Holland was turned into a subject kingdom, and Louis Bonaparte put upon its throne.
To his sister Elisa, Napoleon gave additional territory in Italy; and to Pauline, who had married Prince Borghese, was given Guastalla. Madame Bacciochi, who was morally another Caroline of Naples, was a good ruler, and her government of her little kingdom was excellent. As to Pauline, she cared for nothing but pleasure; and not knowing very well what else to do with her Guastalla, she sold it.
Caroline Bonaparte, importunate in her demands for imperial recognition, was offered the principality of Neufchâtel. She haughtily declined it. Such a petty kingdom was obviously, even glaringly, less than her share. Yielding to this youthful and self-assertive sister, Napoleon had to create the Grand Duchy of Berg to satisfy her and her no less aspiring husband, Murat.
The scapegrace Jerome Bonaparte, one of whose numberless freaks was that of paying $3,000 for a shaving outfit long prior to the arrival of his beard, was made to renounce his beautiful young American wife, Miss Patterson; and was kept in imperial tutelage till such time as he should be made king of Westphalia, with a Würtemberg princess for queen.
Eugène Beauharnais, Viceroy of Italy, was married to the daughter of the king of Bavaria; and Stephanie Beauharnais, Josephine’s niece, was wedded to the son of the Elector of Baden.
In these grand arrangements for the Bonaparte family, Lucien was left out. He and Napoleon had quarrelled, the cause being, chiefly, that Lucien would not discard his wife, as the pusillanimous Jerome had done. Napoleon was offended because Lucien at his second marriage had selected a woman whose virtue was far from being above suspicion. “Divorce her,” demanded Napoleon; “she is a strumpet.”
“Mine is at least young and pretty,” retorted Lucien, with sarcastic reference to Josephine, who was neither young nor pretty. Angrily the brothers parted: the elder insisting on the divorce, and offering a kingdom as a bribe: the younger scornfully spurning the bribe, and cleaving to his wife. This manly and independent attitude was the easier to maintain since Lucien had already amassed a fortune in Napoleon’s service. Taking up his residence in a grand palace in Rome, surrounded by rare books, paintings, and statuary, comforted by the preference and the presence of Madame Letitia, a favorite of the Pope because an enemy of Napoleon, Lucien cultivated letters, wrote the longest and the dullest epic of modern times, and called it Charlemagne.
While elevating to thrones the members of his family, the Emperor could not forget those who had served him in the army and in civil affairs. From the conquered territories he carved various principalities, duchies, and so forth, for distribution among the Talleyrands, Bernadottes, and Berthiers, who were to betray him later. A new order of nobility sprang up at the word,—a nobility based upon service, and without special privilege, but richly endowed, and quick to arrogate to itself all the prestige ever enjoyed by the old.
Surrounded as he was by hostile kings, Napoleon felt the need of supports. In creating the Confederation of the Rhine, in putting his brothers upon adjacent thrones, in bestowing fiefs upon his high officials, he believed himself to be throwing out barriers against foreign foes, and propping his empire with the self-interest and resources of all these subject princes whom he had created, never dreaming that in the day of adversity his own brothers and sisters would think of saving themselves at his expense.
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