Chapter IX: The Rise of the Empire. 1805-1810

Mr. Bonaparte of Corsica

by John Kendrick Bangs

"What next?" asked Fouche, the morning after the coronation, as he
entered the Emperor's cabinet.

"Breakfast," returned Bonaparte, laconically; "what did you
suppose? You didn't think I was going swimming in the Seine, did
you?"

"I never think," retorted Fouche.

"That's evident," said Napoleon. "Is the arch-treasurer of my
empire up yet? The Empress is going shopping, and wants an
appropriation."

"He is, Your Majesty," said Fouche, looking at his
memorandum-book. "He rose at 7:30, dressed as usual, parted his hair
on the left-hand side, and breakfasted at eight. At 8:15 he read the
Moniteur, and sneezed twice while perusing the second column of the
fourth page--"

"What is the meaning of these petty details?" cried the Emperor,
impatiently.

"I merely wished to show Your Majesty that as the Sherlock
Holmes of this administration I am doing my duty. There isn't a man
in France who is not being shadowed in your behalf," returned the
minister of police.

The Emperor looked out of the window; then, turning to Fouche,
he said, the stern, impatient look fading into softness, "Pardon my
irritability, Fouche. You are a genius, and I appreciate you, though
I may not always show it. I didn't sleep well last night, and in
consequence I am not unduly amiable this morning."

"Your Majesty is not ill, I trust?" said Fouche, with a show of
anxiety.

"No," replied the Emperor. "The fact is, old man, I--ah--I
forgot to take the crown off when I went to bed."

Thus began that wonderful reign which forms so many dazzling
pages in modern history. Bonaparte's first act after providing
lucrative positions for his family was to write another letter,
couched in language of a most fraternal nature, to the King of
England, asking for peace.

"Dear Cousin George," he wrote, "you have probably read in the
newspapers by this time that I'm working under a new alias, and I
hope you will like it as well as I do. It's great fun, but there is
one feature of it all that I don't like. I hate to be fighting with
my new cousins all the time, and particularly with you whom I have
always loved deeply, though secretly. Now, my dear George, let me
ask you what's the use of a prolonged fight? You've waxed fat in ten
years, and so have I. We've painted the earth red between us. Why
can't we be satisfied? Why should our relations continue to be
strained? I've got some personal relations I'd like to have
strained, but I can attend to them myself. Let us have peace. I
don't want too big a piece. Give me enough, and you can have the
rest. Let us restore the entente cordiale and go about our business
without any further scrapping. 'Let dogs delight to bark and bite,'
as your illustrious poet hath it, 'for 'tis their nature to.' As for
us, the earth is large enough for both. You take the Western
Hemisphere and I'll keep this. Russia and the others can have what
remains.

Yours truly,
NAPOLEON,
Emperor of the French.

"P.S.--I enclose a stamped and directed envelope for a reply,
and if I don't get it inside of two weeks I'll come over and smoke
you out."

To this peace-seeking communication England, through her
ministers, replied to the effect that she wanted peace as much as
France did, but that she could not enter into it without the consent
of Russia.

"That settles it," said Napoleon. "It's to be war. I'm willing
to divide creation with England, but two's company and three's a
crowd, and the Russian Bear must keep his paws off. I will go to
Italy, Bourrienne, collect a few more thrones, and then we'll get to
work on a new map of Europe. Russia never did look well or graceful
on the existing maps. It makes the continent look lop-sided, and
Germany and Austria need trimming down a bit. I propose to shove
Russia over into Asia, annex Germany and Austria to France, drop
Turkey into the Bosporus, and tow England farther north and hitch her
on to the north pole. Wire the Italians to get out their iron crown
and dust it off. I'll take a run down to Milan, in May, and give my
coronation performance there. Such a good show as that of December
2nd ought to be taken on the road."

The latter part of this plan was fulfilled to the letter, and on
the 20th of May, 1805, Bonaparte and Josephine were crowned King and
Queen of Italy at Milan.

"Now, my dear," said Bonaparte, after the ceremony, "hereafter
we must drop the first person singular I and assume the dignity of
the editorial we. Emperors and editors alike are entitled to the
distinction. It's a sign of plurality which is often quite as
effective as a majority. Furthermore, you and We can do it
logically, for we are several persons all at once, what with the
assortment of thrones that we have acquired in the second-hand shops
of the earth, all of which must be sat on."

Crowned King of Italy, leaving Eugene de Beauharnais as Viceroy
at Milan, Napoleon returned to Paris.

"Now that We have replenished our stock of crowns," he said to
his generals, "We will make a tour of Germany. We've always had a
great desire to visit Berlin, and now's our imperial chance. Tell
the arch-treasurer to telephone Frederick to reserve his best palace
for our occupancy."

Then began a series of war-clouds which kept the European
correspondents of the American Sunday newspapers in a state of
anxious turmoil for years. In our own time a single war-cloud is
enough to drive a capable correspondent to the verge of desperation,
but when we consider that Bonaparte was letting loose the clouds of
war in all sections of Europe simultaneously, it is easy to
understand how it has come about that we of to-day, who study history
in the daily press, have the most vague ideas as to the motives of
the quarrelling potentates at the beginning of this century.

For instance, after starting for Berlin, Bonaparte makes a
diversion at Ulm, and ends for the moment by capturing Vienna and
taking up his abode in the castle of Schonbrunn, the home of the
Austrian Caesars. Then the scene of activity is transferred to Cape
Trafalgar, where Nelson routs the French fleet, and Bonaparte is for
an instant discomfited, but above which he rises superior.

"If We had been there ourself We'd have felt worse about it," he
said. "But We were not, and therefore it is none of our funeral--
and, after all, what has it accomplished? The hoard of aldermen of
London have named a square in London after the cape, and stuck up a
monument to Nelson in the middle of it, which is the rendezvous of
all the strikers and socialists of England. Some day We'll go over
to Trafalgar Square ourself and put a new face on that statue, and it
will bear some resemblance to us, unless We are mistaken. When We
get back to Paris, likewise, We will issue an imperial decree
ordering a new navy for these capable admirals of ours more suited to
their abilities, and M. Villeneuve shall have his choice between a
camel and a gravy-boat for his flag-ship."

Nevertheless, the Emperor realized that his prestige had
received a blow which it was necessary to retrieve.

"Paris doesn't like it," wrote Fouche, "and the general
sentiment seems to be that your show isn't what it used to be. You
need a victory just about now, and if you could manage to lose a leg
on the field of battle it would strengthen your standing with your
subjects."

"Good Fouche," murmured the Emperor to himself as he read the
despatch. "You are indeed watchful of our interests. It shall be
done as you suggest, even if it costs a leg. We will engage the
Russians at Austerlitz."

On the 2d of December this battle of the Emperors was fought,
and resulted in a most glorious victory for the French arms.

"We scored seven touch-downs in the first five minutes, and at
the end of the first half were ten goals to the good," said
Bonaparte, writing home to Josephine, "and all without my touching
the ball. The Emperor of Germany and the excessively smart Alexander
of Russia sat on dead-head hill and watched the game with interest,
but in spite of my repeated efforts to get them to do so, were
utterly unwilling to cover my bets on the final result. The second
half opened brilliantly. Murat made a flying wedge with our
centre-rush, threw himself impetuously upon Kutusoff, the Russian
half-back, pushed the enemy back beyond the goal posts, and the game
was practically over. The emperors on dead-head hill gave it up then
and there, and the championship of 1805 is ours. We understand
England disputes this, but we are willing to play them on neutral
ground at any time. They can beat us in aquatic sports, but given a
good, hard, real-estate field, we can do them up whether Wellington
plays or not."

"It was a glorious victory," wrote Fouche to the Emperor, "and
it has had a great effect on Paris. You are called the Hinkey of
your time, but I still think you erred in not losing that leg. Can't
you work in another coronation somewhere? You haven't acquired a new
throne in over six months, and the people are beginning to
murmur."

Bonaparte's reply was immediate.

"Am too busy to go throne-hunting. Send my brother Joseph down
to Naples as my agent. There's a crown there. Let him put it on,
and tell Paris that he is my proxy. Joseph may not want to go
because of the cholera scare, but tell him We wish it, and if he
still demurs whisper the word 'Alp' in his ear. He'll go when he
hears that word, particularly if you say it in that short, sharp, and
decisive manner to which it so readily lends itself."

These instructions were carried out, and Paris was for the time
being satisfied; but to clinch matters, as it were, the Emperor went
still further, and married Eugene de Beauharnais to the daughter of
the King of Bavaria, conferred a few choice principalities upon his
sister Eliza, and, sending for Prince Borghese, one of the most
aristocratic gentlemen of Italy, gave him in marriage to his sister
Pauline.

"We're getting into good society by degrees," wrote the Emperor
to the Empress, "and now that you are the mother-in-law of a real
prince, kindly see that your manner is imperious to the extreme
degree, and stop serving pie at state banquets."

The succeeding two years were but repetitions of the first year
of the Empire. Bonaparte proceeded from one victory to another.
Prussia was humbled. The French Emperor occupied Berlin, and, as he
had done in Italy, levied upon the art treasures of that city for the
enrichment of Paris.

"We'll have quite a Salon if we go on," said Bonaparte.

"Anybody'd think you were getting up a corner in oil," said
Frederick, ruefully, as he watched the packers at work boxing his
most treasured paintings for shipment.

"We am getting up a corner in all things," retorted Bonaparte.
"Paris will soon be the Boston of Europe--it will be the Hub of the
Universe."

"You might leave me something," said the Prussian king. "I
haven't an old master left."

"Well, never mind," said Napoleon, soothingly. "We'll be a
young master to you. Now go to bed, like a good fellow, and take a
good rest. There's a delegation of Poles waiting for me outside.
They think We am going to erect a telegraph system to Russia, and
they want employment."

"As operators?" asked Frederick, sadly.

"No, stupid," returned Napoleon, "as Poles."

The Prussian left the room in tears. To his great regret policy
compelled Bonaparte to decline the petition of the Polanders to be
allowed to rehabilitate themselves as a nation. As we have seen, he
was a man of peace, and many miles away from home at that, and hence
had no desire to further exasperate Russia by meddling in an affair
so close to the Czar's heart. This diplomatic foresight resulted in
the Peace of Tilsit. The Czar, appreciating Bonaparte's delicacy in
the matter of Poland, was quite won over, and consented to an
interview by means of which a basis might be reached upon which all
might rest from warfare. Tilsit was chosen as the place of meeting,
and fearing lest they might be interrupted by reporters, the two
emperors decided to hold their conference upon a raft anchored in the
middle of the river Niemen. It must be remembered that tugs had not
been invented at this time, so that the raft was comparatively safe
from those "Boswells of the news," as reporters have been called.
Fouche was very anxious about this decision however.

"Look out for yourself, my dear Emperor," he wrote. "Wear a
cork suit, or insist that the raft shall be plentifully supplied with
life-preservers. Those Eastern emperors would like nothing better
than to have you founder in the Niemen."

"We are not afraid," Napoleon replied. "If the craft sinks We
shall swim ashore on Alexander's back." Nevertheless, all other
historians to the contrary, Bonaparte did wear a cork suit beneath
his uniform. We have this on the authority of the nephew of the valet
of the late Napoleon III., who had access to the private papers of
this wonderful family.

Nothing disastrous occurred upon this occasion in spite of the
temptation thrown in Alexander's way to sink the raft and thus rid
the world of a dangerous rival to his supremacy. The conference
resulted in a treaty of peace, concluded on the 7th of July, 1807,
and by it a few more thrones were added to the Bonaparte collection.
Jerome, who had been trying to make a living as a music teacher in
America, having been divorced from his American wife and married to
another, was made King of Westphalia.

"Having made a failure in the West, my dear brother," said
Bonaparte, "what could be more appropriate?"

Louis was made King of Holland, and Joseph's kingship of Naples
was fully recognized, and, further, Bonaparte was enabled to return
to Paris and show himself to the citizens of that fickle city, who
were getting restive under Josephine's rule.

"They like Josephine well enough," wrote Fouche, "but the men
prefer to have you here. The fact that things run smoothly under a
woman's rule is giving the female suffragists a great boom, and the
men say that domestic life is being ruined. Cooks are scarce, having
deserted the kitchen for the primaries, and altogether the outlook is
effeminate. Therefore, come back as soon as you can, for if you
don't the first thing we know the women will be voting, and you'll
find you'll have to give up your seat to a lady."

The Emperor's return to Paris was marked by great rejoicing,
particularly by the large number of hatters and laundresses and
stable-boys whom he had in the meantime paid for their early services
by making them dukes and duchesses. The court was magnificent, and
entirely new. No second-hand nobles were allowed within the sacred
circle, and the result was one of extreme splendor. In a small way,
to maintain the interest which he had inspired, as well as to keep up
the discipline of his army, a few conquests, including those of Spain
and Portugal, were indulged in. Joseph was removed from a
comfortable, warm throne at Naples and made King of Spain, and Murat
was substituted for him at Naples. The Emperor's elder brother did
not like the change, but submitted as gracefully as ever.

"Naples was extremely comfortable," he said, "but this Madrid
position is not at all to my taste. I prefer macaroni to garlic, and
I cannot endure these Carmencita dances--they remind me too much of
the green-apple season in the old Corsican days. However, what my
brother wills I do, merely from force of habit--not that I fear him
or consider myself bound to obey him, mind you, but because I am
averse to family differences. One must yield, and I have always been
the self-sacrificing member of the family. He's put me here, and I
hope to remain."

This promotion of Joseph was a misstep for one who desired
peace, and Bonaparte soon found another war with Austria on the tapis
because of it. Emperor Francis Joseph, jealous perhaps of the
copyright on his name, declined to recognize King Joseph of Spain.
Whereupon Bonaparte again set out for Austria, where, on the 6th of
July, 1809, Austria having recognized the strength of Bonaparte's
arguments, backed up, as they were, by an overwhelming force of men,
each worthy of a marshal's baton, and all confident, under the new
regime, of some day securing it, an armistice was agreed upon, and on
the 14th of October a treaty satisfactory to France was signed.

"If I have to come back again, my dear Emperor Joseph,"
Bonaparte said, as he set out for Paris, "it will be for the purpose
of giving you a new position, which you may not like so well as the
neat and rather gaudy sinecure you now hold."

"Which is--?" added the Austrian.

"I'll bring you a snow-shovel and set you to clearing off the
steps."

"What steps?" queried the Austrian anxiously.

"The back-steppes of Russia," replied Napoleon, sternly. "The
only thing that keeps me from doing it now is that I--ah--I hate to
do anything unkind to the father of--ah--your daughter Marie-Louise,
whom I met at the dance last night, and who, between you and me,
looks remarkably like the only woman I ever loved."