Empire, followed by the Secretary of State of the Imperial family,
approached the throne, bowed low, and said: "In the name of the Emperor
(at those words Their Majesties rose), Sire, does Your Imperial and
Royal Majesty declare that he takes in marriage Her Imperial and Royal
Highness Marie Louise, Archduchess of Austria, here present?" Napoleon
replied: "I declare that I take in marriage Her Imperial and Royal
Highness Marie Louise, Archduchess of Austria, here present." The same
question was then put to Marie Louise in these terms: "Does Her Imperial
Highness Marie Louise, Archduchess of Austria, declare that she takes in
marriage His Majesty the Emperor and King, Napoleon, here present?" She
answered: "I declare that I take in marriage His Majesty the Emperor
and King, Napoleon, here present." Then the Archchancellor, Prince
Cambacérès, announced the marriage in these words: "In the name of the
Emperor and of the Law, I declare that His Imperial and Royal Majesty
Napoleon, Emperor of the French and King of Rome, and Her Imperial and
Royal Highness, the Archduchess Marie Louise, are united in marriage."
At the same instant the ceremony was proclaimed by salvos of artillery
fired at Saint Cloud and repeated in Paris by the cannon of the
Invalides. Napoleon must have felt a thrill of pride at this moment.
The Apollo Gallery, where the rite was celebrated, was full of pleasant
memories; there it was that the Ancients were sitting on that eventful
19th Brumaire when the foundations of his vast power were laid, and
there it was that he had uttered that ringing sentence, "Remember that I
march in the company of the God of Fortune and the God of War." There it
was that, May 18, 1804, he had said to the Senators who came to proclaim
the Empire: "I accept the title which you deem of service to the
nation's glory. I hope that France will never repent the honors with
which it loads my family." And in this same gallery he was marrying in
triumph the daughter of the Germanic Cæsars. The Palace of Saint Cloud
brought him good luck. And yet it was from this palace that he set out
two years later on the disastrous Russian campaign; and from there his
successor, sixty years later, started for a still more ruinous war. And
as for this Palace of Saint Cloud, so brilliant and radiant, what was
to become of it? But in 1810 no one could have felt such fears for the
future.
The marriage proclaimed, the document had to be signed. The Secretary of
State of the Imperial family presented the pen to the Emperor and then
to the Empress, who signed (without leaving their places or rising) on
a table brought up before the throne. The Princes and Princesses then
walked up to the table, and after bowing to Their Majesties, signed
in the order fixed by the order of ceremonies. When, finally, the
Archchancellor and the Secretary had affixed their signatures, the
procession, in the same order as before, reconducted Their Majesties to
the Empress's apartments.
Possibly only one thing gave Napoleon a vague uneasiness: fourteen of
the Italian cardinals had approved as regular and satisfactory the
judgment of the officials of Paris concerning the invalidity of the
religious marriage with Josephine; while thirteen others, among whom
was Consalvi, thought that the Pope alone was competent to decide
so important a matter. The rumor had spread that these thirteen
recalcitrant cardinals would not be present at the nuptial benediction
to be given to Napoleon and Marie Louise the next day in the _Salon
Carré_ of the Louvre. But Napoleon in his wrath had exclaimed, "Bah!
they will never dare to stay away!"
That evening after dinner Their Majesties went into the family
drawing-room. The company that was to accompany them to the play
assembled in the neighboring rooms. The orange-house, which had been
converted into a court theatre, was illuminated. The piece to be given
was _Iphigenia in Aulis_, one of the favorite operas of the unhappy
Marie Antoinette, the new Empress's great-aunt. The choice of this piece
seemed an unhappy one; for Iphigenia recalled the idea of a sacrifice,
and the aristocracy of Europe thought that Marie Louise had been
sacrificed. General de Ségur, in spite of his admiration for the
Imperial glories, says in his Memoirs: "The feeling that prevailed in
Paris, along with the general curiosity, was surprise at the presence of
a princess ascending a throne reared so near the scaffold stained with
the blood of one of her near relatives. This cruel memory offended
the feeling of propriety peculiar to the French and especially to the
Parisians. They were insensibly pained by this reminder which made too
evident the sacrifice extorted from Austria, and they felt that their
victory had been carried too far. They condemned the imitation of Louis
XVI., whose sad fate was attributed to a similar selection." But the
fickle crowd which assembled, eager for pleasure in the park of Saint
Cloud, made no such reflections. "The illumination of the park," says
the _Moniteur_, "had been arranged with infinite art; the fountains
were rendered more brilliant by the lights which were thrown upon the
cascades. The great waterfall especially produced a magical effect.
Poets, in their description of enchanted gardens, have given but a
feeble idea of such an appearance and of such an effect of light.
Throughout the park sports of all kinds had been prepared. An immense
crowd, from Paris and the suburbs, took part in the festival, which was
most gay and animated. The arrangements were novel and far exceeded
general expectations."
At Saint Cloud, Sunday, April 1, 1810, when the civil marriage was
celebrated, the weather was pleasant, while in Paris the streets were
flooded by a heavy rain. The next day, that of the religious marriage,
it rained at Saint Cloud, but the weather in Paris was magnificent, so
that nothing was lost of the magnificence of the procession or of the
brilliancy of the illuminations. The Emperor's good fortune, it
was said, had twice triumphed over the equinoctial storms. In the
ever-flattering _Moniteur_ it was said: "April 2 had been chosen for
Their Majesties' entrance into the capital and the wedding rites. One
strange circumstance aroused universal attention and called forth much
favorable comment. A tempest had raged almost all of the previous
night.... It was hence natural to suppose that all the preparations
which for a month had excited general interest would have to be kept
until a more favorable day; but such was not the case, and what has
often happened occurred once more. The agreeable temperature which
the sunshine produced was the more remarkable because it lasted only
while the festivities were going on, beginning and ending with them, and
never was one more strongly reminded of the two familiar lines of
Virgil when, recalling the tempest in the night and the calm of the day
appointed for a great entertainment, he represents the heavens under the
divided control of Augustus and Jupiter:--
"'Nocte pluit totâ, redeunt spectacula mane,
Divisum imperium cum Jove Cæsar habet.'"
XIII.
THE ENTRANCE INTO PARIS.
Monday, April 2, 1810, as soon as day began to break, Paris and all the
country round about set forth towards the Saint Cloud road. From
eight in the morning the windows were filled with women. Everywhere
scaffolding had been put up; fences, roofs, and trees were crowded with
numberless spectators. At the base of the side openings of the great
Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile, steps had been set in the form of an
amphitheatre, where a great many persons had taken their place by
invitation of the Prefect of the Seine. Of the arch itself, which was to
be built in stone, only the bases had been built to a height of about
twenty feet, but the rest of the structure was raised in canvas over
a framework for the Emperor's formal entry into Paris. The speed with
which the work had been done seemed magical; nearly five thousand
laborers had been employed, and the temporary structure, imitating the
real one, had been finished in less than twenty days. At the summit was
this inscription: "To Napoleon and Marie Louise, the city of Paris."
The top of the arch, where the vaulting started, was decorated with
bas-reliefs, and with sunk panels in the middle of which were eagles.
There were twelve medallions--six towards Passy, six on the other side;
namely, the portrait of the Emperor, with this motto, "The happiness of
the world is in his hands" (the address of the Senate); a laurel with
many sprouts, and these words, "He has made our glory"; a roaring
leopard, with this motto, "He laughed at our discords, he weeps at
our reunion"; the monograms of Napoleon and Marie Louise, with this
inscription, "We love her through our love for him, we shall love her
for herself"; a Love placing a wreath of myrtles and roses on the helmet
of Mars, with this motto, "She will charm the hero's leisure"; the sun
and a rainbow, and these words, "She announces happy days to the world";
the Empress's portrait, and this inscription, "To her we owe the
happiness of the August spouse who has set her so high in his thoughts";
the figure of the Danube, and this line, "He enriches us with what
is most precious"; the Austrian coat-of-arms; the monogram of Their
Majesties, and the motto, "She will be a true mother to the French"; the
figure of the Seine, motto, "Our love will be grateful for the gift he
makes to us"; and last, the French coat-of-arms.
The six bas-reliefs represented the following subjects: Legislation--the
Emperor in his robes, seated upon the throne, points towards the tables
on which is inscribed the Code, while Innocence, in the form of a
young maiden, is sleeping at the foot of the Imperial throne; National
Industry--merchants presenting to the Emperor various products from
their warehouses; the Arrival of the Empress in Paris; the Decorations
of the Capital; the Emperor's Clemency--Napoleon seated, with his hand
on his sword, is crowned by Victory, while he generously pardons his
vanquished enemies; union of the Emperor and Empress--Napoleon and Marie
Louise hand-in-hand, in token of alliance, before an altar placed at the
foot of the statue of Peace.
The salvos of artillery were heard, announcing the departure of the
Emperor and Empress from Saint Cloud. At the same moment, as if in
obedience to the signal, the sun appeared on the horizon, to shine
all day, and just when the procession reached the Arc de Triomphe, it
appeared with greater brilliancy. The cavalry of the Imperial Guard
headed the procession, the lancers in front, then the chasseurs,
followed by the dragoons, with the bands in advance; the heralds-at-arms
came next; and after them the carriages, the one containing the Emperor
drawn by eight horses, the others by six. Napoleon and Marie Louise were
in the famous coronation coach. Its four sides consisted of four large
pieces of clear glass, set in slender, gilded and wrought corner-posts,
giving as unimpeded view of those within as if the coach was open.
The Emperor was to be seen in his cloak of red and white velvet; the
Empress, in court dress and wearing the crown diamonds. The top of this
magnificent coach consisted of a sort of golden dome, upheld by four
eagles with outspread wings, and surmounted by a huge crown. The
Marshals of France and the colonels in command of the Guard rode on each
side, near the doors of the carriage, the aides near the horses, the
equerries near the hind wheels. According to the etiquette prescribed
for the occasions when the Emperor used this state carriage, as many
pages as possible got on the footboard and on the seat near the driver.
The procession reached the Arc de Triomphe at one o'clock. Twelve cannon
had been placed on the high ground near by, twelve others in the garden
of the Tuileries, on the terrace by the riverside, and their salutes
were repeated by the cannon of the Invalides. Bands which had been
stationed along the routes played triumphal marches. All the church
bells were rung at full peal. The Imperial coach stopped beneath the
arch, where the Governor of Paris, the Prefect of the Seine, the Prefect
of the Police, and the twelve mayors received the sovereigns.
Count Frochot, Prefect of the Seine, then pronounced the following
speech: "Sire, Your Majesty has at last interested himself in his own
happiness, and has succeeded in this as in all he undertakes. If never
in the world's annals did any sovereign's marriage have such grandeur,
never could love and glory better unite their interests or more happily
inspire Your Majesty. From the shouts of joy which have echoed beneath
the arches of the monument erected in honor of your triumphs, Your
Majesty may judge that the wishes of his good city of Paris, that all
the wishes of his people, are satisfied. And it is not in the vast
extent of your empire alone that this joy prevails; Sire, a whole
continent celebrates with equal delight the alliance made by the
greatest of its monarchs, and a hundred different nations bless in
unison these August bonds, secretly woven by Providence, these bonds,
so dear to our hearts, since they give us at once a pledge of Your
Majesty's happiness, and of the fairest hopes of the country."
Then turning to the Empress, the Prefect went on: "You, Madame, will
realize this double hope; and, seated on the first throne of the
universe, you will adorn it for the prince; you will thus make it dearer
to his subjects; you will ensure its durability for posterity. The mere
presence, Madame, of Your Majesty, reveals to every eye the precious
gifts of the Providence who called you to this throne. No longer, in
order to admire you, are we forced to content ourself with the report of
fame, and already are verified those words of your immortal spouse, that
loved first on his account, you will soon be loved for yourself. May it
be permitted, Madame, to apply these words to the city of Paris! May you
honor it at first with your good-will, and soon love for itself this
great part of the immense family of Frenchmen, which on this solemn day
proudly attaches itself to Your Majesty's destiny by all the ties of
its allegiance, its respect, and its love!"
The Empress replied that she loved the city of Paris because she knew
how attached were its inhabitants to the Emperor. Young girls, clad in
white, offered her baskets of flowers, which she accepted graciously,
and the procession moved on.
Then Marie Louise, after passing between a double line of picked troops
before an enthusiastic crowd, through the brilliant avenue of the Champs
Élysées, reaches the fatal Place at its further end. Could all the roar
of artillery, the peals of church bells, the music, so far distract the
young Empress as to make her forget that here for two years stood the
hideous guillotine, on which more than fifteen hundred people were
murdered? Could all the happy cheers drive from her thoughts that
beating of the drums which drowned the voice of Louis XVI. at the moment
when that descendant of Saint Louis essayed to speak a few last words
to his people? The place was full of horrid memories, haunted by gloomy
ghosts. But sixteen years before, cattle would not traverse it, repelled
by the smell of blood. The terraces of the Tuileries were crowded, and,
as the _Moniteur_ put it, the stone images of fame above the garden
gates seemed ready to fly away to proclaim the glories of that great
day. Well, sixteen years and a half before, the same terraces were quite
as densely crowded. Yes, a huge throng gathered in the cool, foggy
morning of October 16, 1793, to get a good view of the death of a woman
whose grand-niece this new Empress was in two ways: on the father's
side by her father, the son of Emperor Leopold II.; and again, on the
maternal side, through her mother, the daughter of Marie Caroline, Queen
of Naples. Yes, on the very spot over which the Imperial procession
passed with so much pomp, in front of the gateway of the Tuileries,
thirty metres from the middle of the Place, where stood the base on
which had been set first the equestrian statue of Louis XIV. and then
the statue of Liberty, there had been raised, sixteen and a half years
before, the scaffold of Marie Antoinette. Could that gorgeous state
carriage drive from her mind the memory of the martyred queen's tumbrel?
And when Marie Louise first saw the Tuileries, must she not have thought
of the last glance which that queen, her near relation, cast on that
fateful palace before she bowed her August and charming head upon the
block? All the flattery and homage of courtiers, the hymns of poets,
the marriage songs, the whole chorus of adulation, cannot drown the
inexorable lamentations of the voice of history!
XIV.
THE RELIGIOUS CEREMONY.
The procession reached the entrance of the Tuileries gardens, passed
beneath a triumphal arch, wound around the basin of water, by the side
of the flower-beds, which the crowd had respected, and drew near to
the palace walls. The central pavilion had been decorated with a large
orchestra, divided by a passage leading to the vestibule. In the middle
of the orchestra was an arch, on top of which was set a tribune in the
shape of a tent. On all the bas-reliefs the panels and other ornaments
were initials surrounded with flowers and various emblems and
allegories. The carriages passed under this arch; the Emperor and
Empress alighted in the vestibule and ascended the grand staircase.
Marie Louise entered the bedroom of the grand apartment by the great
door, which was thrown wide open. The maids-of-honor of France and
Italy, as well as the ladies of the bedchamber, were shown thither from
the throne-room through the dressing-room. They removed the Empress's
court cloak, and put on her the Imperial cloak. Meanwhile the procession
was forming again in the Gallery of Diana, and as soon as Their
Majesties had arrived, it started again, entered the long Gallery of the
Louvre, passing through its entire length, to the _Salon Carré_, which
had been turned into a chapel for the religious ceremony.
This magnificent gallery presented a fine appearance, divided, as it is,
into nine unequal compartments by arches rising from columns of rare
marble with gilded bases and capitals. It is the famous gallery in which
are gathered the finest pictures of the masters of every school. The
invited guests had been gathering there since ten o'clock. They ascended
thither by two staircases, one leading from the quay, the other from the
Place du Carrousel to the central pavilion. The Imperial party alone was
to enter by the door of the Pavilion of Flora. Two rows of benches had
been placed the whole length of the gallery for the ladies, and two rows
of men were to stand behind them, so that there was room for about eight
thousand persons without crowding. Bars had been placed in front of
the first line of benches to leave an unencumbered passage-way for the
Emperor and Empress. Thanks to the exertions of the officers of the
Imperial Guard, who discharged their duty with perfect courtesy, four
thousand women, in their most brilliant dresses, without trouble,
without confusion, and as many men, all chosen from the highest society,
took their places when the procession was to pass. They had to wait not
less than five hours, but the order was so good that every one could
easily leave and resume his place. The gallery was turned with a
magnificent promenade in which Paris was treated to a display of the
elegance and luxury of its leading men and most fashionable women.
Refreshments of various kinds were handed about while orchestras played
marches or pieces composed by Paër, the famous leader of the Emperor's
music. The waiting was thus a long entertainment. At three in the
afternoon the whole company was standing in place; the doors of the
Pavilion of Flora opened, and the heralds-at-arms appeared, followed
by the Imperial procession. The spectacle is thus described by the
_Moniteur_ with its accustomed enthusiasm:--
"The sound of the music was drowned in the roar of applause which rang
through all parts of the gallery. At times the applause ceased, when the
spectators silently regarded the Emperor and the Empress. This silence
was eloquent; it was a respectful homage that attested the solemn
thoughts which the spectacle evoked, and the deep impressions it made on
every soul; this keen emotion, this silent expression of an irresistible
feeling, gave way to heartfelt enthusiasm, to cries of joy, to
transports of delight. Their Majesties acknowledged this enthusiasm
most courteously as they passed through this long and brilliant gallery
leading to the chapel, which was a sort of nave of the temple where
their August union was to be consecrated anew."
The chapel was the _Salon Carré_, which lies between the
picture-gallery and the Apollo gallery. Two rows of seats had been
placed all around it. The altar, which was placed in front of the
picture-gallery had been adorned with a large bas-relief and many rich
ornaments. The six candelabra and the crucifix were masterpieces. Thirty
feet from the altar, on a platform, and beneath a canopy, were the two
armchairs and the prayer desks of the Emperor and the Empress. Near the
altar, on two chandeliers, had been placed the two candles designed for
offerings; in each one had been set twenty pieces of gold. The Cardinal,
Grand Almoner of France, assisted by the Grand Almoner of Italy, went
to receive the sovereigns at the door, and to offer them holy water and
incense. Their Majesties then took their places on the platform, the
Empress on the Emperor's left. The rest of the procession arranged
themselves in the following order: on the Emperor's right, below
the platform, Prince Louis Napoleon, King of Holland; Prince Jerome
Napoleon, King of Westphalia; Prince Borghese, Duke of Guastalla; Prince
Joachim Murat, King of Naples; Prince Eugene de Beauharnais, Viceroy of
Italy; the Hereditary Grand Duke of Baden; the Prince Arch-chancellor
Cambacérès; the Prince Archtreasurer Lebrun; the Prince Vice-Constable
Berthier; the Prince Vice-Grand Elector Talleyrand;--on the Empress's
left, below the platform, Napoleon's mother; Princess Julia, Queen of
Spain; Princess Hortense, Queen of Holland; Princess Catherine, Queen of
Westphalia; Princess Elisa, Grand Duchess of Tuscany; Princess Pauline,
Duchess of Guastalla; Princess Caroline, Queen of Naples; the Grand
Duke of Würzburg; the Princess Augusta, Vice-Queen of Italy; Princess
Stéphanie, Hereditary Grand Duchess of Baden. The Colonel commanding
the Guard on duty, the Grand Marshal, the High Chamberlain, the First
Equerry, the First Almoner of the Emperor, the high officers of Italy,
the French Maid-of-Honor, the Italian Maid-of-Honor, the Lady of the
Bedchamber, the Knight-of-Honor, the First Equerry and the First Almoner
of the Empress, stationed themselves behind Their Majesties' chairs.
On his way through the gallery Napoleon seemed perfectly radiant with
joy, but suddenly his face clouded. "Where are the cardinals?" he asked,
in a tone of annoyance, of his chaplain, the Abbé de Pradt; "I don't
see them." He saw them very well, but he noticed that they were not
all there. "A great many of them are here," timidly replied the Abbé;
"besides, many of them are old and feeble." "No, they are not there,"
the Emperor repeated, casting his eye on some empty benches. "Fools!
fools!" he said angrily, his face growing darker. It was true! The
thirteen cardinals who had declared that they would not come, had had
the singular audacity to keep their word. What! they had dared to
persist in a factious opposition which he, the Emperor, had defied them
to exhibit! They had dared to brave him, to offer him a public insult!
They were to receive one in their turn. They did not want to be present
at the marriage; very well, he would expel them in disgrace from his
court on the very next day!