CHAPTER IX.
When the nineteenth century dawned, a new and striking figure had appeared in Europe. Napoleon Bonaparte had arisen with a bound from obscurity in Corsica to supreme authority in France, and with audacious display of power wielded by genius, hurled his battalions across the face of Europe.
He seemed the embodiment of some new and irresistible force. Kingdoms melted before him, and kings and princes vied with each other in doing his bidding quickly, as he tore down old political divisions, and, as it were, etched a new map of Europe with his sword; distributing thrones as boys do marbles, until there was not an uncrowned head in his own or his wife's family, or scarcely among his intimate friends. He made his brother Joseph king of Spain; Bernadotte, his friend, king of Sweden; Murat, his brother-in-law, king of Naples. Created the kingdom of Holland and gave it to his brother Louis; and another kingdom of Westphalia, which he gave to his brother Jerome. Appointed Eugene Beauharnais, his stepson, viceroy of Italy. Married Hortense, his step-daughter, to Louis, King of Holland; and Stephanie, Empress Josephine's niece, to the Grand Duke of Baden.
It will be observed that when there were not enough thrones to go around, he simply created a kingdom! Certainly, with all his faults, no one can accuse him of not having provided well for his family!
At a touch from this Man of Destiny, the shadowy fabric of the German Empire crumbled to dust. Just one thousand years from the crowning of its first emperor Charlemagne, its last, Francis II., laid down his arms and his sceptre before Napoleon, and with them the proud title of "Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire," assumed on that Christmas day, in the Cathedral of St. Peter's, in the year 800.
When Napoleon married Marie Louise, daughter of this deposed monarch who had occupied the throne of the Cæsars, his dream of universal empire seemed realized. The continent of Europe was actually under his feet. History had only twice before witnessed such a display of power, and contained only three men as colossal in triumphs—Alexander, Julius Cæsar, and Charlemagne.
But it was the mantle of these last two that he felt he was destined to wear, the glittering pinnacles of the great Roman Empire being ever before his romantic ambition. Hence, when the longed-for son was born he called him King of Rome. And why should he not? Was not his mother daughter of a line of emperors leading back to Charlemagne, first emperor of the Holy Roman Empire?
But with the first reverse, this artificially created empire trembled upon its foundations, and upon his defeat at Waterloo, 1815, one thousand years from the death of Charlemagne, the whole fabric fell apart into fragments. The crowns rolled off the heads of Joseph, Jerome, Louis, and the rest of them. The magical creation passed away like a vision of the night.
Europe rallied from the spell which this Corsican magician had thrown over her, and while he lay chained to the rock at St. Helena, the vulture of regret eating his heart away, Metternich, prime minister of Austria, was restoring order to Germany.
A confederation of states was formed, with Austria as its chief, each to be represented at a general Diet, held at Frankfort; and for fifty years such was the condition of Germany. Prussia, fallen from her high position under Frederick the Great, sinking lower and lower in the scale of nations, dominated by Austria, powerless to resent insult, her people helpless and hopeless, looking only to final disintegration and absorption into the powerful states about her.