“But how much does this ‘up to the peace of Tilsit’ embrace? First, all the first wars of the French Republic,—the campaigns of 1792, ’93, ’94, ’95, and the carnage and woe that made up their history; second, eleven out of the eighteen years of Bonaparte’s career,—the campaigns of 1796, in Italy and Germany, the battles of Montenotte, Millesimo, Dego, Lodi, Arcola, Castiglione, and Rivoli, the campaigns of 1797, and the bloody battle-fields that marked their progress. It embraces the wars in Italy and Switzerland while Bonaparte was in Egypt; the campaign of Marengo, and its carnage; the havoc around and in Genoa; the slain thousands that strewed the Black Forest and the banks of the Danube, where Moreau struggled so heroically; the campaign of Hohenlinden, and its losses. And yet this is but a fraction to what remains. This period takes in also the campaign of Austerlitz and its bloody battle, and the havoc the hand of war was making in Italy; the campaign of Jena, and the fierce conflicts that accompanied it; the campaign of Eylau and the battles of Pultusk, Golymin, Heilsberg, crowned by the dreadful slaughter of Eylau; the campaigns of Friedland and Tilsit, and the multitudes they left on the plains of Europe. All these terrible campaigns, with their immense slaughter, does an English historian declare to be the result of a defensive war on the part of France, not merely a defence of territory, but of human rights against tyranny. Let republicans ponder this before they adopt the sentiments of prejudiced historians, and condemn as a monster the man who was toiling over battle-fields to save his country from banded oppressors.”
The 2d of December, 1804, dawned clear and cold. It was Sunday, and upon this day Napoleon was to be crowned emperor at the church of Nôtre Dame. All Paris assembled to witness this imposing ceremony. The church was draped in costly velvet of richest hues. At one end a gorgeous throne was erected. The Emperor left the Tuileries in a splendid carriage, whose sides were of glass, thus allowing his magnificent robes to be seen. He wore a golden laurel wreath upon his head.
The acclamations of the immense crowds thronging the streets filled the air. As Napoleon entered the church, five hundred musicians intoned a solemn chant. The Pope anointed the Emperor and blessed the sword and the sceptre. Then Napoleon lifted the crown and placed it upon his own head. Napoleon then took up the crown intended for the Empress, and approaching Josephine as she knelt before him, he placed it tenderly upon her brow. Their eyes met for one moment in a long and loving gaze of mutual affection, and tears filled the eyes of the beautiful Josephine as she glanced with undisguised adoration upon the husband she so reverenced and worshipped. And the lofty arches of Nôtre Dame resounded with shouts of “Vive l’Empereur!”
The Cisalpine Republic had witnessed the change of France from a republic to an empire with great satisfaction. A deputation from Italy was now sent to Napoleon, begging him to assume the crown of Charlemagne. On the 20th of May, the coronation took place in the Cathedral of Milan. The ceremony was conducted with a magnificence not exceeded at Nôtre Dame. The iron crown of Charlemagne had reposed for a thousand years in the church of Monza. The Empress first appeared gorgeously dressed and glittering with jewels. Then Napoleon entered, arrayed in imperial robes, with the diadem upon his brow and the sceptre and crown of Charlemagne in his hands. He placed the crown upon his own head, saying, solemnly, “God has given it to me; woe to him who touches it!”
Meanwhile, hostilities had commenced in the midst of Germany. Austria and Russia had united with England. The Austrians had passed the Inn; Munich was invaded; war was inevitable.
Then followed the campaign of Ulm. Napoleon writes to Josephine, Dec. 5, 1805:—
“I have concluded a truce. The Russians have implored it. The victory of Austerlitz is the most illustrious of all which I have gained. We have taken forty-five flags, 150 pieces of cannon, and twenty generals. More than 20,000 are slain. It is an awful spectacle. I have beaten the Russian and Austrian armies commanded by the two emperors.”
In 1806 England, Russia, and Prussia formed a new alliance against the French. Then followed the bloody battles of Jena and Auerstadt. On the 28th of October Napoleon made a triumphal entry into Berlin, and established himself in the king’s palace. While there he visited the tomb of Frederick the Great, at Potsdam. The sword of the Prussian was suspended over his grave. Napoleon took it down, saying, “I will send it to the governor of the Invalides.” General Rapp ventured to reply, “Were I in your place, I should not be willing to part with this sword. I should keep it for myself.”
Napoleon jestingly answered, “Have I not then a sword of my own, Mr. Giver of Advice?” The Prussian monarchy was destroyed upon the fields of Jena and of Auerstadt. But England and Russia were yet clamorous for war. Again Napoleon tried to make overture for peace, again he was repulsed. Then followed the terrible battle-field of Eylau. Amid winter’s snow and ice and storms this famous battle was won. As Napoleon passed over the gory field after the awful carnage, he exclaimed with deep emotion, “To a father who loses his children victory has no charms.”