former capital of Holland was merely the chief town of a French
department,--the department of the Zuyder Zee. The Dutch were suffering
a good deal from the Embargo, and sorely missed King Louis Bonaparte,
who had in vain tried to alleviate their sufferings. When they came
under the dominion of the Emperor, he had appointed Lebrun, Duke of
Piacenza, their governor general. Of him, Count Beugnot says in his
Memoirs, "He was doubtless a superior man, but he found it easier to
translate Homer and Tasso, and to treat with wonderful ease the most
difficult questions of political economy, than to console a Dutchman for
the loss of ten florins."
The discontent of the Dutch only strengthened Napoleon's desire to
please and win them. "It seemed at that time," M. Beugnot goes on, "as
if Heaven had given him every means of securing happiness. A son
had just been born to him, whose future the poets were justified in
foretelling in their own way. The child who inspired the Mantuan poet
with the idyl, or rather with the magnificent prophecy, _Sicelides
Musae_, etc., was but an humble creature by the side of this infant,
who to the most impressive pride of race added enormous, newly acquired
glory, such as the world had never seen." The happy Emperor fancied that
by showing himself with the mother of the King of Rome to the Dutch and
Germans, he should silence their complaints, wipe out their memories of
national independence, and arouse an enthusiasm that would make them
forget their sufferings and losses. Their welcome was of a sort to
confirm him in this belief. The peaceful populace of Amsterdam forgot
their usual phlegm, and cheered the mighty monarch and his young wife.
The Empress entered the city in a gilded carriage with glass sides, and
she was met by a guard of honor composed of young men belonging to the
first families of Holland. The Emperor followed on horseback,
surrounded by a brilliant staff. Their stay at Amsterdam was marked by
extraordinary pomp; the company of the Théâtre Français was brought
thither from Paris, and Talma appeared as Bayard and as Orosmane. The
court made a stay of a fortnight, the Emperor making short excursions to
Helder, one of his creations, to Texel, and to the dykes of Medemblik,
which protect the country against the Zuyder Zee.
General de Ségur, who went on the journey, thus describes it: "It might
naturally be supposed, that in going through Holland, after the last two
attempted assassinations, Napoleon would have taken precautions against
such frequent attacks; but, far from it, he was full of confidence, and
went about alone among these worst victims of the continental system,
mingling every day with the dense crowd that gathered about him. His
sole thought was to study their needs, their manners, and habits,
anxious to see for himself and trusting thoroughly in them. These
northern people hide warm hearts beneath a cold exterior; they are
impressed by greatness, and give it their confidence. Their feelings
are slow, but for that reason surer when once aroused. The Emperor's
enormous fame had preceded him; and the appearance among them of this
genius, all fire and flame, who had come, as he said, to adopt
them, warmed their phlegmatic nature. They were at once filled with
admiration; his presence, his trust in them, his consoling and
encouraging words, the good works at once begun by his active and able
administration, filled them with enthusiasm."
During the three days of the Emperor's absence Marie Louise visited the
neighborhood of Amsterdam. She went to the village of Broek, which lies
a league from the port, on the shores of a little basin surrounded with
flowers and grass, and is in communication with the Zuyder Zee by means
of a small canal. This village is famous as a perfect model of the
attractive luxury and the over-zealous neatness of the Dutch. It is of a
circular shape. The houses, of wood and one story high, are built around
and upon a lake, and are decorated outside with frescoes. Through the
window-glass, which is remarkably clear, it is easy to see the curtains
of Chinese figured silk or of Indian stuff. Within the houses are large
Gothic sideboards, full of costly Japanese porcelain. There are no signs
of use or of wear upon the furniture; every house looks as if it were
the house of the Sleeping Beauty. There are no barns, or stables, or
granaries, or kitchens. Everything connected with animals is banished
from this fairy-like enclosure. Posts at the ends of every street bar
the way against carriages. The pavement is in mosaic, and is covered
with a fine sand, on which are designs of flowers. The inhabitants carry
their sense of neatness so far that they compel every visitor to take
off his shoes and put on slippers on entering a house. One day, when the
Emperor Joseph II. happened to appear in a pair of boots before one of
these curious houses, he was told that he would have to take them off
before he could go in. "I am the Emperor," he said. "Well, if you were
the burgomaster of Amsterdam, you couldn't come in with boots on," was
the reply. Another time Hortense, then Queen of Holland, was not allowed
to enter one of the houses, and King Louis approved, because the Queen
had not sent word that she was coming.
When Marie Louise visited this famous village, the burgomaster, in view
of the importance of the occasion, consented to break the rigid rules
and to permit the Imperial carriage to drive over the mosaic pavement
to his house, where he presented his respects to the Empress. At this
house, as in every one in the village, there are two doors,--one for
daily use, the other opened only for baptisms, marriages, and funerals.
This door, which is called the fatal door, opens into a room which is
always kept shut except on these three occasions. "The Empress," says
M. de Bausset, "asked to have the fatal door opened. We crossed the
threshold with gratified vanity, in the presence of many inhabitants,
who feared to follow us, but who were almost tempted to admire the ease
and courage with which we went in and out. After visiting, admiring,
and praising everything, we left these worthy people delighted with the
touching graces and amiable kindness of their young sovereign."
The Emperor and Empress visited Saardam, where Peter the Great spent
ten months as a workman, to study shipbuilding. Napoleon fell into
meditation before the hut of the famous Czar, as he had done before the
tomb of Frederick the Great. "That is the noblest monument in Holland!"
he said; and in memory of Peter the Great he ordered Saardam to be made
a city.
Napoleon and Marie Louise also spent a few hours at Harlem, a
half-Gothic, half-Japanese town, celebrated by the passion of its
inhabitants for flowers, especially for tulips. October 26, they arrived
at Rotterdam, at Loo on the 27th, and spent the night of the 28th at The
Hague, whence they went to visit the banks of the Rhine. The Emperor
carried away with him a most favorable impression of the Dutch, whose
seriousness, morality, love of order, and industry had continually
struck him, so that he shared his brother Louis's partiality for a
nation as interesting in the present as in the past.
November 2, Napoleon and his wife reached Düsseldorf. This pretty town,
which is picturesquely placed at the junction of the Düssel with the
Rhine, was at that time the capital of the Grand Duchy of Berg, and had
been under the rule of Murat before he was appointed King of Naples; on
this visit the Emperor assigned it to the oldest son of Louis Bonaparte.
Count Beugnot was then ruling the principality, which contained less
than a million inhabitants. He it was who said in his curious and witty
Memoirs: "How easy it would have been to secure the allegiance of the
Germans, who are unable to withstand the attraction of military glory,
for whom an oath of allegiance is a mere nothing, and who felt for
France an affection which we cruelly drove out of them!... Germany,
which always admires the marvellous, long preserved its admiration for
the Emperor. At that time this was so general, that a breath would have
blown over the Prussian monarchy, which neither the armies nor the
memories of the great Frederick, together with the invincible legion of
the successor of Peter the Great, could defend."
At Düsseldorf, Napoleon, in accordance with his usual custom, received
all the authorities, civil and military, as well as representatives of
all sects. Among these last was an old white-bearded rabbi a hundred
years old, who was so anxious to see the Emperor that he had himself
carried to the reception. He entered, supported on one side by the
parish priest, on the other, by the Protestant clergyman. This union
of the three creeds in homage to their sovereign did not displease the
Emperor, strange as it was. Count Beugnot's Memoirs must be consulted
for a full account of the activity, the interest in details, the
minuteness of the administrative investigations which, at Düsseldorf as
everywhere else, characterized Napoleon in these laborious journeys, on
which, under pretext of seeking distraction, he kept himself in almost
as active movement as if he were at war. The Count who once played whist
at Düsseldorf with Marie Louise for his partner, against the Duchess
of Montebello and the Prince of Neufchâtel, says in speaking of the
occasion: "As often happens, the game was carelessly played; all watched
the cards only with their eyes, and gave their attention to what was
going forward about the table, to which the Emperor came every few
minutes to say a few pleasant words to the Empress or to joke with the
Prince of Neufchâtel and me. I was too busy, both during the dinner and
while we were playing, to make any study of the Empress's tastes or to
form from them a judgment about her character. The journey had been
long; she seemed tired and out of sorts. She answered the Emperor only
in monosyllables, and the other by a somewhat monotonous nod of the
head. I may be mistaken, but I am inclined to believe that Her Majesty
is not free from the awe which her August husband inspires in all who
approach him."
After resting for two days at Düsseldorf, Napoleon and Marie Louise
went on to Cologne, when they visited the Chapel of the Eleven Thousand
Virgins, and a grand _Te Deum_ was sung in the famous Cathedral, They
returned by Liège, Givet, Mézières, and Compiègne, reaching Saint Cloud
after an absence of nearly three months,--the longest visit that the
Emperor had made in the provinces of either the old or the new France.
Everywhere he had met with the expression of two distinct but somewhat
different sentiments: for the Empress, an affectionate respect; for
himself, the sort of violent sensation that a man who is a living wonder
always produces. XXIV.
NAPOLEON AT THE HEIGHT OF HIS POWER.
At the beginning of 1812 Napoleon had reached the height of his power.
Before we watch his decline, it may be well to consider him at the
summit of his fortune, in the fulness of his force, might, and glory. In
his career there were two distinctly marked periods,--the democratic and
the aristocratic. In the early days of the Empire the first one had not
yet come to an end. The coins of that time still bore the stamp, "French
Republic. Napoleon Emperor." He himself resembled Caesar rather than
Charlemagne: he granted no hereditary titles, and associated with but
few of the émigrés; he was still, in many ways, a man of the Revolution.
In 1812, on the other hand, he had given his authority a sort of feudal
character, and revived many points of resemblance with the Carlovingian
epoch. Charlemagne had become his model, his ideal. The saviour of the
Convention, the friend of the young Robespierre, was busily introducing
much of the imperial and military splendor of the Middle Ages. The
continental sovereigns treated him with so much consideration that he
regarded himself as their superior rather than as an equal. He
called them his brothers; but he thought that he was more than a
brother--something like the head of a family of kings. The Kings of
Bavaria, of Würtemberg, of Saxony, of Spain, of Naples, of Westphalia,
who all owed their crowns to him, were indeed his subordinates. As
the Princes of the Confederation of the Rhine, the vassals of their
protector, they despatched their contingents to him with as much zeal
and punctuality as if they had been plain prefects of the Empire.
The émigrés crowded the drawing-rooms of the Tuileries. One might have
thought one's self at Coblenz. Those men who belonged to the old régime
were especially appreciated. The one of his aides-de-camp who most
pleased the Emperor was perhaps the Count of Narbonne, knight of honor
of one of the daughters of Louis XV., Minister of War under Louis XVI.
The most rigid, the most precise etiquette prevailed in the Imperial
residences. The high dignitaries and marshals concealed their plebeian
names under pompous titles of princes and dukes. Madame de Mailly, the
widow of a marshal of the royal period, had been admitted to the rank
and privileges of the wives of the grand officers of the crown, and had
figured as a marshal's widow, at the reception of January 1, 1811. The
court of Versailles appeared to have revived.
Napoleon preferred to derive his power from divine right than from
the will of the nation. "He was much struck," Metternich says in his
Memoirs, "by the idea of ascribing the origin of supreme power to divine
choice. One day at Compiègne, soon after his marriage, he said to me, 'I
notice that when the Empress writes to her father, she addresses him as
His Holy Imperial Highness. Is that your usual way?' I told him he was
so addressed from the tradition of the old Germanic Empire, and because
he also wore the apostolic crown of Hungary. Napoleon then said with
some solemnity, 'It is a noble and excellent custom. Power derives from
God, and that is the only way it can be secure from human assault. Some
time or other I shall adopt the same title.'"
At about the same time, in conversation with M. Molé about the houses
building in Paris, on being asked when he intended to give his attention
to the Church of the Madeleine, the Emperor said, "Well, what is
expected of me?" M. Molé told him that he had heard that it was intended
for a Temple of Glory. "That's what people think, I know," said
Napoleon; "but I mean it for a memorial in expiation of the murder of
Louis XVI." He said to Metternich: "When I was young I favored the
Revolution out of ignorance and ambition. When I came to the age of
reason I followed its counsels and my own instinct, and crushed the
Revolution." At another time he said: "The French throne was empty.
Louis XVI. had not been able to hold it. If I had been in his place,
in spite of the immense progress it had made in men's minds during the
previous reigns, the Revolution would not have triumphed. When the King
fell, the Republic took its place; and I set that aside. The former
throne was buried under the ruins; I had to make a new one."
According to Prince Metternich, "One of Napoleon's keenest and most
persistent regrets was that he could not appeal to the principle of
legitimacy as the foundation of his power. Few men have felt like him
the fragility and precariousness of authority without this basis, and
its vulnerability to attacks." One day, in speaking to the Austrian
statesman about the letter he wrote when First Consul to Louis XVIII.,
he said: "His answer was dignified and rich in impressive traditions. In
Legitimists there is something which lies outside of their intelligence.
If he had consulted his intellect alone, he would have come to terms
with me, and I should have treated him most generously."
The Emperor had come to regard himself as the glorious personification
of divine right, and as the defender of all the monarchies. In his eyes
the King of Prussia was only a revolutionary monarch. If we may believe
Chateaubriand, "Frederick William's great crime, according to Bonaparte
the Republican, was this, that he abandoned the cause of the kings. The
negotiations of the Berlin court with the Directory indicated, Bonaparte
used to say, a timid, selfish, undignified policy, which sacrificed his
own position and the general monarchical interests to petty advantages.
When he used to look at the new Prussia on the map he would say, 'Is it
possible that I have left that man so much territory?'"
The philosophers aroused as much horror in Napoleon as the Jacobins.
In his eyes strong minds were weak minds; and though he persecuted the
Pope, he denounced with equal severity attacks on the throne and attacks
on the Church. He especially detested the Voltairian irony, regarding
it as both blasphemous and treasonable. To quote once more from Prince
Metternich: "He had a profound contempt for the false philosophy as well
as for the false philanthropy of the eighteenth century. Of all the
founders of the doctrine it was Voltaire who was his pet aversion, and
he carried his hate so far as to attack on every occasion his general
literary reputation."
Napoleon thought, spoke, and acted as if he had always been Emperor and
King. In the whole world there was no court so magnificent and brilliant
as his. Many kings were admitted to it only as French princes, high
dignitaries of the Empire: Joseph, King of Spain, was a Great Elector;
Murat, King of the Two Sicilies, Lord High Admiral; Louis Bonaparte,
deprived of the throne of Holland, figures in the Imperial Almanac of
1812 in his capacity of Constable. The other high dignitaries at this
epoch were Cambacérès, Duke of Parma, Lord High Chancellor of the
Empire; Lebrun, Duke of Piacenza, Lord High Treasurer, Governor General
of the Departments of Holland; Prince Eugene de Beauharnais, Viceroy of
Italy, Lord High Chancellor of State; Prince Borghese, Governor General
of the Departments beyond the Alps; Marshal Berthier, Prince of
Neufchâtel and of Wagram, Vice Constable; Talleyrand, Prince of
Benevento, Vice Great Elector. At the head of his military household,
the Emperor had four colonel-generals of the Imperial Guard, all four
marshals of France, Davoust, Duke of Auerstadt and Prince of Eckmühl;
Soult, Duke of Dalmatia; Bessières, Duke of Istria; Mortier, Duke of
Treviso. Moreover, there were ten aides-de-camp, nine of whom were
generals of divisions, and thirteen orderly officers. For Grand Almoner
he had Cardinal Fesch, Archbishop of Lyons, aided by four ordinary
almoners, two archbishops, and two bishops; for Grand Marshal of the
Palace, Duroc, Duke of Frioul; for High Chamberlain, the Count of
Montesquiou Fezensac; for First Equerry, General de Caulaincourt, Duke
of Vicenza; for Chief Huntsman, Marshal Berthier, Prince of Neufchâtel
and of Wagram; for Grand Master of Ceremonies, the Count of Ségur,
formerly the Ambassador of Louis XVI. to the great Catherine of Russia.
The Emperor had no fewer than ninety chamberlains, among whom figured
these among other great names of the old régime: an Aubusson de la
Teuillade, a Galard de Béarn, a Marmier, a d'Alsace, a Turenne, a
Noailles, a Brancas, a Gontaut, a Gramont, a Beauvau, a Sapicha, a
Radziwill, a Potocki, a Choiseul-Praslin, a Nicolay, a Chabot, a La
Vieuville. This aristocratic court knew no lack of amusements. The
winter of 1811-12 was one long succession of pleasures. "It was in the
whirl of these entertainments and festivities of all sorts," says Madame
Durand, first lady-in-waiting to the Empress, "that Napoleon formed
his plan for the conquest of Russia. The spoiled child of fortune,
intoxicated with flattery, never dreaming of the possibility of defeat,
seemed to be calculating his victories in advance, and to regard
pleasures as the preparations for war. Not a day passed without a play,
a concert, or a masked ball at court." The theatrical representations
on the Tuileries' stage were most impressive. The Emperor and Empress
occupied a box opposite the stage. The princes and princesses sat on
each side of them or behind; on the right was the box of the foreign
ambassadors; on the left, that of the French Ministers. A large gallery
was reserved for the ladies of the court, who all dressed magnificently
and wore sparkling jewels. A number of distinguished men filled the pit,
all in court dress, with small-sword, and ribbons and orders. During
the entr'actes the Emperor's liveried footmen carried about ices and
refreshments of various kinds. The hall was most brilliantly lit. The
balls in the great rooms of the first floor, and the dinners in the
Diana Gallery, were equally sumptuous. The Emperor, however, especially
delighted in the masked balls, when, changing his Imperial robes for a
simple domino, he whose police system was so perfect, who knew and
saw everything, used to baffle the women, and tease or surprise their
husbands and lovers.
Everywhere Napoleon used to make himself feared, at a ball as well as in
a meeting of his Ministers. At an entertainment he won as much glory as
on the battle-field. Even those who hated him had to admire him, for he
had a most wonderful power of astounding and fascinating every one.
His aide, General de Narbonne, had an old mother, who maintained her
allegiance to the old royalty. "See here, my dear Narbonne," the Emperor
said one day, "it's a bad thing for me that you see your mother so
often. I understand that she doesn't like me." "True," replied the
crafty courtier, "she hasn't got beyond admiration." This same Count de
Narbonne had been off to preside at an electoral meeting in a department
some distance from Paris. "What do they say about me in the different
departments you have been through?" asked the Emperor. "Sire," replied
M. de Narbonne, "some say you are a god, and others say you are a devil;
but all agree that you are something more than a human being."
A witty observer, who was inclined to witticism rather than to
enthusiasm, said of the Napoleon of 1811: "His genius controlled every
one's thoughts. I believed that he was born to rule Fortune, and it
seemed to be natural enough that people should prostrate themselves
before his feet; that became, in my eyes, the normal way of the world."
Count Beugnot, who was at that time ruling the Grand Duchy of Berg,
adds: "I worked all night with extraordinary zeal, and thereby surprised
the inhabitants, who did not know that the Emperor performed for all
his officers, at whatever distance they might be, the miracle of real
presence. I imagined that I saw him before me, when I was working alone
in my room, and this impression, which sometimes inspired me with
ideas far beyond my powers, more often preserved me from lapses due to
negligence or carelessness. An ancient writer has said that it was of
great service for a man's conduct of life, if he could feel himself in
the presence of a superior being; and I am inclined to believe, that
the Emperor was generally so well served, because, whether through the
precautions he took, or through the influence of his name, which was
uttered everywhere and all the time, every one of his servants saw him
continually at his side."
If Napoleon produced such an effect even at a distance, what an
impression he must have made on those who were near him! Count Miot de
Mélito thus describes an Imperial reception in 1811: "Never had the
Tuileries displayed more pomp and magnificence. Never had a greater
number of princes, ambassadors, distinguished foreigners, generals,
splendid in gold, and purple, and jewels, ablaze with orders and ribbons
of every color, offered more obsequious homage or sought with more
eagerness at Versailles for the favor of a word or of a glance. The
Emperor alone seemed free and unconstrained. With an assured step he
passed through the throng of courtiers, who respectfully made way before
him. With a look he transported with rapture or crushed those who
approached him; and if he deigned to speak to any one, the happy mortal
thus honored stood with bowed head and attentive ear, scarcely daring to
breathe or to reply."
Napoleon had then given France so much glory that the loss of liberty
was hardly perceived.