On the 17th of March M. de Melzi, Vice-President of the Italian Republic, accompanied by the principal members of the Council of State and a numerous deputation of presidents of the electoral colleges, deputies from the Corps Législatif, and other important persons, was received by the Emperor on his throne, and submitted to him the ardent desire of the Council that he would graciously consent to reign over the ultramontane republic also. “Our present Government,” said M. de Melzi, “can not continue, because it throws us behind the age in which we live. Constitutional monarchy is everywhere indicated by the finger of progress.
“The Italian Republic claims a King, and her interests demand that this King should be Napoleon, on the condition that the two crowns shall be united on his head only, and that, so soon as the Mediterranean is once more free, he will himself nominate a successor of his own blood.”
Bonaparte replied that he had always labored for the welfare of Italy; that for this end he would accept the crown, because he believed that any other course would just now be fatal to her independence; and that afterward, when the time came for so doing, he would gladly place the Iron Crown on some younger head, as he should always be ready to sacrifice himself for the interests of the States over which he was called to reign.
On the following day, the 18th of March, he proceeded to the Senate in state, and announced both the request of the Council and his own consent. M. de Melzi and all the Italians took the oaths, and the Senate approved and applauded as usual. The Emperor concluded his speech by declaring that the genius of evil would seek in vain to rekindle the fire of war on the Continent; that which had been united to the Empire would remain united.
He doubtless foresaw that this event would be the occasion of an early war, at least with the Emperor of Austria, which, however, he was far from dreading. The army was becoming weary of inaction; the invasion of England was too perilous. It might be that favorable circumstances would render the landing possible, but how could the army maintain its footing afterward in a country where reënforcement would be wellnigh impossible? And, in case of failure, what would be the chances of retreat? It may be observed, in the history of Bonaparte, that he always contrived to avoid a positively hopeless position as far as possible, and especially for himself personally. A war, therefore, would serve his purpose by relieving him from this project of invasion, which, from the moment he renounced it, became ridiculous.
During the same session, the State of Piombino was given to the Princess Elisa. On announcing this to the Senate, Bonaparte stated that the principality had been badly governed for several years; that the interests of France were concerned, on account of the facilities which it offered for communication with the Island of Elba and with Corsica; and that the gift was not a token of special affection, but an act in accordance with a wise policy, with the splendor of the crown, and with the interests of nations.
As a proof that these gifts of the Emperor were in the nature of fiefs, the Imperial decree was to the effect that the children of Mme. Bacciochi, on succeeding to their mother, should receive investiture from the Emperor of the French; that they should not marry without his consent; and that the Princess’s husband, who was to assume the title of Prince of Piombino, should take the following oath:
“I swear fidelity to the Emperor; I promise to aid with my whole power the garrison of the Island of Elba; and I declare that I will not cease, under any circumstances, to fulfill the duties of a good and faithful subject toward his Majesty the Emperor of the French.”
A few days after this the Pope solemnly baptized the second son of Louis Bonaparte, who was held at the font by his father and mother. This great ceremony took place at Saint Cloud. The park was illuminated on the occasion, and public games were provided for the people. In the evening there was a numerous reception, and a first performance of “Athalie” at the theatre at Saint Cloud.
Racine’s great tragedy had not been performed since the Revolution. The Emperor, who admitted he had never been impressed by reading the play, was much struck by its representation, and repeated on that occasion that he greatly wished such a tragedy might be written during his own reign. He gave leave that it should be performed in Paris; and thenceforth most of our great plays resumed their place on the stage, whence they had been prudently banished by the Revolution.