the great Roman Empire being ever
before his romantic ambition. Hence, when the longed-for son was born
he called him King of Rome. And why should he not? Was not his mother
daughter of a line of emperors leading back to Charlemagne, first
emperor of the Holy Roman Empire?
But with the first reverse, this artificially created empire trembled
upon its foundations, and upon his defeat at Waterloo, 1815, one
thousand years from the death of Charlemagne, the whole fabric fell
apart into fragments. The crowns rolled off the heads of Joseph,
Jerome, Louis, and the rest of them. The magical creation passed away
like a vision of the night.
Europe rallied from the spell which this Corsican magician had thrown
over her, and while he lay chained to the rock at St. Helena, the
vulture of regret eating his heart away, Metternich, prime minister of
Austria, was restoring order to Germany.
A confederation of states was formed, with Austria as its chief, each
to be represented at a general Diet, held at Frankfort; and for fifty
years such was the condition of Germany. Prussia, fallen from her high
position under Frederick the Great, sinking lower and lower in the
scale of nations, dominated by Austria, powerless to resent insult, her
people helpless and hopeless, looking only to final disintegration and
absorption into the powerful states about her.