BOOK V.
[CHAPTER XXXIX.]
FRENCH ERFURT.
Erfurt had undergone a great transformation in the course of a single week. The quiet German fortress, and the gloomy streets and deserted public places, had become a gay capital. There were constantly seen crowds of French footmen in rich liveries, high-born gentlemen with their stars on their breasts, and gaping idlers looking wonderingly at the change. But what feverish activity and toil had been required to effect this! Paris—nay, all France, had to contribute their treasures. Long lines of wagons had conveyed to Erfurt costly furniture, covered with velvet and gilt ornaments, from the imperial garde-meubles of Paris, magnificent porcelain from Sèvres, precious gobelins and silks from Lyons and Rouen, rare wines from Bordeaux, tropic fruits from Marseilles, and truffles from Périgord. Not only the castle, but also the prominent private residences, had been decorated in the most sumptuous style. An army of cooks and kitchen-boys had garrisoned the basements and kitchens filled with the delicacies brought from the principal cities of Europe.
France had adorned Erfurt as a bride ready to receive her lord, and the German princes had come as bridesmen. Nearly every German state had sent its sovereign or crown prince. There were the Kings of Saxony, Würtemberg, Bavaria, and Westphalia; the Dukes of Hesse-Darmstadt, Baden, Weimar, Gotha, Oldenburg, Schwerin, and Strelitz, and more than twenty of the petty sovereigns in which Germany abounded. For the first time all seemed to be united, and to have one purpose. This was, to do homage to the Emperor Napoleon.
He intended to come to Erfurt to meet again the friend he had gained at Tilsit, the Emperor Alexander. Nearly eighteen months had passed since the first meeting of the two monarchs. Since that time the morning sky of their friendship had been overcast. The meeting at Erfurt was to renew their former relations. Both emperors felt that they could not do without each other, and they sought this meeting with equal eagerness. Alexander desired to continue his war against Sweden for the possession of Finland. Napoleon had not yet been able to bring the great struggle in Spain to a successful end, and had, therefore, to remain at peace with the only sovereign whose power and enmity he had still to fear. Besides, the two emperors loved each other; they had exchanged at Tilsit ardent vows. The world was aware of this, and could not but regard it as a matter of course that the imperial friends longed to meet again. The auspicious period was fixed for the 27th of September, 1808. The appointed hour had struck; the cannon and the pealing of bells announced the advent of Napoleon.—All the thoroughfares and public places were crowded. The people were hastening with wild impetuosity to the streets through which he was to pass; the members of the municipality, dressed in their official robes, proceeded to the gate where they were to welcome him; the windows of all the houses were open; and there appeared beautiful women, adorned with flowers and gems, awaiting his approach. The imperial guard formed in line to the soul-stirring notes of their band, and the Kings of Saxony and Würtemberg, and the whole host of German princes, had assembled in the large hall of the government palace to salute the emperor.
A noise as of distant thunder seemed to shake the air; it drew nearer and nearer. It was the cheering of the people and the soldiers, for the emperor had now entered the city. The procession moved on, greeted by the bright eyes of the ladies, and the shouts of the multitude. Napoleon, wearily leaning back in the open barouche, drawn by six richly-caparisoned horses, thanked the people with an indifferent wave of his hand, and saluted the ladies with a scarcely perceptible nod. His countenance was immovable, and the public excitement was unable to betray him into the faintest sign of gratification. The noisy welcome seemed as stale to him as some old song which he had heard too often. As his carriage made but slow headway through the surging mass, the emperor started with a movement of impatience. "Forward!" he shouted in a loud voice, and the adjutants, riding on both sides, repeated to the outriders, "Forward! forward!" The carriage rolled on at a full gallop, regardless of the populace, followed by a cavalcade of marshals and generals, and the coaches of Champagny, Maret, and Talleyrand. Having arrived in front of the palace, the emperor quickly entered. At the landing of the staircase he was received by the German princes, headed by the King of Saxony. Napoleon embraced the old gentleman with an expression of genuine tenderness. "Sire," said the king, "you see you have made my heart young again—you have restored the elasticity of youth to my old body. I hastened hither with courier-horses in order to greet you first, and in the impatience of my heart I have been at the window for several hours to have the happiness of seeing your majesty."
"Oh," exclaimed Napoleon, bending a sinister glance on the other princes, "I would my love could succeed in rendering you as young as your heart; it would greatly promote the welfare of Germany. You would regenerate the ancient German empire, and transform it into a real and lasting union." He cordially shook hands with the king, saluted the other foreigners with an impatient nod, and walked to his rooms, where his valets de chambre were awaiting him.
Half an hour afterward Minister Champagny was called into the emperor's cabinet. When the minister entered, Napoleon was pacing the room; his hands folded, as usual, behind him. A map, covered with colored pins, and on which he cast a long, dark look, lay on the table. Champagny remained in respectful silence at the door, waiting the moment when it would please the emperor to notice his presence. At length Napoleon stood facing him. "Champagny," he asked, "do you know why we are here, and what is the object of this meeting?"