Measures were taken, as on former occasions, to preserve appearances, by
obtaining, in show at least, the opinion of the people, on this radical
change of their system. Government, however, were already confident of
their approbation, which, indeed, had never been refused to any of the
various constitutions, however inconsistent, that had succeeded each
other with such rapidity. Secure on this point, Bonaparte's accession to
the empire was proclaimed with the greatest pomp, without waiting to
inquire whether the people approved of his promotion or otherwise. The
proclamation was coldly received, even by the populace, and excited
little enthusiasm. It seemed, according to some writers, as if the
shades of D'Enghien and Pichegru had been present invisibly, and spread
a damp over the ceremony. The Emperor was recognised by the soldiery
with more warmth. He visited the encampments at Boulogne, with the
intention, apparently, of receiving such an acknowledgment from the
troops as was paid by the ancient Franks to their monarchs, when they
elevated them on their bucklers. Seated on an iron chair, said to have
belonged to king Dagobert, he took his place between two immense camps,
and having before him the Channel and the hostile coasts of England. The
weather, we have been assured, had been tempestuous, but no sooner had
the Emperor assumed his seat, to receive the homage of his shouting
host, than the sky cleared, and the wind dropt, retaining just breath
sufficient gently to wave the banners. Even the elements seemed to
acknowledge the imperial dignity, all save the sea, which rolled as
carelessly to the feet of Napoleon as it had formerly done towards those
of Canute the Dane.
The Emperor, accompanied with his Empress, who bore her honours both
gracefully and meekly, visited Aix-la-Chapelle, and the frontiers of
Germany. They received the congratulations of all the powers of Europe,
excepting England, Russia, and Sweden, upon their new exaltation; and
the German princes, who had everything to hope and fear from so powerful
a neighbour, hastened to pay their compliments to Napoleon in person,
which more distant sovereigns offered by their ambassadors.
But the most splendid and public recognition of his new rank was yet to
be made, by the formal act of coronation, which, therefore, Napoleon
determined should take place with circumstances of solemnity, which had
been beyond the reach of any temporal prince, however powerful, for
many ages. His policy was often marked by a wish to revive, imitate, and
connect his own titles and interest with, some ancient observance of
former days; as if the novelty of his claims could have been rendered
more venerable by investing them with antiquated forms, or as men of low
birth, when raised to wealth and rank, are sometimes desirous to conceal
the obscurity of their origin under the blaze of heraldic honours. Pope
Leo, he remembered, had placed a golden crown on the head of
Charlemagne, and proclaimed him Emperor of the Romans. Pius VII. he
determined should do the same for a successor to much more than the
actual power of Charlemagne. But though Charlemagne had repaired to Rome
to receive inauguration from the hands of the Pontiff of that day,
Napoleon resolved that he who now owned the proud, and in Protestant
eyes profane, title of Vicar of Christ, should travel to France to
perform the coronation of the successful chief, by whom the See of Rome
had been more than once humbled, pillaged, and impoverished, but by whom
also her power had been re-erected and restored, not only in Italy, but
in France itself.
Humiliating as the compliance with Bonaparte's request must have seemed
to the more devoted Catholics, Pius VII. had already sacrificed, to
obtain the Concordat, so much of the power and privileges of the Roman
See, that he could hardly have been justified if he had run the risk of
losing the advantages of a treaty so dearly purchased, by declining to
incur some personal trouble, or, it might be termed, some direct
self-abasement. The Pope, and the Cardinals whom he consulted, implored
the illumination of heaven upon their councils; but it was the stern
voice of necessity which assured them, that, except at the risk of
dividing the Church by a schism, they could not refuse to comply with
Bonaparte's requisition. The Pope left Rome on the 5th of November. He
was everywhere received on the road with the highest respect, and most
profound veneration; the Alpine precipices themselves had been secured
by parapets wherever they could expose the venerable Father of the
Catholic Church to danger, or even apprehension. Upon the 25th of
November, he met Bonaparte at Fontainbleau; and the conduct of the
Emperor Napoleon was as studiously respectful towards him, as that of
Charlemagne, whom he was pleased to call his predecessor, could have
been towards Leo.
On the 2nd of December, the ceremony of the coronation took place in
the ancient cathedral of Notre Dame, with the addition of every ceremony
which could be devised to add to its solemnity. Yet we have been told
that the multitude did not participate in the ceremonial with that
eagerness which characterises the inhabitants of all capitals, but
especially those of Paris, upon similar occasions. They had, within a
very few years, seen so many exhibitions, processions, and festivals,
established on the most discordant principles, which, though announced
as permanent and unchangeable, had successively given way to newer
doctrines, that they considered the splendid representation before them
as an unsubstantial pageant, which would fade away in its turn.
Bonaparte himself seemed absent and gloomy, till recalled to a sense of
his grandeur by the voice of the numerous deputies and functionaries
sent up from all the several departments of France, to witness the
coronation. These functionaries had been selected with due attention to
their political opinions; and many of them holding offices under the
government, or expecting benefits from the Emperor, made up, by the
zealous vivacity of their acclamations, for the coldness of the good
citizens of Paris.
The Emperor took his coronation oath, as usual on such occasions, with
his hands up on the scripture, and in the form in which it was repeated
to him by the Pope. But in the act of coronation itself, there was a
marked deviation from the universal custom, characteristic of the man,
the age, and the conjuncture. In all other similar solemnities, the
crown had been placed on the sovereign's head by the presiding spiritual
person, as representing the Deity, by whom princes rule. But not even
from the head of the Catholic Church would Bonaparte consent to receive
as a boon the golden symbol of sovereignty, which he was sensible he
owed solely to his own unparalleled train of military and civil
successes. The crown having been blessed by the Pope, Napoleon took it
from the altar with his own hands, and placed it on his brows. He then
put the diadem on the head of his Empress, as if determined to show that
his authority was the child of his own actions. _Te Deum_ was sung; the
heralds, (for they also had again come into fashion,) proclaimed, "that
the thrice glorious and thrice august Napoleon, Emperor of the French,
was crowned and installed." Thus concluded this remarkable ceremony.
Those who remember having beheld it, must now doubt whether they were
waking, or whether fancy had framed a vision so dazzling in its
appearance, so extraordinary in its origin and progress, and so
ephemeral in its endurance.
The very day before the ceremony of coronation, (that is, on the 1st of
December,) the senate had waited upon the Emperor with the result of the
votes collected in the departments, which, till that time, had been
taken for granted. Upwards of three millions five hundred thousand
citizens had given their votes on this occasion; of whom only about
three thousand five hundred had declared against the proposition. The
vice-president, Neufchateau, declared, "this report was the unbiassed
expression of the people's choice. No government could plead a title
more authentic."
Sir Walter occupies his sixth volume with details of the celebrated
battles that were fought between the French and English armies in the
Spanish territories, and which are told with great truth and develope
the extraordinary powers of this celebrated writer. The divorce of
Josephine, and marriage of Maria Louisa, commence the succeeding volume.
The sterility of Bonaparte's wife was now an irremediable evil; and
political motives were to supersede the ties of endearment, affection,
talents, and virtue. Fouché the minister of police, made Josephine the
means of suggesting to Napoleon, the measure of her own divorce, and
subsequently Napoleon made Josephine acquainted with the cruel
certainty, that the separation was ultimately determined upon.