The French Ambassador wrote to the Duke of Cadore: "The marriage of His Majesty the Emperor with the Archduchess Marie Louise was celebrated with a magnificence that it would be hard to surpass, by the side of which even the brilliant festivities that have preceded it are not to be mentioned. The vast multitude of spectators, who had gathered from all quarters of the realm and from foreign parts, so packed the church, and the halls and passage-ways of the Palace, that the Emperor and Empress of Austria were often crowded. The really prodigious display of pearls and diamonds; the richness of the dresses and the uniforms; the numberless lights that illuminated the whole Palace; the joy of the participants, gave to the ceremony a splendor worthy of this grand and majestic solemnity. The richest noblemen of the country made a most brilliant display, and seemed to rival even with the Emperor. The ladies who accompanied the two Empresses, who were for the most part Princesses and women of the highest rank, seemed borne down by the weight of the diamonds and pearls they wore. But all eyes were fixed on the principal person of the solemnity, on this adored Princess who soon will make the happiness of our Sovereign."

When the procession had re-entered the Palace, the Imperial family and the court assembled in the room called the Room of the Mirror. The Emperor of Austria and the two Empresses received the congratulations of all the nobility. By the side of Marie Louise stood the grand mistress of the household and twelve ladies-in-waiting. "Her modesty," Count Otto continues in the same report, "the nobility of her bearing, the ease with which she replied to the speeches addressed to her, enchanted every one.... I was the first to be introduced to her. She answered my congratulations by saying that she would spare no pains to please His Majesty the Emperor Napoleon and to contribute to the happiness of the French nation which had now become her own. Her Majesty then received all the noblemen of the court, and spoke to them with an affability that delighted them. When the reception was over, I was presented to the Emperor, who spoke to me most amiably and most cordially. He told me that, in spite of his delicate health, he was unwilling to lose any opportunity of testifying his high esteem of my master, the Emperor. 'He will always find in me,' he went on, 'the loyalty and zeal which you must have noticed in this last negotiation. I give to your Emperor my beloved daughter. She deserves to be happy. You see joy on every face. We have neglected nothing to show our satisfaction with this alliance. Our nations require rest; they applaud what we have done. I am sure that the best intelligence will reign between us, and that our union will become only closer.' All these gratifying things that the Emperor said to me were made even more marked by the voice and the smile which accompanied them. This monarch, in fact, has a charm of manner which accounts for his great popularity. During and after the ceremony, the Empress held her stepdaughter by her right hand, leading her in this way in the church and through the halls and rooms. The large crowd of spectators, which almost blocked the inside of the Palace and all the approaches, seemed to belong to the Imperial family, so great was its emotion on seeing the new Empress pass by. All the Frenchmen who were near me confessed that they had never seen a grander or more touching sight. The court has had a large number of medals struck off in memory of this event. Many hundred of these have been sent to the Prince of Neufchtel, who, to the last, has been treated with the most marked consideration."

After the wedding and the reception a grand state dinner was given at the Palace. A splendid table was set upon a platform covered with costly carpets, over which there was a canopy in the shape of a horseshoe. The Grand Master of the Court announced to their Majesties that the dinner was served. Carvers and pages brought in the meats. After the lavabo the Archbishop asked the blessing, and the Imperial family took their places in the following order; in the middle, the Empress of the French; on her right, the Emperor of Austria; on her left, the Empress; on the two sides the Archdukes Charles, Joseph, Antoine, John, Reinhardt, Louis, Rudolph, the Prince of Neufchtel, the Ambassador Extraordinary. The Grand Master of the Court sat on the right, behind the Emperor's chair; near him were the Captain of the Yeomen, and on the left the Captain of the Noble Hungarian Guard. The ministers of state and the representatives of foreign courts sat on the right, and the two grand mistresses of the court on the left below the platform. The rest were opposite the table, next to the body-guard. The Emperor's children had a place assigned to them in the gallery from which they could look down on the feast. A concert, vocal and instrumental, accompanied the dinner. At the end the officiating bishop said grace in a low voice.

There was much comment on the presence of the Prince of Neufchtel at the Imperial table, where he sat from the beginning to the end of the dinner. This was a modification of the ceremonial of the Viennese court, which admitted Ambassadors to the monarch's table only on very rare occasions, as at the marriage of an Archduchess; but even in this case, required that they should leave the table when the dessert was served, to move about among the noblemen admitted to the banquet-hall. It was recalled that at the marriage of the French Dauphin to the Archduchess Marie Antoinette, the Marquis of Durfort, the Ambassador of Louis XV., was not invited to the dinner in order to avoid the question of precedence between him and Duke Albert of Saxe-Teschen, who was present at the banquet. This same Duke, as well as the brothers of the young Empress of the French, did not attend the state dinner of March 11, 1810; and the reason given was the desire to show a particular honor to Napoleon's Ambassador Extraordinary.

The same day, the Archduke Charles who had just represented the French Emperor at the wedding, wrote to him this letter:—

"March 11, 1810. SIRE: The functions which Your Imperial Majesty has been kind enough to impose on me have been infinitely agreeable. Flattered at being chosen to represent a sovereign who, by his exploits, will live eternally in the annals of history, and convinced of the mutual happiness which must ensue from the union of Your Imperial Majesty with a Princess endowed with so many qualities as my dear niece, I have felt happy at being called on to cement this bond. I beg Your Imperial Majesty to receive the most earnest assurances of this feeling, as well as of the profound consideration with which I shall never cease to be, sire, Your Majesty's very humble and very obedient servant and cousin, CHARLES."

That evening there were free performances at every theatre. The Emperor and Empress drove through the city with the bride, who had that day sent one gold napoleon to every wounded Frenchman, and five napoleons to every one who had lost a limb. The same thing had been done for the wounded German allies of France in the last war. This exhibition of generosity produced the most favorable impression, and much gratitude was felt towards the new Empress, who in the hours of her triumph had thought of the suffering soldiers. She was everywhere cheered. The city and suburbs were rivals in the brilliancy of the illuminations. In front of the Chancellor's office, where the Prince of Neufchtel was staying, were shown the initials of Napoleon and Marie Louise amid a circle of lights. On one window was this motto, Ex unione pax, opes, tranquillitas populorum, "This union brings to the people peace, wealth, tranquillity." The dwelling of the Superintendent of Public Buildings represented a temple with this illuminated inscription, Vota publica fausto hymeneo, "The wishes of the public for the happy marriage."

The famous engineer Melzel had devised an ingenious decoration. Above an excellent portrait of the new Empress there appeared a rainbow; on one side, his happiest invention, an automaton, which the Viennese called the War Trumpet. But a Genius was silencing it by pointing to this motto, Tace, mundus concors, "Silence, the world is at peace."

To be sure there were a few satires, and some insulting placards posted secretly, but the police took pains to remove them. Unfortunately the weather was unfavorable, and scarcely one light out of ten held out to burn. Was not this a token of the enthusiasm of the Viennese for Napoleon, an enthusiasm which had succeeded hatred as if by magic, and which, after flaring up so speedily, was soon to expire? VIII.

THE DEPARTURE.

Marie Louise was to pass but one day more in Vienna. The ceremony had taken place March 11, 1810, and on the 13th the new Empress of the French was to leave the Austrian capital to join her husband in France. After all these festivities and great excitement, the 12th was devoted to peace and quiet. The Emperor Francis profited by it to write to Napoleon the following letter:—

"March 12, 1810. MY BROTHER AND MY DEAR SON-IN-LAW: I appoint my Chamberlain, the Count of Clary, the bearer of this letter to Your Imperial Majesty. The great bond which forever unites our two thrones was completed yesterday. I wish to be the first to congratulate Your Majesty on an event which it has deserved, and which my wishes in harmony with your own, my brother, have crowned, for I regard it as the most precious as well as the surest pledge of our common happiness, and consequently of that of our subjects. If the sacrifice I make is very great, if my heart is bleeding at the loss of this beloved daughter, the thought, and, I do not hesitate to say, the firmest conviction of her happiness, is alone able to console me. Count Metternich, who in a few days will follow Count Clary, will be commissioned to express by word of mouth to Your Imperial Majesty the attachment which I consecrated to the monarch who yesterday became one of the members of my family. Now I confine myself to begging him to receive the assurances of my esteem and unalterable friendship. Your Imperial and Royal Majesty's affectionate brother and father-in-law,

"Francis."

March 12, the Marshal Berthier, Prince of Neufchtel, left Vienna for Braunan, on the Austrian and Bavarian frontier. There he was to join the Empress of the French, who was to be conducted thither by the Austrian escort and then be entrusted to the French escort with which she was to continue her journey. "Before the Prince of Neufchtel left," wrote Count Otto, March 10, "a great many Archdukes called on him, including even the high officers of the crown. His Highness started at two o'clock, amid the acclamations of a large multitude. No embassy has ever been more warmly received or filled with more dignity and nobility. The Prince left sixty thousand francs to be divided among the household where he had stayed. He was most discreet in everything that he did, and in spite of the various honors heaped upon him, I do not think that there is a single person at the court whose pride has been wounded." As the moment drew near when the young Empress was to leave her beloved family and country, to plunge into the unknown future that was awaiting her, various emotions crowded upon her. At heart a German and an Austrian, she could not accustom herself to the thought that probably she would never see again her revered and beloved father; the family who adored her; the good people of Vienna, who had always shown the kindest interest in her; the Burg and Schoenbrunn, where had been spent so many happy years of her infancy; the dear Church of the Augustins, where she had so often earnestly offered up her prayers. Could all the praise of Napoleon which she had been hearing for the last few days wipe out the memory of the abuse she had so often heard? She had been promised wealth, grandeur, power; but do those constitute happiness?

The 13th of March came; the hour of her departure struck. That same day the French Ambassador wrote: "Her Majesty the Empress of the French left this morning with a large suite. On leaving her loved family and the land she will never see again, she for the first time felt all the anguish of the cruel separation. At eight o'clock in the morning the whole court was assembled in the reception-rooms. About nine, the Austrian Empress appeared, again leading her step-daughter by her right hand. She tried to speak to me, but her voice was choked by sobs. The young Empress was accompanied to her carriage by her step-mother and the Archdukes, and there they kissed her for the last time. Here the affectionate mother broke down, and she was supported to her own room by two chamberlains. The young Empress burst into tears, and her distress moved even foreigners who witnessed it."

The procession started in the following order: a division of cuirassiers, a squadron of mounted militia, three postilions, the Prince of Paar, Director of the Posts, in a carriage with six horses; following came four carriages, each with six horses, containing Count Edelinck, Grand Master of the Court, and the chamberlains; Counts Eugene of Hangevitz; Domenic of Urbua; Joseph Metternich, Landgrave of Frstenberg; Counts Ernest of Hoyes and Felix of Mier; Count Haddick, Field-Marshal; the Count of Wurmbrand; Count Francis Zichy; Prince Zinzendorf; Prince Paul Esterhazy; Count Antony Bathiani; then the Prince of Trautmannsdorf, First Grand Master of the Court, and Quartermaster, in a carriage with six horses; then, in one with eight horses, the Empress of the French, having with her the Countess of Lazansky, grand mistress of her household; finally, in three carriages with six horses each, her ladies-in-waiting,—the Princess of Trautmannsdorf, Countesses O'Donnell, of Sauran, d'Appony, of Blumeyers, of Traun, of Podstalzky, of Kaunitz, of Hunyady, of Chotek, of Palfy, of Zichy. A detachment of cavalry brought up the rear. The procession passed slowly through Saint Michael's Place, the Kohlmarkt, the Graben, Krthnerstrasse, the Glacis, and the Mariahlfestrasse. The troops and national guard lined both sides of the way.

"The Empress," wrote Count Otto, in his despatch of March 13, "passed through the main streets of the city and the suburbs, amid the ringing of bells and the roar of cannon, followed by an immense concourse of persons who uttered affectionate wishes and farewells. The inhabitants had decorated their houses and even the palace gate with tricolored flags. The regimental bands played French marches for the first time. A general salvo from the ramparts finally announced that the Empress had crossed the bridge. Her Majesty will be received with the same honors in all the Austrian cities she passes through. The procession, which consists of eighty-three carriages, will probably be delayed by the bad roads, and the rain which fell heavily last night."

The Ambassador thus concluded his despatch: "The tumultuous joy which has prevailed in Vienna during this last week, which has gratified Her Majesty as much as any one, has been dimmed for a moment by a feeling which does honor to the kindness of her heart, and can only endear her the more to us. She has a great affection for her parents, and this feeling they return. She has been called Louise the Pious, and it has been said to be only right that she should share the throne of Saint Louis. The Emperor started an hour before Her Majesty for Linz, where he will embrace his beloved daughter for the last time. During these last few days it has been very obvious that his feelings as a father have had more weight with him than his position as a sovereign. This monarch's amiable disposition has appeared in the most favorable light on this occasion, and everything promises the happiest results from this alliance."

On leaving Vienna, Marie Louise doubtless thought that she would never see it again; but she was to return to it very soon and in very different circumstances. In four years the Viennese were to see her again, but how changed the condition of things! Events cruelly disappointed the hopes of peace and happiness evoked by her marriage. It was a bitter deception. The hatred of the Austrians for Napoleon, whom in 1810 they had so much admired, became once more as intense as in the days of Austerlitz and Wagram. They ceased to greet Marie Louise with applause; they simply pitied her. Her father himself ceased to regard her as a sovereign. "As my daughter," he said to her, "everything that I possess is yours, my blood and my life; I do not know you as a sovereign." The time seemed very remote when she had precedence of the Empress of Austria, and her father, the head of the house of Hapsburg, respectfully gave her place at his right hand. After losing the double Imperial and Royal crown, that of France and that of Italy, she was obliged to beg of the implacable Coalition a petty duchy, the possession of which had been promised her by a treaty signed after the fall of the great Empire. There were again festivities in Vienna, but not for her, the dethroned sovereign. Once she was curious to see one, and she watched it hiding behind a curtain. On the evening of a court ball given by her father in honor of the members of the Congress of Vienna, she concealed herself near an opening made in the attic of the great hall of the palace,—where the festivities of her wedding had been celebrated,—and from there the wife of the prisoner of Elba watched the men dancing who were condemning her to widowhood even in the lifetime of her husband.



IX.

THE TRANSFER.

Marie Louise's journey was one long ovation; in every town and in every village she passed through the young Empress received the homage of the authorities. Groups of girls, dressed in white, offered her flowers; bells were rung; and the enthusiasm of the country people was quite as warm as that of the Viennese. Marie Louise spent the night at Saint Plten, where she met her father, who had gone thither incognito, in order to embrace her for the last time. The Empress, the bride's stepmother, went there also unexpectedly, and threw herself for the last time into the arms of the Empress of the French. Ried she reached the 15th of March, 1810, and thence Marie Louise started on the 16th, at eight in the morning, after hearing mass. By eleven she had reached Altheim, close to the Bavarian frontier, and here she made a stop for the purpose of exchanging her travelling-dress for a finer one. Bavaria, as part of the Confederation of the Rhine, could be regarded as a province of the French Emperor, since Napoleon was the Protector of the Confederation. It had hence been decided that on the frontier, between Austria and Bavaria, close to Braunau, should take place the ceremony of handing her over to her French escort with all formality. The scene was a close imitation of what had taken place forty years before, on the occasion of the marriage of Marie Antoinette. On the frontier line between Austria and Bavaria three pavilions were set up, opening from one to the other: the first of these was regarded as Austrian; the second, as neutral; and the third, as French. These three connected buildings formed a wooden edifice in three compartments, and was placed between Altheim and Braunau. It was furnished with care, and provided with fireplaces. The central pavilion, or hall, which was destined for the ceremony, was adorned with a canopy, beneath which, on a platform, there was an armchair for the Empress, covered with a cloth of gold. To the left of the canopy, on the Bavarian side, towards Braunau, was set a large table with a velvet cloth, on which the plenipotentiaries were to write their signatures. Two lines of young green trees had been set out, one leading to the French hall, the other to the Austrian. On the side of the first, towards Braunau, were drawn three regiments, in full uniform, two of infantry and one of cavalry, under the command of Generals Friant and Pajol. On the other, the Austrian, side, towards Altheim, there were neither troops nor sentinels, in token of the temporary neutrality of the territory. The French Commissioner was Marshal Berthier, the Prince of Neufchtel, and his secretary, Count Alexandre de La Borde. The Austrian Commissioner was the Prince of Trautmannsdorf: M. Thedelitz was his secretary. The French party, which was to meet Marshal Berthier at Braunau, and to serve as an escort to the Empress for the rest of the journey, was composed of the following people: Caroline, Queen of Naples, Murat's wife and Napoleon's sister; the Duchess of Montebello, lady of honor, the widow of Marshal Lannes; the Countess of Luay, lady of the bed-chamber; the Duchess of Bassano, the Countesses of Montmorency, of Mortemart, and of Bouill, maids of honor; the Bishop of Metz, Monsignor Jauffret, almoner; the Count of Beauharnais, lord-in-waiting; the Prince Aldobrandini Borghese, chief equerry; the Counts d'Aubusson, of Barn, d'Angosse, and of Barol, chamberlains; Philip de Sgur, lord steward; the Baron of Saluces and the Baron d'Audenarde, equerries; the Count of Seyssel, master of ceremonies; M. de Bausset, steward.

March 16, at half-past one, the Prince of Neufchtel, with the rest of his company, made their way to the French division of the building; they were all, men and women, in full dress. Towards two o'clock Marie Louise entered the Austrian room, and after resting a moment she was ushered into the middle room, the neutral one, by the Austrian master of ceremonies; there a throne had been set, and the formal ceremony was to take place. Marie Louise seated herself on the throne. The Prince of Trautmannsdorf took his station before the table where the papers were to be signed, with the Aulic Counsellor, Hudelitz, the secretary, behind him. The men and women of the Austrian party ranged themselves around the Empress. At the back and on the two sides of the hall were twelve Noble Hungarian Guards and twelve German guardsmen, armed and in full uniform.

While the Austrians were thus getting ready, the French were waiting in the next room, and displayed great impatience to get a sight of their new sovereign. M. de Bausset, an eye-witness of the ceremony, tells us in his Memoirs: "I was naturally anxious to see the Empress as soon as she should reach the middle room to take a place on the throne, and give her courtiers time to arrange themselves about her, before we were introduced. I had brought a gimlet, and with this I had bored a good many holes in the door of our room. This little indiscretion, which was not mentioned in our report, gave us an opportunity to inspect the appearance of our young sovereign at our ease. I need not say that it was the ladies of our party who were most anxious to make use of the little holes I had provided. The impression produced by the grace and majesty of the Empress upon these inquisitive peepers was very favorable. Marie Louise," M. de Bausset goes on, "sat straight on the throne. Her erect figure was fine; her hair was blond and very pretty; her blue eyes beamed with all the candor and innocence of her soul. Her face was soft and kindly. She wore a dress of gold brocade, caught up with large flowers of different colors, which must have tired her by its weight. Hanging from her neck was a portrait of Napoleon surrounded by sixteen magnificent solitaire diamonds, which together had cost five hundred thousand francs."

Baron von Lohr, the Austrian master of ceremonies, having knocked at the door of the next room, where were the Prince of Neufchtel and the Empress's French court, announced to the Count of Seyssel, the French master of ceremonies, that the ceremony might begin; thereupon the Prince of Neufchtel entered the neutral room, followed by Count de Laborde, his secretary for this occasion. After them entered the Duchess of Montebello, the Count of Beauharnais, and the rest of the French party, who stationed themselves at the end of the hall opposite the Austrians. The two commissioners, the Prince of Neufchtel and the Prince of Trautmannsdorf, after an exchange of compliments, signed and sealed the two documents, each retaining one of the copies. Then the Prince of Trautmannsdorf approached the Empress, bowing, and asked permission to kiss her hand in bidding her farewell. This permission was readily granted to him, and to all the ladies and gentlemen who had accompanied her from Vienna.

While the French and Austrian secretaries were counting the dowry—five hundred thousand francs in new golden ducats—and verifying the Empress's jewels and precious stones, the French commissioners giving a receipt for the dowry and jewels as enumerated in an inventory attached to the document, the Austrian party drew up before the throne of Marie Louise, and each one, according to his or her rank, went up and kissed her hand with deep emotion. Even the humblest servants were admitted to present their respects and best wishes. "Her Majesty's eyes were filled with tears," M. de Bausset tells us, "and this emotion touched every heart."

When they had all regained their places, Prince Trautmannsdorf offered his hand to the Empress, to help her down from the platform and to lead her to the Prince of Neufchtel, who took her by the hand and led her towards the French courtiers. He named them all to the Empress; then the door of the French room was opened, and the Queen of Naples, who had been standing there during the whole ceremony, went up to her, and the two sisters-in-law kissed each other and chatted for a few moments. Then the Archduke Antoine was announced; he had been sent by the Emperor of Austria to present his compliments to the Queen of Naples, and was to return at once to Vienna to bring tidings of the Empress Marie Louise. After the Queen had welcomed and thanked the Archduke, the two sisters-in-law got into a carriage and drove to Braunau, followed by the Prince of Neufchtel and all the court. On both sides of the way troops were drawn up in order of battle, and artillery salutes were fired.

The Prince of Neufchtel, on the suggestion of the Emperor Napoleon, invited the ladies and gentlemen of the Austrian party to spend the day at Braunau, to take part in the rejoicings which were to be celebrated there. Marie Louise also invited them in her own name. General de Sgur, who was present, thus describes the mingling of the French and Austrians: "The only thing that I remember is that the men moved about together and exchanged words very politely; but I never saw a company of women sitting more constrainedly, with less ease, than on this occasion, when the Austrian ladies were haughtily cold and silent. These ladies, who had been compelled to offer up the Princess as their part of the war indemnity, seemed to take no part in the submission which the government had forced upon them. They handed over to us the pledge of defeat with a bad grace which their husbands, who were weary of war, did not show." Generals Friant and Pajol gave a grand dinner to the Austrian officers in the citadel of Braunau, and the courtesy of both sides was worthy of note. Three toasts were drunk,—the first to the Emperor Napoleon, the second to the Empress Marie Louise, the third to the Emperor of Austria. There was a salute of thirty guns after each toast.

At Braunau the Empress occupied the house of a rich wine-merchant opposite the town-hall. The house was decorated with flags, and before it a triumphal arch was set up. Marie Louise rested there, and changed everything she had on, according to the custom, which demands that a foreign princess on entering her new country must leave behind her everything that attaches her to the country, the people and the ways she has left. The Parisian shopkeepers had made everything for her from measures and models sent from Vienna. Napoleon had had these models shown him, and taking one of the shoes, which were remarkably small, he had sportively stroked his valet's cheek with it, and said, "See there, Constant; here's a shoe that will bring good luck with it. Did you ever see feet like those?"

After the Empress had received the authorities of Braunau and the generals commanding the French troops, she sought retirement, and wrote to her father this touching letter, of which M. von Helfert has published the German text: this is the translation:—

"DEAR FATHER—Excuse me for not writing yesterday, as I should have done. The journey, which was long and very fatiguing, prevented me. It is with pleasure that I seize this occasion to give to Prince Trautmannsdorf for you the assurance that my thoughts are always with you. God has endowed me with strength to endure the cruel emotion which this separation from all my family calls forth. In Him I confide. He will sustain me and give me courage to fulfil my mission. My consolation shall be the thought that the sacrifice is in your behalf. I reached Ried very late, and I was much distressed by the thought that I was departing from you perhaps forever. At two o'clock I arrived at the French camp at Braunau. I stopped a few minutes in the Austrian pavilion, and there I had to listen to the reading of the documents about the limits of the neutral zone, in which a throne had been set. All my people then came up to kiss my hand, and I could hardly control myself. I shuddered, and I was so much moved that the Prince of Neufchtel had tears in his eyes. Prince Trautmannsdorf delivered me to him, and my household was presented. Heavens, what a difference between the French and the Austrian ladies!... The Queen of Naples came to greet me, threw her arms about me, and was most kind; but yet I have not perfect confidence in her: I can't think she took this long journey merely to be of use to me. She came to Braunau with me, and then I had to spend two hours in arraying myself. I assure you that now I am already as much perfumed as the Frenchwomen. Napoleon sent me a superb golden dress. He has not yet written. Now that I have had to leave you, I had rather be with him than travel longer with these ladies. Heavens! how I miss the happy moments I spent with you! Now, alone, I value them at their true worth. I assure you, dear papa, that I am sad and inconsolable. I hope you have got over your cold. Every day I pray for you. Excuse my scrawl. I have so little time. I kiss your hands a thousand times, and have the honor to be, dear papa, your obedient, humble daughter,

"MARIE LOUISE.

"BRAUNAU, March 16, 1810."

That evening the Empress appeared again before the party that had accompanied her from Vienna, to take a last farewell.

"Among them," we read in the Memoirs of Madame Durand, one of the suite of the new Empress, "were many ladies who had known Marie Antoinette. They all understood with what a heavy heart Marie Louise would come to occupy a throne on which her great-aunt had suffered so sorely.... At the moment when she was getting into the carriage that was to take her to Munich, the grand master of the household, a man sixty-five years old, who had accompanied her to this point, raised his joined hands towards heaven, as if praying for a happy fate for his young mistress, and blessing her as her own father might have done. His eyes indicated a mind full of great thoughts and sad memories. His tears moistened the eyes of all who witnessed this touching sight."

The Empress, with her French escort, started from Braunau for Munich early March 17, in frightful weather; Only one of the Austrian suite remained with her, the grand mistress, Countess Lazansky. She hoped that this lady, whom she much loved, would remain another year with her. But this hope was doomed to disappointment.



X.

THE JOURNEY.

In the course of the 17th the Empress reached Haag, where the Bavarian Crown Prince received her, and at ten in the evening she was in Munich. The next day, M. de Boyne, the French charg d'affaires, wrote to the Duke of Cadore: "Her Majesty the Empress has received all along her route, and yesterday, on her arrival in Munich, countless expressions of love and respect. This capital was illuminated with a taste and magnificence that had never been seen here. The Crown Prince went as far as Haag to pay his respects to her. The troops and the militia were under arms, and the King and Queen, with the whole court, met her at the foot of the staircase of honor." Marie Louise was not to leave Munich till the 19th of March. On the 18th she received a letter from her husband, brought by one of his equerries, the Baron of Saint Aignan. That evening there was a state dinner at the palace, a levee, and a theatrical representation. The next day, the 19th, the Empress was destined to suffer a heavy blow. She had brought with her from Vienna to Braunau, and from Braunau to Munich, her grand mistress, a confidential friend, a woman who had had faithful charge of her infancy and youth,—the Countess Lazansky. When she reached the Bavarian capital, she was sure that this woman was not to leave her. Since the Countess had not gone away at Braunau, she had every reason to suppose that she would accompany her to Paris, and Marie Louise fully intended to keep her with her at least a year. The Austrian court showed this belief, and the French Ambassador had written March 6th to the Duke of Cadore: "I shall not, even indirectly, oppose Madame Lazansky's going, since His Majesty is willing to permit her accompanying the Empress. This attention will be gratefully received." But that did not at all suit Napoleon's sister, the Queen of Naples, who had not pleased the Austrian lady, and who wished to control the new Empress without a rival.

The Queen of Naples was a very agreeable, very charming woman; but Count Otto was mistaken when he wrote that the Austrian court was flattered by hearing that Napoleon had chosen his sister Caroline to meet the new Empress; the choice was not a happy one, and the Emperor would doubtless have done better to send some other princess of his family. Could it be forgotten that there was another woman, also a queen, and also bearing the name of Caroline, Marie Louise's grandmother, whom Marie Louise tenderly loved, and whose throne was occupied by Murat's wife? It should have been remembered that in the eyes of the court of Vienna, the true, the legitimate, queen of the Two Sicilies was not Caroline, Napoleon's sister, but another Caroline, the daughter of the great Marie Thrse, the sister of Marie Antoinette.

This is what the widow of General Durand says on the subject, in her interesting Memoirs: "Princess Caroline, Madame Murat, then Queen of Naples, had gone to Braunau to meet her sister-in-law. The Duchess of Montebello, a beautiful, sensible woman, the mother of five children, who had lost her husband in the last war, had been appointed a maid-of-honor,—a feeble compensation on the part of the Emperor for her sad bereavement. The Countess of Luay, a gentle, kindly woman, thoroughly familiar with the customs of good society, was lady of the bedchamber. I shall speak later of the other ladies of the suite, whose functions, as established by etiquette, brought them very little into personal relations with the Empress. Each one of them had pretensions to which the presence of Madame Lazansky was an obstacle. They complained to Queen Caroline, and she decided on an act of despotism which deeply wounded her sister-in-law." This act was the dismissal of Madame Lazansky. By this course the Queen of Naples expected to add to her influence over the Empress; but, on the contrary, she only diminished it appreciably.

"Madame Murat," continues Madame Durand, "was very anxious to acquire great power over Marie Louise, and she might have been successful had she taken, more precautions. Talleyrand said of her that she had the head of a Cromwell on the body of a pretty woman. Endowed by nature with a marked character, great intelligence, far-reaching ideas, a supple and crafty mind, with a grace and amiability that made her very charming, she lacked nothing but the power of hiding her love of rule; and when she missed her aim, it was because she had been too eager. The moment she saw the Austrian Princess, she imagined that she had read her character; but she was utterly mistaken. She took her timidity for weakness, her embarrassment for awkwardness; and, fancying that she needed only to give her orders, she hardened against her for all time the heart of the woman whom she expected to control."

Madame Durand thus describes the conspiracy which these women formed: "The presence of the Countess Lazansky had excited the jealousy and the fears of all the ladies of the household. They intrigued and caballed, telling the Queen of Naples that she could never win her sister-in-law's confidence or affection so long as she kept with her a person whose influence rested on so many years of devotion and intimacy. Her maid-of-honor lamented that her functions would amount to nothing, if the Princess were to keep near her this foreigner who looked after everything. Finally they persuaded the Queen to ask Marie Louise to send back her grand mistress, although she had been promised that she could keep her for a year."

The Empress might have resisted. They showed her no order from the Emperor; they merely said that the presence of the Austrian lady with a French sovereign was something anomalous,—an infringement of the laws of etiquette,—and that the best way for the Empress to please the Emperor was by this voluntary sacrifice. Marie Louise yielded for the sake of peace, and gave up her friend, as later she was to give up her husband, out of weakness. Her decision gave her great pain, and it was not without a pang that she parted from the Countess Lazansky. "How agonizing this separation is!" she wrote to her father. "I really could not make a greater sacrifice for my husband, and still I do not think that this sacrifice was intended by him."

Another thing that added to the grief of the new Empress was that she was compelled to part with a pet dog which she was very fond of: the Countess was to carry it back to Vienna. They told Marie Louise that Napoleon disliked dogs, that he could not endure Josephine's, and that they were perpetual subjects of discord. Besides, was it not her duty, on entering France, to give up everything that came from her former home? General de Sgur, who had been part of the Empress's escort since leaving Braunau, makes no mention of the Countess Lazansky, but he speaks of the dog: "The complete change of dress was simply an entertainment: that of the escort had been anticipated; it was necessary to endure it. This painful change would have taken place without too much evidence of grief, if the superfluously jealous interference of Napoleon's sister had not extended itself to a little dog from Vienna, which, it was insisted, must be sent back, though this cost Marie Louise many tears." The acquisition of a colossal empire did not console the sovereign for the loss of a little dog.

March 19, in the morning, Marie Louise and Countess Lazansky parted. "The worst thing in the conduct of the Queen of Naples," writes Madame Durand, who did not like her, "was that after having demanded the Empress's consent to Madame Lazansky's departure, she gave orders to the ladies-in-waiting not to admit that lady to the Empress if she came to say good by. This order was not obeyed; the two ladies admitted her by a secret door; she spent two hours with the Empress, and the ladies who admitted her never regretted what they had done, in spite of the many reproaches of the Queen of Naples."

While the Empress, leaving Munich March 19, continued her journey to France, her old friend was journeying back to Vienna, where she arrived March 22. Her unexpected return made a most unfavorable impression on all classes of society.

The report that the Countess Lazansky was to accompany the Empress to Paris had spread everywhere, and it was regarded as a proof of confidence and cordiality that was most welcome to the Viennese with their devotion to the reigning family. Consequently their delight and interest, which had been fed by the festivities and all the details of the journey, made the sudden return of the mistress of the robes a cause of surprise and even of anxiety. There were riotous assemblies, and the affair was the subject of most unfavorable comment. As the Baron of Mneval has said, "The reconciliation on the part of the aristocracy and people of Austria was not sincere. Marie Louise's departure from Vienna was followed by many regrets. Instigated by English and Russian agents, the populace of Vienna gathered in the streets and public places, and began to murmur about the sacrifice which they said had been required of the Emperor. The authorities were obliged to take active measures against these assemblages." The Emperor of Austria spoke of them himself to the French Ambassador. Count Otto wrote, March 24, to the Duke of Cadore: "The Emperor having returned from Linz, I asked for a private audience to congratulate him on his happy return. Audiences of this sort are only accorded here to ambassadors of powers related by marriage, and I took advantage of this occasion to enjoy this honorable distinction. His Majesty received with his wonted kindness; he had been thoroughly satisfied with all that took place at Braunau, and with the delicate attentions paid to Her Majesty the Empress from the moment of her arrival. 'But what have you done to Madame Lazansky?' the Emperor went on, 'Why is she sent back? Your master had given my daughter leave to take a companion with her; and if an exception was to be made, Madame Lazansky deserved to be the object of it, for she has always been well disposed towards France. But I must assure you that I attach no importance to the matter, although the public amuses itself with a thousand absurd conjectures; last night there were tumults in the city and the suburbs.' I told His Majesty, in reply, that these disturbances of the public peace were doubtless the last efforts of a few foreign intriguers who are always on hand in this city; that since the escorts were changed at Braunau, nothing was simpler or more natural than Madame Lazansky's return; and that to allay the excitement, nothing more was necessary than to spread abroad the rumor that orders had been received from here recalling that lady as soon as the Empress was accustomed to her new court. 'That's just what I have already done,' resumed the Emperor, 'and it is to be hoped that the same things will be said in France, as the best way of silencing discontent.'"

A few hours later Prince Metternich, the father of the celebrated minister, who in his son's absence had charge of the Ministry, had an interview with the Ambassador about this painful incident. "Prince Metternich," Count Otto adds in the same despatch, "came to see me to give me some fuller details about the events of the previous night. He had been kept up until three in the morning, receiving the reports of the police, and having the ringleaders arrested. They had gone about in the coffee-houses, and had carried their effrontery so far as to say that the French army was again in motion, and that Napoleon's sole aim had been to distract the attention of this court."

Meanwhile Marie Louise was continuing her triumphal journey. At Stuttgart she found the court and the population as enthusiastic as at Munich; there, too, even illuminations, a state dinner, a levee, a theatrical representation. At Stuttgart the Empress received a letter from Napoleon, brought by the Count of Beauvau. Another letter from the Emperor was delivered to her by the Count of Bondy at Carlsruhe, where her reception was no less brilliant than at Munich and Stuttgart.

March 23, Marie Louise was at Rastadt, where the Hereditary Grand Duke of Baden, who had married Stphanie de Beauharnais, Napoleon's adopted daughter, gave her a breakfast. At the bridge over the Rhine, which the Empress reached at five in the evening, she was met by twenty French generals and several divisions under arms. The bridge was decorated with flags; bells were pealing; salvos of artillery were roaring. At the entrance of the bridge the sovereign was welcomed by the Prefect of the Lower Rhine, and at the city gates by the Mayor. "It was at Strasbourg," says General de Sgur, "that France, in its turn, greeted Marie Louise. The enthusiasm on this German and military frontier was all the more lively, sincere, and wide-spread, because the Archduchess was regarded as the most brilliant trophy of the success of our arms, and it was thought that after eighteen years of warfare they had in her a pledge of certain peace."

March 23, Marie Louise wrote to her father, from Strasbourg, a long letter, in which she apologized for her long silence, pleading the excessive fatigue of a long journey, during which she had to get up every morning at five, travel all day, and spend every evening at receptions and theatrical performances. She added that the programme of the festivities at Strasbourg had just been submitted to her for her orders. "I can't tell you, dear papa," she said, "how funny it seems to me, who have never had any will of my own, to have to give orders." At Strasbourg she had the pleasure of meeting Count Metternich, who had left Vienna March 12, and after stopping at many German courts, was about to push on to Paris. The festivities there were very brilliant. A newspaper of the town said, March 24, "Among the guests was the Austrian general, Count Neipperg, who was here on a mission from his government, as also many officers." Who could have foreseen that this unknown general would one day be Marie Louise's consort, Napoleon's successor?

It was at Strasbourg that the Empress received her first letter from her father since her departure from Vienna. She answered it at once: "I beg of you, dear father, pray for me most warmly. Be sure that I shall try with all my strength to perform the duty you have assigned to me. I am easy about my fate. I am sure that I shall be happy. I wish you could read Napoleon's letter: it is full of kindness." With every step she made on French soil, Marie Louise became reconciled with her lot. For his part, the Emperor awaited his new companion with all the impatience of a youth of twenty, "Every day," says his valet Constant, "he sent a letter, and she answered regularly. Her first letters were very short and probably very cool, for the Emperor never mentioned them; but the later ones were longer and gradually more affectionate, and the Emperor used to read them with transports of delight.... He complained that his couriers were lazy though they killed their horses. One day he came back from hunting, carrying two pheasants in his hand, and followed by some footmen bearing the rarest flowers from the conservatory at Saint Cloud. He wrote a note, summoned his first page, and said to him: 'Be ready to start in ten minutes, by coach. In it you will find these things, which you will deliver to the Empress with your own hands. And above all, don't spare the horses. Go as fast as you can, and fear nothing.' The young man asked nothing better than to obey His Majesty. Thus authorized, he hurried at full speed, giving his postilions double pay, and in twenty-four hours he had reached Strasbourg." According to Madame Durand, "It was evident that Marie Louise read the Emperor's letters with ever-increasing interest. She awaited them with impatience; and if the courier was behind time, she asked frequently if he had not come, and what could have delayed him. This correspondence must have been charming, since it evoked a feeling destined to acquire great strength. Napoleon, on his side, was burning with desire to see his young wife; he was more flattered by this marriage than he would have been by the conquest of an empire. What most delighted him was to know that she had given her consent of her own free will."

The Baron de Mneval also tells about Napoleon's correspondence with this new wife, whom he had not seen and was so impatient to know: "He wrote to her every day as soon as she had set foot on French soil; he sent bouquets of the most beautiful flowers along with the letters, and sometimes game. He was delighted with the answers, some of which were long, that he received. These replies were written in good French; the Empress expressed herself with delicacy and decorum: perhaps the Queen of Naples aided her. She wrote many details, which interested the Emperor very much."

The Empress left Strasbourg, March 25, in the direction of Nancy. She dined at Bar-le-Duc, and at Vitry-le-Francois received the Prince of Schwarzenberg, the Austrian Ambassador, and the Countess Metternich. She had just made up her mind to hurry her journey, and thus to hasten the moment set by etiquette for meeting her husband. The hour which Napoleon had awaited so impatiently was now drawing near. XI.

COMPIGNE.

Since the 20th of March, Napoleon had been at Compigne, denouncing the cumbrous machinery of etiquette which was retarding the happy moment when he should at last see his new wife and enfold her in his arms. He had had the castle repaired and richly furnished, that it might be worthy to receive a daughter of the Csars. The grand gallery had been decorated with gilded ceilings and stucco columns; the garden had been replanted and adorned with statues. The waters of the Oise had been carried there by a system of water-works. All the members of the Imperial family had arrived; the court was most brilliant. The Emperor wished to dazzle his young wife with unheard-of splendor.

The minutest details of the meeting of the Imperial couple had been carefully arranged beforehand; it was settled that this should take place in all formality, March 28, between Soissons and Compigne. The Emperor was to leave the last-named place with the princes and princesses of his family, preceded and followed by detachments of the mounted Imperial Guard. Two leagues from Soissons they would find a pavilion composed of three tents, entered by two flights of steps, one on the side towards Compigne, the other on that towards Soissons; the first one was for Napoleon, the other for Marie Louise. The pavilion, which was richly decorated with flags, was surrounded by trees; near it flowed a brook. The central tent, the one in which the Emperor and Empress were to meet for the first time, was decorated with purple and gold. It had been settled that Marie Louise should fall on her knees as soon as she saw her husband, that he should help her to her feet and kiss her; then that both should get into a state carriage, and both the escorts should unite and form one.

The preparations were completed March 27. Everything—horses, carriages, escort, pavilion—was ready. That morning Prince Charles of Schwarzenberg, the Austrian Ambassador, and the Countess Metternich, the Minister's wife, arrived at the castle of Compigne from Vitry-le-Franois, where they had seen the Empress, of whom they could bring news to Napoleon. At noon the Emperor received a letter from Marie Louise, in which she said that in order to make greater haste she was leaving Vitry-le-Franois that very morning for Soissons. When this letter was handed to him, Napoleon was walking up and down in the park, as if to overcome the impatience which this interminable waiting produced. When he learned that his wife was so near, he could wait no longer, and he decided to turn his back on the etiquette which had been so laboriously prepared for the next day, and to hasten to meet Marie Louise. He summoned Murat, whom he wished to have as his sole companion, and leaving the park secretly by a hidden gate, he and his brother-in-law got into a modest, undecorated carriage, which was driven by a coachman not in livery towards Soissons as fast as the horses could carry it.

Never had the Emperor known time to drag so slowly. A double feeling—of curiosity and love—set his heart beating as if he were a youth of twenty. When he had got beyond Soissons, he judged that Marie Louise could not be far distant, and he alighted at a village called Courcelles.

The Empress meanwhile had been journeying ever since the morning in the same carriage as her sister-in-law, Queen Caroline, with no idea of what was going to happen. She had passed through Chlons and Rheims, and proposed to dine at Soissons, where she expected to pass the night; for the meeting with the Emperor was set down for the next day, March 28, at the pavilion erected two leagues from that town. It was raining in torrents when Napoleon reached there, and he got down with his brother-in-law and sought shelter under the porch of the church opposite the posting-station. No one in the village had a suspicion that the two strangers seeking refuge from the rain were the great Emperor and the King of Naples. Suddenly the clatter of wheels was heard, and a carriage, preceded by an outrider and followed by a great many vehicles, rolled up. It was she, at last,—Marie Louise, Archduchess of Austria, Empress of the French, Queen of Italy, the woman who would bring him a son and heir to the vast empire! Pride and the intoxication of triumph mingled with the conqueror's joy.

The carriage stopped, and the men began to change the horses. Napoleon hastened to the carriage-door. He did not want to be recognized for a few moments yet, but the equerry, d'Audenarde, scarcely believing his eyes, shouted, "The Emperor!" The happy husband flung himself into the arms of his wife, who was overcome with surprise and emotion. The first glance delighted him. That fine young woman, fresh and young, full of strength and health, with her blonde hair, her blue eyes, her air of innocence and candor, was the wife he wanted, the Empress of his dreams; and the words she said to him flattered and touched him, went straight to his heart! After looking at him for some time, she said timidly and gently: "You are much better-looking than your portrait."

A courier was despatched to carry the news at full speed to Compigne, that the Emperor and Empress would arrive there at about two o'clock, and the carriage containing Napoleon and Marie Louise, with the King and Queen of Naples, started in the direction of Soissons, followed by the carriages containing the Empress's suite. They stopped but a moment at Soissons. "I had the honor," says M. de Bausset, "to be in the carriage with Mesdames de Montmorency and de Montemart and the Bishop of Metz. It seemed to me that these ladies were more contented than I was to leave the excellent dinner which was awaiting us there." Soissons, which had made many expensive preparations, had no return for its money and trouble. As to the ceremonious meeting in the pavilion two leagues off, which had been prepared for the next day at some expense, it was not to be thought of. Napoleon showed tact and courtesy by relieving his wife of this alarming formality, and especially of the necessity of kneeling before him. He was happily inspired in setting feeling before etiquette, and in yielding to his impatience to see the face and hear the voice of his long-awaited wife.

As soon as the courier, sent in advance, reached Compigne, and announced the great news, the town was in commotion. The illuminations were got ready, the triumphal arches were decked with flags, orders were given to greet the entry of the Emperor and Empress with a salute of a hundred and one cannon. Marshal Bessires made ready the mounted guard. In spite of the rain, the inhabitants assembled in crowds to meet the sovereigns at the stone bridge where Louis XV. had met the Dauphiness, Marie Antoinette. The courts and galleries of the castle, which were open to the public, were thronged with inquisitive visitors. A hard rain was falling, and the night was so dark that nothing could be seen without torches. At ten o'clock the cannon announced the arrival of the Imperial couple, who rapidly ascended the Avenue. The princes and princesses were waiting at the foot of the staircase, and the Emperor presented them to the Empress. The town authorities were assembled in a gallery where was the Prince of Schwarzenberg; a band of young girls dressed in white paid their respects to the Empress, and offered her flowers. The Emperor then conducted her to her apartments, where she was delighted, as she was surprised, to find her little dog and her birds from Vienna, as well as a piece of tapestry which she had left unfinished at the Burg. This delicate attention of Napoleon's moved her to tears. She was also pleased to see a magnificent piano. After a quiet supper, at which the Queen of Naples was the only guest, the Emperor conducted his wife to the room of his sister Pauline, the Princess Borghese, who had been prevented by illness from taking part in the reception. Then he showed her to her own room.

The portrait of the Empress which the Baron de Mneval has drawn, is as follows: "Marie Louise had all the charm of youth; her figure was perfectly regular; the waist of her dress was rather longer than was generally worn at that time, and this added to her natural dignity and contrasted favorably with the short waists of our ladies; her coloring was deepened by her journey and her timidity; her fine and thick hair, of a light chestnut, set off a fresh, full face, to which her gentle eyes lent a very attractive expression; her lips, which were a little thick, recalled the type of the Austrian Imperial line, just as a slightly aquiline nose distinguishes the Bourbon princes; her whole appearance expressed candor and innocence, and her plumpness, which she lost after the birth of her son, indicated good health."

The next day, after breakfast, the ladies and officers of the household who had not met her at Braunau were presented to the Empress, and they took the oath of allegiance. Then followed the presentation of the Generals and Colonels of the Guards, of the Ministers and high officers of the crown, and of the officers and ladies who were to attend her on leaving Compigne. She had the pleasure of meeting at the castle her uncle, the Grand Duke of Wrzburg, her father's brother, with whom she talked for a long time about her country and her family. She also chatted with the Prince of Schwarzenberg and with the Countess Metternich. All day Napoleon was in charming humor. Contrary to his usual custom he dressed for dinner, putting on a coat which his sister Pauline, an authority on fashions, had commanded of Lger, the tailor of the King of Naples, who was fond of expensive and handsome clothes. This coat and a white tie were not becoming to Napoleon; his simple uniforms and black tie suited him much better. This was the only time he wore the coat which the Princess Pauline had ordered; on ordinary occasions he appeared in the green uniform of the Chasseurs of the Guard; and on Sundays and reception days in his blue uniform with white facings.

March 29, the Count of Praslin set out from Compigne for Vienna, carrying two letters, one from Napoleon, the other from Marie Louise, to the Emperor Francis II. In his letter Napoleon said to his father-in-law, "Allow me to thank you for the present you have made me. May your paternal heart rejoice in your daughter's happiness!" Marie Louise, too, expressed content and joy; after telling her father with what delicacy her husband had lessened the embarrassment of the first interview, she went on: "Since that moment I feel almost at home with him; he loves me sincerely, and I return his affection. I am sure that I shall have a happy life with him. My health continues good. I am quite rested from the journey.... I assure you that the Emperor is as solicitous as you were about my health. If I have the least cold, he will not let me get up before two o'clock. I only need your presence to be perfectly happy, and my husband would also be very glad to see you. I assure you that he desires it as sincerely as I do." Five days later she wrote: "I am able to tell you, my dear father, that your prophecy has come true: I am as happy as I can be. The more friendship and confidence I give my husband, the more he heaps upon me attentions of every kind.... The whole family are very kind to me, and I can't believe all the evil that is said of them. My mother-in-law is a very amiable and most respectable princess who has welcomed me most kindly. The Queens of Naples, Holland, and Westphalia and the King of Holland are very amiable. I have also made the acquaintance of the Viceroy of Italy and his wife. She is very pretty."

The court left Compigne March 31. At the entrance of the Bois de Boulogne the Emperor and Empress were met by Count Frochot, Prefect of the Seine, and a crowd of Parisians. The Prefect made a speech which concluded with these words: "Escorted from Vienna to this point by the love of the people, Your Majesty now knows that by the prominence of her virtues as well as by the graces of her person, her destiny is to rule over all hearts. Our own, Madame, shall be to make you find again here in your customary abode, the country that you most love, where you were most cherished, and to succeed in making worthy of Your Majesty the homage of our allegiance, of our respect, and of our love."

At half-past six in the evening Napoleon and Marie Louise arrived at Saint Cloud, where were assembled in full dress the marshals, the cardinals, the great dignitaries of the Empire, the senators and the state councillors. At the palace there was a family dinner, and after it the ladies of the Palace of the Italian Crown, Countesses Porro, Visconti, Thiene, Trivulci, and Mesdames Gonfalonieri, Trotti, de Rava, Fe, Mocenigo, Montecuculli, were presented by the Italian maid-of-honor, the Duchess Litta, and they all took the oath of allegiance. The civil marriage was appointed for the next day, April 1, at Saint Cloud, and the religious ceremony for the next but one, April 2, in the Salon Carr of the Louvre, between the long gallery of the Museum and the Apollo Gallery. The formal entry of the Emperor and Empress into their capital on the day of the religious marriage was to be an occasion of great pomp. Strangers had gathered from all quarters of Europe to witness this impressive sight, and as much as six hundred francs was paid for the smallest room from which the passage of the Imperial procession could be seen. Never, perhaps, in France or anywhere else, had any ceremony excited so much curiosity. The Royalists themselves had come to believe that Napoleon, the miraculous being, had forever fastened fortune to his triumphal chariot. There was a truce to recriminations. For a moment the caustic wit of the Parisians turned into profound admiration. The great conqueror, in light of his apotheosis, was more like a demigod than a man. Every one was eager to look upon him and his young Empress.



XII.

THE CIVIL WEDDING.

The civil wedding of Napoleon and Marie Louise was celebrated at Saint Cloud, Sunday, April 1,1810. At the end of the Apollo Gallery, which was adorned with Mignard's frescoes, and still full of reminiscences of the great century, had been placed on a platform two armchairs, each under a canopy; the one to the right for the Emperor, the other for the Empress. Below the platform, and to one side, was a table covered with a costly cloth, on which were an inkstand and the civil registers. At two in the afternoon the Colonel of the Guard on duty and the high officers of the crown of France and Italy went to escort Their Majesties. The procession formed and made its way through the Emperor's study, the Princes' drawing-room, the throne-room, the Mars room, to the Gallery of Apollo, in the following order: ushers, heralds-at-arms, pages, assistants to the masters of ceremonies, the masters of ceremonies, the officers of the household of the King of Italy, the equerries of the Emperor, his aides-de-camp, the two equerries on duty, the aide on duty, the Governor of the Palace, the Secretary of State of the Imperial family, the high officers of the crown of Italy, the High Chamberlain of France and the one of Italy, the Grand Master of Ceremonies and the Chief Equerry of Italy, the Princes who were high dignitaries, the Princes of the family, the Emperor, the Empress; and behind Their Majesties, the Colonel of the Guard on duty, the Chief Marshal of the Palace, the Grand Master of the House of Italy, the Grand Almoner of France, the one of Italy, the Knight of Honor and the Prince Equerry of the Empress, carrying the train of her cloak, the maids-of-honor of France and Italy and the Lady of the Bedchamber, the Princesses of the family, the ladies of the palace, the maids-of-honor of the Princesses, the officers on duty of the households of the Princes and Princesses.

When the procession had reached the Apollo Gallery, the ushers, the heralds-at-arms, and the pages drew up in line to the right and left in the Mars room, near the door. The officers and high officers of France and Italy, the maids-of-honor and the Lady of the Bedchamber took their places behind Their Majesties' chairs, in order of rank. The Emperor and Empress seated themselves on the throne, the Princes and Princesses on the right and left of the platform in the following order and according to their family rank: To the right of the Emperor:

His mother; Prince Louis Napoleon, King of Holland; Prince Jerome Napoleon, King of Westphalia; Prince Borghese, Duke of Guastalla; Prince Joachim Napoleon, King of Naples; Prince Eugene, Viceroy of Italy; The Prince Archchancellor; The Prince Vice-Grand Elector.

On the Empress's left:—

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 Wrzberg; Princess Augusta, Vice-Queen of Italy; Princess Stphanie, Hereditary Grand Duchess of Baden; The Hereditary Grand Duke of Baden; The Prince Archtreasurer; The Prince Vice-Constable.

As soon as the Emperor was seated, the Prince Archchancellor of the 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 Cambacrs, 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 Csars. 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 Carr 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 Sgur, 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 tot, redeunt spectacula mane, Divisum imperium cum Jove Csar 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'toile, 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 lyses, 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 Carr, 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 Par, 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 Carr, 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 Cambacrs; 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 Wrzburg; the Princess Augusta, Vice-Queen of Italy; Princess Stphanie, 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 Abb 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 Abb; "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!

Nevertheless, the ceremony began, but the Emperor was absorbed, and found it difficult to forget the sudden annoyance. The Grand Almoner, after a deep bow to Their Majesties, intoned the Veni Creator, and then proceeded to bless the thirteen pieces of gold and the ring. Napoleon and Marie Louise arose, advanced to the altar, and clasped their bared right hands. The priest then addressed the Emperor, "Sire, do you acknowledge and swear before God and His Holy Church that you now take for your lawful wife Her Imperial and Royal Highness, Madame Marie Louise, Archduchess of Austria, here present?" Napoleon answered, "Yes, sir." Then turning to the Empress, "Madame, do you acknowledge and swear before God and His Holy Church that you now take for your lawful husband the Emperor Napoleon here present?" "Yes, sir." "Do you promise and swear to show to him the fidelity in all things which a faithful wife owes to her husband, according to God's holy commandment?" "Yes, sir." The priest then gave the Emperor the pieces of gold and the ring; he presented the pieces of gold to the Empress and placed the ring on her finger, saying, "This ring I give unto you in token of the marriage we are contracting." The priest made the sign of the cross upon the hand of the Empress, and said, "In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, Amen." Then mass was said. After the Gospel the First Bishop carried the holy volume to Their Majesties to kiss, and waved incense before them. After the benediction, the Grand Almoner offered them holy water, and gave them the corporal kiss; then he turned towards the altar and intoned the Te Deum, which was sung by the chapel choir, producing a deep impression.