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[Transcriber's note: Obvious printer's errors have been corrected,
all other inconsistencies are as in the original. The author's
spelling has been maintained.

Unusual subscripts have been marked with { }, e.g.: V{te} for
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[Illustration: From the collection of W. C. Crane Engraved by Langlois

GENERAL BONAPARTE

Drawn by Raffet.]




               THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE

                             BY

                   WILLIAM MILLIGAN SLOANE
                     PH.D., L.H.D., LL.D.
        _Professor of History in Columbia University_


                    Revised and Enlarged
                       With Portraits


                         VOLUME II




                          NEW YORK
                       THE CENTURY CO.
                            1916




              Copyright, 1894, 1895, 1896, 1910
                             BY
                      THE CENTURY CO.

                 _Published, October, 1910_




CONTENTS


    CHAPTER                                                       Page

         I. Rescue of the Directory................................. 1

        II. The Treaty of Campo Formio............................. 15

       III. Bonaparte and Talleyrand............................... 26

        IV. Commotions in European Politics........................ 36

         V. The Expedition to Egypt................................ 46

        VI. The Landing in Egypt................................... 55

       VII. The Disaster at Acre................................... 65

      VIII. Aboukir and the Great Desertion........................ 77

        IX. "The Return of the Hero"............................... 86

         X. Bonaparte Seizes His Opportunity...................... 100

        XI. The Overthrow of the Directory........................ 111

       XII. Bonaparte the First Consul............................ 121

      XIII. Bonaparte Embodies the Revolution..................... 136

       XIV. A Constitutional Despotism............................ 149

        XV. Statesmanship and Strategy............................ 162

       XVI. Marengo............................................... 174

      XVII. The Peace of Lunéville................................ 190

     XVIII. The Pacification of Europe............................ 203

       XIX. The Reorganization of France.......................... 213

        XX. The Code and the University........................... 221

       XXI. Steps Toward Monarchy................................. 229

      XXII. The Life Consulate.................................... 239

     XXIII. The Threshold of Monarchy............................. 250

      XXIV. Expansion of the Revolutionary System................. 261

       XXV. Tension Between England and France.................... 275

      XXVI. France and England in Arms............................ 286

     XXVII. Warnings To Royalists and Republicans................. 295

    XXVIII. Declaration of the Empire............................. 314

      XXIX. The Descent Into England.............................. 325

       XXX. The Coronation of Napoleon I.......................... 339

      XXXI. The Third Coalition................................... 354

     XXXII. Trafalgar and Austerlitz.............................. 370

    XXXIII. Napoleon, War Lord and Emperor........................ 393

     XXXIV. The War With Russia................................... 413

      XXXV. The Devastation of Prussia............................ 435

     XXXVI. The Continental System................................ 446




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


  General Bonaparte                                     _Frontispiece_

                                                           Facing Page

  Map of Egypt..................................................... 58

  Napoleon--by Ingres.............................................. 78

  Napoleon working by the glimmer of the lamp..................... 128

  Map of the Marengo Campaigns.................................... 176

  Two Maps of Marengo, 14th July, 1800........................ 183-184

  Napoleon as First Consul........................................ 226

  Napoleon Bonaparte, First Consul................................ 276

  Napoleon as First Consul........................................ 326

  Napoleon, First Consul--by Ingres............................... 376

  Napoleon Bonaparte as First Consul.............................. 426




LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE




CHAPTER I

RESCUE OF THE DIRECTORY[1]

         [Footnote 1: The authorities are as before: Vandal:
         L'Avènement de Bonaparte; Aulard: Études et leçons sur la
         Révolution Française; Paris pendant la réaction
         thermidorienne et sous le Directoire, and Histoire Politique
         de la Révolution Française; Sorel: L'Europe et la Révolution
         Française, Vol. V; Bonaparte et le Directoire. Much can be
         gleaned from the printed letters and despatches of this
         period. Important sources are the Souvenirs du baron de
         Barante; Mémoires et correspondance de Lafayette; Fiévée:
         Correspondance et relations avec Bonaparte; Correspondance de
         Mallet du Pan; Mémoires du roi Joseph; likewise the memoirs
         of Madame de Chastenay, of Duport de Cheverny, of Marmont,
         Marbot, Bourrienne, Carnot, Thiébault, Mathieu Dumas, and
         above all the Correspondence of Napoleon himself. Further,
         there are the collections of Bailleu, Staël-Holstein, Charles
         de Constant, letters of Talleyrand to Napoleon (published by
         Bertrand), of Jean Hardy, and Mme. Reinhard. The newspapers
         of the day, such as L'Espiègle, Le Surveillant, Le
         Publiciste, Le Propagateur, Gazette de France and Moniteur,
         and the Journal des Hommes Libres, are accessible only in the
         great libraries of London and Paris. The papers of
         Cambacérès, Mortier, Barthélemy, Grouvelle, and Jourdan have
         been found and used by the latest historians, but they are
         not printed. The best bibliography of the period is a
         considerable volume edited by Kirchelsen and published in
         1902, 2d ed. 1908: that of Lumbroso is not yet completed.]

     Deadlock between the French Executive and the Chambers --
     Bonaparte's Attitude -- The Celebration of July Fourteenth at
     Milan -- Plot of the French Royalists -- Attitude of Moreau and
     Hoche -- Bonaparte to the Rescue -- The Eighteenth of Fructidor
     -- Effects in Paris -- Bonaparte a European Personage -- His
     Statesmanship in Italy -- The Ligurian Republic -- Sardinia,
     Switzerland, and Great Britain -- Readiness of Italy for War --
     Strength of Bonaparte's Armies.


[Sidenote: 1797]

The fine charter with which France had presumably closed the
revolutionary epoch, in order to live for the first time under a
constitutional government, was about to display its fatal weakness in
the production of a deadlock. This possibility had been clearly
foreseen by acute observers, since there was no provision for the
control of one arm of the government by the other, and in any working
system supreme control must reside somewhere. For fear of usurpation,
anarchy, and tyranny the constitution of the Directorate divided the
powers so completely that they could not work at all. The spring
elections of 1797 were the first held under this new constitution
without any restrictions, and the Jacobin majority in the legislature
disappeared. Barthélemy, the new director chosen to replace
Letourneur, was a moderate democrat with royalistic leanings, who,
like his predecessor, joined his fortunes with those of Carnot. The
Five Hundred, therefore, as well as the Ancients, now represented the
great majority of the French people, who hated Jacobinism, who were
opposed to any republican propaganda in foreign countries, and who,
more than anything else, wanted peace, in order to restore their
fortunes and to secure leisure for their amusements. An attack on the
executive policy which had been dictated by the three radical members
of the Directory, sometimes designated the triumvirate, at once began.
Nothing escaped: assaults were made on their attitude toward the
emigrants and the clergy, on their loss of the colonies, on their
financial failures, and, above all, on their conduct of foreign
affairs, which appeared to have as its aim the continuance of the war,
and the overthrow of monarchy throughout Europe. The leaders of the
majority in the two councils frequented a club in the Clichy quarter
of Paris, which was the center of royalist intrigue. Though no match
in ability for their opponents, these men were quite clever enough to
taunt the directors with their impotence to stop royalist agitations.
Internal affairs were desperate. Suicides from starvation were sadly
frequent among the officers of the navy, while their colleagues in the
Army of Italy were not only growing rich on plunder, but defiant as
well. The French commander in Italy had first made peace on his own
terms, and had then declared war without consulting the chambers, thus
not only annihilating friendly commonwealths, but evincing a contempt
for the constitution, for the duly elected representatives of the
people, and for the popular demand that there should be, not a
particular, but a general pacification. On June twenty-third, 1797, in
a memorable interpellation of the government by Dumorlard, all these
matters were thoroughly ventilated in the Five Hundred. Even
Pontécoulant, Bonaparte's former protector, joined in the demand for
an explanation. Paris and the country in general were left in a
ferment.

The disorders, murmurs, and menaces so rife in Paris had long given
food for thought to the proconsul at Montebello. He was meditating
upon constitutions and their values, while outwardly devoting himself
to fascinating his little court and its visitors. He rode, he danced,
he told weird tales at dusk, he played cards and cheated with merry
effrontery; in the intervals he slept long and deep, as at irregular
hours he worked titanically and efficiently. Was it to maintain the
chaos in Paris that he was conquering, administering, negotiating?
This he flatly asked of Miot de Melito and Melzi, as they narrate. The
directors were meditating a state stroke, and they well knew that
Bonaparte was less their man than they were his creatures. So they
chose a new ministry which included Talleyrand as minister of state
and Hoche as minister of war. The rôle to be played by the latter was
so evident that the plan was thwarted on a technicality, as will be
seen; and with Talleyrand, Bonaparte was soon to be, if he were not
already, in personal correspondence about forms of government.
Interested experts will note the various suggestions from the medieval
constitutions of Italian republics, which in some measure affected the
conceptions of these political theorists.

It was with reference to such conditions that the celebration, in
Milan, of July fourteenth was arranged. Each detail was nicely
calculated to strengthen the self-esteem of every soldier, to
intensify his military pride, and to prejudice him against the
conservatives who wanted peace only that they might restore the
monarchy. The soldiers of Bonaparte were in their own estimation the
soldiers of the same republic which survived in the triumvirate,
Barras, Rewbell, and Larévellière; and it was a republican
constitution which was menaced by the illegal interference of the
legislature with the executive. In such a crisis it was easy to
confuse in the minds of plain men the love of military glory with the
enthusiasm for liberty. "Soldiers, I know that you are deeply moved by
the misfortune which threatens our country"--so ran the proclamation
of their idolized general. "But our country is in no real danger. The
men who have enabled her to triumph over united Europe are on hand.
Mountains separate us from France: you would surmount them with the
swiftness of the eagle, if it were needful, in order to maintain the
constitution, to defend liberty, to protect the government and the
republicans. Soldiers, the government guards the law of which it is
the depositary. If royalists show their heads, that moment is their
last. Dismiss your fears, and let us swear by the spirit of the
heroes who have fallen at our side in defense of liberty--let us swear
by our new banners: 'Never-ending war on the enemies of the republic,
and of the constitution of the year III.'"

This call had exactly the effect desired. From the divisions of the
army, and from the chief garrisons, came addresses declaring the
adhesion of the troops to the principles of the Revolution. As for the
reproaches heaped upon Bonaparte for the overthrow of Venice, he was
little concerned. To pacify the clamor, however, he invented and printed
a number of half-true explanations cleverly adapted to the charges
brought, but of a sardonic nature. The real bolt, the weapon destined to
crush his enemies, was one forged in that very city. On its fall, a
leading emigrant--the Comte d'Antraigues--had been captured. Treated
with the highest distinction by his captors, he was led to write a
confession of all that concerned the hitherto suspected, but unproved,
treachery of Pichegru two years before. From his refuge at Blankenburg,
in the Hartz Mountains, the pretender--Louis XVIII--had slowly and
painfully built up the party which has been mentioned, and from its
meeting-place was known as the Clichy faction; he had also bought
Pichegru's adhesion to his cause, and had laid the complicated train of
a plot whereby, when the fated and foreseen moment should arrive in
which the exasperated Directory would employ force with the legislative
councils, Pichegru, now president of the Five Hundred, was to appear in
his uniform as the conqueror of Holland, and, assuming the chief
command, turn the army, the chosen bulwark of the directors, against
them. The Paris royalists had talked and behaved so as to betray many
details regarding this ingenious scheme; but the possession of such
knowledge by the directors did not render the situation any less
menacing. To save themselves and the constitution, the radical members
felt that they must secure, and that speedily, a capable and devoted
general to command in Paris.

They had consulted Moreau, Hoche, and Bonaparte. Moreau showed little
zeal: the army on the Rhine, which he commanded and whose fortunes he
had retrieved by a signal victory, had not been paid; the men were
destitute, and, like their leader, sullen on account of their enforced
inaction. So unsympathetic and cold was the general's attitude toward
the Directory that although, as appears certain, he had in his
possession positive proof of Pichegru's desertion to the enemy, he
kept silence, and allowed matters to take their course. The brilliant
Hoche was willing to aid the directors. He had worked wonders in
quelling rebellion throughout the Vendée, had won the favor of the
soldiery, and in 1796 had made a gallant though futile expedition to
stir up sedition in Ireland. Having then been transferred to the banks
of the Rhine, he had gladly lent himself to execute a plan arranged by
Barras for bringing troops to Paris under the pretext of a scheme for
the complete transformation of the home and northern armies by a
change of stations for the various divisions. To this end the general
on July sixteenth had been nominated minister of war. It turned out,
however, that, being not yet thirty, he was too young under the
constitution, and could not be confirmed. Simultaneously the new
dispositions in the army began to excite suspicion; the entire plan
was discredited, and Hoche was so closely identified with it that he
became an object of distrust to the masses, and therefore unavailable.

There remained only Bonaparte or one of his lieutenants. His very
strength was a menace to the executive, and they felt the danger; but
a general they must have. Accordingly, bitter as the decision was,
they asked Bonaparte to send them such a commander as they needed--one
of his own men. Bonaparte was ready for the emergency; he had already
sent despatches to Paris promising a new remittance of six hundred
thousand dollars, the strongest French army in the field had been used
in a brilliant demonstration in favor of the Directory, and now most
opportunely the ambitious, blustering, and fearless Augereau asked
leave to depart for Paris on his private affairs. To him was entrusted
an enthusiastic address to the Directory from the army, which had been
prepared as part of the patriotic celebration. No better tool could
have been selected. On his arrival in Paris,--"sent," as he boasted,
"to kill the royalists,"--he was appointed to command the Army of the
Interior; and the confession of d'Antraigues having been communicated
to Barras a short time previously, through Bernadotte, the Directory
felt ready for the coming crisis. Again they owed everything to
Bonaparte; he was free to do as he chose in the further negotiations
with Austria, and in the rearrangement of Italy.

With such weapons in hand, the Directory was for the moment
invulnerable. But the royalist majority in the councils rushed madly
on their fate. Infuriated by the presence so near to Paris of the
soldiers brought in from the Army of the Sambre and the Meuse, they
put their own guard under a royalist commander, closed the
constitutional clubs which had been formed to offset that of Clichy,
and in an irregular meeting of September third a proposition of
General Willot to rise next day and destroy the government was
received with applause. That night Augereau put himself at the head of
about twelve thousand troops. With these he mounted guard throughout
the city, seized the legislative chambers, and thus ended the first
short constitutional régime of his country. The next morning, the
eighteenth of Fructidor, the radical triumvirate of the Directory had
entire control of the city and of the country. Of course all this was
done in the name of public safety. Carnot, who had been kept in
ignorance of Barras's dealings with Hoche, and had been reasoning with
Bonaparte by letter as if his correspondent were an honest patriot,
was rudely awakened from his illusion that others were as honest and
sincere as he, and, seeing too late the snare which had been spread,
took refuge in flight. Barthélemy was seized and imprisoned.

Two new radicals, Merlin and François de Neufchâteau, were appointed to
the vacancies. Barbé-Marbois, the royalist president of the Ancients,
with eleven members of that body; Pichegru with forty-two deputies from
the Five Hundred, and one hundred and forty-eight other persons, mostly
journalists, were proscribed. All these, with the exception of a few who
escaped by flight, were sent to languish in the pestilential swamps of
Cayenne, where there was already a colony of transported priests.
Although the guillotine was not again erected, yet the eighteenth of
Fructidor brought in a revolutionary government, an administration
resting on force, though under the forms of the constitution. The
Fructidorians claimed to be strict constitutionalists, and posed as such
before the country. But facts were more convincing than their
professions. Their rallying-point was the Directory, and the Directory
having twice appealed to the army, the army was now its real support.
The liberty of the press was abolished, and martial law was proclaimed
wherever the executive thought best. Moreover, Bonaparte had shown the
way and furnished the general; he had taken another step toward his
eventual appearance as the ruler of the army, and through it of the
country. Such a forced relation led to mutual distrust, and finally to
hatred.

Augereau, who had fondly hoped to enter the Directory, was made
commander, in Moreau's place, of an army whose campaigns were over.
The premature death of Hoche about the same time quenched the only
military genius in France comparable to that of Bonaparte, and removed
a political rival as well. The Army of the Alps was then combined with
that of Italy, and with this simplification of the military machine he
who until peace was made would be virtually its mover could well say
to his enemies: "I speak in the name of eighty thousand men. The time
is past when scoundrelly lawyers and mere talkers can guillotine
soldiers." Napoleon, in his intimate conversations with Mme. de
Rémusat, said that at this time he "became a personage in Europe. On
one side, by my orders of the day, I supported the revolutionary
system; on the other, I secretly dealt with the emigrants, permitting
them to cherish some hope. It is easy to deceive that party, for it
always sets out not from what actually is, but from what it wishes
there were. I received splendid offers in case I were willing to
follow the example of General Monk. The pretender himself wrote to me
in his halting, florid style. I conquered the Pope more completely by
keeping away from Rome than if I had burned his capital. At last I
became influential and strong."

With many men the success of the eighteenth of Fructidor would have
been glory enough for a single season. But the indomitable and
feverish energy of Bonaparte was not exhausted even by such minute
prevision as was needed for this; in fact, the political campaign was
only a considerable part of the summer's labor. While mastering
France, he was preparing to master Italy, and, after Italy, Europe.
Concurrently with the management of French politics went not only the
negotiations with the Emperor, but the completion of his contemplated
labors in Italy. Two constitutions were needed for new-born states,
the republics known thus far as the Transpadane and the Cispadane.
Neither was strong enough for their creator's purpose. By the
preparation of almost identical charters, based upon the French
constitution of the year III, the way for their union had already been
prepared. These papers were now most carefully elaborated; and not
only that, but an administrator for every post, from the highest to
the lowest, was, after a minute scrutiny of his character, selected
and then instructed according to his abilities. Most of these new
officials were men of integrity and high purpose; but nevertheless
they owed their appointment to the dictator, and were in consequence
his tools, conscious or unconscious. The combination of the two
temporary states into the Cisalpine Republic was thus made ready to be
recognized in the final treaty with Austria.

Then there was Genoa. Bonaparte had told the Directory in May that her
people were clamoring for liberty. She was destined by him for the
same fate which had overtaken Venice. The identical machinery was set
to work for a similar result. Faypoult, the diplomatic agent of
France, began his agitations very much as Lallemant had done, although
in comparison with his Venetian colleague he was but a bungler. The
democratic club of Genoa first demanded from the senate that
aristocracy should be abolished, and when their request was denied,
seized the arsenal and the harbor. The populace rose to the support of
the aristocracy, and temporarily triumphed. La Valette, Bonaparte's
adjutant, appeared in due time on the floor of the Genoese senate with
a peremptory message from his commander like that which in similar
dramatic circumstances Junot read to the patricians of Venice. The
intervention of the French, it said, was only to protect life and
property, while assuring their own communications with France. But
within twenty-four hours all political prisoners must be released, the
people disarmed, and the enemies of France surrendered; otherwise the
senators would answer with their lives. Thus menaced, the government
obeyed every command. Then Faypoult repeated his demand for the
substitution of a democratic constitution in place of the old one. The
senate felt how futile further opposition would be, but sent an
embassy to Montebello. The members were courteously received, and were
probably not greatly amazed to find Bonaparte already occupied with
the details of a constitution which was to reconstruct their
commonwealth under the name of the Ligurian Republic. It was soon
complete in all its parts, and with its adoption Genoa the Superb was
no more.

As for Sardinia, the constant agitation carried on by her radicals
kept the King in fear; and propositions from Bonaparte for an
alliance, which would increase his army by the full effective force of
the excellent Piedmontese troops, were favorably entertained. The
health of the Pope had become so feeble that his death could not long
be postponed. The opportunity was seized to display further respect
for his ecclesiastical power by requesting, on August third, a
reconciliation between the French government and the clergy for the
common advantage of State and Church. A quarrel between the Valtellina
and the Grisons gave the great man at Montebello his first chance to
intervene in Switzerland as an arbiter whose word was law, and thus to
begin the reconstruction of that country. In England, moreover, Leoben
had made a profound impression, and Pitt became more anxious than ever
for peace. In July Malmesbury reopened his negotiations, this time at
Lille. The proffered terms were far more favorable than before.
Belgium might be incorporated in France, and Holland made a
dependency, if the French would renounce their claim to the most
important among the Dutch colonies which England had conquered,
including the Cape of Good Hope. There was no good will on the part of
the French commissioners from the beginning, and the new ones who were
appointed after the eighteenth of Fructidor proved to be utterly
impracticable. The negotiations were marked by caviling over
unimportant trifles and a suspicious indifference on both sides to
really important concessions. Both parties, as later appeared, were
fully aware of the impending revolution at Paris: the British
plenipotentiary was confident in the restoration of royalty, the
French commission was equally sure that the radical triumvirate would
regain their mastery. Naturally it was a dispirited embassy which soon
returned to England, when not merely the facts but the meaning and
ultimate consequences of that revolution were known. Similar
conditions attended the negotiation of Caillard at Berlin with Panine
for a peace with Russia; only there, a treaty was signed. In it the
French republic renounced its right or privilege of propagandism, and
therefore the Directory after Fructidor rejected it. Throwing the
responsibility for the coming war on England and Russia, the
triumvirate without a moment's loss renewed its agitations in both
Holland and Prussia to "fructidorize" both and secure them as allies.
This insanity was merely the pendant of that with which they spurred
Bonaparte to activity in forcing Austria's prompt surrender,
withdrawing their agent from the negotiations and thus delivering
themselves and France more and more completely into his hands. The
process of "ripening the pear" for his enjoyment could not have been
more auspiciously inaugurated.

The season was for Bonaparte, as may well be supposed, just as busy on
the military as it had been on the political side. Day and night the
soldiers in the conquered Venetian lands wrought with ceaseless labor
until the whole territory was in perfect order as a base of military
operations. Not a single strategic point there or elsewhere was
overlooked. Even the little island of St. Peter in the Mediterranean
was taken from Piedmont, and garrisoned with two hundred men. It was
generally understood that war might break out at any moment. Every
contribution under treaty obligations was exacted to the utmost
farthing. As a single illustration of the French dealing, jewels and
gems estimated by the Pope as worth ten millions of francs were
accepted by the French experts at a valuation of five. Within the
previous twelve months Bonaparte had sent to Paris one million four
hundred thousand dollars, of which he destined four hundred thousand
for the outfit of a fleet. It was but a moiety of what he had raised.
During this summer, on the contrary, he kept everything: even the six
hundred thousand dollars promised to Barras were not paid. It is
therefore likely that he had in hand upward of six million dollars in
cash, and commissary stores to the extent of possibly a million more.

The size of his army is difficult to estimate. By the records of the
War Office he had in April one hundred and forty-one thousand two
hundred and twenty-three effectives, of whom one hundred and
twenty-one thousand four hundred and twenty were fit for service. On
September third he wrote to Carnot that he had seventy-five thousand
effective men, of whom fifteen thousand were in garrison; but a
fortnight later he admitted a total of eighty-three thousand eight
hundred, of whom he declared, however, that only forty-nine thousand
were effective. He likewise admitted that he had one thousand Italians
and two thousand Poles. No one can believe that these figures are of
the slightest value. Conservative estimates put his fighting force at
seventy thousand French soldiers ready for the field, and fifteen
thousand Piedmontese, Cisalpines, and Poles in like condition. The
French were by this time such veterans as Europe had seldom seen: the
others were of medium quality only; excepting, of course, the
Piedmontese, who were fine. Bonaparte's correspondence for the period
was intended to convey the idea that he was preparing to enforce the
terms of Leoben by another appeal to arms, if necessary. In fact,
Austria was well-nigh as active as he was, and he had need to be
ready. But subsequent events proved that all these preparations were
really for another end. An advantageous peace was to be made with
Austria, if possible, and Italy was to be properly garrisoned. But, on
the old principle, one member of the coalition having been quieted,
the other was to be humbled. The goal of his further ambition appears
for a time to have been nothing less than the destruction somewhere
and somehow of British power, and ultimately the conquest of Great
Britain herself.




CHAPTER II

THE TREATY OF CAMPO FORMIO[2]

         [Footnote 2: Authorities as before.]

     Bonaparte and the Mediterranean -- France and the Orient --
     Bonaparte's Grand Diplomacy -- Importance of Malta -- Course of
     Negotiations with Austria -- Novel Tactics of the French
     Plenipotentiary -- The Treaty of Campo Formio -- Results of
     Fructidor -- Bonaparte's Interests Conflict with those of the
     Directory -- Europe and the Peace.


Bonaparte was a child of the Mediterranean. The light of its sparkling
waters was ever in his eyes, and the fascination of its ancient
civilizations was never absent from his dreams of glory. His
proclamations ring with classic allusions, his festivals were arranged
with classic pomp. In infancy he had known of Genoa, the tyrant of his
island, as strong in the splendid commercial enterprises which
stretched eastward through the Levant, and beyond into the farther
Orient; in childhood he had fed his imagination on the histories of
Alexander the Great, and his conquest of Oriental empires; in youth he
had thought to find an open door for his ambition, when all others
seemed closed, by taking service with England to share the renown of
those who were building up her Eastern empire. Disappointed in this,
he appears to have turned with the same lack of success to Russia,
already England's rival on the continent of Asia. It is perfectly
comprehensible that throughout his early manhood his mind should have
occasionally reverted to the same ideals. The conqueror of Italy and
Austria might hope to realize them. Was he not master of the two
great maritime commonwealths which had once shared the mass of Eastern
trade between them? England's intrusion upon the Mediterranean basin
was a never-ceasing irritation to all the Latin powers. Her commercial
prosperity and her mastery of the seas increased the exasperation of
France, as threatening even her equality in their ancient rivalry.
From the days of the first crusade all Frenchmen had felt that
leadership in the reconstruction of Asia belonged to them by virtue of
preoccupation. Ardent republicans, moreover, still regarded France's
mission as incomplete even in the liberalizing of the Continent; and
the Department of Marine under the Directory stamped its paper with
the motto, "Liberty of the Seas." Imaginative forces, the
revolutionary system, and the national ambition all combined to create
ubiquitous enthusiasm for the conquest of the Mediterranean. To this
the temperament and training of Bonaparte were as the spark to the
tinder. It was with willing ears that the Directory heard his first
suggestions about the Venetian isles, and subsequently his plans for
the capture of Malta, which was to be followed by a death-blow to
England's supremacy in the Levant by the seizure of Egypt and the
dismemberment of Turkey.

As early as May fourteenth, 1797, a letter from the conqueror of Italy
informed the Directory what naval stores they might hope to secure in
the dismemberment of Venice; in the previous year similar estimates
had been made with regard to Genoa, Tuscany, and Naples. It was with a
Franco-Venetian fleet that Gentili established French administration
in the Ionian Isles, whose people, weary of Venetian tyranny, welcomed
him as a liberator. The more intelligent among them desired home rule
under French protection; the gratitude of the ignorant was shown in
the erection of rude shrines where lamps were kept alight before
pictures of Bonaparte. About the same time the discontented Greeks on
the mainland were given to understand that the great annihilator of
tyrants would gladly hear their cries. For months an extensive secret
correspondence was carried on between the French headquarters in Italy
and the disaffected in Turkey, wherever found. No fewer than three
rebellious pashas were ready to seek French assistance; and one of
them, he of Janina, had actually twelve thousand men in the field. The
archives of the French foreign office abound in careful studies by its
diplomatic agents of the revolutionary forces and elements in the
Ottoman empire. Ways and means to dissolve the ancient friendship
between France and the Porte were discussed; a political program,
based on the maltreatment of French merchants in the Levant and the
scandals of Mameluke administration in Egypt, was elaborated; and on
September thirteenth, 1797, the first formal proposition for the
seizure of that country was made by Bonaparte to Talleyrand, now
minister of foreign affairs. The government at Paris redoubled its
energies, and recruited its powers, for the object in view.

In fact, after Fructidor there is a ring in the words of Bonaparte's
letters, especially those to Talleyrand, which shows how risky it
would have been to neglect his unexpressed but evident wishes. The sum
of four hundred thousand dollars, sent from Italy in the previous year
for fitting out the fleet, had been used for another purpose, much to
the irritation of Bonaparte, whose language in regard to the
upbuilding of a sea power had been vigorous. At last, by his
contributions of material from Italy, and the efforts of the
administration at home, something had been accomplished. Admiral
Brueys was in the Adriatic with a force able, it was believed, to
meet even the English. By clever diplomacy the Spaniards and
Neapolitans had been set to neutralize each other. With time the
latter had grown bold, and were making extortionate demands. The
Directory offered to send five thousand French soldiers to reinforce
the Spanish army which was contending with Portugal, if an equal
number of the Spanish troops in Italy would mingle with the French
soldiers to conquer the Papal States. The latter would then be given
to the Duke of Parma, in return for his old duchy, which was to form
part of the new republic.

In this far-reaching design of Bonaparte's--a plan which comprehended
the whole basin of the Mediterranean, and which, by throwing French
troops into Spain, opened the way for further interference in that
peninsula--lies the germ of all his future dealing with the Castilian
monarchy. The focal point of the whole system, he had explained as
early as May, was the island of Malta, the citadel of the
Mediterranean. The grand master of the Knights was at the point of
death; the King of Naples claimed the island as an ancient appanage,
but a German was the most prominent of his order among the candidates
for the succession. Bonaparte's proposal was that the Maltese should
first be bribed to revolt, and that then the French or Spanish fleet
should seize Valetta, compel the election of a Spaniard, and thus
secure a bulwark in the heart of the Mediterranean against Turkey on
one side and England on the other.

Such were some of the summer's avocations; its real business was
supposed to be the conclusion of a peace with the empire. But Austria
was far from being exhausted, and her agents protracted the
negotiations while the Vienna government was recruiting its forces,
hoping all the time for a triumph of the royalist party in Paris.
Until after the eighteenth of Fructidor this was not entirely
distasteful to Bonaparte, in view of the desire of Carnot for peace on
the basis of the preliminaries. Nevertheless, a spirited comedy was
playing all the time, Bonaparte mystifying both Merveldt, one of the
Austrian plenipotentiaries, and Clarke, who had finally been admitted
to the negotiations as agent of the Directory, by outbursts of feigned
impatience, while, by pretended confidences, he coquetted with Gallo,
who, though the second Austrian plenipotentiary, was a Neapolitan,
minister from that kingdom to Vienna, and has by some been thought to
have been Bonaparte's own creature, and to have accepted his bribes.
Attempted bribery and counter-bribery, at any rate, there were; for
the conqueror himself received from Francis the offer of a
principality in the empire with not less than two hundred and fifty
thousand subjects, and an independent income. Had the German emperor
known the projects of his opponent he would have reviled himself as an
artless simpleton. In May it was agreed that the congress to determine
the territorial transfers within the Germanic body should sit, not at
Bern, but at Rastadt in Baden. But the demands of the conqueror in
amplification of the articles signed at Leoben were then so
extortionate that the Austrian minister for foreign affairs doubted
the good faith of his representatives, and recalled from Russia Count
Cobenzl, his most learned, accomplished, and skilful diplomatist, in
order to secure something like equality in the negotiations. This gave
a temporary pause to the proceedings, which dragged on without
significance until after Fructidor, when Barras wrote from Paris:
"Peace, peace, but an honorable and lasting one. No more of Carnot's
worthless suggestions."

When, therefore, the negotiations were again renewed in the first
days of September, Bonaparte earnestly longed for at least a temporary
peace. He arranged that the plenipotentiaries should meet at Udine,
not far from his military headquarters at Passariano, so that he might
secure the greatest possible advantage from the attitude of a
conqueror ready at a moment to resume hostilities. The Directory,
suspecting that Clarke had become too facile an instrument in the
hands of the ambitious soldier, chose this moment to recall him. For a
month the conflict of wits between the formal diplomatists and the
determined, unhampered French general was hot and furious. Even the
veteran Cobenzl, who did not arrive until September twenty-sixth, was
but a toy in Bonaparte's hands. More than once the latter had recourse
to his old tactics of barbaric rudeness, and once, toward the close,
he wilfully brought on a fit of anger, in which by accident he dashed
from its stand a porcelain tray, the gift of Catherine II to Cobenzl.
The legend ran that as he caught up his hat, he hissed out the words:
"In less than a month I shall have shattered your monarchy like this!"
and then flung out of the room, declaring that the truce was ended. In
fact, no one seems to have paid any attention to the crash at all.
Cobenzl wrote that Bonaparte behaved like a crazy man, and the French
officers had difficulty in soothing their general. Whether the nervous
attack were real or feigned no one can say: at subsequent crises in
diplomacy there recurred others, very similar. Both sides were anxious
to make the doubtful language of Leoben as elastic as possible--each,
naturally enough, for its own advantage. Proposition and
counter-proposition, rejoinder and surrejoinder, followed one another
through those weeks so pregnant of consequence to both sides. Twice it
appeared as if no conclusion could be reached, and as if a breach were
imminent. Once, marching orders for the invading army were actually
prepared and in part issued. But the season was inclement and to
Marmont his general confided a sense of uneasiness regarding
Augereau's appointment on the Rhine. Both parties realized that
neither could secure all they claimed without delay, or a possible
renewal of warfare. They determined, therefore, to brave their
respective governments, and entirely to disregard both Prussian and
German feeling as to the Rhine boundary. Finally a compromise was
made, and on the seventeenth of October at midnight, after a long
social reunion of the plenipotentiaries; in the dark, Bonaparte
telling ghost stories, and making the scene generally dramatic and
even theatrical, the treaty was engrossed and signed, being dated from
Campo Formio, a hamlet neutralized for the purpose. The negotiators
parted with the exchange of friendly greetings.

The terms were far more favorable to France than in all probability
Bonaparte had hoped to obtain. The Austrian Netherlands with the Rhine
frontier from Basel to Andernach were surrendered by the Emperor, and
in token of good faith the commanding fortress of Mainz was
immediately to be delivered into French hands. In return Bonaparte
ceded the Italian lands eastward from the Adige, by the head of the
Adriatic, to the frontiers of Dalmatia, including, of course, the city
of Venice. France kept the Ionian Islands and the Venetian factories
opposite on the mainland. All the Venetian territory to the west of
the Adige, together with Mantua, Modena, Lombardy, Massa-e-Carrara,
Bologna, Ferrara, and the Romagna, was incorporated into the new
Cisalpine Republic; and Genoa, receiving from the Emperor the remnants
of his feudal rights in the surrounding country, was transformed into
the Ligurian Republic, with a constitution similar to that of the
Cisalpine. The various arrangements for the redistribution of German
lands necessary to compensate princes who must abandon territories on
the left bank of the Rhine were to be made by the congress to be held
at Rastadt. French plenipotentiaries, under Bonaparte's leadership,
were to be members of the congress; while Rastadt, as a border town,
and therefore more favorable to French interests than Bern, was to be
further neutralized by the departure of the Emperor's troops from all
German lands except his own hereditary dominions. When the news of
Campo Formio reached Vienna, the peace party was delighted, and the
populace broke out in a jubilee. But Thugut was not deceived. "Peace!
Peace!" said he. "Where is it? I cannot recognize it in this treaty."

In Paris the negotiations had produced some uneasiness. It is now
generally said that Fructidor was exclusively the work of Bonaparte:
or, rather, that the thirteenth of Vendémiaire was the work of Barras,
assisted by Bonaparte; that the eighteenth of Fructidor was the work
of Bonaparte, assisted by Barras. This is only a half-truth based on
an exaggerated estimate of the facts. While, on the whole, Bonaparte
was at the moment pleased with the results of this second political
stroke, there was much connected with it utterly repugnant to his
wishes. The so-called Fructidorians, among them Mme. de Staël and her
friends, were still favorable, in the main, to Bonaparte; but they
were thorough republicans, and considered the day as the victory, not
of a man, but of a cause. Later Bonaparte expressed sorrow that he had
taken any share in arranging it, for the cause and its few supporters
proved to be hostile. The wholesale proscription which followed the
success of the Directory and its friends destroyed their personal
popularity, strengthened the adherents of the monarchy, and weakened
the prestige of the army, which was the real support of the new
revolution. As far as the repression of conservative royalist and
moderate republican influence in the Directory and the chambers was
concerned, Bonaparte's interests were identical with those of Barras,
Rewbell, and the bigoted Larévellière. He would gladly have ended
public agitation in a nation the majority of whom had become royalists
again. To this end, he would willingly have broken the presses of the
newspapers and have closed the Clichy club: he was anxious for any
extreme course necessary to preserve the revolutionary model in
government until, in his own phrase, "the pear was ripe" for him. The
events of Fructidor, on the one hand, confirmed the constitutionalists
in the policy of letting other countries alone, and at the same time
put an end to all enthusiasm for republican principles even in the
radical executive, necessarily substituting in its place the merest
self-interest. This new situation, though not inimical to Bonaparte's
interests, made the Fructidorians the most determined opponents of his
ambitions.

Almost immediately after the events of Fructidor the new Directory had
sent instructions to Passariano that Venice was to be preserved from
the hands of Austria. The removal of Clarke had followed. At once
began a war of words and a conflict of purposes. Bonaparte's
despatches depicted the situation of the Italian peoples in the
darkest light, so as to set forth their unfitness for independence,
while in every letter he dwelt on his own feeble and broken health as
a reason for his immediate recall. Meantime he was driving the
machinery of negotiation at its utmost speed and capacity. The
Directory finally took its stand on the determination that Italy must
be free as far eastward as the Isonzo, and the subtle Talleyrand
agreed to win or compel Bonaparte's acquiescence. The courier with
this ultimatum from Paris reached Passariano exactly twelve hours
after Monge and Berthier had carried the treaty of Campo Formio in the
opposite direction for the sanction of the directors. It was bitter,
indeed, for Barras and his colleagues to surrender, but the logic of
their position made resistance impossible. They approved the hateful
stipulations with what grace they could muster, and, the warfare on
the Continent being over, appointed Bonaparte to command what was
significantly entitled the Army of England, but without defining his
duties. Thirty thousand soldiers began their march from Milan to
Picardy on the English Channel. As for the now distracted Venetians,
they asked permission to continue the war against Austria on their own
account. Bonaparte imprisoned the deputies who presented the petition,
and Sérurier delivered Venice into the Emperor's hands, after
destroying the arsenals and such vessels as were no longer useful for
war. Among these was the stately barge in which the officials of the
commonwealth had from immemorial times been wont to espouse the
Adriatic--the famous Bucentaur. Manin, the last doge of Venice, was
compelled to swear allegiance to Austria in the name of his
compatriots. With a broken heart he made ready for the ceremony, but
as he stepped forward at the appointed time to pronounce the fatal
words, his strength and his faculties gave way together. He fell
senseless at the feet of his foes, and died not long afterward.

The effect of Bonaparte's success in forcing such a peace upon Austria
was profound throughout Europe. The war party in Great Britain was
materially strengthened by the treatment which Malmesbury had
received. While the treaty made a pretense of upholding the integrity
of the empire as a principle, yet Prussia and all Germany knew that
that integrity was quickly to be violated. Paul I of Russia
remembered that as guarantor of the peace of Teschen, he too was
deeply concerned in that integrity, and displayed uneasiness. The
British had on October eleventh annihilated the Dutch fleet at
Camperdown: their sea power was again assured and with it the
replenishing of their treasury. These elements of the second coalition
have been repeatedly described, but for all that, events would have
been otherwise than they were, had there been anywhere in Europe a
statesman with moral and material power at his bidding, who could have
propagated a moderate, enlightened liberalism in the countries of the
north. As a sorry radicalism had full play for some years in France, a
blind reactionary conservatism prevailed among all the Teutonic
peoples. The struggle of two extremes made the chaos. England was
determined on war to destruction or exhaustion: France likewise. The
system of national assassinations and territorial compensations begun
in the partition of Poland was exemplified in the peace of Campo
Formio. Then it was three to one against a nation with neither
political nor military strength, and the decision was against
nationality. Hereafter it was to be all absolute Europe against a
nation with some political and immense military aptitudes. The
struggle was to last fifteen years and be decided this time for, not
against, nationality as a fact and a principle.




CHAPTER III

BONAPARTE AND TALLEYRAND[3]

         [Footnote 3: Aside from the archives, national and state, and
         the Correspondence of Napoleon, official and unofficial
         publications, together with documents published by Pallain,
         Vivenot, and Bailleu, the best special authorities are
         Hüffer: Der Rastadter Congress, and Criste: Rastadt,
         L'Assassinat des Ministres Français (original in German).
         Then follow the memoirs and studies already enumerated, with
         Desbrière: Projets de débarquement aux Îles Britanniques.]

     Bonaparte in Switzerland -- Arrival at Rastadt -- A Royalist
     Portrait of Him -- His Affectation of Simplicity -- Reception by
     the Directory -- First Threat of Invading England -- Career of
     Talleyrand -- His Relations with Bonaparte -- Men and Parties in
     Paris.


In the complications of his far-reaching designs, the return of
Bonaparte to Paris was a matter of consequence to him, an affair to be
managed with diplomacy and an eye to dramatic effect. To appease the
Directory, the insubordinate plenipotentiary explained in his
despatches that he had acted as he did because Austria had made
herself stronger than ever in the long interval, which was probably
true; and that the possibility of further successful warfare had been
jeopardized by the early arrival of winter, which had left him no
choice in hastening the conclusion. This was not flatly untrue, for
Marmont noted in his diary that it was October thirteenth when the
first new snow fell on the mountain peaks, and that he had marked his
general's surprise at the fact: the treaty was signed on the
seventeenth. Nevertheless, the season was later than usual, and the
plea of weather was a pretext to hide the negotiator's own purposes.
In his rôle as an Italian deliverer, Bonaparte remained until the
middle of November to consolidate the new republics and await the
assembling of delegates at Rastadt. Then, traveling sedately by Turin
and the Mont Cenis pass through Chambéry, he reached Geneva.
Switzerland was ripe for his presence. The first step was to arrest
Bontemps, a Genevese banker who had assisted Carnot in his flight to
Nyon, where he was still in concealment. The second was to focus the
revolutionary movement in the district of Vaud, and to strengthen its
preparations for throwing off the Bernese dominion by organizing an
ovation for himself at Lausanne: a democrat must be fêted only by
democrats.

"Nothing too far" being manifestly his motto at this period, he then
passed by easy stages to Rastadt, where he arrived on November
twenty-fifth, and immediately asserted for himself a nominal
supervision of the arrangements. The King of Sweden had claimed
representation both as Duke of Pomerania and as a guarantor of the
peace of Westphalia; for that reason he had sent as his delegate Count
Fersen, a shrewd agent, once Swedish ambassador in Paris, the friend
of Marie Antoinette, and known everywhere as an intimate counselor of
the Bourbons. Bonaparte, outraged at such effrontery, summoned the
envoy to his presence, and, trampling on the forms of a hollow
politeness, informed him with a few biting words that his presence was
not desired. The envoy tarried long enough to assure himself that
Austria was quite as hostile as France, and returned to Stockholm. It
annoyed Bonaparte even more to find that the imperial delegates had
not yet arrived. But he passed the interval with considerable
satisfaction in an exchange of pleasantries with the various
personages who were on the ground. "How," said he to Stadion, garbed
as a canon of Würzburg, "can the station of an ecclesiastical prince
of the empire, a man who is both warrior and spiritual minister,
accord with the precepts of the Scriptures, with the poverty and the
lowliness of early Christianity?" "Where will your master live?" he
said to the agent from the Bishop of Mainz, "when he loses his present
residence?" The hollow shells of worn-out institutions rattled
wherever this innovator stepped. At last Cobenzl arrived, and the
urgent affair of the transfer of Mainz was promptly concluded. That
fortress was to be occupied by French troops on the thirtieth, the day
in which Austria was to take possession of Venice. Then, leaving
Treilhard and Bonnier, the rude and insolent French plenipotentiaries,
in a position of arrogant superiority to their colleagues, he set out
for Paris, and after a triumphal progress throughout northern France,
a region not before familiar to him, arrived, on December fifth, at
his residence on Chantereine street. With its usual facility in that
line, the Paris municipality soon after dubbed this rather
insignificant byway the Street of Victory. Mme. Bonaparte, who had
been visiting Rome, where her brother-in-law Joseph was now French
minister, rejoined her husband at Christmas.

In the papers of the Comte d'Antraigues was found a pen-portrait of
Bonaparte as he appeared at Venice, and it will no doubt, with due
allowances, stand for the few months later when he became the idol of
Paris. Sucy, a government commissioner of much sense, overpowered by
the importance of passing events, wrote in August to a friend that he
could not enter upon such voluminous details as would be necessary to
depict Bonaparte, but warned his correspondent against supposing that
the general had attained the height of his ambition, using the words
previously quoted in another connection, "I can even add that I know
no other end for him but the throne or the scaffold." But Antraigues
was fortunately more communicative: "Bonaparte is a man of small
stature, of sickly hue, with piercing eyes, and something in his look
and mouth which is cruel, covert, and treacherous; speaking little,
but very talkative when his vanity is engaged or thwarted; of very
poor health because of violent humors in his blood. He is covered with
tetter, a disease of such a sort as to increase his vehemence and his
activity. He is always full of his projects, and gives himself no
recreation. He sleeps but three hours every night, and takes no
medicine except when his sufferings are unendurable. This man wishes
to master France, and, through France, Europe. Everything else, even
in his present successes, seems but a means to the end. Thus he steals
without concealment, plunders everything, is accumulating an enormous
treasure of gold, silver, jewels, and precious stones. But he cares
for it only as a means. This same man, who will rob a community to the
last sou, will without a thought give a million francs to any person
who can assist him. If such a person has hate or vengeance to gratify,
he will afford every opportunity to do so. Nothing stands in the way
of his prevailing with a man he thinks will be useful; and with him a
bargain is made in two words and two minutes, so great is his
seductive power. The reverse side of his methods is this: the service
rendered, he demands a complete servility, or he becomes an implacable
enemy; and when he has bought traitors, their service rendered, he
observes but little secrecy concerning them. This man abhors royalty:
he hates the Bourbons, and neglects no means to wean his army from
them. If there were a king in France other than himself, he would like
to have been his maker, and would desire royal authority to rest on
the tip of his own sword; that sword he would never surrender, but
would plunge it into the king's heart, should the monarch cease for a
moment to be subservient."

On Bonaparte's passage through Chambéry, he had been visibly affected
by a shout from the multitude hailing him as the father of his
soldiers. There were countless homes in France into which the letters
of absent sons had sent the same epithet, and the nation at large
thought of him in that rôle as a simple, benevolent man, devoted to
his country and to her liberties. His histrionic talents, like his
other gifts, were of the highest order, and for the moment this ideal
must not be shattered. He therefore appeared to the French public as
devoted to the principle of equality, which the Revolution considered
the guarantee of free institutions. In the "Moniteur," the official
journal of the time, may be read every detail of his conduct. Instead
of waiting for visits from those in place, he made the advances. His
clothes were plain, his manners were simple, his dignity was moderated
to a proper respect for himself and others. The carriage in which he
drove had but two horses, and there was no suite in attendance, either
abroad or at home. Often the passers-by saw him walking alone in the
small garden of his unostentatious dwelling, apparently resting from
the fatigues of his campaigns. In short, there was nothing
recognizable of the conquering potentate who had kept such state at
Milan, except the affected simplicity of his personal life and
conduct. "At first sight," wrote Talleyrand, whose acquaintance
Bonaparte sought immediately on reaching Paris, "he struck me as a
charming figure; the laurels of twenty victories are so becoming to
youth, a handsome eye, a pale complexion, and a certain tired look."

There were a few proper assumptions of great dignity, as for instance
when, on December tenth, 1797, a grand festival was celebrated in the
classic style for the formal reception by the Directory of the treaty
of Campo Formio from the hands of its negotiator. Talleyrand
pronounced a glowing eulogium. Bonaparte, with impressive mien,
replied in a few short, terse sentences, which closed with the
significant utterance: "When the happiness of the French people shall
rest upon the _best_ organic laws, all Europe will become free."
Barras closed with a long, dreary tribute to the Directory, and at the
end imprinted the kiss of fraternity on the young general's brow. The
other members of the executive hurried to display a feigned cordiality
in following his example. The two councils united in a banquet to the
hero of the hour. The public was overpowered by the harmony of its
rulers. Bonaparte's studied modesty might have shown the directors how
false was their position. As had been said long before to Pepin, the
title of king belongs to him who has the power. In private the skilful
minister of foreign affairs was no less adroit than the young
conqueror, and lavished his courtier arts in the preservation of
apparent unity.

The greatest danger to Bonaparte's ambitions was that he should by
some mishap become identified with a party. Thus far, chiefly by
absence from the seat of government, he had successfully avoided that
pitfall. The Parisian populace did not even identify him with the
Fructidorians; and, though not entirely forgetful of the Day of the
Sections, they flocked to see him wherever it was known he would be.
When asked if their interest did not gratify him, he replied that it
meant nothing; they would crowd in the same way to stare if he were on
his way to the scaffold. He appears to have felt that long residence
would diminish his prestige, which for his purposes would be a
disaster, and consequently he seems carefully to have conveyed the
impression that he was but a visitor. Sandoz-Rollin, the Prussian
minister in Paris, believed that the soldiers sent into France from
Italy were intended for use in the capital. Exactly what was planned
he did not know, for Bonaparte was not yet thirty, and therefore
ineligible, at least under the constitution, to the Directory. Others
believed that, Austria having been vanquished, England was to be
struck--first through a fight between the two fleets, and then by the
landing on her shores of a large body of veterans from the Army of
Italy, under their victorious commander. In fact, Monge had formally
stated, on December tenth, that "the government of England and the
French republic cannot both continue to exist"; and during the winter
Thomas Paine exercised his powers as a pamphleteer on the theme of
England's approaching bankruptcy, while the public crowded one of the
theaters to stare at stage pictures representing the invasion of
England. As Bonaparte's almost superhuman diligence had ever open and
ready two or more possibilities, this direct invasion may already have
been a third choice. In the report which he made in February of the
following year after a visit to Dunkirk, he distinctly set forth the
studied policy of his whole career; viz., to keep three possibilities
in working order, a pretense of invasion, a system of barring England
from continental commerce, and a blow at the trade of Great Britain in
the Orient. Otherwise there is nothing for it but a peace. But his
dealings with every Italian power and with Austria had shown a
definite policy of striking, not at the heart to produce desperation,
but at the limbs, where the blow would be quite as deadly and
resistance less furious. All the natural and successive steps of
preparation for such an enterprise had been taken by the government
during the summer of 1797. Corfu and Zante, and with them the
possessions of Venice in the Levant, were secured and kept; a fleet
was collected and equipped from the spoils of northern Italy; Naples
was temporarily neutralized; and plans had then been carefully
elaborated with experts, among whom was Monge, for the seizure of
Malta and the disruption of Turkey by an attack on Egypt.

In all this Talleyrand had been a brilliant and unscrupulous agent.
Born of a noble family, his lameness closed other careers and drove
him for distinction into the Church, where, under the old régime, the
traditions of ecclesiastical feudalism still lingered. In his youth he
was the friend of the infamous Mme. du Barry, and owed his early
promotion to her influence. When he was treasurer of the French clergy
and bishop of Autun, Mirabeau said of him that he would "offer his
very soul at a price, and he would do well, for he would exchange dung
for gold." During the first years of the Revolution he led the liberal
clergy; finally he went to such extremes in secularizing the Church
that the Pope excommunicated him. His private life had been scandalous
from the first, and he was avowedly a passionate gambler. It was with
a sense of relief that he abandoned the Church to become the most
unscrupulous statesman and the most adroit diplomatist of his time. It
was he who in 1791 laid before the Legislative Assembly the dazzling
scheme of national education which afterward was modified and adopted
by Napoleon. He forecast the years of radical excess, and had himself
sent in 1792 as a secret diplomatic agent to London, where, with
occasional visits to Paris, he resided in the main for two years. The
English could not endure his duplicity, and finally drove him from
their country. The Convention having declared him an emigrant, he
sailed for America, and spent some time in the United States, where,
being coldly treated in political and social circles, he devoted
himself to an analytical study of the people and their institutions.
The revocation in 1796 of the decree pronouncing him an emigrant was
obtained by Mme. de Staël's influence, and he immediately returned to
France. It is characteristic of him that during these years he was
successively a representative of the King, of Danton, and of the
Directory.

To the Institute of France, of which learned body he had been made a
member during his absence, he presented on his return his brilliant
studies of colonization in general, and of the respective relations
between the United States and the rival powers of France and England.
But politics, not literature, was his trade. At once he began to study
the situation of his own land, and observed with profound penetration
both the instability of the government and the straits of the
Directory. Accordingly, though nominally their man, and accepting from
them the ministry of foreign affairs, he attached himself at once to
Bonaparte, in the hope, as he explains in his memoirs, of using the
conqueror to restore the monarchy. The latter had the perspicacity to
encourage the relation, and from that moment possessed in the very
center of affairs an able and congenial representative. It is known
that Talleyrand's public letters to Bonaparte were accompanied with
private supplements which often ran in a sense quite opposite to that
of the main sheet. For instance, nothing could be more satisfactory to
the directors than his open account of Fructidor; but it is known that
the private letter mercilessly analyzed the situation as impossible
and unstable. Attempting a corrupt bargain with the American envoys,
Pinckney, Marshall, and Gerry, in regard to the protection of American
commerce, he was mercilessly exposed by the indignant ministers, and
finally compelled by public opinion to resign from his office. But
even in disgrace he continued in Paris as the unscrupulous prime
mover of French politics, until restored to power by Bonaparte, when
he again accepted the position from which he had been driven, and
successfully elaborated in practice the schemes of his superior.

There were, however, two other men, Barras and Sieyès, who, after the
eighteenth of Fructidor, were left in an unendurable position. Both
these men were also boundlessly venal. The former was Bonaparte's
"ancient friend"; Fructidor made him the general's creature. Like
Talleyrand, both were for the present the devoted satraps of a master
who could pay not only with prospective power, but with present cash;
ultimately they also hoped to use him for their own ends in the
restoration of monarchy. Sieyès, now president of the Ancients, was
both weak and vain. But, posing as an oracular constitution-maker, he
was admitted as such to the councils of Talleyrand and Barras. Both
his pride and his interests being thus engaged, he had apparently
become as ardent a follower of Bonaparte as were the other two.
Rewbell was so occupied with the foreign policy of the Revolution, and
Merlin with the internal administration on Jacobin lines, that neither
one nor the other gave any thought to the ulterior consequences of
Fructidor. François de Neufchâteau was posing as the wit of the epoch,
Larévellière was its prophet; neither was of even the slightest
importance. Augereau, seeing himself duped by the disbanding of the
Rhine army, had been disenchanted, and was for a while the relentless
enemy of his old chief. A few mediocrities both in the army and in
politics were in sympathy with Augereau; but as England was the one
foe left, the general of the Army of England was virtually the
commander of the whole. Not one of the division generals disobeyed his
orders.




CHAPTER IV

COMMOTIONS IN EUROPEAN POLITICS

     The Directory and the Legislature -- Motives of the French Army
     -- Augereau's Blunders -- Humiliation of the Batavian Republic --
     Seizure of Piedmont -- Proclamation of the Roman Republic --
     Swiss Territory Remodeled -- Antagonism of Prussia and Austria --
     Bernadotte's Mission to Vienna -- Prussian Neutrality -- Unstable
     Equilibrium of Europe.


During the winter of 1797-98 it was the custom of Bonaparte, as the
constructive commander-in-chief of the French forces, to share in the
deliberations of the various civil authorities; sometimes they seemed
uneasy under his influence, but a threat of retirement generally
brought them to terms. They yielded because every faction believed
that the unrelenting attitude of the Directory toward royalists,
emigrants, and ecclesiastics would revive in the country the hatred of
Jacobinism and give its enemies a victory in the spring elections of
1798. Animosity was all the more fierce since the press had been
virtually throttled by closing during the winter the offices of some
sixteen papers, in addition to many already silenced. Should the
chambers be hostile to the executive, they would certainly attempt a
civil revolution, and Bonaparte with his troops would be the
arbitrator. The royalists, therefore, made approaches to him once
more, this time through Mme. Bonaparte, who diplomatically
procrastinated, and kept the suitors in expectancy. But while all was
movement and plot under the surface, the Parisian populace only
occasionally had evidence of aught but perfect harmony in all parts
of the government. They were fond of contrasting the brilliant results
of Campo Formio with the unostentatious demeanor of the great general
who had humbled Austria, and, as he himself had said in his festival
speech, had brought two centers of light, "the finest parts of
Europe,"--Italy and the Netherlands,--under the brighter rays of
French illumination.

In later years the unexampled capability of Bonaparte for scheming and
machination unfolded itself to such unheard-of limits that it is
customary in our day to attribute every detail of European history in
those times to his manipulation. This is the more natural because the
events of that winter, beyond the boundaries of France, contributed in
the highest degree to that political conflagration which preceded the
ascendancy of Napoleon and the complete rebuilding of the European
state system. And yet the most acute historians often overlook the
evident causes in their search for hidden ones; in this case the
former are sufficient to account for the results. With the Italian
campaign republican armies ceased to fight either for the integrity of
France, for her "natural" frontiers, or for the revolutionary system.
They were often self-deceived, and thought themselves to be
propagating liberal ideas; but glory and plunder were thenceforward
the mainsprings of action in the majority of both officers and men.

[Sidenote: 1797--98]

Accordingly, what might have been foreseen actually occurred.
Augereau, during the autumn of 1797, sought to emulate in southwestern
Germany the political policy initiated by Bonaparte in Italy. But his
rude blundering compelled his recall, a step which was softened by his
transfer to the Pyrenees, where an army stood ready to intervene in
Spain whenever opportunity should be ripe. The movement in Germany
spent itself in shameless plundering both east and west of the
Rhine--a double disgrace in view of the fact that the war was ended,
that Mainz was surrendered, that the whole left bank, though not yet
formally ceded, was in French control; and that the Congress of
Rastadt was discussing how the princes who had surrendered their
possessions to France should be compensated within the boundaries of
the empire.

The course of affairs in the Low Countries was equally disastrous to
the prestige of the Revolution. Holland had not only lost all her
colonies, including the Cape of Good Hope, by her compulsory enrolment
in the republican system, but at Camperdown on October eleventh, 1797,
the fleet of the Batavian Republic was battered to pieces by that of
England under Duncan. The new commonwealth was thus rendered
contemptible, and made entirely dependent on France. Twenty-five
thousand soldiers were already quartered on the Dutch, and now they
were held to enormous contributions of ships, money, and men for the
proposed landing in England. Delacroix and Joubert were the respective
civil and military agents in these exactions.

Bonaparte's departure from Italy made no change in French policy or
conduct with regard to her. The Venetian possessions had been
literally stripped by Berthier of every valuable article before their
definitive surrender to Austria. Formal negotiations for a treaty of
offensive and defensive alliance with the Cisalpine Republic were
opened as soon as the new state was recognized, but the same pillage
continued as during its conquest. By that treaty, which was not
concluded until March, 1798, the new "free" state was bound to support
twenty-five thousand French troops, and to raise nearly four million
dollars a year to pay them. As to the new Ligurian Republic, its
boundaries were incomplete without Piedmont. Before the end of June,
1798, revolutionary fires having been kindled in Turin by the old
efficient methods, two French armies under Jacobin generals seized
Piedmont, and incorporated it with the other "free" state, which was
then bound to France in the same terms as Cisalpina. Charles Emmanuel,
having thus lost all his possessions on the mainland, retired to
Sardinia, where he was destined to become, under protection of the
English fleet, the focus of a new coalition against France.

Rome had called to her service, for the reorganization of her army,
Provera, one of the Austrian generals who had been active in the last
campaign. Joseph Bonaparte demanded his dismissal. This spark fired
the revolutionary spirit of the few determined liberals at the
capital, and a rising took place in which General Duphot, who was
expecting soon to become Joseph's brother-in-law, was killed. The
insurgents were defeated, and sought refuge in the French Embassy. The
papal authorities humbled themselves to make restitution, but Joseph
would not be appeased, and demanded his passports. Within a month, on
February tenth, 1798, Berthier and his soldiers entered the Eternal
City, and proclaimed the Roman Republic. With no consideration for his
estimable personal character, the French agents stripped Pius VI, the
aged and feeble Pope, of all his jewels: his very rings were drawn
from his fingers by their hands. The papal government was declared at
an end, and the cardinals were forbidden to elect a successor. The
Pope himself was allowed to withdraw to Siena; but disappointing his
captors' expectations of his speedy demise, he was removed at their
convenience from place to place, until at last he died in the
following year at Valence. Naples, of course, was in an agony of fear,
but her hour had not yet struck.

Finally the flames caught in Switzerland, where the democratic
district of Vaud declared its independence of the Bernese aristocracy.
The fire was fanned by Bonaparte's agent, Peter Ochs, the liberal
burgomaster of Basel. France intervened, nominally in order to compel
Bern to liberate all her political prisoners and to emancipate Vaud,
but really to plunder and remodel the whole country. The entering army
pillaged friend and foe alike. The desperate resistance of Bern, in
which even women and children shared, was of no avail. At its close
the Helvetian Republic was constituted under a new charter, like those
of Cisalpina and Batavia; it likewise entered at once into an
offensive and defensive alliance with France. Bern's indemnity was the
surrender of her "treasure," or cash reserve--a sum of one million
three hundred thousand dollars. Swiss historians state that besides
the cash there were nearly two and a half million dollars in bonds. A
fifth of this was sent at once to Toulon, where the fleet was fitting
out; the rest went to the army and its commander, General Brune.
Fribourg, Solothurn, and Zurich were likewise stripped for the benefit
of the military chest. It is thought that from all the enormous sums
seized during the winter nothing reached the national treasury.
Napoleon in exile declared that Paris knew nothing of all this. But
more serious still were the contemplated changes of territory. The
Valtellina had already been incorporated with the Cisalpine Republic;
the Frick valley was soon to be delivered to Austria along with the
Inn Quarter; and eventually Geneva, with the upper Rhone valley, was
to become a part of France itself, in order that the Simplon, another
gateway into Italy, might be assured to her armies in case the
difficult passes on the Mediterranean shore should ever be closed.[4]

         [Footnote 4: See Dändliker: Geschichte der Schweiz, Vol. III,
         p. 350.]

The effect of all this upon the politics of Europe was like that of a
torch in dead stubble. The German-Roman Empire was an antiquated
institution. Prussia had risen to importance as the representative of
a new Protestant German nationality. Frederick the Great, inheriting
his shrewd father's army and policy, thoroughly understood that for
the attainment of this end Roman Catholic Austria must be humbled and
reduced to a secondary position. His success was only partial, but it
was so far effective. The relations between these two great rivals in
the Germanic body, therefore, were so strained that Prussia, in her
antagonism to Austria, naturally leaned toward France. But the seizure
of German lands not only on the west bank of the Rhine, but of some
even on the eastern side, together with the behavior of the French
armies not only in southwestern Germany, but again in Bern, created
consternation at Berlin. Sieyès was sent to allay, if possible, the
fears of Frederick William III, and to woo him to the French alliance.
Meantime, the radical Directory, looking on the ecclesiastical
principalities of the empire as anachronisms, had been planning their
entire secularization. This would indemnify the secular powers; and
the sentiment of both Prussia and Austria favored this solution of the
problem. But Bonaparte, foreseeing that temporarily it would also
unify public opinion in Germany, and give France no ground for
meddling, had declared in Italy that if the Germanic body were
non-existent, France should create it for her own purposes; and he
impressed upon the French plenipotentiaries at Rastadt how important
it was that they should at least prevent a complete secularization of
the great bishoprics.

This was the first bone of contention thrown into that Congress; and
Austria soon began to see that the treaty of Campo Formio was to be
not merely an armistice, but a very short one. Bonaparte had formed
in Italy a legion of five thousand Poles. They were still under arms,
awaiting the event. It was notorious that French agents were fomenting
discontent in both Poland and Hungary. The Army of Italy had carefully
spared the hereditary dominions of the Emperor while hurrying toward
Leoben, and Bonaparte, repressing pillage with relentless severity,
had explained that France made war not with the good people of Europe,
but with their tyrannical dynasties. Even in Carinthia some enthusiasm
for revolutionary principles had been created. Thugut had cleverly
prevented Clarke from entering Vienna, because he feared the presence
of a republican among the inflammable elements of that city. Francis
had refused, on the conclusion of peace, to send a diplomatic agent to
Paris, because he did not wish for reciprocity, and was anxious lest a
French minister, if received at Vienna, might there create such a
focus of revolutionary agitation as existed wherever a French embassy
had been established. But now it was suddenly announced that the
French republic had accredited Bernadotte to his court. The report was
true, instructions having been given that the envoy suggest a
dismemberment of Turkey in lieu of the further indemnity Francis
expected, and ascertain how the reconstruction of Poland would be
regarded. He was to prevent Austria's interference in behalf of Rome,
and to insist on being treated with the same punctilio as had been
shown to the royal ambassadors of France. On the other hand, for the
sake of the radicals among the Fructidorians, he was to be
conciliatory, because it was of vital importance that France should
learn the inner workings of the court of Vienna before war broke out
again, especially if the directors were to forestall Bonaparte's
complete ascendancy. There is not a scintilla of evidence that, as
some have suggested, Barras, Sieyès, or Talleyrand tampered with
Bernadotte. He was still a rude soldier, and not the adroit man of
affairs he afterward became. They could rely upon his making a mess of
his mission, and he did so. In a haughty tone he at once demanded, as
he had been instructed to do, the suppression of the Bourbon orders in
Austria, and likewise the omission from the royal almanac of that
family as reigning sovereigns of France. At the same time he made such
an undue display of the tricolor and the republican cockade as to
arouse all latent antagonisms to the Revolution. These and other
similar indiscretions were successful in agitating the populace to
such a degree that finally the embassy was attacked by a mob.
Thoroughly frightened, and knowing that his mission regarding Poland
and Turkey was in vain, Bernadotte demanded his recall. He returned to
Paris, having, as was expected, brought the relations of France and
Austria to the verge of rupture. Arriving in April, 1798, he was
married soon afterward to Joseph Bonaparte's sister-in-law, who
quickly comforted herself after the death of Duphot.[5]

         [Footnote 5: See Masson: Les Diplomates de la Révolution.]

By that time Prussia had been virtually checkmated; for although
Sieyès could not bring the court of Berlin to make an alliance with
the Directory, yet he had prevented her adhesion to its enemies,
promising that revolutionary propaganda should cease in Germany. In
return she agreed to observe the old strict neutrality, and to
recognize the Cisalpine Republic. This decision has been severely
criticized in recent years as a virtual delivery of herself to
Napoleon after he should have devoured Austria. It has even been
suggested that her statesmen ought to have looked a hundred years
ahead, and should have anticipated by a century the Prussian (p.~044)
alliance with the house of Savoy, which was at this later date the
only liberal monarchy in Europe. As Europe was in 1798, such a
conception was impossible.

In the spring of that year, therefore, everything presaged the general
outbreak which was soon to occur. It may be that Bonaparte had
foreordained it, and to the minutest detail had regulated events as
they took place. Taking each division of them into separate
consideration, a credulous admirer might believe that so much was
within the ability of a single man; but the complexity of the whole
makes the demoniac power to produce a crash in this way seem beyond
the capacities of even a Bonaparte, although he may have cherished the
desire for one. It is clear that he rode triumphant in the swift rush
of the times, and took every possible advantage from the instability
of European institutions in their moribund condition. To complete the
picture of Europe in 1798, we must recall that Augereau was in the
Pyrenees with forty thousand men, ready, when French agents should
have done their work of agitation, to cross the border at a moment's
notice, and liberate Spain from her Bourbon rulers. Such arbitrary
emancipation was possible elsewhere. Why did it eventually fail in
Spain? The answer is that there were no favorable antecedent
conditions beyond the Pyrenees. All the strange story of
transformation in Italy, in western and in northern Europe, would seem
a lying fiction except for the memory of a still more thorough
antecedent transformation in the spirit of their inhabitants by the
intellectual ferment of the century. This spiritual and rationalizing
movement had left Spain, Russia, and eastern Europe almost untouched.
It was for this reason that the schemes of Bonaparte as to Poland and
Turkey at once healed the breach between Russia and Austria, neither
of which was deeply influenced by the idealism of the age, and both
of which were prompted only by dynastic motives. Elsewhere Napoleon
seemed like a magician; in those lands his spell was vain. In culture
and intelligence England was an age ahead of him, as the others were
an age behind him; and the two opposing forces of ignorance and
enlightenment crushed him in the end like the upper and the nether
millstone.




CHAPTER V

THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT[6]

         [Footnote 6: Boulay de la Meurthe: Le Directoire et
         l'expédition d'Égypte. De Villiers du Terrage: Journal et
         Souvenirs sur l'expédition d'Égypte. Otherwise as before.]

     French Policy Regarding Egypt -- Bonaparte's Use of It -- His
     Military Dispositions and Expectations -- His "Complete Code of
     Politics" -- The Alternatives He Saw -- Friction Between
     Bonaparte and the Directory -- The Fleet and the Army--The
     Departure.


Taken in its largest sense, the social life of the world has been due
to the relations of commerce, thought, and religion between the Orient
and the Occident. The short road from one to the other is by way of
the Red Sea, the Isthmus, and the Mediterranean. The controlling site
on that thoroughfare is Egypt. From the crusades onward the domination
of the countries and lands in that great basin was the prize for which
France and England were always contending. Pierre du Bois proposed the
seizure of Egypt to Philip le Bel in the fourteenth century; Leibnitz
sought to draw Louis XIV out of Germany by explaining to him the
dazzling advantage of the same enterprise; d'Argenson suggested the
Suez Canal in 1738; and Choiseul kept alive the plan of occupying
Egypt. The republic had inherited the notion of world conquest which
had occupied both Philip le Bel and Louis XIV, although in another
form. Bonaparte, in the double rôle of Raynal´s disciple and
supplanter of the Revolution, was full of the same idea. It was his
early study of the "Philosophical and Political History of the Two
Indies" which made him, in one of his conversations before Campo
Formio, designate Europe as a mole-hill when compared with the six
hundred millions of men in the East. In these same pages, as in
Plutarch, he had read of Alexander the Great, and had learned to
admire his example; there, too, he was told that with a proper
population and a firm administration Alexandria would rise to greater
eminence than London, Paris, Constantinople, or Rome. These opinions
he imbibed and never changed, reiterating them even at St. Helena,
where he confessed that but for the repulse at Acre he would have
founded an Oriental empire. The policy of the Directory was no doubt
partly his; but to a far greater extent it mirrored the feeling abroad
in the entire nation, and among all its agents, that the times were
ripe for the seizure of Egypt. Talleyrand had called the attention of
the Institute to its feasibility, and Magallon, the French consul at
Cairo, filled his despatches with suggestions as to ways and means. By
the spring of 1798 the plan of the Directory was formed and their
preparations were finished. Under Talleyrand's supervision a statement
of policy, with its historical justification, had been made ready for
publication, while the secret outfit of ships and men at Toulon and
other points was complete.

[Sidenote: 1798]

The justification of the expedition to the Sultan and to Europe was
the plea that Egypt no longer belonged to Turkey. Mameluke usurpers
were holding it in disgraceful bondage; France would liberate it. To
enforce this view with the Porte, every insurgent of the steadily
disintegrating Ottoman empire had for months been receiving
encouragement from Bonaparte's letters and agents, and now the grand
vizir was given to understand that if an attempt were made to
interfere with the French forces, these rebels would be unchained in
his rear; on the other hand, he was encouraged to regard the invaders
as auxiliaries to suppress rebellion both on the Danube and on the
Nile. Bonaparte was playing for high stakes; he probably hoped to win
Turkey as an ally, and thus draw Russia and Austria away from France,
but was determined in case of failure to hold Egypt as the French
share when ultimately the expected partition of the Sultan's domains
should be made.

Otherwise it is impossible to explain why he so managed as to leave
France helpless against her Continental enemies; why all the gathered
treasures of Italy and Switzerland were spent in his own preparations;
why almost every general of ability and every regiment of prowess was
destined for Egypt, while in the face of an impending European crash
the national treasury was depleted, the inferior troops at his own
disposal were left at home, and the remaining veterans of Hoche and
Moreau were scattered in various divisions between the Rhine and the
Pyrenees. The Army of England assembled in the north was temporarily
in a state of atrophy. It was kept at Boulogne with depleted ranks,
but ready to be recruited for a landing in England as a subordinate
move, if the British should be overpowered in the Levant and compelled
to divide their fleet. Otherwise, as Bonaparte thought and said after
a visit in February to the shores of the Channel, it would be too
hazardous to attempt a landing in face of the tremendous armament
afloat under the English flag. "To invade England without the mastery
of the seas is an enterprise the boldest and most difficult that has
been undertaken. If it be possible, it is only by a surprise passage
(of the Channel)." He felt that in any case it would be best to spend
the summer in fitting out the fleet at Brest for an invasion of
Ireland during the autumn. Two questions which present themselves in
this connection cannot be answered categorically: Was it of his own
free will that Bonaparte accepted the command of the Egyptian
expedition, or did the directors force it on him? What was the
ultimate design of the great schemer if the imminent war broke out
while the best French troops were in Africa?

In considering the probabilities as to both these queries, it appears
as if Bonaparte had convinced himself that the open assumption of
authority was for the moment impossible. He could not be a director:
candidates for that office must be forty years old. He dared not take
Barras's suggestion and seize the dictatorship, even temporarily,
because the Jacobin members of the Directory made it plain, in certain
very disorderly sessions of that body, that they would not tolerate
such a plan and were strong enough to thwart it. These scenes, which
were not kept secret, and were described in the coffee-houses, led the
Paris populace to suspect Bonaparte. They were enjoying a temporary
repose which it would have been dangerous at the moment for any
aspirant to disturb. It must have seemed plain that a change in the
constitution was essential to anything like the speedy realization of
his personal ambition, which had already taken definite form. As early
as September nineteenth, 1797, Bonaparte wrote Talleyrand a letter
containing what he called his complete code of politics. His
sphinx-like demeanor and the mysterious allusions already quoted from
the festival speech, taken in connection with that outline, confirm
the notion that Talleyrand, Barras, and Sieyès were preparing for a
new constitution, which should be ready for use when the spring
elections had increased the number of royalist delegates, as they were
sure to do, and had thus produced a clash between the executive and
the legislature.

The "complete code of politics" expresses the same contempt for all
antecedent French political speculation as that felt by Sieyès. Even
Montesquieu had but arranged and analyzed the results of his reading
and travels; though doubtless capable, he had done nothing really
constructive. The English had confused the respective functions of the
various powers in government. In view of their history, it was easy to
see why the taxing power was in the House of Commons. But why should
that body also declare war or make peace? Great Britain, being a state
whose constitution was compounded of privileges, "a black ceiling with
a gilt edge," was quite different from France, where these had been
abolished, and all power proceeded directly from the sovereign people.
Why, then, as under the present constitution, should the French
legislature alone have rights which belonged to government in its
totality? This sovereign power, he continued, "naturally falls, I
think, into two magistracies quite distinct: one supervises, but does
not act, and to this what we now call the executive power should be
compelled to submit important measures--the legislation of execution,
so to speak. This great magistracy would be truly the chief council of
the nation; it would have all that part of administration or of
execution which is by our constitution intrusted to the legislative."
This assembly should be numerous, and composed only of men who had
already held positions of public trust. The legislative should make
and change the organic laws, but not in two to three days, as at
present; for after an organic law has once been made operative, it
should not be changed without four or five months of discussion. "This
legislative power, without rank in the Republic, impassive, without
eyes or ears for what is about it, would have no ambition, and would
not inundate us with more than a thousand specific statutes which, by
their absurdity, destroy their own validity, and make us, with three
hundred tomes of laws, a nation without laws." Is this effusion a
recurrence to youthful crudities of ideal politics, or does it hint at
the exercise by that upper magistracy of its unchecked powers through
a single executive agent like himself? Certain it is, this very
concept, though sensibly changed, had a direct influence on the
institutions of the empire.

In the absence of sufficient evidence as to the facts, there is but
one complex theory which explains subsequent occurrences. The Egyptian
expedition, as its commander publicly said in leaving Toulon, was the
right wing of the Army of England; at the same time it was consonant
with the ancient French policy, and appealed to the romantic, Oriental
side of Bonaparte's own temperament; finally, as a practical measure
it gave him a chance to await with distinction the outcome of affairs
in Paris, whether it should be, as he said to Bourrienne, "for a few
months or for six years." At the same time it was an anchor to
windward. In consequence of the Bernadotte incident, the Austrian
plenipotentiaries at Rastadt had refused even the entire left bank of
the Rhine to France, and European sentiment was apparently
consolidating for another coalition. "I go to the Orient," Napoleon
said to Joseph, "with every means to guarantee success. If France
needs me; if the number of those who think like Talleyrand, Sieyès,
and Roederer increases; if war breaks out, and is unlucky for France,
then I shall return, more certain of public opinion than now. If, on
the other hand, the Republic is successful in war; if a political
general like me appears and centers the hopes of the people in
himself, good; then still in the Orient I shall perhaps do greater
service to the world than he."

Everything indicates that in the months immediately (p.~052)
preceding his departure there was friction between Bonaparte and the
Directory. It is said that in one of their sessions, called to
consider the situation, Bonaparte proposed to reknit the negotiations
of Rastadt by himself returning thither, but that François was
designated to go in his stead. Thereupon the worn-out scene of
threatening resignation was rehearsed by him once more. "Here is a
pen," said Rewbell; "you need rest." But Merlin snatched it; and as
the furious aspirant, seeing his supremacy jeopardized, left the room,
the others heard the words, "The pear is not yet ripe." "Believe me,
it is good advice I give you," said Barras, in a private interview
immediately after: "leave the country as soon as you can." There was
abundant room for such scenes in a committee which considered as its
own the policy of indirect attack on England through the East, while
all its members were chafing under the dictatorial presence of an
embodied and dissatisfied ambition which Talleyrand declares had
really devised the scheme, but was now uncertain as to which was the
best to take of not two or three, but half a dozen courses. The cast
of the die decided for Egypt. The secrecy of preparation had kept even
the French in doubt. England for a time was entirely misled, and made
the nearly fatal blunder of concentrating her naval force in the
Channel, and of guarding the entrance to the Mediterranean with only
the few ships she could spare, while on the waters of that sea itself
she had virtually no force.

Meantime the great fleet at Toulon, nearly the equal of any which
France had ever launched, was entirely ready. To convoy the four
hundred overloaded transports, there were fifteen ships of the line,
fifteen frigates, seven corvettes, and thirty minor armed vessels. It
was a surprise even to the initiated that at the last moment the
soldiers were found to number not twenty-five thousand, as originally
proposed, but forty thousand, comprising the flower of the republican
armies. Of division generals there were D'Hilliers, Vaubois, Desaix,
Kléber, Menou, Reynier, and Dugua; of brigade generals, Lannes,
Davout, Murat, and Andréossy; of colonels, Marmont, Junot,
Lefebvre-Desnouettes, and Bessières. The most novel feature of all was
a carefully organized and equipped expedition of a hundred or more
scholars, who, according to what was then the fashion, were destined
to gather the treasures of the Pharaohs and of the Ptolemies for the
collections of Paris. Their apparatus for discovery was the best
obtainable, their learning was at least respectable, and their library
was a mixture of the ancient classics with those of the modern
romanticism, of medieval lore with modern atheism. There were of
course the great military memoirs, of Turenne, Condé, Luxembourg,
Eugene, and Charles XII; more interesting is the inclusion of fifteen
volumes of geography and discovery. Whither bound? Was this another
Alexander? Homer and Vergil jostled Ossian, Ariosto, and Tasso, while
Rousseau's "Héloïse" stood neighbor to Goethe's "Werther." Among other
"political" works were Montesquieu, the Vedas, the Koran, and the
Bible. Caroline Bonaparte gave her brother as a farewell gift a little
pocket library, among the volumes of which were Bacon's "Essays," Mme.
de Staël's "Influence of the Passions," and Mercier's "Philosophic
Visions." The curious have examined these volumes, and found in their
well-worn pages a few passages specially marked. In his hours of
solitude the great solitary read in Bacon how he who dominates others
loses his own liberty; in Mme. de Staël how hard it is to keep the
acquisitions of ambition; in Mercier of an Oriental visionary who,
after the glories of temporary success, ended his days in exile and
forgetfulness.

It was on April twelfth that Bonaparte received his final instructions
from the executive. He was to seize Malta, drive the British from all
their Oriental possessions which he could hope to capture, destroy
their factories on the Red Sea, pierce the Isthmus of Suez, improve
the condition of all the native populations, and keep a good
understanding with the Sultan. Meantime from twenty-five to thirty
thousand men were to be assembled at some point on the Channel as a
feint against Great Britain so that her attention should be withdrawn
for the time being from the Mediterranean. The very next day the
departing general deposited with the Directory his secret plan for the
camp at Boulogne and a scheme for the surprise passage. The scholar
troop was ordered to Toulon and the commander-in-chief prepared to
follow. But the Bernadotte incident at Vienna raised the war cloud and
he waited a month until it disappeared from the horizon. Throughout
that period Bonaparte kept the directors on tenterhooks by repeated
offers to return to Rastadt, where he alone could secure reparation
for the insult to the republic in the person of her ambassador. But
the Austrians were unready for another appeal to arms, Thugut offered
reparation, and the dangerous marplot of the Directory was at last
free to remove his troublesome presence from Europe. He left Paris on
the night of May third.




CHAPTER VI

THE LANDING IN EGYPT[7]

         [Footnote 7: Mahan: Life of Nelson. Jurien de la Gravière:
         Guerres Maritimes. Harcourt: Égypte et les Égyptiens.
         Gourgaud: Journal. Desvernois: Memoirs, ed. Defourg. (The
         editor has enriched his pages from Arab sources.)
         Desgenettes: Histoire médicale de L'Armée d'Orient. Ducasse:
         Les rois frères de Napoléon. The memoirs of de Rémusat,
         Belliard, Savary, and Berthier.]

     Visions of Oriental Conquest -- The Surrender of Malta -- Nelson
     Deceived -- The Mamelukes -- The Skirmishes at Shebreket and the
     Pyramids -- The Emptiness of Success -- Plans for Conquering Asia
     -- The Battle of the Nile -- Effects on European Policies.


The departure of the Egyptian expedition from Toulon, on May
nineteenth, 1798, was thus far the greatest occasion of Bonaparte's
life. Josephine, apparently no longer the light Creole, but seemingly
transformed by the successes and responsibilities of the last two
years into a fond and outwardly judicious helpmate, bade him a tender
farewell. There had been checks in his brilliant career, but so far
they had been temporary; as for the present hour, he believed, as he
afterward told Mme. de Rémusat, that it might be his last in France.
Mental fabrics of an Oriental splendor, visions of an empire
bestriding three continents, dreams of potentates and powers far
eclipsing those of western Europe--license like this intoxicates the
imagination and disorders common minds. Such plans seem fantastic to
the multitude, but what else than their realization is in sober
reality the British empire of to-day? The rank and file of Bonaparte's
army might not see a reward for this hazardous expedition in
sentimental or distant returns, but they understood perfectly the
words of a harangue delivered at Toulon before embarking, which,
besides being a reminder of the plunder they had taken in Italy,
contained the blunt promise that this time every man should return
with money enough to buy seven acres of land. Sailors and soldiers
alike were thrilled by the call to establish liberty on the plains of
the ocean, as they had on the plains of Lombardy. They even dimly
apprehended the meaning of a proclamation, issued at sea, in which
their destination was finally revealed, and certain success was
foretold, if they would respect the women, the goods, and the faith of
the Mohammedans.

Yes; it was a sanguine expedition which, relying on an apparent
relaxation of England's vigilance, set sail for Malta. The
geographical situation of that island makes it in proper hands the
citadel of the Mediterranean, the bulwark of Christendom against
heathendom. But the military monks to whom it had been intrusted were
grown corrupt and licentious. The Maltese loathed their masters.
French agents had already been among them, winning thousands of the
people and some of the French knights; and such was the internal
disorder at the approach of Bonaparte that after the merest show of
resistance to his demands, the gates of an almost impregnable fortress
were dishonorably opened to the French republic without a blow. The
order, neither monastic nor military in any true sense, was virtually
annihilated by the sequestration of its goods, though nominally it
survived as vassal to the crown of Naples under the protection of
Russia. The spoils of the treasury and the Church were quickly seized,
a goodly treasure, and added to the French war chest. Waiting only to
garrison his easy conquest, and to establish a French administration,
Bonaparte hastened on, and the entire fleet in good condition anchored
off Alexandria on June thirtieth. With a few casualties the troops
were landed.

News of the great preparations at Toulon had finally convinced the
English admiralty that their supremacy in the Mediterranean was
endangered. Nelson, with a small squadron, sailed in due time from
Cadiz, and arrived off the French coast before the departure of
Bonaparte's expedition. Driven from his position by a storm, he took
refuge in the lee of Sardinia, where he remained until reinforced.
Such was the overcharge of the French ships in troops and stores that
even with a few active vessels Nelson could have crippled, if not
entirely disabled, his enemy's great armament. With a new force which
in the mean time he had received, he was prepared to dispute their
passage wherever found, and his orders were stringent to destroy the
enemy's fleet at any hazard. Returning to Toulon only to find that the
French had escaped him, he sailed thence to Sicily, and perceiving at
last the destination of the foe to be Egypt, passed swiftly to the
south of Crete, and arrived off Alexandria to be disappointed in
finding its roadstead empty. Supposing that he had been deceived, he
hastened away toward Syria. In the desire to find his foe, he had
passed him. Bonaparte, learning off Crete that he was pursued, sailed
northward through the Candian Sea, while Nelson took the direct line
on the other side. So it happened that thus far the good fortune of
the invaders had not deserted them.

[Illustration: Map of Egypt.]

The denizens of the great Egyptian towns were not a warlike people;
the great mass of the population, the down-trodden agricultural
workers, or fellaheen, were even less so. Their strongest weapon was
that Oriental stolidity which, like a fortress of mud, closes over
hostile missiles without crumbling under their blows. Accordingly,
the city of Alexandria, after a feeble and ineffectual resistance,
yielded. Bonaparte, ever conciliatory, issued a proclamation to the
people, which was translated by one of his savants into the
vernacular. It was clear and concise, but had little influence on the
populace. The condition of Egypt at the time seeks in vain a parallel
in history. Saladin had followed a tradition of Eastern despotism in
the formation of a body-guard destitute of all ties except those which
bound them to his person. Purchased as infants in Georgia or
Circassia, its members were, like the janizaries at Constantinople,
trained to arms as an exclusive profession, and, mounted on the finest
steeds of Arabia, they became the elite of his army. In time this
force of acute and powerful men transformed itself into a warrior
caste, was divided into twenty-four companies, and obeyed no authority
except that of its captains. These were known in Oriental phrase as
Beys, the subordinates were themselves what we call the Mamelukes; the
whole, in number about eight thousand, formed a kind of chivalry
which, though reduced to nominal submission in 1517, still governed
the land with despotic power, and bade defiance to the Sultan's shaky
authority. The first portion of Bonaparte's proclamation sketched the
evils of Mameluke tyranny, the second called on the populace to aid
their liberators. "We, too, are true Mussulmans. Is it not we who have
destroyed the Pope that said war must be made on the Mussulmans? Is it
not we who have destroyed the Knights of Malta because those insensate
chevaliers believed God wanted them to make war on the Mussulmans?
Thrice happy they who are on our side! They shall prosper in their
fortune and in their place. Happy those who are neutral! They shall
have time to understand us, and shall array themselves with us. But
woe, thrice woe, to those who shall take up arms for the Mamelukes and
fight against us! There shall be no hope left for them; they shall
perish." The contrast between this language and that which its author
had used in Italy concerning the Church shows how much sincerity there
was in either case. Here as there he used religion as a political
expedient.

The capture of Alexandria was a bitter disillusionment to the French
soldiery, for the once rich and famous city had shrunk into poverty
and insignificance. There was no booty and the squalor was repellent.
With this unpropitious start their struggle on to Cairo was an awful
trial. The sky was brass, their feet sank in the dry, hot soil, and
mounted skirmishers tormented them from behind the low hillocks on
each side of their line of march. No enemy more redoubtable than a few
half-naked fellaheen really disputed their progress; but even when, on
July tenth, they came within sight of the Nile and their sufferings
were about to be mitigated, it was in vain that their general sought
to silence their bitter cries of disheartened anger. Three days later
they were attacked at Shebreket by the outposts of the Mamelukes,
under Murad, chief Bey of the force. The irregular and individual
attacks of the well-armed and gorgeously equipped cavalry broke
harmlessly against the serried ranks of the French veterans, and the
desultory firing of the Turkish artillery was quickly silenced; the
rusty cannon, though aimed point-blank at the gunboat flotilla which
was ascending the river, did little or no damage. The enemy withdrew,
and concentrated their forces for a final stand at Om Dinar before
Cairo, behind the lines of Embabeh. On July twenty-first Bonaparte
ordered his troops in squares six men deep, as before. They were to
advance so as to cut off the enemy's retreat southward, and were to
halt only to receive a charge. "Soldiers," cried the general, "forty
centuries look down upon you from the summit of the Pyramids!" The
resistance was scarcely worthy of the name. Five thousand horsemen and
as many fellaheen were behind the weak ramparts. Murad and his men
dashed forward with desperate courage against the phalanx of Desaix,
but only to rebound from its iron sides against the equally impassive
lines of Reynier and Dugua. Ibrahim, the other Mameluke leader, fled
eastward across the river, and Murad retreated toward the south; the
undisciplined infantry scattered and ran like frightened sheep. Many
of the Mamelukes were drowned in the Nile. It was their custom to
carry their wealth on their persons, and the French soldiers, bending
their bayonets into grappling-hooks, spent much time in fishing for
the corpses. It was estimated that each body thus recovered would
afford about ten thousand francs to the lucky finder.

The so-called battle of the Pyramids will ever have a fictitious and
romantic fame, largely due, of course, to the quality of Bonaparte's
wonderful proclamations, which long after he admitted to Gourgaud were
"un peu charlatan." Its results, however, were temporarily very
important. Cairo was delivered by it into French hands, and the
possession of Egypt's capital seemed of the first importance both to
the soldiers and to their friends at home. The idea that East and West
were fighting under the shadow of those monuments which, now hoary
with age, were among the first achievements of civilized human
intelligence, thrilled the "great nation," and added new luster to
Bonaparte's laurels in the minds of a people wont to revel in great
conceptions. Yet but thirty French soldiers were killed, and only one
hundred and twenty were wounded. It was a skirmish; much more
decisive than that at Shebreket, to be sure, and somewhat more bloody,
but only a skirmish. Both were represented to the Directory as great
battles, the five Mamelukes killed in the first being magnified to
three hundred. The camp at Embabeh furnished rich spoils to the
victorious leaders, but the fabled wealth of Cairo, destined for the
soldiery, proved to be like apples of Sodom. The army had been angry
and disheartened; deprived of its accustomed booty, it became sullen
and mutinous. There was no news from home. Oriental apathy long defied
even Bonaparte's administrative powers. Egypt was subdued, but the
situation of the general and of his troops was apparently desperate.
Long afterwards the Emperor said to Gourgaud that, horrible as was the
confession, he believed it fortunate that the French fleet was
destroyed at Aboukir, "otherwise the army would have reëmbarked." If
he had commanded Mamelukes, he would have been master of the East, he
added.

Nothing daunted by what would have broken a feebler spirit, the
disillusioned conqueror turned to the conquest of another world.
Africa had failed him, but Asia was near, and a revolution might be
effected there. The maltreatment of French merchants in Syria had been
one of the Directory's original grounds of complaint; it must serve
another turn, and if the Sultan were sufficiently humbled, he might be
compelled to an alliance against the menacing league of Russia and
Austria. The need for carrying out this plan was further confirmed by
the awful news which soon came from Alexandria. Nelson, having scoured
in vain the eastern shores of the Mediterranean, had returned first to
Sicily, then to Greece, and finally to Egypt. Bonaparte had left
instructions for Admiral Brueys to work the fleet into the old port of
the Ptolemies; but if the anchorage or water-draft should prove
insufficient, he was to sail for Corfu. It was believed that with his
splendid new eighty-gun ships, and unhampered by the transports, he
was more than a match for the inferior squadron of Nelson, whose
largest vessels had but seventy-four guns. But Brueys, finding it
impossible to enter the harbor with his warships, and fearing to sail
for Corfu without the provisions promised by the general, disobeyed
his orders, and took up what he believed to be an impregnable position
near by in the bay of Aboukir, his line being parallel with the
shoaling beach, and his van protected by insufficient batteries on
Aboukir island to the northwest. The strongest ships in the center and
van were those stationed seaward.

Nelson descried the anchored fleet on August first, about midday;
before evening his daring scheme was formed and carried out. The
English ships advanced in two divisions, one attacking the enemy's
center and rear from the sea side, while the other, performing by
skilful steering what Brueys had believed an impossible feat, entered
the shoal waters, and, cutting off the shore defense, simultaneously
attacked on that side. The French van, like the rest of the fleet, was
at anchor, and could not come to the assistance of its sister ships.
Thus entrapped, the French sailors fought with desperate courage, but
they were out-manoeuvered, and the English cross-fire was deadly.
Moreover, with Nelson a new temper had entered the British navy. At
Bastia he had determined the result by his personal daring, for the
men of the _Agamemnon_, when led by him, "minded shot as little as
peas"; at Calvi he had lost an eye in a desperate venture; at Cape St.
Vincent he had boarded two opposing Spanish ships at the head of his
own _Captain's_ crew, with the cry, "Westminster Abbey or victory!"
and now, in the battle of the Nile, his greatest fight, he inspired
the whole fleet with such audacious bravery that to this day his
countrymen sing the proud boast of the ballad-writer, "At the battle
of the Nile, I was there all the while." Though he had as many vessels
as the French, they were of inferior quality and strength; but the
result was never doubtful. The brave Brueys went down in his own
_Orient_ as the dauntless crew shouted, "Long live the Republic!" and
Rear-Admiral Villeneuve barely escaped with two ships of the line and
two frigates. Two other vessels of the latter class had been towed
into the harbor; all the rest were destroyed. From that awful day the
modern maritime ascendancy of England was considered a menace by
continental Europe. France had struck Great Britain deadly blows in
the annihilation of her allies ashore, and was to do so again.
England, however, on her own chosen element, seemed thenceforward
indomitable.

Any plan which Bonaparte may have entertained for the use of fleets to
transport himself or his armies either on the Mediterranean or on the
Atlantic during the expected Continental convulsion had to be
abandoned. As was explained in a despatch from the Directory, which he
did not receive until long after, he must either make Egypt
self-sufficient without aid from France, or march on Constantinople to
intimidate or wheedle the Grand Turk, or invade India, collect all the
elements hostile to British rule, and establish himself there. Any
thought of immediate return to France must be abandoned, however
disposed he might be to pluck his "pear." On the other hand, France
without Bonaparte was a different subject for European consideration,
military or political. The wild schemes of her government for aiding
the Irish rebels or invading British soil were necessarily either
futile in their inception or never tried; the coalition was shaping
itself, and with Bonaparte and Hoche both removed from the scene, the
statesmen and generals of the other great powers were only too ready
to try conclusions with France.




CHAPTER VII

THE DISASTER AT ACRE[8]

         [Footnote 8: References as before. Add Masson: Napoléon et
         les femmes, Josephine. Ernouf: Le Général Kléber. Larrey:
         Relation historique. Belliard: Bourrienne et ses erreurs.
         Guitry: L'Armée en Égypte. Memoirs of Lavalette, Bourrienne,
         Miot de Melito, and Lucien de Bonaparte.]

     Islam and the French -- Plans to Revolutionize the East -- The
     News from Europe -- Bonaparte's Recommendations to the Directory
     -- The Invasion of Syria -- Murder of Turkish Prisoners --
     Importance of Acre -- The Battle of Mount Tabor -- The Siege of
     Acre -- Desperate Courage of Besiegers and Besieged -- Defeat of
     Bonaparte -- His Estimate of Human Life -- The Retreat to Egypt.


[Sidenote: 1798--99]

"This is the moment," said Bonaparte, on hearing how Brueys's splendid
fleet had been annihilated, and the line of retreat to France cut off,
"when characters of a superior order assert themselves." "The
English," he cried on another occasion, "will compel us to do greater
things than we intended." So far from his activity being diminished in
the isolation of Egypt, it was redoubled. To preserve the fiction of
his mission as the restorer of Ottoman power, the tricolor and the
crescent floated everywhere side by side, while prayers were said for
both France and Turkey in the mosques. The utmost respect was paid to
the Koran and its precepts. Menou and a number of others made an open
profession of Islam. To soothe all popular apprehension, existing
institutions were changed only to strengthen them, while contemplated
reforms were to follow in proportion as increasing public
enlightenment demanded them. In particular, the utmost respect was
paid to marriage customs, and no license among the common soldiers was
tolerated. In marked contrast was Bonaparte's own conduct. An
intercepted letter written from Alexandria to his brother Joseph
expressed jealous doubts of Josephine's fidelity--or, rather, a
certainty of her infidelity. From that instant his own licentiousness
became a scandal even to the loose notions of his train. But outwardly
he affected the inflated speech of a semi-divine messenger; once,
while visiting the burial crypt in the pyramid of Cheops, he pretended
to a mufti that he was a proselyte, and pronounced with an air of
conviction the Mohammedan creed. Every element in the population,
however,--Copts, Turks, Greeks, and Arabs,--was courted, and made to
share in the administration. Printing-presses were established, and
the French scholars, though surprised and disenchanted by what they
found, united into an institute, and began the study of every possible
improvement in political, social, and domestic economy. Nor was the
army forgotten: the captured Mamelukes and other available youth were
enrolled in the French battalions, and taught the drill and discipline
of war. Even the scattered Bedouin received the conqueror's flattering
attentions with ever lessening distrust.

All this was part of a plan to effect a religious and political
revolution in the East, the two to move hand in hand, by an appeal to
Mohammedan zeal for coöperation with those who had already destroyed
Christianity in Europe. Talleyrand was to have been the representative
in Constantinople of the same idea. But in disregard of his promise he
stayed at home, and neither the Sultan, as the political and religious
head of Islam, nor its devotees, were for a moment deceived. On the
well-known principle that offers of peace come best while war is
hottest, Bonaparte's iron hand was shown in certain most stringent
regulations, and one determined insurrection was put down with
merciless rigor. The domestic relations of the people were sacred, but
they must buy indemnity with the payment of all their cash; and
treasure, wherever found, was seized for the army chest. The old city
barriers of Cairo were broken down, and fortified turrets were built
in their places. Resistance of any kind met with quick punishment, and
heads fell throughout the land with such regularity and frequency as
to force from the natives a recognition of Bonaparte as el Kebir, the
Exalted.

The utter isolation of summer, autumn, and winter would have been
intolerable but for such occupations. Only a single official despatch,
and that a most insignificant one, reached Egypt from France during
this interval; and the rush of events in Europe was for months utterly
unknown to the castaway army. In fact, but two efforts were made to
forward news--an astounding proof of the feeling in Paris. The
Directory had failed in their attempts to cajole the Sultan, and a
message from Bonaparte arrived too late to influence him; for, on
receipt of news from Nelson's victorious fleet, the Turkish monarch
hesitated no longer, and accepted the proffered alliance of Russia.
The only certain news from Europe which was generally disseminated in
Cairo was contained in a package of Italian newspapers brought into
Alexandria by a blockade-runner. Through them it was known that the
invasion of Ireland, having been precipitated by a misunderstanding
between the secret society of United Irishmen and the Directory, had
failed; that Malta and Corfu were blockaded; that the Spanish fleet
was significantly inactive; and that all Europe was arming for the
renewal of hostilities in the spring. Bonaparte made every effort to
communicate with Paris. Some of his frequent despatches certainly
reached their destination; but, going by circuitous routes, they were
belated. This very fact, however, went far in France to surround him
with a halo of romance, and to glorify the legend, never eradicated
from French imaginations, that the national arms had subjugated the
land of the Pharaohs. As every day revealed the incapacity of the
Directory in the face of an exasperated and united Europe, the fancied
splendor of Bonaparte's feats neutralized any remnants of suspicion
remaining in the minds of the people regarding their absent victor.
The conquering republic was over the sea; it was a spurious one which
had remained at home to be humiliated.

Disquieting rumors of Bonaparte's death, said to have been spread by
English and Russian agents, were prevalent during a part of December;
but while at their height they were allayed by the arrival, direct
from the seat of war, of a budget dated October seventh. The condition
of the colony was described in glowing terms, but the gist of the
despatches was that the Spanish admiral must be goaded to activity,
and that the fleet from Brest must be sent to coöperate with him in
the Mediterranean, in order to restore the prestige of France in the
East. As for the writer himself, he hoped, should war break out again
in Europe, to return in the spring. Meantime, the Neapolitans were
marching on Rome, a fact which inclined the vacillating and harassed
directors to act on the suggestions of their real master, although
they kept his recommendations secret.

It was, therefore, not entirely without a coördination of plans that
the Army of Egypt, strengthened and refreshed, made ready to move in
February. The Turks, under the viceroy, Achmet, styled Jezzar, the
Butcher, were mustering in Syria, and it was necessary to anticipate
them. Kléber was put at the head of twelve thousand men, and, after
dispersing the eight hundred Mamelukes who had retreated in the
direction of Rahmaniyeh, he advanced some days' march to El Arish,
which was at once beset. Bonaparte tarried at Cairo for a few days,
and then having learned that the congress at Rastadt was still
sitting, and that war, though imminent, was not yet declared, set out,
reaching El Arish on February seventeenth, 1799. Three days later the
Turkish garrison, composed largely of volunteers, surrendered. They
were paroled, and ordered to march toward Damascus. Gaza fell with the
exchange of a few musket-balls, and important munitions of war were
delivered into the hands of the French. On March fourth the invaders
were before Jaffa, which had a garrison of four thousand men, a part
of Jezzar's army. After three days' bombardment a breach was made in
the walls, and two thousand troops who had taken refuge behind
caravansary walls surrendered under promise of their lives; the rest,
it is said, had been killed in a massacre which immediately followed
the assault.

No French victory was ever marked by more unbridled license than that
which the victorious troops practised at Jaffa. But what followed was
worse. Although the prisoners of war were too numerous for the
ordinary usage, yet they should have been treated according to the
terms of quarter they had exacted. On the seventh a council of war
unanimously voted that the old rule under which no quarter is given to
defenders in an assault should be applied to them. For two days
Bonaparte hesitated, but on the ninth his decision was taken. A few
Egyptians were sent home, and the remainder of the prisoners, together
with the eight hundred militia from El Arish, were marched to the
beach, and shot. In the report to the Directory the total number was
put at twelve hundred. Two eye-witnesses estimated it--one at three
thousand, the other at four thousand. "I have been severe with those
of your troops who violated the laws of war," wrote the author of the
deed to Jezzar. No mention of the fact or excuse for it was made in
any other portion of his correspondence at the time. All winter long
he had been dealing as an Oriental with Orientals, and this was but a
piece of the same conduct. The code of Christian morality was far from
his mind. In January, for instance, he had ordered Murat to kill all
the prisoners of a hostile tribe in the desert, whom he could not
bring away; and in the same month identical orders were issued to
Berthier concerning another horde. The plea which is made by the
eulogists of Napoleon, and by some recent military writers, for this
wholesale execution, is that among these slaughtered men the garrison
of El Arish, which had surrendered, had been found again with arms in
their hands; that they were deserving of death according to all the
laws of war; and that, as to the rest, there were no French prisoners
for whom to exchange them, and no provisions to support them;
consequently their presence with the army would jeopardize its
success, and it was therefore justifiable to diminish the enemy's
resisting power by their execution. Those who believe that in any war,
whether just or unjust, the practice of barbarity is excusable if it
lead to speedy victory will agree with that opinion.

Bonaparte had foreseen that of all the Syrian towns the Pasha's
capital, St. Jean d'Acre, which was on the shore, and not inland like
the places so easily taken, would make the strongest resistance.
Accordingly he had provided a siege-train, and had despatched it by
sea from Alexandria. The English squadron in those waters, now in
command of Sir Sidney Smith, was in the offing when the French army
arrived on the coast. Approaching in order to open fire, the English
admiral became aware after a few shots that his enemy had no
artillery. Divining the reason, he swiftly put to sea, and easily
captured their transports. Phélippeaux, a French emigrant who had
graduated from the military school at Paris only two days before
Bonaparte, was sent by Smith to superintend the fortification of the
city with the very guns destined for its destruction. The siege of
Acre thus became a task quite different from any hitherto imposed on
the French. Supported by an English fleet, and easily provisioned
under protection of their guns, the city might have made a determined
stand even against an enemy with cannon; but to one without artillery
it was likely that its resistance would be effectual. And so it
proved; for under the ancient Gothic walls of a city whose name
recalled the fleeting dominion of the Frank crusaders, Bonaparte's
dreams of an Oriental empire vanished forever. On March nineteenth he
sat down before them, with really no dependence except on fate. In
spite of discouragements, however, a breach was effected on the
twenty-eighth by means of a mine, but the assault was repulsed.

Day followed day without an important incident, until in the third
week an army of twenty-five thousand men, under Abdullah, approached
from Damascus to relieve Jezzar. Kléber set out to check their march,
and the first skirmish of advance-guards occurred at Nazareth. For
eight hours Junot, in the van with a few hundred men, stood firm
against a tenfold force; and even when the whole French division
arrived the overwhelming superiority of the Turkish numbers was not
perceptibly diminished. Bonaparte was not far behind. Leaving a
respectable array before the town to keep up appearances, he hurried
away with the rest, and by a forced march debouched on April sixteenth
into the plain of Esdraelon. In the distance, at the foot of Mount
Tabor, he could see a cloud of dust and smoke, in the midst of which
the ranks of Kléber's division seemed buried beneath the masses of his
foe. Throwing his fine cavalry on the Turkish flanks, the
commander-in-chief, at the head of the infantry, caught his enemy
unawares from behind the whirling sand which had concealed his
presence. The result was an utter rout of the Turks, who fled by the
mountain passes in complete disorder.

Bonaparte returned victorious to Acre, and resumed the siege with a
grim determination such as even he had not often felt. He had good
cause. Another messenger from the Directory, traveling with
comparative directness by way of Genoa, had arrived with despatches
and newspapers dated as late as February. Two Austrian generals, Mack
and Sachsen, had put themselves at the head of the Neapolitan army,
and were about to march on Rome. An Austrian army division had already
begun hostilities by entering the Grisons, thus violating the
neutrality of the allied Helvetian Republic. Russia, Turkey, and
Austria were in coalition: Russia would despatch troops to defend the
Turkish capital and to aid in conquering Italy. Two new French armies
were in the field. Moreau, the only first-rate general in France, was
still under suspicion of complicity with Pichegru, and although
permitted to accompany the Army of Italy as a volunteer, had been
passed over in the choice of commanders. Jourdan, whose consistent
democracy as a member of the Five Hundred had restored him to favor
and rank, was to command the Army of the Danube; Joubert was to
succeed Bonaparte in Italy. As for himself, he was left unhampered by
instructions, but three alternatives had suggested themselves to the
Directory--that he should either remain in Egypt and complete his
colonial organization, or else press on to India and there supplant
the English power, or, finally, march straight to Constantinople and
attack the Russians. The tone of the despatches was one of anxiety.
From earliest times Acre had been the key of Palestine; if Bonaparte
should secure it, he would become the arbiter of his own destiny and
of the world's. With Palestine, Egypt, and India at his feet, the
tricontinental monarchy of his dreams was realizable; or else, in the
same case, he could return to Paris with laurels unknown since the
crusades, and put the copestone on the nearly completed structure of
military domination in France and Europe. To the end of his days he
imagined, or represented himself as imagining, that he would have
altered the world's career by choosing the part of Oriental conqueror.
We may call these notions dreams, or fancies, or visions, or what we
will; they were sane conceptions in themselves, although it is not
likely that England would have been conquered in the loss of India.
She had been vigorous without it; she could have survived even that
blow. For the moment the fall of Acre appeared to be an antecedent
condition to either of the courses which were in the mind of
Bonaparte.

But the siege was not prosperous. The assault and the defense during
the attack in March had been alike desperate, and French valor had
been futile. A fleet was now on its way from Constantinople to throw
additional men and provisions into the town. At the same time
Phélippeaux had constructed a new girdle of forts inside the walls,
and had barricaded the streets. In the interval, however, the French
had brought up some heavy guns from Jaffa, and were making
preparations to renew operations. A breach was easily effected, and a
few gallant fellows seized the tower which controlled the outworks and
curtain; but the storming party was repulsed, and the men in the
tower, though they held it for two days, were finally so reduced in
numbers that they succumbed. This exasperated the French soldiers
intensely. For the first two weeks of May there was scarcely a break
in the succession of assaults. The fierce struggles which occurred in
the breaches, on the barricades, even in the streets, to which the
French once or twice penetrated, resulted in an appalling loss of
life; but neither party quailed. Before long a pestilence broke out in
the French camp, and the hospitals established at Jaffa and elsewhere
were crowded with sick and dying.

On May seventh Kléber's division was called in for a conclusive
onslaught, and in the face of a double fire from Sir Sidney Smith's
cannon and the guns on the walls, both the first and second works were
scaled and taken. All was in vain. Every house rained bullets from
embrasures made for the purpose, and the entering columns retreated on
the very threshold of their goal. Three days later a second equally
desperate attempt likewise failed. In all, the siege lasted sixty-two
days; the French assaulted forty times, and twenty-six sallies were
made by the garrison; four thousand soldiers and four good generals
from his splendid army were the sacrifice of human life which
Bonaparte offered at Acre to his ambition. Finally, the squadron from
Constantinople having safely arrived, news came that another was
fitting out at Rhodes to retake Egypt itself. Nothing was left but to
draw off, and on the seventeenth the siege was abandoned. The retreat
began on the twentieth. At Jaffa Bonaparte passed through the hospital
wards calling out in a loud voice: "The Turks will be here in a few
hours. Whoever feels strong enough, let him rise and follow us."

As a votary at the shrine of science he believed, both then and later,
in the lawfulness of suicide; and he now coldly suggested murder to
his surgeon-general, hinting that an overdose of opium would end the
sufferings of those plague-stricken men who would have to be
abandoned. It was long believed that such a dose actually had been
administered to the sixty or more who were left behind. But the
conclusive evidence that the report was false is in the fact that when
Sir Sidney Smith occupied Jaffa the sufferers were still alive.
Napoleon to the last defended the suggestion as proper, though he
falsely denied having made it himself, and untruthfully declared at
St. Helena that he had delayed three days to protect the dying
patients. With cynical good nature, he told the fine story of how the
noble French army surgeon Desgenettes had rejected the criminal
suggestion, replying that a physician's profession was to save, not to
destroy, human life. The rebuke was particularly scathing because the
heroic doctor, in spite of his conviction that the plague was
contagious, had already inoculated himself with the disease in order
to allay the panic of the terror-stricken soldiers. The army was
reduced to eight thousand. After a nine days' march through the
burning sands, the exhausted columns of the French reached Cairo. Such
was the unparalleled vigor of the survivors that a few days' rest and
proper food sufficed to recuperate their strength.

More wonderful still, they soon believed themselves to have returned
with crowns of victory. Their crafty general explained that but for
the terrible heats of Syria, the pest, and the expedition from Rhodes,
which threatened their rear, they would have leveled the walls of
Acre and destroyed Jezzar's palace, returning with standards and
spoils to confirm France's dominion in the hearts and fears of the
Egyptians. The volatile and sanguine soldiery, unwilling to admit
defeat even to themselves, half believed this was true, and soon by an
easy transition came to hold the mere suggestions as actual facts.
Berthier was instructed that the native authorities at Cairo were to
be so informed by an advance agent, General Boyer. The few important
prisoners whose lives had been spared were to be conveyed, with due
display of captured standards, to the citadel of Cairo, and there
imprisoned with the public announcement "that a great number of such
were coming." The litters of the wounded French officers Lannes,
Duroc, Croizier, and Arrighi were to be quietly carried in on
different days. In one emphatic paragraph are the instructions for
Boyer: "He is to write, to say, to do everything which may secure a
triumphal entry." So adroitly were truth and fiction intermingled and
confused by Bonaparte and his agents, that in spite of various
attempted risings the country as a whole remained quiet. Murad,
however, who had fled to Nubia, and had there remained in concealment
until informed of the proposed Turkish expedition, soon reappeared
with the remnants of his cavalry, for the purpose of coöperating with
the Sultan's forces. For weeks he came and went among the people so
mysteriously that the French guards could never seize him. Bonaparte's
superstition was awakened by the stealthy and uncanny movements of his
enemy, and in July he gave vent to his nervous irritation in a request
to one of his subordinates either to kill or worry to death the object
of his dread. "Let him die one way or another, I shall be equally
obliged," were his words.




CHAPTER VIII

ABOUKIR AND THE GREAT DESERTION[9]

         [Footnote 9: Authorities as before.]

     The Last of the Mamelukes -- Aboukir -- The News from Paris -- An
     Adventurer's Decision -- Preparations for Departure -- His Plans
     Concealed -- The Last Visit to Corsica -- A Narrow Escape --
     Reception in France -- Conjugal Estrangement.


[Sidenote: 1799]

The Turkish army which had sailed from Rhodes numbered about twelve
thousand men. The fleet which transported them appeared off Alexandria
on July twentieth, and a landing was attempted. Repulsed by the forts,
the ships drew off to Aboukir, where the effort was successful. The
force was composed of infantry, and as nothing further could be done
without cavalry, they began immediately to throw up breastworks,
hoping to make a successful stand until the arrival of Murad. But this
romantic personage, the last of the Mamelukes to enjoy undisputed
sway, was able to come no farther than the Pyramids; the land at which
he gazed from the summit of Cheops was never again to be his. Before
he could reach his allies they had been overwhelmed, and before the
evacuation of Egypt by its invaders he fell a victim to the plague.
Mehemet Ali and the Albanians were to inherit his power. By July
twenty-fourth the Turks had strongly fortified the peninsula of
Aboukir with a double line of works. Not only did they hear nothing
from Murad, but Ibrahim, who was expected from Syria, also failed
them, and the lack of cavalry threw them on the defensive. (p.~078)
But their presence, they hoped, would be sufficient to fan the
rebellious spirit of the country, and they might maintain themselves
until reinforcements should come by sea, or the belated cavalry arrive
by land.

With his accustomed rapidity Bonaparte made ready to strike. Ibrahim
was checked, Murad was finally driven back, and Desaix was called in
from upper Egypt to keep order below while the contest was going on in
the Delta. With six thousand men in the main army, and two thousand
reserves under Kléber, Bonaparte set out. On July twenty-fifth the
battle was joined. It was short and murderous. The enemy was first
outflanked on the left, and that wing driven into the sea; then the
right was caught in the same manner, and suffered a like fate.
Finally, with a rush the infantry of Lannes surmounted a redoubt in
the center. What was their surprise to find Murat with his cavalry
already on the other side! The dashing riders had madly circumvented
the line of intrenchment. There were but three thousand Turks now
left, and these took refuge in a citadel which they had constructed at
the apex of the peninsula. On August first, 1799, the anniversary of
the battle of the Nile, the entire force surrendered. Bonaparte told
the Directory that twelve thousand Turks were drowned. As he said in
his despatch to Cairo, "Not a single man of the hostile army which had
landed escaped." The French troops were now convinced that their
general had always been invincible, and that somehow he would open the
doors of their prison-house, and find a way for their return.

[Illustration: Napoleon Exposition, 1895

NAPOLEON--BY INGRES

(Belonging to Germain Bapst).]

It was nearly six months since the date of the latest authentic news
from Paris. At least so thought the general's adjutants and
companions, and they were possibly right. They knew that he had been
constantly forwarding news of their enterprise, and probably
regular instructions, to the authorities at Paris. Bonaparte
mentions in his correspondence the despatch of sixty vessels of
various kinds with his letters, and some of them, at least, reached
their destination. This certainty, with the wise adaptation of his
subsequent course to his ultimate ends, has led to the supposition
that he was in constant receipt of secret information from his
brothers, by way of Genoa and Tunis. This he never explicitly denied,
although he said at St. Helena that newspapers were sent ashore from
the English fleet after the battle of Aboukir, adding, as a kind of
ingenuous generalization, that, besides, news did not come from France
by way of Tunis. Joseph declares in his memoirs that he himself sent a
messenger to tell the sorry tale of French affairs to Napoleon. But
there is no proof and no likelihood that this courier ever reached his
destination. It is certain that Bonaparte learned at Acre of the new
coalition against France from Phélippeaux in a parley held across the
trenches; it is probable that his private news came by way of the
Barbary States; it is unquestioned that his best information was
obtained through the English fleet, which was now off Alexandria,
negotiating for exchanges on behalf of Turkey. According to Marmont,
Sir Sidney Smith, hoping to discourage his enemy, sent a packet of
papers ashore, and declared that if the French army should strive to
escape, in accordance with the desire of the Directory, he would
endeavor to give an account himself to the fugitives.

In any case, what was now definitely made known to Bonaparte was not
unwelcome information. He was assured that war had broken out, as he
expected and perhaps knew; that the French arms had suffered disgrace
in Italy; and that a fleet under Admiral Bruix had been despatched to
conquer the Mediterranean and to bring home the Army of Egypt. No
doubt he guessed that the Directory was showing hopeless incapacity.
What he could not know was that on May twenty-sixth they had actually
despatched a special courier to express the hope that he himself would
return to take command of the armies of the republic. This messenger,
we know, never landed in Egypt, but his services were not required;
for no sooner was Bonaparte convinced that the crisis he had long
foreseen was actually occurring than the resolution he had twice
foreshadowed in his letters to Paris was finally taken. He told
Marmont that the state of things in Europe compelled him to return:
the French armies defeated, all the fruits of his hard-earned
victories in Italy lost! Of what use were these incapables who were at
the head of affairs? With them all was hesitation, stupidity, and
corruption. "I--I alone have borne the burden, and by constant victory
have given strength to this administration, which without me would
never have lifted its head. On my departure everything had, of
necessity, to crumble. Let us not wait until the destruction is
complete; the evil would be irremediable.... The news of my return
will be heard in France simultaneously with that of the destruction of
the Turkish army at Aboukir. My presence will elevate men's spirits,
restore to the army its lost confidence, and to the good people the
hope of a prosperous future." No commentary could make this language
clearer.

His arrangements were quickly made. A few trusted men were
confidentially informed of the situation, and Kléber was appointed to
the chief command of the army, which was so dishonorably to be
abandoned in a most critical situation, reduced as it was to half its
original numbers, destitute of provisions and ammunition, surrounded
by a hostile, fanatical population, and confronted by the powerful
fleet of its most unrelenting enemy. Secretly, and by night, the two
frigates in the harbor of Alexandria were prepared, and anchored off a
remote point of the shore. In the early hours of August twenty-second
the fugitive general embarked, accompanied by a few devoted and choice
friends--capable generals like Murat, Lannes, Marmont, Berthier,
Duroc, Bessières, Lavalette, Ganteaume, and Andréossy; equally fine
political scholars like Monge, Denon, and Berthollet. It was arranged
that Junot and Desaix should come later.

The great deserter could easily persuade himself that this was an act
of heroism--risking his life on hostile waters in order to save
France. It was not hard to reason speciously that it was a colony
which had been intended, and a colony which had been planted; that in
his return he was using the discretion granted by the Directory, and
carrying out a plan announced from the outset. But it needed no
verdict of posterity to declare that it would have been more heroic to
remain and share the consequences of a scheme so largely his own. His
conscience asserted as much, for he deceived the brilliant and acute
Kléber in an appointment to say farewell, which was not kept; while
the Grand Council of Cairo was told that he had gone to take command
of his fleet, and would return in three months. Orders were left that
if fifteen hundred soldiers should die of the pest, Kléber should open
negotiations for evacuating the country. An angry and emphatic protest
was written by the victimized general; but it was intercepted by the
English cruisers, and did not fall into the hands of his betrayer
until after he had become First Consul. At St. Helena, Napoleon
declared that the failure of the expedition was clear to him from the
moment of Nelson's victory; for any force which cannot be recruited
must melt away and eventually surrender.

Sir Sidney Smith, not thinking either that a general would abandon his
army, or that vessels would sail for Europe against the adverse winds
of that season, had made for Cyprus to renew his supply of water. In
this interval the two French frigates gained the open sea, their
captains entertaining the vague hope of reaching Toulon direct, by
some reversal of nature's laws. But the prevalent breezes continued,
and compelled them to coast along the African shore. It was three
weeks before they even sighted the headlands of Tunis. At last a
favoring wind began to blow. With lights extinguished, they passed at
night the strait which separates Africa from Sicily, escaping the
observation of the English cruisers sent from Nelson's fleet to patrol
those waters. Skirting Sardinia, the flotilla reached Corsica early in
October. Though, as Bonaparte declared, he was "deeply moved by the
sight of his native town," no remnant of his early enthusiasm could
sweeten for him the enforced delay of several days in the harbor of
Ajaccio. He had left far behind the emotions of that primitive
society, and, evidently fretting to be gone, was rather impatient at
the abounding caresses of all the friends who thronged the town when
he was ashore and crowded the decks when he was afloat. Some deeds
have been recorded to his credit: all the money he had by him, about
forty thousand francs, he distributed to the garrison, which had not
been paid for over a year and a half; his features, it is also said,
relaxed with evident joy as he tenderly returned the greeting of the
old woman who had been his earliest attendant. It was his last visit
to the island of his birth, but not the last time the accents of its
dialect fell on his ears, for it was a Corsican who troubled his dying
hours at St. Helena.

What moved him really and deeply was the news of French disasters on
the Trebbia and at Novi, of Joubert's death, of the dissolution of the
Italian republics, and of Moreau's last stand in the Piedmont
fortresses. What probably moved him most was the further news that the
old Directory had virtually fallen on the thirtieth of Prairial, and
that Sieyès, who had returned but partly successful from Berlin, had
been chosen as a member of the new one, to preserve at least a
semblance of respect for the institution. Finally, the favoring breeze
sprang up, and on October eighth sail was made again, not for Italy,
to restore the fortunes of the army, as Bourrienne says had been
planned during the voyage, but direct for France. Suddenly, at sunset,
a British squadron loomed on the horizon. Was Fortune at last to
desert her child? It seemed so. The captain of Bonaparte's vessel gave
orders to make again for Ajaccio, and prepared a long-boat for the
solitary landing of his passenger on the wild shores of the island in
case of extremity. But a dark night revived his courage. The English,
deceived by the apparent angle of their enemy's yards, mistook his
course, and sailed in a wrong direction. The French kept directly on.
Next morning the adventurer set foot once more on French soil near
Fréjus. A few nights later news of Bonaparte's landing was brought to
his sisters in their box at the theater. They received it with
exultation, but apparently with no manifestation of surprise.

How was he received, this thwarted leader of a costly fiasco, this
general who for nothing had left the bones of thousands to whiten upon
Eastern deserts, who had deserted in a plague-stricken land many
thousands more of the finest troops which France could furnish? With a
passion of delight! From Fréjus through Lyons to Paris, along the old
familiar route, the people knew nothing of their hero's failures. They
had not forgotten his Italian victories, which only a short year
before had made them masters where now their armies were in disgrace
and their name was execrated; they knew only too well the widespread
legends of the same man's triumphs in the romantic East, before Cairo
and at the feet of the Pyramids. With all this they contrasted the
valley of humiliation through which the republic had been dragged by
the incapacity of their leaders. Was it wonderful that at Lyons the
fêtes were like a jubilee, through which Bonaparte, aware that his
goal was near, moved like one already elevated among his
fellows--conciliating, deprecating, mysterious?

It was on October sixteenth that he arrived at his house on Victory
street, in Paris. Mme. Bonaparte was not there to give him a welcome.
During the absence of her husband she had made her house the center of
a brilliant society which numbered among its members the ablest men of
the time. This circle was untiring in its devotion to Bonaparte's
interests, making friends for him at home, plotting in his behalf
abroad, turning every political incident to his advantage, and
building up a strong party which believed that he was the only
possible savior of France. In conduct the associates were gay and even
dissolute; occasionally a select inner coterie withdrew to Plombières,
nominally for repose, but probably for a seclusion not altogether
innocent. Into this loyal but licentious company the sudden
announcement of Bonaparte's approach brought something like
consternation. Josephine, in particular, having been recklessly
unfaithful during his absence, was now over-anxious to display a
feigned devotion to her husband. Doubtless she had heard of his
desperate licentiousness in Egypt; she must have recalled her own
orgies of faithlessness during his absence, in Italy first and now
again in Egypt; she may have learned that his family were already
hinting divorce and that his ears were only too attentive to the
suggestion. But she knew her powers and resolved to stake all on
another cast. Learning of his approach, she went out some distance to
meet him, but took the wrong road, and passed him unawares. Hurrying
back, she found the door of his chamber barred, her absence being of
course a confirmation of the general's jealous suspicions. For hours
her entreaties and tears were vain. At last Eugène and Hortense joined
theirs with their mother's, and the door was opened. The breach was
apparently healed, but rather to avoid a scandal than from sincere
forgiveness.




CHAPTER IX

"THE RETURN OF THE HERO"[10]

         [Footnote 10: The fullest accounts are those of Sorel and
         Vandal. Further authorities are the memoirs of Duport de
         Cheverny, of Larévellière-Lepeaux, of Lafayette, of Mme. de
         Chastenay, and of Pasquier, the works of Roederer, the
         studies of Aulard, the contemporary journals and reviews.
         Also, E. and I. de Goncourt: Histoire de la Société Française
         pendant le Directoire. Stenger: La Société Française pendant
         le Consulat. Rocquain: L'État de la France au 18 Brumaire.]

     The Second Coalition -- Failures and Defeats of the Directory --
     The Rastadt Congress -- Murder of the French Plenipotentiaries --
     The Crisis in France -- The Revolution of Prairial -- The
     Conscription -- The Schemes of the Directors -- The Successes of
     the Bonapartists -- The Attitude of Paris -- "The Return of the
     Hero" -- The Man of Destiny.


The situation of affairs in Europe at the close of 1799 was, as
Bonaparte had anticipated, by no means simple. England having been
scorned in the propositions for peace which she made in 1797 at Lille,
a second coalition of France's enemies was formed in 1798, largely
through the efforts of Paul I, the new Czar of Russia. The
organization of the Helvetian Republic in Switzerland had brought the
Revolution into the very heart of central Europe, and thus had further
estranged the trembling dynasties of both Austria and Prussia. The
organization on February eighteenth, 1798, of the Roman Republic had
brought the Revolution to the frontiers of Naples; when her king,
having joined the coalition, renewed hostilities and inaugurated a
general war by throwing an army into Rome, the French troops in Italy
were divided, and a portion of them, under Championnet, overturned the
Neapolitan throne in a kind of pleasure excursion. In January, 1799,
the Parthenopean Republic was proclaimed. By a skilfully devised
complot in which Lucien Bonaparte was active, the Directory charged
the feeble King of Sardinia with unfriendliness, the Cisalpine
Republic picked a quarrel with him, Tuscany became involved in the
ensuing disorders, and Charles Emmanuel IV was compelled on December
ninth, 1798, to abandon all his territories on the mainland, while the
Grand Duke of Tuscany, Ferdinand III, fled shortly after, in 1799, to
his relatives in the court of Vienna, leaving his dominions
temporarily at the disposal of France.

It was doubtless a pleasant delusion for sincere republicans to
imagine that in these events free governments were rising on the wreck
of absolutism; but unfortunately the fact was otherwise: every one of
these so-called free states was founded, not in the hearts of its
people, but in the power of French arms. With the waning of this
military ascendancy, they must of necessity lose all vitality.
Bonaparte had stated to the Directory, in defense of his own conduct,
and of course both repeatedly and emphatically, that to divide the
Army of Italy and leave the Austrians on the Adige would be to lose
Italy. And yet this was precisely the blunder the directors made in
sending Championnet to Naples. Angered by the unexpected renewal of
hostilities, their preparations for the coming war, though vigorous
and energetic, were made unadvisedly and in haste. Brune was sent to
command in Holland, Bernadotte to the middle Rhine, Jourdan into
central Germany, Masséna to Switzerland, Macdonald to Naples, and
Schérer to upper Italy. Two hundred thousand men were raised under
the new conscription law, and these conscripts-a word then used in
that sense for the first time-were sent to fill the depleted ranks of
the respective armies. Brune and Masséna were destined to show ability
and win success; the others were marked for overwhelming defeat: the
crowning example of folly was the appointment of the incapable Schérer
to the post of greatest importance. He had once before shown his
inability to master the rudiments of warfare in Italy, and this time
his command was as inefficient as might have been expected. Jourdan,
having been defeated toward the close of March, by the Archduke
Charles, both at Ostrach and at Stockach, was succeeded by Lenouf, who
was at once compelled to retreat behind the Rhine. On the heels of
this disaster, Schérer was driven first behind the Mincio, then to the
Oglio; he was shamefully beaten at Magnano in April, and then
voluntarily made way for Moreau, laying down his command amid the
jeers of his disgusted troops.

Meantime the congress at Rastadt had been keeping up the forms of
negotiation, its proceedings being in the main perfunctory, and its
sessions deriving their interest mainly from the attempts of the
French plenipotentiaries to overawe their colleagues. In this they
were largely successful, because they had in their possession the
clearest evidence of Austria's earlier determination to secure her
importance by the dismemberment of Bavaria. They were now three in
number: two of them, Roberjot and Bonnier, were honest supporters of
the Directory; the third, Debry, was an old friend of Bonaparte's, and
had never swerved from his allegiance. As chief of the embassy he had
attracted great attention, and having displayed a spirit far from
conciliatory, he gave some cause for the special dislike in which he
was held, not only by the other delegates, but even by his (p.~089)
own colleagues. There was the utmost tension in the congress when
hostilities were renewed. With the successes of Charles, Austria grew
so bold that she determined to break off all negotiation. Already one
imperial representative had withdrawn in dudgeon; the others were
ready to follow. Aware that war was imminent, both French and Austrian
troops had begun early in 1799 to scour the suburbs of Rastadt, and
had in frequent forays not merely attacked each other, but had
molested the citizens and even the ambassadors. Finally, in April, the
imperial troops beset the town, and ordered the remaining members of
the congress to leave within a term which, according to usage, was to
be fixed by the assembly itself.

The French ministers, in obedience to orders received from Paris,
waited until the very last, leaving with their train only at nightfall
on April twenty-eighth. In a few moments, and almost before the gates,
they were surrounded and hustled, by whom is not altogether certain,
though at the time some were believed to be Austrian hussars. In the
ensuing tumult the three plenipotentiaries were dragged from their
carriages and furiously assaulted; Roberjot and Bonnier were killed,
Debry escaped. Next morning he appeared in Rastadt wounded and bloody,
but not seriously injured. This murder has become one of the standing
historical puzzles. Some have attributed its instigation to the
British cabinet, some to Bonaparte, some again to Caroline of Naples,
and some to the French émigrés. Many claim that the blows were struck
by Debry himself, who, it is thought, was one of those Bonapartist
agents, like Garat in Naples and Ginguené in Turin, whose business, as
is claimed, was to bring on anarchy at any price, and discredit the
Directory. The royalists, supported by the declarations of Mme.
Roberjot, who was in the carriage with her husband, asserted this at
the time, and the numerous hewers at the greatness of Napoleon have
again repeated it in our day. There are circumstances which could be
twisted into corroborative evidence if even the slightest positive
proof existed; but no satisfactory testimony has ever been offered
from Austrian sources to prove that these attacks, like others of the
time and in other lands, were not instigated by the authorities, and
made both to conceal inconvenient shortcomings, and to bring on the
war for which Austria was now thoroughly prepared.[11]

         [Footnote 11: There is a small library of books and pamphlets
         devoted to the subject. The latest is that of the Austrian
         officer, Criste, to which reference has already been made: he
         searched the Vienna archives to learn, if possible, the
         truth, and confesses that he cannot find it, though he
         discusses all the theories and asserts the innocence of
         Austria. Even finer, however, is the volume of Helfert: Der
         Rastadter Gesandten Mord. The other sources are Gentz: Ueber
         die Ermordung der Französisch Congress-gesandten, a
         contemporary opinion, 1799; Böhtlingk's three discussions in
         Napoleon, Seine Jugend and Sein Emporkommen; Napoleon
         Bonaparte und der Rastadter Gesandten Mord; Der Rastadter
         Gesandten Mord vor dem Karlsruher Schöffengericht; Hüffer:
         Der Rastadter Gesandten Mord. By Müller,
         Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, and von Reichelin Meldegg, there are
         monographs of the same title. Further material is contained
         in Schlitz: Denkwürdigkeiten; Obser: Politische Correspondenz
         Carl Friederich's von Baden; Delaure: Esquisses historiques;
         Gohier: Memoirs; Arnault: Souvenirs d'un Sexagénaire;
         Vivenot: Zur Geschichte des Rastadter Congresses; Jomini: Vie
         politique et militaire de Napoléon; Erzherzog Karl:
         Ausgewählte Schriften.]

The second coalition was stronger than the first, because, although
Prussia remained neutral for reasons already mentioned, it included
not only England and Austria, but also both Turkey and Russia, with
Portugal and Naples. The long frontier, from Holland to Naples, which
France was called on to defend in the absence of her best troops and
generals in Egypt, made her weak and vulnerable as never before.
England appeared in Holland with an Anglo-Russian army; the Russians
poured into Switzerland and Italy; the Austrians were again on the
Rhine and the Adige; while Turkey was showing unexpected energy in
repelling the invaders from lands which, slack as was the tie, she
still considered her own. Worse than all, the false position of the
French republic and the Church with reference to each other had kept
alive smoldering coals of discontent, and as a result civil war again
broke out in Brittany and Vendée. To meet this appalling emergency
there was needed either a capable, homogeneous administration heartily
supported by the nation, or else a military despotism such as was the
logical result of Vendémiaire and Fructidor. The former did not exist.
Instead of gaining strength by wise self-denial, the Directory had
grown steadily weaker, usurping authority of every kind, and actually
seating in the councils of 1798, by the basest arts, creatures of
their own as representatives of no less than forty-nine departments.
The May elections of 1799 expressed the popular discontent in an
uprising of extreme Jacobinism, which sent an opposition delegation
into the councils too strong to be thus supplanted or overthrown.

The new legislature met the executive, and at once, with their own
weapons. Aided by public clamor, and by the influence of a widely read
pamphlet which Carnot had written in justification of his course, they
obtained in June a virtual reconstruction of the Directory. Barras,
who had become known as a weak trimmer, was suffered to remain.
Rewbell, as a supporter of the unsuccessful Schérer and the
pertinacious associate of Rapinat, a dishonest contractor connected
with the Army of Italy, had been himself suspected of peculation,
although unjustly, and his time having expired, he was not reëlected.
The others went as a matter of course; Merlin and Larévellière were
permitted to resign because, although troublesome, they were
nonentities; Treilhard, though honest and able, could not make himself
felt, and a flaw in his election was used as a pretext to replace him
by Gohier, who, though he had been formerly minister of justice, was a
feeble creature. Sieyès was put in Rewbell's place in order to secure
a better constitution. He carried into his new sphere the same habits
of supercilious mystery which he had always had, continuing likewise
the scheming for radical change which he had so long carried on. He
looked to Joubert as the popular general most likely to become an easy
tool, and formed an intimacy with him. The two other places were
filled by utter mediocrities: Roger-Ducos, a moderate, and Moulins, a
radical. This revolution of the thirtieth of Prairial, another "day,"
was held to be a Jacobin counterstroke to that of the eighteenth of
Fructidor. The legislature had shown itself as lawless as the
Directory; the constitution was proved to be worthless: another must
be enacted. With Fouché at the head of the police, and other
Robespierrians restored to office, it appeared to the majority of the
nation as if all constitutional government were jeopardized, as if the
Terror were to be revived, as if such madness could be repressed only
by military force.

But where was the general? Championnet had disgraced himself by
permitting unbridled license among his soldiery after the capture of
Naples on January twenty-third, 1799, and his army fell into a state
of disreputable disorganization. Macdonald had gathered together and
reorganized the remnants, but only to be defeated by Suvoroff with his
Russians on the Trebbia. The army of Joubert, who succeeded Moreau,
had been overwhelmed, and its leader killed, by an Austro-Russian
force at Novi, on August fifteenth. Mantua was already lost. Moreau,
having saved some remnants of Joubert's troops, made a successful
stand in the Apennines, where his army still was. Masséna was defeated
at Zurich, in June, by the Austrians under the archduke Charles; but
on September twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth he routed the Russians
under Korsakoff at the same place. Brune had defeated on September
nineteenth, at Bergen, an Anglo-Russian army under the Duke of York,
who was forced to capitulate at Alkmaar on October tenth, and to
evacuate the Batavian Republic. Bernadotte was the new secretary of
war, more successful in that office than as a diplomat. Although he
was Joseph Bonaparte's brother-in-law, he was not a Bonapartist, being
first, last, and always a Bernadottist. Under his administration
Jourdan had devised and carried out the new conscription measure which
filled once more the empty army lists. This sweeping measure was the
extreme development of the system introduced by Carnot, whereby all
able-bodied French citizens were declared liable to military service,
and drafts were made only when voluntary enlistment failed. The
conscription law was passed on September fifth, 1798, and compelled
the service of all young men, or at least of as many as the government
saw fit to draw, between the ages of twenty and twenty-five. This
procedure differed but little from that now universal in modern
Europe, and created the Napoleonic armies as distinguished from those
of the republic. Organized into divisions, brigades, and half-brigades
as before, the new ranks appear to have been quite as enthusiastic as
the old, for the young of the nation now looked to war as the quickest
road to glory. Bernadotte expressed the common conviction of all
ambitious young men when he said: "Children, there are certainly great
captains among you." The treasury was replenished by a (p.~094)
forced loan disguised under the form of an arbitrary tariff. Besides
all this, a frightful measure had been passed, known as the Hostage
Law, which made the innocent relatives of every Chouan or emigrant
responsible for his conduct.

These measures were indicative of a dangerous and rising tide of the
new Jacobinism, which was represented by a majority in the Five
Hundred, in the Directory by Gohier and Moulins, and outside by a
recognized club of terrorists, which began to sit in the famous
riding-school where the Convention had held its sessions. The
well-to-do men like Talleyrand, Regnault de St.-Jean-d'Angély, and
Roederer, the philosophers Cambacérès, Sémonville, Benjamin Constant,
and even Daunou, were outraged at the thought of a new Terror, and
looked to Sieyès and Barras to prevent it. In view of these disturbing
circumstances, many also asked, Where is the statesman? The Jacobins,
as of old, had perfect faith that the chapter of accidents would
reveal a statesman; a general they had either in the calm Jourdan or
in the hotspur Augereau. Their policy was to repeat republican
victories, and fortify democracy in the coming constitution, whatever
shape it should take. Sieyès and his friends naturally would have
turned to the conqueror of Italy, with whom they had already plotted;
but he was absent, and, besides, they wanted a tool, not a master.
They actually tried Moreau with the offer of a dictatorship to be
equally shared with Bonaparte; but he was already under the spell of
royalism, and proved coy. It has been suggested that but for the
arrival of Bonaparte himself, Masséna, who much resembled Monk in
character, might have repeated that general's rôle in France.
Certainly the advocates of a limited monarchy would, in the extremity,
have welcomed even the Bourbons as a constitutional dynasty, and this
although they were so distrustful that Sieyès, when ambassador in
Prussia, had dreamed of choosing a foreign royal house for that
purpose, selecting as his own preference that of Brunswick.

Such, then, was the complicated web of defeat and victory in war, of
plot and counterplot in politics, of cross-purposes everywhere, which
was displayed to Bonaparte on his return to the capital. Should he,
the hitherto avowed republican whose devoted soldiers still believed
themselves to be fighting for freedom's cause, continue the farce
still further, and throw in his fate with the Jacobins? Or should he
put down the mask? It soon became clear to him that Paris and the
people would never again tolerate a Terror, and that success in the
long run lay in an alliance with them. If they would accept his
leadership, the game was won. But was this possible? The cool heads,
like Baron de Pasquier, had noted the real character of the Egyptian
and Syrian campaigns; but even they had an admiration for an
adventurer's effrontery, and they were too few to make much impression
upon the masses. By large numbers of the hitherto indifferent it was
now believed that Bonaparte and his army had been deported to Egypt
from jealousy on the part of the Directory; and to some of the
conservatives he was a martyr returning from exile, yet bringing new
trophies to his country. This rumor was not only never contradicted,
but was rather increased by the significant hints of those among the
Bonaparte family who were now in the thick of events. Joseph, having
three years previously been elected to the Five Hundred, had risen
high in the public esteem; and Lucien for two years past had likewise
been one of the most influential members. Both were changed men.
Polished, at least superficially, and apparently devoted to letters,
they were known as solid citizens. Their social gifts had made their
homes, like that of Mme. Bonaparte herself, centers of influence among
many important people of the capital. Hers, however, was far more
exclusive, and affected a lofty superiority to all others. Between it
and the other two there existed intense jealousy concerning the
general's favor, but all were heartily united in furthering his
interests.

The people of Paris did not, like those of Lyons, run to meet
Bonaparte as if he were already a sovereign; but they received him
warmly. In particular the malcontents who were plotting in his behalf,
as if under his personal direction, welcomed him with effusion.
Without a moment's delay he took charge of their councils. Sieyès had
lost his mainstay in Joubert, and his prestige by the defeat at Novi.
With the help of Talleyrand and Roederer he was soon brought to terms,
and under Bonaparte's immediate direction the careful, daring plan for
a complete change both in the constitution and in the administration
which had been already discussed by Sieyès and his followers, the
so-called reformists, was revised and finished. It was on its face a
determined attempt to remedy the radical defects of the constitution
of the year III, and to organize a strong constitutional government.
In fact, its author had already shown a certain executive ability in
preparing the way. Waving the red signal of the Terror, he had by a
series of arbitrary measures suppressed the Jacobin papers and
banished their editors. Jourdan at this crisis demanded from the
assemblies a vote that the "country was in danger," but his appeal
fell flat. Then came the stirring news that under Masséna and Brune
the armies of France were renewing their pristine glories, and that
the Rhine and the Alps at least were safe. A few days later a
messenger from the executive read to the councils, in solemn state,
the despatch, composed by Bonaparte for the purpose, containing his
exaggerated narrative of the battle of Aboukir. Tremendous enthusiasm
swept over both chambers. Gohier, who had fallen a victim to the
charms of Josephine in her frequent visits to his flattered wife, was
the president of the Directory. To him Bonaparte had paid his first
official visit, and on the following day the Directory received in
formal audience the general, who, as he himself declared to Gohier,
had "left his army to come and share the national perils," reports of
which had so disquieted him in Egypt.

The official and the popular good will were therefore before long
alike intense: Paris was within a few days as much dazzled by
Bonaparte's return as the country had been. The "Return of the Hero"
was the catchword of the nation. Recent events had shattered parties
into fragments: here was a leader who had never been identified with
any one of them. The newspapers took up the pæan of his virtues.
Meanness and mediocrity were to disappear; the French people, avid of
great things, had found again the favorite of fortune who alone could
accomplish them. First Talleyrand, then Sieyès, then all the other
well-known men, from Gohier down, openly joined in the train of
admirers. The shifty course of large numbers who, like Roederer, were
opportunists at heart had become wearisome to the moneyed classes, and
they also soon arrayed themselves under Bonaparte's banner. Doubtful
or distant persons of influence were courted, and, as in the case of
Moreau, were by consummate art often won. Roederer thought the
revolution virtually completed by October thirtieth; the work, he
said, was three quarters done. Next day Lucien Bonaparte was elected
president of the Five Hundred, among whom, though the majority were
vacillating and uncomprehending, there was a strong minority of
unreconstructed Jacobins. Within the fortnight the defeated general
had drawn together at Paris a court more powerful than that which he
had had at Montebello in the hour of victory. His personal demeanor
was much the same as then--quiet and reserved, but conciliatory,
simple, and frank. He affected the simple garb of the civilian,
sometimes wearing an Oriental scarf with a small scimitar; frequented
the Institute, of which he had been made a member; and associated by
preference with men like Volney, discussing questions of philosophy
and science. Soon it was whispered that his plans were maturing. What
could they be? The answer was not long in suspense. The pear was ripe.

We felt ourselves the associates of an all-powerful destiny, wrote
Marmont, concerning the voyage from Egypt. Bonaparte himself was the
author of this sentiment, which for long was to be the controlling
thought of millions. The Orient had quickened in him a latent
conviction as to the value of a destiny and a star. When, in
threatening crises, others forgot it, the great adventurer reminded
them of it, meaning thereby his own clear vision, unclouded by
adversity, penetrating in the confusion of circumstances. In no sense
was he an Oriental fatalist; on the contrary, his destiny was the
power to discern and to dare which resided in himself. It was his
presence in France which was to dispel doubts, restore confidence,
control events. "My presence," he had said on shipboard, "by raising
their spirits will restore to the army its lacking self-reliance, and
to good citizens the hope of a better future. There will be a movement
of opinion to the benefit of France. We must struggle to arrive, and
we shall arrive." To Kléber, the ablest of his generals, he had left
the command and with it a masterly set of directions for the guidance
of affairs. He could not be charged with failure, for the end was not
yet; disaster could not be retrieved in Egypt: he had hastened to the
scene where alone succor could be found, and he had arrived with a
heart ready for the decision, under conditions the most favorable,
with a definite goal and a clear, simple plan for its attainment. To
outsiders and to posterity the result has appeared a happy chance. It
was not so, though unforeseen circumstances contributed. It was a
foregone conclusion.




CHAPTER X[12]

         [Footnote 12: The references for Chapters X and XI are as
         before, with these additions: the memoirs of Hyde de
         Neuville, Duport de Cheverny, Thiébault, Marmont (duc de
         Raguse), Sarrazin, Mathieu Dumas, Barras, Allonville, Gaudin
         (duc de Gaëte), and Pasquier; the Mémorial de Norvins,
         Cahiers du Capitaine Coignet, the Souvenirs of Macdonald, the
         Commentaries of Napoleon, the letters of Mme. de Reinhard,
         and the correspondence of Fiévée. Likewise, Lescure: Mémoires
         sur les journées révolutionnaires et les coups d'état de
         1789-1799. Lucien Bonaparte: Révolution de Brumaire. Madelin:
         Fouché. Aulard: Le lendemain du 18 Brumaire and Délibérations
         du Consulat provisoire. Béranger: Ma Biographie. Guillois: Le
         Salon de Mme. Helvetius. Montier: Robert Lindet. Vatout: Le
         Palais de Saint Cloud. Stourm: Les finances du Consulat.]

BONAPARTE SEIZES HIS OPPORTUNITY

     The Banquet to Bonaparte and Moreau -- Plans of the Bonapartists
     -- Terrors of Bonaparte and Talleyrand -- The Rôle of the
     Ancients -- The Generals at Bonaparte's House -- His Address to
     the Ancients -- The Five Hundred -- Sieyès and Roger-Ducos Resign
     from the Directory -- Barras Intimidated -- Gohier and Moulins
     Imprisoned -- Bernadotte's Counterplot.


On November first, 1799, Sieyès formally surrendered all control. By
agreeing, as he did in a conference with Bonaparte, that the outline
of the "perfect" constitution which he had written--it was his own
epithet--should not be laid directly before the councils, but should
be submitted to a committee, he abdicated the public leadership, and
became the dupe of his colleagues. On the sixth a banquet was given to
Bonaparte in the church of St. Sulpice. It had originally been
intended that the tribute should come from both chambers; in reality
the affair was arranged entirely by a few of the Ancients, who were
now almost to a man Bonapartists. Moreau was present as a guest.
Embittered against the Directory by the impossible labors they had
assigned to him, he had entered Paris cautiously and quietly;
Bonaparte, equally embittered, but by his own failures, had come amid
the plaudits of a nation; but the two were for all that justly ranked
together as the great captains of the hour. The occasion, however,
fell flat; for both Jourdan and Augereau, the Jacobin generals,
remained away, and they were the intimates of Bernadotte. Moreau
himself was sullen, and the only incident of importance was
Bonaparte's toast to the "harmony of all the French." He drank it in
wine that was brought in a bottle by Duroc, his aide-de-camp; for his
guilty conscience made him suspicious that the meat and drink provided
in his honor were poisoned.

Immediately after the close of the gloomy ovation he had a meeting
with Sieyès, who produced his draft for three measures, the general
tenor of which had been previously agreed upon. In the revolutionary
movement now arranged, the Council of the Ancients, in which a
majority was certain, were, at the proper time, to take the initiative
according to constitutional provision, and pass all three as
preliminary to the overthrow of the constitution. They were first to
declare the existence of a plot, the nature and size of which were not
to be mentioned; then to ordain the session of both councils at St.
Cloud; and lastly to appoint Bonaparte commander of the troops in
Paris. When assembled next day at St. Cloud, they were to accept the
resignations from the Directory of Sieyès and Roger-Ducos, the latter
having been persuaded to join the new movement. Finally Gohier,
Barras, and Moulins were to be cowed into resigning, and thereupon a
provisional consulate, consisting of Bonaparte, Sieyès, and
Roger-Ducos, was to be intrusted with the work of reconstruction.

A sufficient military force having been made ready, it was determined
at a secret meeting of the Bonapartists, held on the fifteenth of
Brumaire (November seventh), that the blow should be struck three days
later. To that end the Ancients were to meet, according to the
program, on the seventeenth of Brumaire in the morning, and summon
both assemblies to hold a session on the eighteenth at St. Cloud.
Under a provision of the constitution, whenever an amendment to that
document was to be considered, the bodies were to sit outside the
walls of Paris. This move would naturally excite considerable
suspicion among the uninitiated; and although there might be no
disorder, there would certainly be much heated discussion in the
streets. Still greater was the danger which lay in the temper of the
troops. Enthusiastic for what they felt to be still the republic,
every appearance of offering violence to any and all avowed
republicans like those who sat among the Five Hundred must be avoided.
The solution of this latter problem was really the key to the whole
combination. Success would depend entirely on the momentary instinct
of plain, honest republican soldiers taken unawares. Minor troubles
there were also. Sieyès, sensitive under the evident determination of
Bonaparte to use him only so long as he was necessary, became restive,
and it required the nicest balancing of interests to keep him
temporarily in the traces. It was a time of terrible anxiety to the
conspirators. Talleyrand never forgot a scene which took place at his
house in the Rue Taitbout a few nights before the crisis. He and
Bonaparte were still deep in conversation at about one in the morning,
when they heard the rumbling of carriage-wheels and the ring of
cavalry hoofs in the street. Suddenly both ceased; the cavalcade had
stopped at the door. Bonaparte turned pale, and Talleyrand also, as
they paused and listened, fully convinced that both were to be
arrested. The latter blew out the candles, and hurried through a
passageway to gain a view of the street. After some delay he
discovered that the carriage of a gambling-house keeper, returning
under police escort from the Palais Royal with his spoils, had broken
down. His fears relieved, he returned to joke with Bonaparte about the
scare. Before the appointed day, however, everything which
master-schemers could foresee was carefully adjusted. The apparent
resurrection of Jacobinism was actually the last appearance of its
ghost; for the Directory, shorn of all prestige, was divided and
shaky; the army, republican to the core, was weary with its
inefficiency and furious with its bankruptcy; the mass of the nation,
conservative and royalist, despaired of a restoration, and, sick of
war, were for the moment in a humor to accept any strong government.
The majority of the administration, the nation, and the army were,
therefore, in readiness, while the numerous malcontents in each were
at least temporarily silenced. Every little hidden wire of private
interest was in hand, and plans were ripe to coerce those who could
not be cajoled.

All night long, from the sixteenth to the seventeenth of Brumaire, a
committee of the Ancients was in session, minutely perfecting its
plans. Next morning at seven the faithful majority, having been
summoned according to form, convened as the council; the doubtful
members had either not been summoned at all, or had received notice of
a later hour. As soon as a quorum was present, Cornet, a well-known
butt for the wits, rose and denounced the terrible conspiracy which
was menacing them. Regnier then moved that according to articles one
hundred and two, three and four of the constitution both branches of
the legislature should meet next day at noon, and not before, in the
palace of St. Cloud; that General Bonaparte should be intrusted with
the execution of their decree, and that to that end he be appointed
commander of the Paris garrison, of their own special guard, and of
the National Guard; that he therefore appear and take the oath; and
that these resolutions be duly communicated to the Directory, to the
Five Hundred, and also to the public by printed proclamation. The
motion was carried unanimously.

During these proceedings, all the generals present in Paris except
Jourdan and Augereau, who had not been invited, but including the
stanch republican Lefebvre, commander of the garrison, had gathered in
and before Bonaparte's house. They had been requested to come in
uniform in order to arrange for a review. It was noticed that
Bernadotte, though present, was not in uniform. He had so far yielded
to the blandishments of his brother-in-law as to come, but declared
that he would obey only what was at that moment the chief authority in
the state. Lefebvre was in uniform, but having met on the way bodies
of troops moving without his orders, and not being initiated, he was
naturally startled. But Bonaparte knew his man. "Would you, a
supporter of the republic, leave it to perish in the hands of these
lawyers?" was his greeting. "See, here is the sword I carried at the
Pyramids. I give it to you as a mark of my esteem and confidence."
"Let us throw the lawyers into the river," came the expected answer.

A few moments later arrived the authoritative summons from the
Ancients. Bonaparte stepped out on the porch, and read their
proceedings aloud. By a united impulse the officers flourished their
swords in response. It was but an instant before they were mounted,
and with Bonaparte in front, the cavalcade, headed by men either
already famous or destined to become so,--Macdonald, Sérurier, Murat,
Lannes, Andréossy, Berthier, and Lefebvre,--proceeded to the
council-chamber. It needed but a hasty glance, as they passed through
the city, to see that preconcerted orders had already been carefully
executed. The troops were all under arms and at their stations in
commanding places throughout the town. Arrived at the Tuileries, the
general and his glittering escort entered the chamber. "Citizen
delegates," he said, "the republic was falling. You understood the
situation; your course has saved it. Woe to them who cause disorder or
disturbance! With the help of General Lefebvre, of General Berthier,
and my other brethren in arms, I will arrest them. Let no man look for
precedents in the past. Nothing in history is comparable to the end of
the eighteenth century, nothing to the present moment. Your wisdom
passed this motion, our arms will execute it. We desire a republic
founded in true liberty, in civil liberty, in popular representation.
We are going to have it. I swear it in my own name and in that of my
brethren in arms!" "We swear it!" was the antiphonal response of the
assembled generals. Some one indiscreetly suggested that Bonaparte had
sworn, but not the oath of allegiance to the constitution required by
their previous action. At once the president hurriedly declared all
further proceedings out of order, the assembly having adjourned by its
own act.

By this time it was eleven o'clock, and the members of the Five
Hundred were gathering. Their meeting was soon called to order, with
Lucien in the chair. The recent action of the Ancients was announced
amid a deep silence, broken only at the conclusion by numerous calls
for an explanation. In strict legality, and according to the letter of
the constitution, the lower house had on such an occasion no function
but to listen, and the president pronounced the session ended. Amid
cheers for the constitution of the year III the representatives then
dispersed. A more impressive and dramatic scene was the reception of
Bonaparte a few seconds later by the soldiers who had been assembled
in the courtyard below for the purpose. Their cheers rang out in
volleys as he mounted and rode away, the hero of the hour. A few
moments later he reached his headquarters to find all his chosen
subordinates assembled. Fouché, the Jacobin minister of police, having
seen how the weathercock was veering, was there likewise,
conciliatory, obsequious, and superserviceable.

In fact, the incidents of that day were all uncommon. The "Moniteur"
published an article hinting that the Jacobins contemplated merging
the two councils into a convention. The populace, far from being
uneasy and riotous, seemed dazzled by the military display, and were
not alarmed by the movements of the soldiery. It was only with languid
interest that they read a pamphlet scattered everywhere, which had
been written by Roederer to prove the need for renewing the
constitution. Bonaparte as commandant, and therefore temporary
dictator, received according to prearrangement the resignations of
Sieyès and Roger-Ducos, to be presented on the morrow at St. Cloud.
The Gohiers had been invited to breakfast with Mme. Bonaparte that
morning at the unusual hour of eight o'clock. Pleading official
duties, the director himself did not go; his wife, amazed by the
dazzling assemblage of generals which she found before the Bonapartes'
door, hurried back to announce what she had seen. We may surmise that
had Gohier accompanied his wife, both might have been won to the
support of the movement in hand; in the other event, perhaps, both
might have been forcibly detained.

As it was, Gohier's first instinct was to consult Barras, and he
hurried in search of his colleague; but the fallen statesman was in
his bath, and could see nobody. He sent word to Gohier to count on
him; but before his toilet was complete he was forced to receive Bruix
and Talleyrand, who had come as emissaries from Bonaparte. A guilty
conscience made him like wax in the hands of Talleyrand, who
successfully pleaded with him to resign, and secured his signature to
a form, prepared in advance by Roederer under Bonaparte's supervision,
which declared that all danger to freedom was past, thanks to the
illustrious warrior for whom he had had the honor to open the way to
glory. Such was the haste that even before Moulins, the remaining
director, could reach the Tuileries, where Bonaparte had established
an office, this paper of Barras had been delivered, and the Directory
had ceased to exist. "What have you done," said the dictator to
Barras's messenger--"what have you done with the France I made so
brilliant? I left you victory: I find nothing but defeat. I left you
the millions from Italy: I find plundering laws and misery. Where are
the hundred thousand warriors who have disappeared from the soil of
France? They are dead, and they were my comrades! Such conditions
cannot last; in three years anarchy will land us in despotism. We want
a republic founded on the basis of equality, of morality, of civil
liberty, of political long-suffering." It is needless to say that a
reporter was present, the poet Arnault, who printed this fine language
next day in the newspapers.

Finally Moulins and Gohier were admitted. Welcomed as if they, too,
were about to join in the movement "to save the commonwealth," it was
with feigned astonishment that Bonaparte heard them plead for the
laws, for the constitution, for the sanctity of oaths, and for good
faith to the republican armies, once again victorious. Their adversary
was of course immovable. With Gohier he tried argument; to Moulins he
menacingly remarked that if Santerre, the notorious demagogue and his
relative, should this time make a move to raise the populace, his fate
would be death. To a point-blank demand for their resignation both
firmly answered, "No," and withdrew to the Luxembourg, where the now
defunct Directory had had its seat. With no knowledge or intention on
their part, they were to serve as a means for the immolation of
Bonaparte's last victim and most dangerous rival. In the military
dispositions of that day, Lannes had been put in command at the
Tuileries, Sérurier at the Point-du-Jour, Marmont at the military
school, Macdonald at Versailles, and Murat at St. Cloud. To the
central point, the seat of government, the home of the Directory,
Moreau had been assigned. If Bonaparte became the statesman of the
impending revolution, Moreau reasoned that he himself would of
necessity become the general of the new government, and, regarding his
selection for this post as a distinction, he accepted. By the order of
his temporary superior, Gohier and Moulins, the two unyielding and
incorruptible members of the executive, though not shamefully treated,
were yet deprived of their liberty. With the proverbial fickleness of
humanity, the agent was held by the public solely responsible for this
conduct, and was harshly judged. To him was imputed the stain of
arbitrarily applying force at the critical moment, and his influence
disappeared like a mirage. During these closing hours of the day,
Augereau, too, appeared to make his peace, asking with perplexed
jocularity, and with the use of the familiar "thou," if Bonaparte
could count no more on his "little Augereau." His fears were scarcely
allayed by the brusque advice that both he and Jourdan should keep the
peace.

All afternoon the bill-posters were busy, according to the
time-honored French custom, covering the blank walls with a carefully
worded announcement that the Revolution, having gone astray through
incompetence, was to be concluded by its friends. There was a
conspiracy: it must be met by united action to secure civil liberty,
equality, victory, peace; by a last supreme effort the people must
come to its own. The counter-revolution would be the real one.
Meantime the papers were printing for their morning issue of the
nineteenth the program of the new government. Away with the hostage
law, forced loans, the proscription of emigrants: enter peace, an
enduring peace, secured if needs be by a new series of victories over
the enemies of France, but a peace, solid and permanent. Did ever the
wheels of conspiracy run so smoothly? The officious Fouché had closed
the city barriers. Bonaparte was so secure that he ordered them thrown
wide open. The night was apparently as serene as his spirit. In
reality there was a counterplot, and that in a dangerous quarter.
Bernadotte met with a little junta, comprising a few members of the
Five Hundred, at Salicetti's house, and planned, with himself in
uniform as commander, to reach St. Cloud next day in advance of all
others, and to install himself, with his supporters, in charge of the
palace, so as to control events in his favor. But Salicetti was a
traitor in the camp. He had long been double-faced with Bonaparte;
but, having at last recognized where lay the mastery, had made his
peace, and had been pardoned for the unforgotten imprisonment. Fouché
was duly informed by him of the counterplot, and without exciting
suspicion, every member of the Bernadotte junta was delayed in the
morning far beyond the time appointed, and their scheme failed.
Besides the slight danger in this fiasco there appeared a division of
opinion among Bonaparte's own friends, some of the more timid
recommending in the early morning hours that Bonaparte should accept a
seat in the Directory. "There is no Directory," was his reply; and it
was determined, after a number had withdrawn, that they should adhere
to the original plan, which was to demand an adjournment of the
councils until the first of Ventose (February nineteenth, 1800), and
that in the long interval Bonaparte should be intrusted with the
administration. Unfortunately, the conspirators overlooked two
important points. Nothing was prearranged as to who should act in case
the Five Hundred proved refractory, and no preparations were made in
the palace of St. Cloud for the reception of the deputies. It was a
strange fatality that Bonaparte, who elsewhere and at other times had
always two strings to his bow, should, in the heart of France and at
the very nick of his fortunes, have provided only one. It was a rash
satisfaction with the day's events which he expressed to Bourrienne on
retiring for a few hours' rest.




CHAPTER XI

THE OVERTHROW OF THE DIRECTORY

     The Councils at St. Cloud -- Bonaparte's Poor Appearance as a
     Conspirator -- His Attack on the Constitution -- Uneasiness of
     the Five Hundred -- Bonaparte Overawed by their Fury -- The Day
     Saved by His Brother Lucien -- A Semblance of Constitutional
     Government Restored -- Bonaparte Master of the Situation -- Paris
     Delighted.


Next morning there was much coming and going in the city, much
discussion in the streets, but no disorder. Toward noon, the hour
appointed for their meeting, the delegates to the two houses of the
legislature, accompanied by many of the people, moved in the direction
of St. Cloud. Bonaparte, with a few thousand troops, was already
there. Nothing was ready for the reception of the councils, and during
the almost fatal interval of hasty preparation the Jacobins gathered
in groups to discuss the situation, suspecting for the first time that
what confronted them was not reform of the constitution, however
radical, but its overthrow. It was long after the appointed time,
nearly two o'clock, before the rooms of the palace were ready and the
members of the councils were called to order--the Five Hundred in the
Orangery on the ground floor of one wing, the Ancients upstairs in the
other wing, occupying the Hall of Apollo. Bonaparte and the
half-hearted, timid Sieyès were closeted in one of the downstairs
chambers, awaiting events. A six-horse carriage had been stationed by
the latter at the gate, for his own use in case of mishap. Soldiers
stood guard at all the approaches, and the reception-rooms were
filled with men and officers, friends of the arch-conspirator.
Disquieting news soon began to arrive from the assemblies. Upstairs
the Ancients, amid intense excitement, had voted a series of routine
motions and adjourned for an interval, a course tending to postpone
consideration of the proposition to intrust Bonaparte with the conduct
of affairs. They wished to ascertain through a message from the Five
Hundred, as the law required, if the executive were duly constituted,
and all the directors present; for in that case only would their
action be legal. The delay was to them unaccountable and seemed
interminable as they strolled about in pairs and groups, uneasy and
vacillating. At last the rumor spread that the general was coming to
their hall and they hurried to their seats. When they were at last
reassembled anarchy broke loose; for the secretary announced, falsely,
of course, that four directors had resigned, and that the fifth was in
restraint.

At that moment Bonaparte, with his staff, appeared at the door and a
sudden silence fell upon the place. The scene appalled him. The
bravery of the general is different from the personal courage of the
soldier in the face of physical danger, and both are unlike the pluck
of him who defies the law. The latter Bonaparte never had. For a
moment he was pale; but, gathering resolution by a mighty effort, he
spoke in disjointed but rudely eloquent phrase. They were on a
volcano, he said. He was no Cæsar or Cromwell, but a plain soldier
living quietly in Paris, who had been called unawares to save his
country. If he had been a usurper, he would have called not on the
legislature, but on the soldiers of Italy. It was the duty of those
present to save liberty and equality--"and the constitution," cried a
voice. "The constitution!" was his answer. "You violated it on the
eighteenth of Fructidor; you violated it on the twenty-second of
Floréal; you violated it on the thirtieth of Prairial. The
constitution! All factions invoke it, and it has been violated by all.
It is despised by everybody; it can no longer save us, because it
commands the respect of nobody." He then proceeded to ask for the
powers necessary in the emergency, promising to lay them down when his
work was done. "What are the pressing dangers?" said some one. What
were they, indeed? If he must speak, he would. "I declare," he cried,
"that Barras and Moulins have invited me to head a party in order to
overthrow all men of liberal ideas." The clumsy falsehood produced a
storm. Was this the Jacobin conspiracy they had been told of--Barras
the aristocrat and Moulins the democrat conspiring together! They
wanted details.

In the interval of speaking, the orator had found his cue again, and
at once launched out, not into the asked-for details, but into a
tornado of language, abusing the constitution and the Five Hundred,
and at the same time adroitly threatening that if the old cry of
outlaw were raised against him, he would call on the grenadiers whose
caps he saw, on the soldiers whose bayonets were in view. "Remember
that I walk with the goddess of fortune, accompanied by the god of
war!" "General," whispered Bourrienne in his ear, "you no longer know
what you are saying." The president of the Ancients was at his wit's
end. How could the council, eager as they were to do so, grant the
general's demands on such a showing as this? A third time came calls
from the benches for details of the plot which made necessary the
contemplated measures. And a third time Bonaparte's gift of specious
prevarication failed. He could think of nothing but Barras and
Moulins; but now, in mentioning their names once more, he added that
what made them dangerous was that they had expressed what was almost
universally desired; otherwise they would be no worse than a very
large number of others who were at heart of the same mind. "If liberty
perish," he cried, "you will be responsible to the universe, to
posterity, to France, and to your families." It sounded like an
anti-climax and left his auditors perfectly cold. Therewith he was
virtually dragged from the room by his dismayed companions. The
preconcerted program was then carried out, and a vote of confidence in
Bonaparte was passed. To retrieve the blunders of his speech, a
revised version, of the same general tenor, but more as it should have
been, was next day printed by "authority."

Downstairs the uproar was terrific. Lucien had expected the Ancients
to act swiftly and remit their decree at once to the Five Hundred. He
hoped to put and carry a motion to sanction it without giving time for
deliberation. The opening formalities of the session passed quietly,
and the assembly listened without interruption to a short, vague, and
feeble speech in which a Bonapartist deputy professed to announce the
pretended plot. The delay of two hours in meeting had, however, given
the Jacobins time to consider; there was no business before the house,
the resignations of the directors had not been presented to them, and,
apparently to pass the time, it was proposed that the delegates
present should solemnly, one by one, renew each his oath to the
constitution. This was done by all but Bergoëng, a single recalcitrant
who resigned his seat. Lucien himself performed the solemn rite. But
in the tedious process lasting over two hours desultory cries began to
be uttered: "No dictation!" "Down with dictators!" "We are all free
here!" Finally the shouts swelled in volume so as to reach the
sympathetic ears of the guards outside. In this critical moment
arrived Barras's resignation. It was read in full, including the
passage which declared that with the return of the illustrious warrior
for whom he had had the honor to open the way, and amid the striking
marks of confidence which the legislature had shown in their general,
he felt sure that liberty was no longer in danger, and that he was
therefore glad to return to the walks of private life.

The delegates, most of them at least, were unaware of the fact that
Sieyès and Roger-Ducos had already handed their resignations to
Bonaparte, and did not know that Gohier and Moulins were in duress.
This language, read between the lines, made it evident that the
Directory was on the verge of dissolution, or already dissolved, and
confirmed their suspicions of impending revolution. The Jacobin
majority was utterly disconcerted. Some proposed the immediate
election of a new Directory; others insisted on the constitutional
term of delay, and called for an adjournment. The most clear-sighted
saw the trap into which they had fallen, and began to speak of what
the circumstances meant. "I believe," said Grandmaison, "that among
those present some know whence we have come, and whither we are
going." At that critical instant the doors opened, and Bonaparte,
surrounded by grenadiers, appeared on the threshold. Chaos ensued. The
delegates rose from their seats, some made for the windows, some
rushed with menacing gestures toward the intruder, some shouted,
"Outlaw him!" "Outlaw him!" and demanded that a motion to that effect
be put. This redoubled the disorder. "Put him out!" "Outlaw the
dictator!" cried the multitude. "Begone, rash man!" said one near by.
"You are violating the sanctuary of the law." "Was it for this," said
another, "that you were victorious?" In the heat of passion the
unavoidable collision occurred, and the angry representatives laid
rude hands on Bonaparte. It was said next day that a grenadier whose
name was Thomé threw himself in front of Bonaparte, and received in
his own coat-sleeve a dagger-thrust of Arena, an old Corsican foe,
which had been intended for his general; but no credible witness ever
professed to have seen the deed or any wound. Overpowered by
excitement and the mortal agony of one who has staked his all on a
doubtful event, the leader turned pale and lost consciousness. The
soldiers caught him in their arms, and dragged him downstairs into the
office which he had occupied, where he soon regained his self-command.
The cries of the now frenzied soldiery served as a complete
restorative and he demanded a horse. His own horse was not at hand and
he made but a sorry figure in mounting and curbing a restive steed,
the first which offered. But at last he found his seat and his voice.
Bounding to the open terrace, he harangued the troops and met with a
quick response in their hearty acclaim; they promptly formed in line.

The decisive moment had arrived. Would the soldiers, enthusiastic as
they seemed, really obey if ordered to take violent measures? Among
the generals were many anxious, troubled faces. After his incursion
upon the Ancients, Bonaparte had rushed into the antechamber where his
commanders sat, exclaiming, "There must be an end to this." During his
second absence, Sérurier took the cue, and marched up and down,
declaiming, "They were going to kill your general, but be calm!" In
the Orangery Lucien accomplished a miracle, calmed the assemblage,
steadily refused to put the motion for outlawry, and demanded a
hearing for his brother. His plea being of no avail, he finally left
the chair, and with the despairing cry, "There is no liberty here!"
rushed from the room. The dreary honors of the day were to be his.
Bonaparte despatched a file of soldiers to escort him through the
throng. The drums rolled for silence, and a horse was brought, which
he mounted. Presenting himself then to the troops, he declared, as
president of the Five Hundred, that the majority of the legislature
were honorable men, but that in the room from which he had come were a
few assassins, English hirelings, who held the rest in terror. "Hurrah
for Bonaparte!" cried the soldiers; but they made no motion to clear
the Orangery, and Napoleon uttered no command. This was the historic
moment. Lucien, seizing the drawn sword of a bystander, and pointing
it at Napoleon's breast, exclaimed: "I swear I would strike down my
own brother should he ever endanger the liberties of the French!"
There was at last a movement in the lines. "Shall we enter the hall?"
said Murat to Bonaparte. "Yes," was the reply; "and if they resist,
kill, kill! Yes; follow me! I am the god of the day!" Fortunately,
these hysterical words were heard only by a few. "Keep still!" said
Lucien. "Do you think you are talking to the Mamelukes?" With that the
order rang out, the rolling drums drowned the roar of talk, action
began, and with the brothers on horseback at their head, the
grenadiers advanced. There was no resistance, the deputies fled
swiftly through doors and windows into the dark, and in a few moments
the disordered room was empty.

If Bonaparte were to be neither a Cæsar nor a Cromwell, it was Sieyès,
as the civilian and the constitution-maker, who should have swayed the
legislative councils in behalf of reform; but his heart was no more
engaged in Bonaparte's support now than it had ever been. Anxious to
be a leader, and to impose on France a constitution which by its
"perfection" should command authority, he had ever been relegated to a
second place. Instead of seizing this, his greatest opportunity as a
lawgiver, he and Roger-Ducos had softly withdrawn to their carriage.
The "perfect" constitution he had prepared would, in view of what had
just happened, consequently rest, like the one overthrown, upon
military force. Nevertheless, he thoroughly understood that Bonaparte
had gone too far, and that his mistake must be retrieved. The country
was not ripe for a military despot who, like Charles XII of Sweden,
would send his boot to preside over the representatives of the people,
or else turn them out of doors without a qualm. Accordingly, the few
Bonapartist delegates, who had fled with the rest and had found refuge
in the taverns or private houses of the neighborhood, were by his
advice, but with some difficulty, found and summoned by Lucien to
meet, late as it was, in their respective places, cold and
uncomfortable as these were. Upward of fifty out of the Five
Hundred--some impartial witnesses have put the number as high as one
hundred and twenty--ventured to come, and the semblance of
representative government was restored. To them the new, impossible,
and clumsy constitution made by Sieyès was presented for
consideration.

Meantime Bonaparte had thoroughly recovered his self-control. He
declared at St. Helena that all the conspiracies of the time were
alike without a head because they needed a "sword"; and that,
possessing one, he alone could choose what pleased him best. To Mme.
de Rémusat he said: "It was one of the epochs in my life when I was
most skilful. I saw the Abbé Sieyès, and promised to put his wordy
constitution into operation. I received the Jacobin leaders, and the
agents of the Bourbons. I refused no one's advice, but I gave only
such as was in the interest of my plans. I withdrew from the people's
observation because I knew that when the time arrived curiosity to see
me would throw them under my feet. Every one fell into my toils, and
when I became head of the state there was not a party in France which
did not cherish some hope for my success." Mme. de Staël, returning on
the eighteenth of Brumaire from Switzerland to Paris, saw Barras
driving to his country-seat of Grosbois. On her arrival men talked no
longer of abstractions, of the Constituent Assembly, of the people, or
of the Convention: it was all of a person--of what General Bonaparte
had done. Her own feelings, she says, were mixed. If the battle were
joined, and the Jacobins victorious, she might turn about and fly, for
blood would flow once more. Still, at the thought of Bonaparte's
triumph she felt a prophetic sadness. She could not mourn for liberty,
for liberty had never existed in France. This was the voice of the
dispirited and disheartened constitutional republicans, who knew and
proposed no remedy. The royalists were fully aware of what they
desired. They had been sighing for a despot in France, for another
Richelieu, a fierce, intractable master, wielding a rod of iron,
without which the inhabitants could never be reconstructed into a
nation. In the words of a letter written somewhat earlier from
Coblentz, their city of refuge on the Rhine, they desired "the union
of powers in the hands of an imperious master, ... who, by a splendid
and brilliant Cromwellism, would hold in awe the people whom he forced
to respect and bless their own servitude." The mass of the nation were
tired of war and eager for a peace that would bring prosperity,
pleasure, and glory. The few honest and austere radicals went down
with their greedy and noisy fellows; the Jacobin party was no more.
There had been a complete rearrangement of factors in the French
problem.

For this reason the escaped legislators who reached Paris that night
found little or no comfort as they told their dreary tale. Everywhere
there was perfect calm, here and there signs of great satisfaction
with what was likely to happen or had happened. The great city went
about its affairs as usual, and when late in the evening Fouché issued
a manifesto to the effect that Bonaparte in his effort to denounce
"counter-revolutionary" measures before the Five Hundred had barely
escaped assassination, the paper was read on the stage of all the
theaters to eager audiences which in every instance applauded with
almost frenzied enthusiasm. Paris and all France was weary of the
Directory, it was eager for new things, for authority, for order, for
foreign and home policies which would safely anchor the civil
liberties won by the Revolution but jeopardized by the violence,
self-seeking, and incapacity of the adventurers who had been holding
the helm of state.




CHAPTER XII[13]

         [Footnote 13: The newspapers of the period. Napoleon's
         Correspondence and Commentaries. Aulard: Le lendemain du 18
         Brumaire and Registre de délibérations du Consulat
         provisoire. The memoirs of Lafayette, Marmont, Gaudin, Hyde
         de Neuville, Tercier, and Pasquier. Montier: Robert Lindet.
         The letters of Charles de Constant and of Mme. Reinhard. The
         works of Roederer. Albert: Napoleon et les théâtres
         populaires. Lecomte: Napoléon et l'empire racontés par le
         théâtre. Schmidt: Tableaux de la Révolution. Mallet du Pan:
         La Révolution vue de l'étranger. Sloane: The French
         Revolution and Religious Reform, in which volume of the
         author will be found references to many of the original
         sources for our information concerning the restoration of the
         Roman Catholic Church in France.]

BONAPARTE THE FIRST CONSUL

     Bonaparte's Position -- The Absence of Enthusiasm -- The
     Provisional Consulate -- Measures of Security -- The New
     Constitution -- An Autocratic Executive -- The Plebiscite --
     Bonaparte the First Consul -- New Officials -- Efforts to Appease
     the Church -- The Feeling in France -- Confidence Restored --
     Financial Stability.


When Bonaparte returned to Paris on the evening of the eighteenth of
Brumaire he was the arbiter of French destiny; for the great powers of
government, both executive and legislative, were in the hands of
himself and his creatures. To the multitude it was not, perhaps, much
of a feat to disperse by force a legislature which rested on force,
and by means of the army to turn the tables on the very Jacobins who
had themselves been ever ready to appeal to the army. Moreover, in
their minds another constitution more or less was of small importance:
the next one would doubtless be only a rearrangement of the old
devices. The Revolution was in the hands of its friends, and the
world must go its way. Talleyrand and the royalists understood that
the day's work had turned the oligarchy of the Directory into a
powerful monarchy of some kind: a temporary one, they hoped, which
would enable them eventually to bring back the Bourbons.

But Napoleon Bonaparte was, as ever, wise in his generation, and, as
he understood himself, knew that though both these notions were
illusory, he must proceed cautiously. As a gambler he had staked
everything, and had won: he meant to pocket the stakes. But yet how
narrowly had he won! The shouts of "traitor" and "outlaw" were still
in his ears; no doubt the terrible alternative to his perilous escape
was in his mind. Though determined to go on, he was nevertheless
sobered. There was temporary exultation in the army and the people. He
knew that among the latter it would soon die out, as it did. Already
it was rumored that although Mme. Bonaparte had been in pecuniary
straits, her husband had thirty millions on deposit in various banks.
This was certainly untrue, because the general had recourse to the
brokers of Paris for the funds needed to reward his abettors. The
merciless extortion of the lenders engendered in him a bitterness
against their class which he entertained to the latest day of his
life. It was estimated that the day had cost him one and a half
millions; every man under his command had received a new uniform,
twelve francs in cash, and a drink of spirits; the rest was spent in
rewarding his generals and political supporters. The constitutional
and moderate republicans felt that their cause and the fate of the
nation were in the balance. The royalists were the only faction which
would have been glad to see Bonaparte usurp the power at once. He and
his friends understood that a nation still infatuated with the
Revolution in theory must be led by a parade of constitutional
measures.

The mutilated chambers began work on the very night of their
reassembling at St. Cloud. Lucien harangued them on the familiar theme
of Roman liberties, recalling the commonwealth in which the consular
fasces had been the symbol of freedom. The country would approve and
its enemies would be disarmed if these insignia should again be
displayed. Boulay de la Meurthe presented the temporary plan: a
provisional consulate composed of Bonaparte, Sieyès, and Roger-Ducos;
the adjournment of the legislature until February twentieth, 1800; the
appointment of two committees of twenty-five, one from each council,
to aid the consuls in the proposed renovation; the proscription of
fifty-seven delegates who had made themselves obnoxious. To preserve
the appearance of legality and historic continuity, the committee from
the Five Hundred was to propose, that of the Ancients to adopt; the
new constitution must uphold the one and indivisible republic, respect
popular sovereignty, and secure representative government with the
division of powers, while property, liberty, and equality must be
guaranteed beyond a peradventure. After a formal declaration that the
Directory had ceased to exist, each of these measures was duly adopted
by both houses in turn, and the consuls were sworn in, promising
unswerving fidelity to popular sovereignty, to the French republic one
and indivisible, to liberty and equality, and to representative
government. With a resolution that Bonaparte had that day deserved
well of his country, the chambers adjourned at an early hour in the
morning. When the sun rose over Paris and France, the land had found
its despot; to all appearances he was to be a beneficent despot. The
consuls met that very day in the Luxembourg palace: the general's
name came first in alphabetical order, and on the suggestion of
Roger-Ducos he took the presidency and the executive for the
twenty-four hours, the others to follow in turn. Their first work was
the construction of a provisional ministry: three of the old members
were without discussion retained: Cambacérès for justice, Bourdon for
the navy, and Reinhard for foreign affairs. Dubois-Crancé was replaced
by Berthier for war, Robert Lindet by Gaudin for finance, Quinette by
Laplace for the interior. There was much debate concerning Fouché as
minister of police, but on Bonaparte's urgent representations he was
reappointed. It was rumored that the Jacobins intended to rally at
Toulouse, and Lannes was ordered to take command in that city at once.
To the public a simple and safe announcement was issued, promising
better days for the republic.

The men and measures worked well. A treasury absolutely depleted was
slowly replenished by the practice of simple honesty; a disintegrated
military force was cautiously reassembled and brought into order, but
the garrison of Paris was not enlarged above nine thousand men, and
there was no show of force. The Bonaparte family moved into the
Luxembourg, but its head appeared always in civilian garb. He was much
abroad, visiting and conversing with men of science, letters, and
finance. Thoroughly restored in balance of mind, he did and said kind
things, joking about the scenes of St. Cloud, and explaining away the
unhappy words he had uttered. His sayings were repeated far and near,
and within a few days there were throngs of influential visitors in
his parlors. It may well be believed that shrewd observers noted his
appearance and manners, his hollow cheeks, pale face, stern brow; his
insatiate, all-embracing curiosity, keen questionings, and tactful
rejoinders, the irresistible magnetism of his vigor, his mind, and
his youth. The family connections were not in evidence; Lucien
especially was kept in the background. There were no oracular
statements, no boastful professions, yet every one felt profoundly
that the consuls were a force, an active force, saying little, toiling
to exhaustion, and that results of importance would emerge in due
time. Indeed the ameliorations of administration were in evidence from
the very first.

The industry of Sieyès and Bonaparte was indeed unexampled. There was
friction, but one was indispensable to the other; they must work
together, and the supple Talleyrand was then to keep the peace.
Sieyès's "perfect" constitution propounded a singularly cumbersome
plan of government, but it contained much that was Bonaparte's own,
and therefore suited to Bonaparte's purposes. It was accordingly taken
as a starting-point. In the end, the document actually adopted and
promulgated proved to be outwardly similar but inwardly antipodal to
that of Sieyès. While skilfully blinding all classes to its
possibilities as an instrument for controlling the nation by a central
power, its provisions were perfectly adapted to conciliate every
faction except that of the Jacobins, who were by flight or conversion
to all intents annihilated. Sixty-two members of the Five Hundred were
deposed. The rest, as a reward for their late complacency, were
invited in the name of the public welfare to accept office as foreign
ministers, or diplomatic agents, and, in some cases, as government
representatives in the provinces; their position as delegates was not
to be jeopardized by acceptance. The purpose of this was to remove the
majority of the old republican politicians from Paris, under the guise
of compensating them for past service. Sieyès's great fundamental
notion was to secure the form of popular representation without its
substance,--"confidence coming from below," as he expressed it, "power
coming from above." In order to secure this he had devised a plan
nearly identical with that laid down to Talleyrand by Bonaparte three
years before. It was adopted for the new constitution. Every one of
the five million citizens of France was to have a vote. From among
them one in every ten was to be chosen by universal suffrage to be a
candidate for local office; this formed the "communal list." These
"notables of the communes" were then to choose one in ten of their
number as a "notable of the department," a candidate for departmental
office, thus constituting the "departmental list"; and these, in turn,
one in every ten of their number as "notables of France," candidates
for the national legislature and the higher offices of state, thus
forming the "national list." From among these last the administration
and the senate, by the exercise of the appointing power, were to
select the great officers of state. This was Bonaparte's popular
representation, "without eyes, ears, or power."

The legislative was also to be silent and powerless. It was divided
into council, tribunate, legislature, and senate. The first, chosen at
will by the executive, had the initiative; in the second three
speakers might discuss the measures proposed, but no vote could be
taken; in the third there was no discussion, but the members voted;
the fourth was also mute, but it had the veto power. All except the
senate were to sit with closed doors, and publicity was to be
controlled by the administration. Sieyès had a plan whereby a chief
magistrate, to be called the "great elector," should be chosen by the
senators, since they also chose the representatives of the people from
the elected candidates. This titled personage was to appoint all civil
and military functionaries, together with two consuls to overlook the
administration. Bonaparte contemptuously wondered how any man "of some
talent and a little honor would consent to play the part of a hog to
be fatted on so and so many millions." He called on Daunou for
suggestions, but that ardent republican desired both a strong
executive and a strong direct expression of the popular will. The new
autocrat felt that the latter must be avoided at any cost, and
proposed, through one of his creatures, an executive of three consuls,
of whom the first should serve for ten years and be the head of the
state. His should be the right to execute the laws, and his alone the
appointing power. Since he was to nominate the members of the council
of state, he should also have the power to initiate legislation. In
case of need he might act by administrative process; that is, he might
legalize any regulation whatsoever as an administrative necessity. He
might rule by decree. This centralizing engine of despotism was made
complete by a system of prefects modeled on that of the royal
intendants, and intended to be the copestone of the structure. It was
adopted, and still prevails in republican France. In every
administrative division of town or country the local councils, under
stringent regulations as to the scope of their deliberations and
decisions, were intrusted to the charge of a prefect. This petty
dictator was the sworn servant of the central power, appointed or
removed by it at pleasure. Through these men the hand of the First
Consul was on every hamlet, village, town, and city. In fact, even the
mayors of the great towns were his appointees.

[Illustration: Napoleon Exposition, 1895

NAPOLEON WORKING BY THE GLIMMER OF THE LAMP

From sketch by Ingres, belonging to M. Germain Bapst.]

This monstrous but marvelous charter, though nominally prepared by
them, was offered for discussion neither to the two committees nor to
the councils themselves. During the weeks spent in its elaboration,
the nation was skilfully prepared for its reception. In the capital a
proscription list drawn up by the wily Fouché, as police minister, was
by a studied inadvertence put into reporters' hands. It contained a
jumble of names, gentle and simple, criminal and innocent, friend and
foe, and was absurd on its face. No one would assume the
responsibility, though it was said to have emanated from the police
prematurely and irregularly. The consuls, especially Bonaparte,
displayed a most engaging activity in erasing one name after another,
until nothing of importance remained. By the ordinary course of
criminal procedure a few notorious characters were removed from the
scene; the persons of importance who were menaced made grateful
submission and joined the ranks of the trusty, notably Jourdan. As
news came in from the departments it became clear that Jacobinism was
everywhere discomfited and could be neglected. The scanty garrisons
and the administrative functionaries were all with the new government,
the people of the cities and towns were enthusiastic. The horrors and
terrors of the passing régime had moderated for the time the frenzies
of the royalist party. Indeed, moderation became the watchword.
France, in the parlance of the hour, was to drink the waters of Lethe.
The example was given in Paris and twenty-four choice men were sent
one into each of the military departments to exhibit and emphasize the
fact, to study and mold public opinion. They were mostly men of the
older régime, who had heartily accepted the consular idea. They worked
faithfully and successfully. None knew as yet the provisions of the
new constitution, though all approved its provisions, whatever they
were, because they must be better than those of the old. On December
fifteenth, 1799, six weeks after the completion of the document, it
was presented directly to the nation at large, under the proposal
of a national or popular decree--a plebiscite. Those then living were
amazed at the general apathy, only about three million votes having
been cast. To us it appears as if the whole people were in a plague of
Egyptian darkness. As each voter could but adhere to or dissent from
the proposition for the adoption of the constitution as offered, the
result was an overwhelming approval, the negative votes being only one
thousand five hundred and sixty-seven in number.

On December twenty-second, before the result of the plebiscite was
known, the new charter was put in operation. It is difficult to
determine exactly the composition of the assembly which met at the
Luxembourg palace to determine who should be the permanent consuls.
According to an anecdote of the time, Sieyès opened its proceedings by
explaining the dangers of a military despotism should the First Consul
be a soldier. Bonaparte impressively whispered to his supporters that
they should scatter themselves throughout the room, and that when they
saw him take Sieyès's hand they should shout, "Bravo--Bonaparte!"
Then, stepping forward at the close of Sieyès's address, he assumed an
air of generous friendliness, and said, "Let us have no difference of
opinion, my friend; for my part, I vote for the Abbé Sieyès. For whom
do you vote?" Taken all aback, Sieyès murmured, "I vote for General
Bonaparte." Instantly the latter put out his hand, and the speaker
grasped it. "Bravo--Bonaparte!" rang from all sides, and Sieyès's
supporters joined in the shout. Thus, apparently by general consent,
the shrewd intriguer, as the story runs, was acclaimed First Consul.
At all events, Bonaparte took the office to himself without a question
on the part of the public. His two colleagues were to be chosen by the
constitutional committee. They named Daunou as one, but Bonaparte
threw the ballots into the fire. Sieyès obligingly presented two other
names,--"the right men," as he assured the committee,--Cambacérès and
Lebrun. The former was an eminent jurist, the latter the ablest
financier of his time. Both were appointed, and both rendered
excellent service to the Consulate. Sieyès had already been made
"keeper" of the Directory's secret funds,--six hundred thousand
francs,--which he called "une poire pour la soif." Soon afterward he
accepted from the First Consul the great estate of Crôsne, and was
then relegated to obscurity as chief of the senate. The other great
officials were all appointed in much the same way. "The pike is eating
the two other fish," said Mme. Permon to the First Consul's mother
soon after.

The safeguard of so-called popular adhesion having been secured, the
next step was to adopt and execute a comprehensive policy of
conciliation. The royalist emigrants were encouraged to return,
provided they would accept the new power and lend it the grace of
their presence and manners. Amnesty was likewise proclaimed for the
victims of Fructidor. Gaudin, who had been an experienced financier
under the Bourbons, and had shown his mettle as provisional minister,
was put permanently in charge of the treasury. The moderate and able
Cambacérès became minister of justice, and Forfait undertook the navy.
Carnot, whose castigation of the Directory in his widely read defense
had done so much to undermine their prestige and hasten their fall,
was recalled and made minister of war. Talleyrand was forgiven for his
base desertion on the eve of the Egyptian expedition. As will be
recalled, it had been arranged that as the fleet left Toulon for
Alexandria he was to start for Constantinople in order to hoodwink
the Sultan and prevent the very resistance which afterward proved so
disastrous. But at the last moment he refused. In consequence of his
scandalous attempt to extort a bribe from the American envoys he was
forced to resign his office soon afterward, and he then sought
retirement to await results. There never was greed more dishonest than
his, a life more licentious, nor a deceit more subtle; but at the same
time he was the most adroit diplomat of an age devoted to diplomacy as
a political power, and more familiar with the intrigues of courts and
the aspirations of European dynasties than were any of his
contemporaries, unless possibly Metternich, who did not become
prominent until later. He was therefore indispensable, and was
reappointed minister of foreign affairs. The great Laplace had been
provisionally appointed minister of the interior; but so marked was
his unfitness for the post that he soon was transferred to the senate
and made way for Lucien Bonaparte.

But all this was little compared with the contemplated reconciliation
with the Church for which the way was now carefully prepared. Pius VI
had died a prisoner on French soil, and had been buried without honor.
Befitting memorial ceremonies having been performed, the priesthood
were released from the ban which the Jacobins had laid upon them. No
oath in support of the new charter was required from the many priests
who could not accept the civil constitution of the clergy, enacted in
1790; they could minister to their adherents without fear of
persecution; they at once returned from exile or emerged from their
hiding-places in large numbers. In the rôle of philosopher the First
Consul professed to see the necessity of the Church as the main prop
of a strong social organism and good government. As a far-seeing
schemer he clearly felt that military power was a stanch support, but
that in the end a firm moral foundation would likewise be needed in
the hearts of hundreds of thousands in Europe, who would bless the man
that should restore to them the institution which was the visible sign
of their hopes for eternity. This desirable affection and approbation
Bonaparte meant from the outset to secure. Had the scoffer, the
worshiper of science, the would-be Mohammedan prophet, himself
experienced a change of heart? Perhaps. Responsibility often breaks
down indifference.

This policy of tolerance was well understood to be an interim measure,
to be succeeded by a permanent settlement satisfactory to all the
faithful. Furthermore, the ban having been removed from the exiled
royalists as well, a number of emigrants had likewise returned: these
and their clergy soon conceived the idea that Bonaparte was preparing
a restoration of the monarchy, and would consider propositions for
reëstablishing the close alliance of church and state, the identity
almost, which had been the one outstanding feature of French
absolutism. For this reason the insurrectionary West made overtures to
the First Consul, and emissaries were passed through the lines,
admitted to an audience, and permitted to state their case. Bonaparte
gave heed and attention. Andigné proved exacting and impossible, Hyde
was smooth and uncertain; it was only later that in Bernier, a simple
village priest, he found a man to his liking, shrewd and scheming, but
reasonable and efficient. He soon became an important agent in
resolving the knotty problem of restoring the West to French
nationality. Hitherto the rebels of lower Normandy and Brittany had
followed either the resident nobility, of whom Andigné and Frotté were
types, or peasant reactionaries like Georges Cadoudal, bold,
desperate, irreconcilable men who demanded either war or their king.
Bonaparte determined to ignore alike the high and the low, the
desperate men with everything to gain and little to lose; he therefore
appealed to the middle sort of gentle and simple through the
intermediation of Hédouville for the government and Bernier for the
people. The latter, accompanied by Count Bourmont, finally came to
Paris, and both were won, Bourmont to the undoing of Napoleon, as it
turned out. A method of pacification was arranged and soon put into
successful operation, largely through the superlative adroitness of
Bernier. Frotté was captured and executed, Cadoudal fled to England.
The royalist agitation of the West was ended for a time: the efforts
of the party in Provence, though carefully studied and widely exerted,
proved ineffectual, and the internal reforms of administration were
there, as throughout all France, efficiently put in operation. The
policy of tolerance and moderation won over thousands upon thousands,
and reduced the sullen minority to inactivity.

The upheaval of Brumaire is unique in French history. When
consummated, there appeared among the people no remnant of fear or
distrust. The radical side of the Revolution had ceased to exist. Its
ideals of civil liberty were embodied in Bonaparte, the national
spirit was invigorated, and hopes ran high. Such was the testimony of
all the most disinterested observers. Brinkmann, a Swede of great
ability, wrote on November eighteenth that no legitimate monarch had
ever found on his accession a people more submissive than Bonaparte
had found. "It is literally true," runs his letter: "France will
perform the impossible to help him. Excepting the despicable horde of
anarchists, the people are so weary, so disgusted with revolutionary
horrors and follies, that they are sure any change will be for the
better. Every class in society makes fun of the heroism of the
demagogues, and from all sides comes a call for their expulsion rather
than for the realization of their ideal visions. Even the royalists of
every shade are honestly devoted to Bonaparte; for they attribute to
him the intention of gradually restoring the old order. The
indifferent are attached to him as being the man best fitted to give
peace to France; and enlightened republicans, though trembling for
their institutions, prefer to see a single man of talent, rather than
a club of intriguers, seize and hold the public power."

None of Bonaparte's measures was more masterly than the financial
policy whereby he won the devotion of the capitalists. If the country
had been exhausted by the old régime, what had the recklessness of the
Jacobins done for it? Bankruptcy, disorder, and utter distrust--chaos,
in short--held sway in all departments of finance. The new order
restored public confidence to such an extent that the revival of
credit seemed miraculous. After the events of Brumaire the five per
cents., which had fallen to one and a half per cent. of their par
value, immediately rose to twelve per cent.; and on the final,
satisfactory fulfilment of what the day appeared to foreshadow, they
advanced to seventeen. The disgraceful laws for enforcing compulsory
loans which had been passed under the Directory disappeared, with
their companion the Hostage Law. Instantaneously order was brought
into the system of direct taxation, and regularity into the collection
of the taxes. The mysterious anti-Jacobin measures, promulgated as a
warning, and then modified so as to paralyze and drive away the
worthless spendthrifts of the Directory, while sobering and retaining
for public use the able and sensible men like Jourdan, worked as a
charm; they were a notification that the irregularities of all
visionaries whatsoever were ended, and that waste of capacity as well
as of money was to be succeeded by wholesome economy. For measures of
temporary relief the new constitution permanently substituted a
financial system of far-sighted regulations which completely revived
general confidence, and with it the public credit, thereby restoring
the producing capacity of the country. The Bank of France, organized
in January, 1800, fixed a norm for the rates of discount, gave a sound
currency to the country, and was the visible sign of a new era.




CHAPTER XIII

BONAPARTE EMBODIES THE REVOLUTION[14]

         [Footnote 14: References as before. Further, Adolphus:
         History of England (Reign of George III). Alison: History of
         Europe. Vandal: l'Avènement de Bonaparte, Vol. II. Oncken:
         Zeitalter der Revolution. Allardyce: Memoir of Lord Keith.
         Castlereagh: Correspondence. Jackson: Diaries and Letters,
         and the Bath Archives. The souvenirs of Chaptal, Hue, and
         Girardin; the memorial of Norvins, the letters of Joubert,
         and the memoirs of Barante. Quinet: La Révolution.
         Tocqueville: Correspondance. Proudhon: Napoleon I.
         Benckendorff: Histoire anecdotique de Paul Ier.]

     End of the Revolution -- The Alternatives -- French Glory --
     Bonaparte as an Idealist -- Reconstruction of the Army -- Russia
     and the Great Powers -- Slackness of the Coalition -- The Policy
     of England -- Debates in Parliament -- Canning's Influence --
     Austrian Schemes -- French Opinion and the Press -- Consolidation
     of French Power -- Bonaparte in the Tuileries -- The Washington
     Festival.


No one understood better than Bonaparte the connection in a state
between external and internal affairs. The second coalition, so far as
Russia, Austria, England, and Turkey were concerned, was very loosely
cemented indeed. They were united in their determination to subdue
revolutionary France, but they had not an interest in common beyond
that. Such was their jealousy as regarded the control of the
Mediterranean that a strong government at Paris might hope to create
discord among them. When, therefore, on December fifteenth, 1799, the
provisional consulate came to an end, and the new constitution, known
in French history as that of the twenty-second of Frimaire, year VIII,
came into operation, the government entered upon life, as was most
essential for French interests, not as an empty scheme, but as a
full-fledged organism, with every office filled, the machinery
actually in motion, and the administration ready for intercourse with
the other governments of Europe. The words of Bonaparte's proclamation
were: "Citizens, the Revolution is planted on the principles from
which it proceeded. It is ended." As regarded the internal life of
France, no truer words could have been written. There had never been
true liberty nor true brotherhood under its banners; the leveling had
been more successful, and equality in the matter of civil rights might
be considered as won. What was left of those principles, as the event
proved, was embodied for France herself in the First Consul and in his
beneficent measures. To Europe at large this embodiment of the
Revolution in the new sovereign was soon made equally evident. France
had adopted him. Would the surviving dynasties admit him, as the
representative of French nationality, to a seat on their Olympus?
Nothing but an imperative necessity would compel them to do so, and
then only for the moment.

[Sidenote: 1799--1800]

Two courses were therefore open to the new power: first, to extort an
acquiescence, however distasteful, by consolidating France as the
nation and the homogeneous people which the Revolution had made it, by
increasing her prosperity, by fostering her genius, by showing an
example to the world of what the people of a peaceful, enlightened,
industrious state could be in contrast to the case-hardened,
unreceptive, and sullen populations who still remained passive under
dynastic rule; or, second, to restore the expansive anti-national
character of the Revolution, and, using the magnificent military
system created in that epoch as a destroying power, to menace the
dynasties in their very existence, and thus make them first
respectful neutrals and then subservient tools both in their own
reconstruction and in the liberation of their subjects. These seemed,
in this emergency, the two alternatives at the First Consul's command.
Choosing neither permanently, but one or the other at will, as each
rising question made it expedient, the result was an interference
which brought first this and then that policy into prominence, made
both partly successful, but neither entirely so, and ended in the ruin
of the schemer.

The responsibility was not his own: he so behaved under the compulsion
of the national spirit. The revolutionary tyrannies, one after the
other, had adopted the foreign policies of Richelieu and Louis XIV.
Nothing could be more definite, nothing more ingrained as the fiber of
French existence. France itself must have the boundaries of ancient
Gaul, and the Mediterranean must be a French lake. To this end the
dynasties must be indemnified: Spain might have Portugal, Prussia the
hegemony of North Germany, Austria might expand in Bavaria and Italy.
For a bulwark of defence the land frontier must be girt with little
buffer states, semi-autonomous but dependent: Batavia, Helvetia,
Cisalpina. The still more important sea frontier must be fortified by
the exclusion of Great Britain absolutely from the Continent; Italy
was to be rearranged, with Piedmont and Tuscany occupied and subdued,
the States of the Church distributed among the secular powers of which
Roman and Neapolitan republics were to be the chief. It was a
stupendous task, but ideals have no physical limits. Glory is the
circumambient ether of the French spirit. Repose, order, material
prosperity, domestic life, religion--these must be the preëstablished
basis of existence, but life is triumph, splendor, power. It was not,
therefore, as inheritor and incarnation of the Revolution, but as the
embodiment of France and her immemorial policies, that Bonaparte
became a student of foreign affairs. With the prospect of peace must
be envisaged the prospect of war: war for the frontiers, the heritage
of the Gauls; for propagating French thought and influence; for the
invasion of irreconcilable lands. The voluminous and careful studies
of foreign affairs which he caused to be made by able councilors still
exist to show his painstaking zeal in the perpetuation of time-honored
and sacred policies, which no man aspiring to capture the heart of the
French dared neglect or permit to lapse into oblivion.

Taking advantage of the temporary abdication of all power, and of the
momentary renunciation of all activities, even of interest, by the
people, the unconscious idealist began his work. Never was a man more
practical in his own eyes, or, from his own point of view, more
concrete and direct in his motives or conduct. Seizing every
opportunity as it arose, he was the type of what is to-day called in
France an opportunist. But for all that, not the least element of his
supernal greatness was an ever-present idealism. In view of his birth
and early training, it is easy to see that if, as Mme. de Staël first
suggested, nature had brought that quality down in his line from some
far-off Italian of the early Renascence, it would develop under
Rousseau's and Raynal's influence. Whencesoever it came, it is not
least among the causes of the later political renascence which saw the
creation of a new and modern society, the completion of a process
which began with the English revolution. It is this quality alone
which makes Napoleon an element of the first importance in universal
history. Other traits make him so in the epoch now called by his name.

His first thought was for the army. It is probable that Moreau's
participation in the latest political stroke--a fact to which, in the
initial stages, it owed its success--was due to personal ambition; he
probably thought that when Bonaparte had once become a civilian, his
only military rival would be disposed of. Accordingly, when the plan
for the coming campaign was published, it was found that Moreau was to
command a great central European force composed of the recruited
armies of the Rhine and of Helvetia, to be called by the name of the
former. Masséna, whose brilliant victories in Switzerland had
moderated the gloom occasioned by the disasters of the previous year
in Italy, was to have supreme command of the forces which were still
to be called the Army of Italy--the name made so glorious at Lodi, at
Arcola, at Castiglione, and at Rivoli. It seemed, indeed, as if the
First Consul had himself renounced all ambition as a soldier in order
to become entirely a statesman. The imperious and jealous but prudent
Moreau was to have full scope for his powers, the brilliant Masséna
was to wear his old commander's laurels. But there was a reserve army,
not talked of nor paraded, which was quietly, silently, and
unostentatiously formed, under Berthier's master-hand, from new
conscripts skilfully intermingled with selected veterans. The
divisions were gathered in different places, apparently with no unity,
and thus were drilled, trained, and organized without observation.
While most of it was kept within the French borders, ready for instant
mobilization, and with headquarters ostensibly at Dijon, a part was
sent under the nominal command of the devoted adjutant to Geneva in
order to maintain the French honor in Switzerland.

The French people, however, desired not war, but peace. The list of
competent and admirable administrators chosen by the government was
sufficient proof that public affairs were to be carefully transacted.
The reconstruction of the army gave evidence that peace was to be made
with honor. The next step was so to behave that France should think
her new chief magistrate eager for a general pacification. Since
Bonaparte's return from Egypt there had been a combination of
circumstances which pointed to an easy solution of this problem. The
Czar of Russia was much exasperated with George III because the
Russian soldiers included in the capitulation of Alkmaar were coolly
received when transported to England, and then virtually imprisoned in
the island of Guernsey. When, soon afterward, the English laid siege
to Malta, of which he yearned to be grand master, he was ready to
accuse Great Britain of treachery. But he was still more incensed with
Austria. As has been told, a portion of his army, under Korsakoff, was
overwhelmed by Masséna at Zurich on September twenty-fifth, 1799.
Suvoroff, with the other wing, was at the time in full possession of
Piedmont; and in accordance with his master's instructions he had
invited the fugitive Charles Emmanuel IV to return from Sardinia and
reinstate himself at Turin.

The Austrian archduke Charles had withdrawn, after his defeat of
Masséna by the first battle of Zurich in June, 1799, to take command
in central Germany. Francis, being fully determined to keep all
northern Italy for himself, and therefore to prevent the
reëstablishment of the house of Savoy on the mainland, speciously
ordered Suvoroff to the assistance of his fellow-countrymen north of
the Alps. The Russian general found nothing prepared for his passage
of the St. Gotthard; on the contrary, he was so hindered at every turn
by the absence of mules for his baggage-train, and so harassed by the
attacks of the French, that his expedition was one long disaster. He
attributed his misfortunes to Austrian indifference or worse. Driven
from valley to valley, over icy peaks and barren passes, his troops
perished in great numbers, and their panic was complete when they
heard of Korsakoff's terrible defeat. Before a junction could be
effected with the remnants of that army, Masséna turned and attacked
Suvoroff himself, compelling him to flee eastward as best he could
until he reached the confines of Bavaria. This put a climax to the
Czar's fury; he demanded that the Italian princes should be restored
to their governments, and that Thugut should be dismissed, as a
guarantee of good faith. Finally he heard that when Ancona fell before
the combined attacks of Austrians, Russians, and Turks, his own
standard had been taken down, and only the Austrian left flying. To a
gloomy enthusiast, claiming to be the mirror of chivalry and
magnanimity, this was a crowning insult; and he determined, in
December, 1799, to withdraw from the coalition. This was Bonaparte's
opportunity, and he began at once a series of the most flattering
attentions to Paul, which made the Czar for the rest of his short life
a passionate admirer of the schemes and person of the First Consul.
England and Austria were thus the only formidable opponents left in
the coalition against France.

With ostentatious simplicity, Bonaparte wrote both to George III and
to Francis II, as man to man, announcing his accession to power, and
pleading, in the interest of commerce, of national well-being, and of
domestic happiness, for a cessation of hostilities after eight years
of warfare. The French people, who looked upon the First Consul as a
ruler made by themselves, were delighted with this simple
straightforwardness, and gratified by the notion of their
representative treating on equal terms with the divine-right monarchs
of Europe. Pitt mistakenly thought that Bonaparte still personified
Jacobinism, and labored under the delusion that France was completely
exhausted. An English army was ready and about to disembark on the
west coast of France. Kléber in Egypt, having maintained himself
superbly thus far, was about to yield to pitiless fate, and accept
humiliating terms for evacuating the country. Could the flames of the
civil war which was once more raging in France be further fanned, and
the control of the Levant secured in English hands, the great English
premier would be able in a few months to make terms far more
advantageous than any he could hope for at the moment. Lord Grenville
therefore wrote a brusque letter to Talleyrand, refusing negotiation
with a government the stability of which was not assured, and
suggesting in a weak, impolitic way that while the French had a right
to choose their own government, the return of the Bourbons would be
the best guarantee of a permanent and settled administration. This
clause afforded the opportunity for a smart reply by Bonaparte,
denouncing England as the author of the war which had raged through
1799 and was about to be renewed, and reminding the King that he
himself ruled by consent of his people.

The debate which ensued in Parliament was most instructive, because
the First Consul was entirely right. Great Britain was the mainspring
of the coalition. The wits of London said in public that England had
contracted half of her national debt to destroy the Bourbons and the
other half to restore them to power. This was the key-note of the
Liberal opposition. Lord Holland was willing to be sponsor for
Bonaparte's sincerity, but the Lords laughed at him. In the Commons
Whitbread charged the excesses of the French Revolution to the
unwarrantable interference of other powers; England owed it to herself
to make peace when she could, even with a usurper. Erskine could see
in England's course nothing but a blind obstinacy which had
overwhelmed the nation with debt and disaster. "What would you say,"
said Tierney, "if Bonaparte victorious should refuse to treat except
with the Stuarts?" But the temper of Parliament and the people was for
continuing the war. Grenville, in the upper house, declared that
Bonaparte was merely a new exponent of the revolutionary wickedness of
the Directory. He had made treaties or armistices with Sardinia,
Tuscany, Modena, and the minor Italian states, only to violate them;
he had scorned the neutrality of Parma; he had dragged Venice into war
for her own destruction; he had trampled Genoa underfoot; and he had
destroyed the liberty of Switzerland while uttering false promises of
peace and friendship. His hearers sustained him by an overwhelming
majority.

In the lower house Canning denounced the First Consul as a usurper
who, like a specter, wore on his head something which resembled a
crown. Pitt rose to the height of his majestic powers in one of the
great orations of his life. Minor political considerations must be
waived. Bonaparte was the destroyer of Europe. The sole refuge from
the calamities with which he was about to flood the nations was
England. He himself had unwillingly consented to the negotiations at
Lille; it was Fructidor which had broken them off, and it was
Bonaparte who was the author of Fructidor. He might be reproached for
desiring the restoration of the ancient monarchy to France, but an
exhausted and desperate country could not find the long repose
essential for recuperation except under the Bourbons. The success of
his plea was even greater than Grenville's. Thus by an appeal to the
old detestation of revolutionary excess which was so deep-seated in
the English masses, and by an adroit insinuation that it was this for
which Bonaparte stood,--a fact which seemed to be shown by his
career,--the ministry gained a new lease of life, and men believed
that a few months would see France fall in utter exhaustion before the
coalition.

Bonaparte's personal letter to the Emperor was, as the writer
doubtless foresaw it would be, equally unsuccessful. Austria, thanks
to her double-dealings with Russia in the last campaign, was now
occupying Lombardy, Piedmont, and the Papal States; she meant to keep
them, and moderately but firmly refused to treat on the basis
proposed, which was that of Campo Formio.

Among other unfortunate surrenders which France under the Directory
had made for the sake of quiet and security was that of freedom for
the press. A consular decree of January seventeenth, 1800, further
emphasized this undemocratic policy, and suppressed all but thirteen
political journals. This was nominally a measure to be enforced only
during the war. For its justification there was the plea of necessity.
The serious indiscretions which a free and enterprising press always
has committed, and is sure to commit, during hostilities, uniformly
call out the angry denunciations of military writers. The "spurred and
booted ruler" of whom Napoleon spoke at St. Helena could not well be
expected to act otherwise than he did. Unfortunately, the only papers
which continued to be published became at once mere administrative
organs. When, therefore, with a skilful display of facts the course of
negotiations in both England and Austria was laid before the public,
the people of Paris and the provinces were easily roused to warlike
ardor. The clever and witty pasquinades, the abusive and scathing
paragraphs, in which all the papers indulged, from the "Moniteur"
downward, increased the excitement. It pleased the French fancy to
read a supposed summons to George, inviting him, as a convert to
legitimacy, to abdicate in favor of the surviving Stuart heir.
Forgetful of the immediate past, the nation was ready to maintain
French honor at any cost against its embittered and inveterate foe.
The Pactolus streams of English gold could not, the French felt sure,
much longer subsidize the Continental powers; for it was Great
Britain, and not France, which was really exhausted.

Led by a man whose genius was believed to be as fertile in political,
administrative, and fiscal expedients as it had always been in
military measures, with an admirable machinery of government and a
general confidence in their ruler, the French people became ever more
certain that they might now and finally conquer in the struggle with
England for mastery. This opinion was further strengthened because the
inveterate rancor of civil conflict in the west was again quieted,
temporarily at least, perhaps permanently. The devastator of Egypt and
Syria still held out with one hand the mildest offers of conciliation
to the malcontent communities of that district, with the other he
displayed his powerful sword, while in his proclamations he threatened
measures as severe as those he had practised against the rebellious
Bedouin. This course had the desired effect, and, having brought the
French rebels to terms, seemed likely to soothe them into habits of
submission. The Army of the West could therefore be reduced in
numbers; and as at the same time the Batavian Republic was in a fervor
of enthusiastic loyalty, so also could the Army of Holland. In this
way more than thirty thousand excellent soldiers were freed for use
elsewhere.

Simultaneously with these events the most careful preparation was made
for a step which might redound to Bonaparte's credit if properly
taken, but could easily be detrimental to the complete success of his
schemes. Under the new constitution every department of government had
an assigned dwelling-place. That of the consuls was to be the
Tuileries. How could an absolute dictator install his penates in the
sometime home of absolute royalty without inspiring general distrust?
The first step was to rechristen the pile as "the palace of the
government," the next to consecrate it to glory. From far and near the
statues of the great were gathered to adorn its halls. The choice of
these displayed in significant confusion the generals and statesmen of
all times in all places. Alexander, Cæsar, Frederick; Cato, Cicero,
Brutus; Mirabeau, Marceau, and Joubert; and many others of lesser
note, were assembled in effigy. But highest of all was set the image
of Washington, the news of whose death had just reached Europe. His
example was to be held up as the real inspiration of the new ruler. In
order both to arouse the imagination of the people and to convince
their understanding, the army was put into mourning for the great
American, and a festival was instituted in his honor. To exalt the man
who was universally considered as the typical and ideal republican of
the age was a conspicuously effective idea, since it accorded
thoroughly with the approved traditions of the Revolution.

The celebration was set for February ninth, 1800, and proved a great
success. It had already been decided to reawaken public enthusiasm by
instituting great military ceremonies when the captured standards from
Aboukir were finally deposited in the Hospital of the Invalides. These
and the Washington festival were interwoven with consummate art: while
the First Consul's victories were recalled in the imposing parade,
the simple and impressive words of an able orator, M. de Fontanes,
reminded the nation that the immortal Washington had shown as a
general more strength than brilliancy, and had awakened little
enthusiasm but great confidence; that he was one of the men inspired
to rule who appear from time to time in the world; that he was neither
partizan nor demagogue; and that when peace had once been signed he
had laid down his arms to become the wisest of constructive
legislators. "Yes, Washington! thy counsels shall be heard--thou
warrior, legislator, administrator! He who in his youth surpassed thee
in battle, like thee shall close with conquering hands the wounds of
his country." Minds less quick than those of the Parisians would have
discovered the moral of the address even without the peroration. When
the official journal next day published the glowing words and
described the brilliant ceremony, the coming monarch was already
lodged under the roof of the Bourbons. Since Bonaparte had made the
liberation of Lafayette an indispensable condition of the treaty
ratified at Campo Formio, it might have been expected that this name,
so long used elsewhere in a natural juxtaposition, would on such an
occasion have been mentioned in connection with that of Washington;
but the honors of that day were to be shared with the dead foreigner,
not with the living Frenchman.




CHAPTER XIV[15]

         [Footnote 15: Further references are the Tratchefski Archives
         in Vol. LXX, Société d'histoire de Russie. Martens: Traités
         de la Russie. Montgelas: Denkwürdigkeiten. Eckart: Montgelas.
         Fournier: Studien und Skizzen. Reinach: Correspondance
         Royaliste. Pingaud: d'Antraigues. Stanhope: Life of Pitt.]

A CONSTITUTIONAL DESPOTISM

     Policy of the First Consul -- His Family -- The New Officials --
     The Council of State -- Bonaparte's Ubiquity -- Foreign Affairs
     -- France and Russia -- The Mistake of Prussia -- Peace
     Impossible -- Bonaparte's Plans -- His Aims -- The Temper of
     Great Britain -- Bonaparte's Appeal to the Army -- The Military
     Situation.


[Sidenote: 1800]

The makers of a paper constitution cannot foresee every detail in the
working of its provisions; and contrary to the expectation at least of
Sieyès, the form which the new government took at the outset was
largely personal. The Consulate and the ministry were entirely so,
their members being chosen with a keen business instinct, like that of
a great industrial or commercial master, for personal character,
integrity, capacity, and devotion. "What revolutionary," said Napoleon
to his brother Joseph, "would not have confidence in an order of
things where Fouché is minister? What gentleman would not expect to
find existence possible under the former Bishop of Autun? One keeps my
left, the other my right. I open a broad path where all may walk."
This was so far true, but such nice discrimination could not be
exercised in filling the hundreds of minor offices. France is second
to no land in the ambition of its people for office-holding, and among
the thousands of greedy claimants it was not easy to choose. There
were many mistakes made in selecting the petty officials, and the
disappointed formed a large class of embittered malcontents from the
very inauguration of the consular system. There were the senate, the
legislature, the council of state, the tribunate, the whole judicial
administration, all to be filled. It was understood that the official
emoluments would not be niggardly. When finally fixed, the salary of a
senator was twenty-five thousand francs; that of a tribune, fifteen
thousand; that of a legislator, ten thousand. As a measure of relative
importance it is interesting to note that the First Consul had five
hundred thousand a year, and each of his colleagues one hundred and
fifty thousand.

So swiftly and thoroughly did Paris and France absorb the concept of
monarchy in the Consulate, that the powers and fortunes of the First
Consul were scarcely considered in relation to those of the other two,
who, far from parity, were barely coadjutant. What the nation felt and
accepted, but scarcely whispered, the Bonaparte family discussed with
shameless greediness. How far soever Napoleon removed himself in other
respects from the primitive institutions of Corsican barbarism, in one
he never so far had varied: the sense of clanship. His brothers and
sisters were men and women of parts, but they were undisciplined in
language and behavior: their natural appetites were never concealed,
nor their tongues bridled. Napoleon acknowledged the fraternal bond in
the tribal sense; for every one of them he desired to provide
handsomely in money and honor, and he expected the return of affection
and loyalty. Behind his back they discussed his death and the
succession, formed cabals of supporters, wrangled for influence and
power. Of this their brother was not unaware, and the danger (p.~151)
of their irregular conduct was ever present to him. But he could not
bring himself to check them. At this moment when their activities were
most pernicious, he intended Lucien to be the master politician,
Joseph the master negotiator, Louis a general, and Jerome an admiral.
Their intercourse with official France might make or mar the fortunes
not only of their brother but also of themselves.

The new officials were selected from every walk of life, from every
shade of opinion, from every stratum of society. The intention was
that they should have no bond but a common interest in the new order.
The senate became a high place for the successful among the old, the
men whose day was over. Monge, Berthollet, Volney, and the like were
found on its benches. The silent legislature was filled with the
majority of those whose ardent and uninstructed ambitions were easily
muzzled by the tenure of place, and found a sufficient vent in casting
a voiceless vote. The tribunes, "legislative eunuchs," as they have
been called, were men such as Daunou, Benjamin Constant, and J. B.
Say--the elect among the able and intelligent of the day. Their duty
was to debate the nature and utility of all bills with the proposers,
the council of state; and it was expected that the fiery logic and
merciless criticism which they were sure to employ would rebound
harmlessly from the benches on which their opponents sat. If freedom
of debate and liberty of speech became too dangerous even in such
remoteness from action, the superfluous institution could be
suppressed without a jar in the machinery of state. There was possibly
a hint of this in the fact that the tribunes found shelter in the
Palais Royal, then the haunt of prostitutes and the refuge of the
great gambling-hells which were so numerous. To the end of its days
the tribunate was the one asylum of liberty under the constitution of
the year VIII. It was supposed, as has just been said, that the
impotence of the tribunes would be offset by the independence of the
council of state.

In this last body, therefore, were assembled three important classes:
sincere Bonapartists like Roederer, Regnault de St.-Jean-d'Angély, and
Boulay de la Meurthe; clever specialists like Ganteaume, Chaptal, and
Fourcroy, who were quite willing to serve the First Consul; and a
number of proselytes from among the royalists and other factions. For
the most part these were men of great ability, and for a time they
found in the First Consul a disinterestedness in serving France which
made them his devoted servants. The personality of the council was
Bonaparte's, and whatever independence it possessed was his. The court
of appeals was duly organized by the senate, which had this right as
being the guardian of the constitution. The justices and councilors of
a supreme court, the copestone of the judiciary, were nominated by the
same body. The other courts were also ably manned with officials who,
though not servile, were stanch supporters of the new government.

Before the time when the campaign could open in the spring of 1800,
all these parts were intended to be, and actually were, running
smoothly; but they were running by the inspiration and activity of a
single man. The council of state was his greater self, the senate his
instrument of governing; the legislative body was as silent as the
tribunate was noisy--neither was a serious check on his plans.
Legislation of the greatest importance was under way; it was all
devised for purposes of centralization, and was studied in detail by
the First Consul. Administration was proceeding with scarcely any
friction whatsoever; but this was because Bonaparte kept his eye on
each separate office, and carefully superintended its working. By
special arrangement foreign relations were considered and settled in
secret consultation by the chief of state and Talleyrand; but the
latter dared not pretend that in unraveling the threads of so tangled
a web, or in their skilful rearrangement, the initiative was his.
Carnot, at his old work, with his old genius unimpaired, needed little
encouragement; but even in his department every corps, every
battalion, every regiment, every company of all the arms,--cavalry,
infantry, and artillery of every class, conscript, soldier, reserve,
and home guard,--each and all were known to the First Consul.
Incredible and exaggerated as such statements must appear, the
testimony to their truth is so abundant and unimpeachable that it
seems to the reader as if at this crisis there had appeared in Europe
a being neither human, demoniac, nor celestial, but a man with
superhuman powers of endurance, apprehension, and labor, an angel
without perfection, a demon without malevolence. For, on the whole,
Bonaparte's work, while replete with dangerous expedients, and, as the
future conclusively proved, inspired by self-seeking, was beneficent,
constructive, and permanent in regard not merely to France, but to
Europe and the world.

In the opening months of 1800 the Continental situation was even more
peculiar than usual. In 1799 the Directory had, as a financial
measure, incorporated Belgium with France, and her provinces, like all
other parts of the country, paid heavy taxes. This could not be
changed; and in regard to the minor states still nominally
independent, but really under French control, the old policy of the
Directory could likewise not immediately be dropped. Masséna had just
made a forced levy in Switzerland. Genoa was laid under a (p.~154)
fresh contribution of two million francs, and menaced with a forced
levy. It was arranged that Holland should pay forty million francs for
the restitution of Flushing; and Amsterdam was invited to lend ten
more, but refused. Hamburg was secretly held out to Prussia as the
price of an alliance with France. Publicly the Hohenzollern monarchy
was praised for its refusal to surrender some important political
refugees to the coalition, and was offered the friendship of France at
the price of four to six millions of francs. It was determined that
Portugal, which, having been exhausted by a long alliance with
England, now earnestly desired peace, should be told informally by
Talleyrand that it could be purchased by a contribution of from eight
to ten millions for the Army of Italy. Paul I of Russia, already angry
with Austria, was confirmed in his friendship for France by many acts
of courtesy. The Russian prisoners of war received new clothes, and
were released; the First Consul, recognizing the Czar's quixotic
interest in the Knights of Malta, sent to him the sword of Valetta,
captured on the seizure of the island. A treaty of peace between
France and Russia speedily ensued.

This of course effectually checked Turkey, and soon afterward
competent experts were appointed by Paul to consider the details of a
combined Franco-Russian expedition for the invasion of India by land,
and to parcel out Asia between the two powers. The scheme originated
with an agent of the Directory, named Guttin, who after a sojourn in
Russia had boldly suggested that as Russia could never be even touched
by modern ideas, and as the international propaganda of cosmopolitan
republicanism must needs stop at her frontiers, there was but one
course open: to seek her alliance. Bonaparte carefully studied the
long and persuasive report, began his preparations to realize the
policy in the far future, was mindful of it at Tilsit, and, thwarted
in his hope of keeping Russia an eastern power, found his first
serious check in the campaign fought to coerce her. The expedition
planned by him and Paul, as a side thrust at Great Britain, embraced
both India and Persia in its details. Should it succeed, even the
island kingdom might one day find itself a tamed and trained unit in
the federation of western and central Europe under the ægis of a new
western emperor, dividing the world with him who claimed to be the
eastern; the heir and successor of those Romans who had reigned from
Byzantium.

The center of gravity on the Continent remained in Prussia. As the
land of Frederick, and the rival of Austria, she supposed herself to
represent the liberal side of German life. In fact, there was a strong
French party at Berlin, which felt that the republic had been fighting
Prussia's battle in weakening the house of Austria. But Frederick
William III, the young King, was timid, cautious, and full of
self-esteem. He was overmastered by the specious idea, also cherished
by his prime minister, that a firm neutrality would recuperate the
strength of his country and people while internecine warfare was
exhausting the rest of Europe. On this ground he had so far stood
unshaken; and though the sympathies of his house had always been, in
the main, on the side of absolutism, he refused the alliance of the
absolutist coalition, and remained obstinate between the two
alternatives. Nor did he falter until he destroyed his own prestige.
The country itself would have been sacrificed but for the national
uprising which some years later compelled him to take a decided stand.
The Directory had longed to secure Prussia as part of the French
system in Europe, and finally sent Sieyès to engage her as an ally.
But the envoy spent more energy in intriguing against his employers,
and in devising schemes for the monarchical system which was to
supplant them in France, than in his proper work, and succeeded only
in confirming the King of Prussia in his policy. Bonaparte sent two
representatives, Duroc and Beurnonville, to renew the negotiation and
obtain Prussia's active assistance. They were received with much show
of kindness, and the hopes of the latter envoy rose high, but only to
be shattered. Privately the King notified Sandoz, his minister in
Paris, that if France were defeated in the inevitable impending
conflict, Prussia would reclaim her territories on the left bank of
the Rhine, and declare war to secure them. The treaties in which she
had renounced them were waste paper in this case; but until the event
were decided she would stir neither hand nor foot.

With Prussia persistently neutral, and all the minor states
exasperated not only by the continued billeting of French troops upon
them, but by new demands for money, France was virtually left alone
against Austria and England in the coming campaign. This situation was
perfectly clear to the French people; but in view of all that had
happened since the change of government, it appeared to every one not
only as if reasonable offers of peace on the part of the First Consul
had been refused, but as if French honor were inseparably united with
the policy of war forced upon him. Though not proved, it is reiterated
that this was what Bonaparte wanted. Subsequent events support the
hypothesis; and if it be true, no schemer ever met with such perfect
success. A career of aggressive extension was apparently forced upon
him.

Three great revolutionary concepts of foreign policy were therefore
the outcome of Bonaparte's studies in the exhibition of Austrian and
British policy, of French temperament and personal ambition: the
mastery of the Mediterranean basin and thereby of the Orient; the
extension of a revolutionary liberal system in Europe by the conquest
and protectorate of the Continent; and the leadership of the world for
the French nation, still as ever enthusiastic for lofty ideals and
great deeds. Similar notions had not been foreign to the ancient
régime, but England had prevented their fulfilment. The republic,
having vaguely enlarged them, had fought for them as France had never
fought before, because these things were not to be achieved for a
dynasty, and were now illuminated by visions of human regeneration.
Still England stood in the way. Bonaparte had given them new shape and
new intensity with new definition; logically his success would stand
for that most splendid of ideals which has ever dazzled poets,
theologians, and kings--the universality of empire for peace and its
arts, and the consequent elevation of all mankind. By the conquests of
Alexander, Cæsar, and Charles the Great, animated as was each in turn
by ambition and fiery zeal, nations, tribes, and institutions had been
melted in one crucible. Each of those heroes had done a wondrous work
in the advance of civilization, but their gains had been indirect. The
experiment was to be tried for a fourth time. Would England again and
finally dash the French Utopia into ruins?

For the moment Great Britain might be well content. India was safer
for the overthrow of Tippoo, Ceylon was conquered, Egypt blockaded,
and supremacy regained in the West Indies as well. Malta was in her
hands, the Dutch fleet had been destroyed, the French and Spanish
fleets were imprisoned at Brest. It is true the liberal agitations
inaugurated and kept alive by the discontent of her middle and lower
classes were hard to repress; but they were mercilessly crushed as
they came to the surface, and on the whole, public opinion supported
the policy. That Grenville was subsidizing Georges Cadoudal with half
a million francs to reorganize the Chouannerie of western France, and
strike the "essential blow," was barely suspected. The proof has only
come to light a century later. Assassination is an ugly word: it was
not used, but it was contemplated. If this were the temper of Great
Britain, that of Austria, her ally, was even more irreconcilable.
Expansion in Italy was the focal concept of her policy. There was no
expense of money and men she would refuse to consider for erasing the
blot of Campo Formio. She had recruited her treasury and her army by
British aid, and was defiant. The letter to her Emperor from the First
Consul, as of equal to equal, was a crowning insult.

The first four months of the Consulate had not left the First Consul
without enemies at home both numerous and bitter; moreover, many
narrow minds--men who, like Talleyrand, were ignorant of how
impossible the permanent return of the Bourbons had become--considered
Bonaparte's tenure of power only as a transition to the old order. But
at the critical instant, in April of the last year of the eighteenth
century, France as a whole, including even the factions which had
hoped to use him as a tool, felt that her doctrines, her aspirations,
and her fate were personified in the great Corsican. His own motives
may properly be stigmatized as those of personal ambition; but they
were much more. Half educated and half barbarous as he was in his
disdain of human limitations, there was in his heart a clear
conception that good can come only of good, and therefore he had a
definite purpose to do the most possible in order to illuminate his
own rise by the regeneration of society. Himself a man without a
country,--for all his patriotic aspirations perished in Corsica's
desperate failure,--he cared little for territorial limits, and
utterly failed to comprehend the strength of national ties. Without
sincere ecclesiastical feeling or an earnest faith, he partly
understood the value of religious sentiment in the individual, but
underrated utterly its moral preponderance in the social organism. The
church to him was little more than a "white" police force. A
consummate actor, he estimated at its full the influence of the
dramatic word and situation on the common mind, but was often
self-deceived while believing others misled or beguiled by his acting.

It is not at all inconsistent with a possible sincerity in the
ostensibly pacific foreign policy he was pursuing that, even before
the decision to fight had apparently been forced upon him, two
manifestoes rang out to the troops. To the Army of the Rhine he said:
"You have conquered Holland, the Rhine, and Italy, and have dictated
peace under the walls of terrified Vienna. Now it is not a question of
defending your borders, but of overpowering hostile states." To the
Army of Italy in particular he said, with reference to a too notorious
instance in which during the previous year a half-brigade had shown
the white feather: "Are they all dead, the brave men of Castiglione,
of Rivoli, and of Neumarkt? They would rather have perished than have
been untrue to their colors; and they surely would have dragged their
younger comrades on to honor and to duty. Soldiers, you say your
rations are not regularly distributed. What would you have done if,
like Four and Twenty-two of the light infantry, like Eighteen and
Thirty-two of the line, you had found yourselves in the midst of the
desert, without bread, without water, with nothing to eat but the
flesh of horses and mules? 'Victory will give us bread,' said they;
and you--you desert your standards!" Such words, from such a man,
could leave no soldier of any nation unmoved. The Frenchmen in the
ranks were thrilled by them; the general who wrote them understood
that peace without glory was a broken reed for an aspiring ruler. He
had proffered the olive-branch, but he must, in order completely to
win his people, chastise those who had spurned it. Austria, in
particular, must get another lesson in humility.

On the eve of active operations in the first months of 1800 the
military situation was as follows: The Italian line stretched from
Genoa around by Savona to the Col di Tenda. On it were thirty thousand
men, under Masséna, while ten thousand more guarded the passes of the
Alps. Confronting it was an Austrian force of eighty thousand men,
under Melas, a general of the old formal school, hampered by tradition
and by the machinery of the Aulic Council in Vienna. In Tuscany, in
the Papal States, and in Piedmont were twenty thousand Austrian
soldiers in garrison. On the Rhine stood Moreau, with a hundred and
twenty thousand men, facing a less able antagonist than Melas in the
person of Kray, whose army was about equal in number to his own. The
Austrian lines stretched from the falls of the Rhine northward by
their headquarters at Donaueschingen to Kinzig. The greatest of the
Austrian generals, the Archduke Charles, was not in the field. A
sensitive epileptic, he had been wounded by the incessant and meddling
interference of the Vienna bureaucrats, and had temporarily withdrawn
from service. The plan of Francis and his ministry was to drive back
Masséna's inferior force; then, with the aid of the English fleet,
which arrived in March, under Keith, to reduce Genoa, where Masséna
was sure to make a stand; then to cross the Var, and increase the
numerical superiority of the Austrians still further by a union with
the royalists of Provence, who were organizing under Pichegru, just
escaped from Guiana; and finally to carry the war into the heart of
France, while Kray held Moreau in check.




CHAPTER XV

STATESMANSHIP AND STRATEGY[16]

         [Footnote 16: The important military authorities are
         Napoleon's own letters and bulletins. Dumolin: Précis
         d'histoire militaire. Yorck von Wartenburg: Napoleon als
         Feldherr. Jomini: Histoire critique et militaire des guerres
         de la Révolution, 1792-1803. Dodge: Napoleon. Clausewitz:
         Werke. For other material see Thugut's letters, Marbot's
         memoirs, Thiébault's Journal of the Blockade of Genoa, Valmy:
         Histoire de la Campagne de 1800, Alison's Castlereagh,
         Woronzow's Archives, and Bailleu: Essays in the Historische
         Zeitschrift, vols. 77 and 81; Cugnac: Campagne de l'armée de
         reserve en 1800, La campagne de Marengo; Gachot: La deuxième
         campagne d'Italie; Neipperg: Aperçu sur la bataille de
         Marengo; Hüffer: Quellen zur Geschichte des Zeitalters der
         französischen Revolution; Picard: Bonaparte et Moreau.]

     Bonaparte's Plan of Campaign -- His Relation to Moreau -- The
     Reserve Army -- The Movements of Moreau -- The Austrians Defeated
     -- Further Advance of Moreau -- Bonaparte with the Army -- The
     Italian Campaign -- Position of the Austrians -- The St. Bernard
     -- Passage of the Alps -- Military Problems -- Grand Strategy --
     Bonaparte's Preparation.


By an article of the new French constitution the First Consul might
not be also commander-in-chief of the forces; but, as he said to Miot
de Melito, nothing forbade him to be present with the army.
Nevertheless, his military greatness was now for the first time to
display its stupendous proportions. Hitherto, superb as had been his
achievements, they had been won as a subordinate carrying out one part
of a large plan, and securing prominence for his own ideas only by
disregarding those of nominal superiors. Now he had charge of a great
war in its entirety. There was but one obstacle--Moreau's ability and
jealousy. With the superiority of true greatness, Bonaparte at once
took in the military situation, and, disregarding all the vexing
details which would pass for essentials with men of less ability,
analyzed it into its large and simple elements. If Kray were beaten,
the French army could reach Vienna, and dictate peace before Melas
could produce an effect in Italy. His plan, therefore, was to unite
near Schaffhausen the various portions of the reserve army which he
had quietly been organizing, and, covered by the Rhine, to effect a
junction with Moreau; then by overwhelming superiority of numbers to
turn Kray's left flank, cut off his connections, and, taking his army
in the rear, either capture or annihilate it. Moreover, a detachment
of this victorious force could then cross the easy lower passes of the
Alps, and attack the Austrian army in Italy from the rear, even if in
the interval that force should have been victorious. In this one great
combination lies the proof of its author's genius. Its five great
strategic principles are these: one line of operation, with one
offensive; the massing of the army as the first aim; the line of
operation on the enemy's flank verging toward his rear; the
surrounding of the enemy's wing so as to jeopardize his connections;
and lastly, the defense of your own connections. Standing in sharpest
contrast with those of his great predecessor Frederick, these
principles have not yet been overthrown even by modern science, nor by
the revolutionary change which has taken place in the material of war
and in the number of men engaged in modern conflicts.

But the idea was too great for the conditions. Moreau would not serve
as second in command, and Bonaparte was perfectly aware that he
himself was not yet sufficiently firm in his political seat to
alienate a rival so influential. In fact, on March sixteenth, he wrote
a private letter to Moreau, in which he said: "General (p.~164)
Dessoles will tell you that no one is more interested than I am in
your personal glory and in your happiness. The English are embarking
in force. What do they want? I am to-day a sort of manikin which has
lost its liberty and its happiness. Greatness is fine, but only in
memory and in imagination. I envy your happy lot. You are going to do
great things with brave men. I would gladly exchange my consular
purple for the epaulets of a brigade commander under your orders." All
the First Consul's military conceptions had to be carefully
propounded; that for a campaign in central Germany was not carried out
until several years later. Moreau, conscious of his own powers, would
not even accept Bonaparte's suggestions for conducting the passage of
the Rhine. He was therefore left perforce to act independently except
for instructions from Paris that he should take the offensive at once,
and drive the enemy into Bavaria behind the Lech, so as to intercept
his direct communication with Milan by way of Lake Constance and the
Grisons. Lecourbe, with twenty thousand men, was to watch the higher
Alpine passes. The dangerous rival was then left entirely to himself,
and the destination of the reserve army was changed to Italy. This, of
course, was done in order that such success as Moreau would certainly
have won with its aid might not endanger the political situation in
Paris. He must not be permitted to retrieve a reputation sullied both
by his suspected connection with Pichegru's conspiracy, and by his
participation, contrary to lifelong professions, in the revolution of
Brumaire.

Early in March the existence of the hitherto hidden army was revealed
by an order for its advance toward Zurich to prepare for crossing the
Alps. Switzerland, having fallen into French hands through Masséna's
operations of the previous year, and being therefore no (p.~165)
longer neutral, its territory was open for use in offensive operations
against the foe. Masséna had received his first instructions a few
days earlier. They were to concentrate the Army of Italy in order to
defend Genoa and the entrance to France. Melas would surely follow the
well-worn Austrian plan of advancing in three columns for a concentric
attack. The French general was to avoid two, and meet the third with
all his strength. In April, however, he was informed of the new
combination, and told to stand on the defensive until the reserve army
had crossed the Alps. "The art of war," Bonaparte always said, "is to
gain time when your strength is inferior." This Masséna, with
brilliant capacity, undertook to do when, on April sixth, the brave
and veteran Melas attacked him with sixty thousand men. But in spite
of repeated successes against superior numbers, before the end of the
month active resistance became impossible, and the whole French center
was compelled to withdraw on April twenty-first behind the walls of
Genoa, the situation of which now became precarious, for it was
blockaded by the English fleet, and provisions were growing very
scanty, not more than sufficient stores for a month being available.
Suchet, with the left of Masséna's army, ten thousand strong,
retreated along the coast, pursued by Melas with twenty-eight
thousand, until on May fourteenth the former crossed the Var. Ott,
with twenty-four thousand men, was left to beleaguer Genoa, in which
Masséna held out until June fourth--a siege considered one of the most
stubborn in history.

Such had been the wretched management of the previous year in the
department of war at Paris that Moreau's force was not properly
supplied in any particular, and he would not move until a month after
the time arranged. It was not until April twenty-fifth, (p.~166)
after an urgent request from Bonaparte, that he ventured to carry out
his own cautious plan for the passage of the Rhine in four divisions
instead of in one united body, as the First Consul had suggested. Less
was risked, and probably less was won; but the complicated movement
was prosperous. Making a feint as if to occupy the Black Forest, he
completely misled Kray as to his real intentions, and induced him to
abandon his strong position at Donaueschingen. By a series of clever
countermarches, in which the Rhine was crossed and recrossed several
times by various French corps, the whole of Moreau's command was
finally united beyond the Black Forest, having successfully outflanked
not only that dangerous mountain-range, but also the enemy, which was
still occupied in guarding its eastern exits.

The movement was brought to a fortunate conclusion by the French
advance, before which the Austrians withdrew to secure a position. In
the last days of April Moreau found himself with only twenty-five
thousand men facing the mass of the Austrians under Kray at Engen. In
the rear, on his left, but beyond reach, was a division of his own
army under Saint-Cyr. On May second, expecting their speedy arrival,
he joined battle with his inadequate force. The reinforcements did not
arrive; but after a desperate fight, with serious loss, he defeated
the enemy. Next day Saint-Cyr came in, and the Austrians, having
learned that Stockach with its abundant stores had fallen into the
hands of the French division under Lecourbe, withdrew northeastward
toward the Danube. Moreau's success was unqualified. Kray could no
longer retreat toward the Tyrol by Switzerland and the Vorarlberg; he
had also lost a large supply of munitions most precious to their
captors, besides five thousand prisoners and three thousand killed.

Nevertheless, he was still undismayed, and two days later made a stand
at Messkirch. After an embittered and sanguinary conflict on May fifth
he was again defeated. The victory of Moreau would have been
overwhelming but for a second inexplicable failure of Saint-Cyr to
bring his division into action. Investigation revealed that while that
division general had displayed no zeal and had evinced no good will in
the interpretation of orders, he had strictly obeyed their letter. His
laxity was therefore overlooked. It was soon found that the Austrians
were again gathered to defend their depots at Biberach. This time
Saint-Cyr was ardent, and with conspicuous fire he led his inferior
numbers against the enemy's center, driving them from their position.
Still aglow with victory, he then called in a second division under
Richepanse, and attacking again the main body of the enemy's army,
which was drawn up on the slopes of the Mettenberg, dislodged them
from that position also. Two days later Lecourbe captured Memmingen
with eighteen hundred prisoners, and on the tenth the Austrians
withdrew to make a determined stand on a fortified camp at Ulm. It is
probable that in two days Moreau would have driven them from that
position if his force had been left intact; but Carnot had come in
person to ask for the detachment of Lecourbe's corps to serve in
Italy, and a request from such a man could not well be denied.

The First Consul had studied the situation of France as carefully as
he had analyzed that of Europe. Bernadotte was chief in command of all
the soldiers within the confines of the republic. He was bound in the
most solemn way to treat every faction with the utmost consideration
and gentleness far and near throughout the land; above all, to lull
the West into repose. To the judicious Cambacérès was intrusted the
supreme power at Paris: "during the absence of the First Consul," his
orders ran. His duty was to repress without pity every symptom of
disturbance by the aid of the police under Fouché and the soldiery
under Dubois. The news was carefully spread about that Bonaparte would
soon return, very shortly in fact; there was uneasiness among the
best-disposed at the thought of his absence, of his carefully balanced
machinery left to the care of others. His departure was carefully
arranged. The partizans of Masséna were alert that the fortunes of
their hero should not be sacrificed. The news, true though inaccurate,
that Kléber had capitulated in Egypt made little stir, but the fact
was rather ugly. "Have it understood," were Bonaparte's later
instructions to Talleyrand, "that had I remained in Egypt that superb
colony would have been ours, just as, had I remained in France, we
would not have lost Italy." Desaix, of whose eminent ability and
vigorous character Bonaparte had formed the highest opinion, was
already on the way, and for him a letter was left urging his presence
at the earliest moment in Italy. The glorious news of Moreau's
brilliant successes was read from the stage of the opera, where the
First Consul led the enthusiastic cheering, and that very night,
having sent a message of congratulation to the conqueror, "glory and
thrice glory," he departed for Dijon. Next day Paris was reassured,
gay and brilliant. It so continued until his own triumphant return.
Resting for a short day at Dijon, he hurried on to Geneva, where he
remained for three days in consultation with Necker. Thence he passed
to Lausanne, where Carnot arrived with the news of his successful
mission. Moreau had been flattered by the great consideration implied
in such an embassy. From every side the news was satisfactory.
Berthier's work of organization was thorough and complete: the raw
recruits were drilled to efficiency. The generals were resplendent in
health, spirits, and fine uniforms. The First Consul, clad in the blue
frock of his civil office, wearing at times his rather shabby gray
overcoat, with a slim sword at his side and a soft cocked hat on his
head, was a very inconspicuous figure indeed. He was with the army,
but not apparently in formal command.

Bonaparte's earlier plan for using the reserve army was that it should
take up the division of Lecourbe, cross from Zurich by the Splügen
into Italy, where, absorbing Masséna's force, it would finally number
over a hundred thousand, and be sufficiently strong to conquer Melas.
But the latter's immense superiority of numbers throughout April had
enabled him in the mean while to cut off all communication with
Masséna, and the worst was feared. It was determined, therefore, to
cross the Alps much farther to the westward; and Berthier was ordered
to study first the St. Gotthard and the Simplon, then both the Great
and Little St. Bernard passes, the former of which was still
erroneously held to be Hannibal's route. This easy adaptation to
changing conditions was another sign of the First Consul's military
greatness. The idea of a march to Milan was likewise quickly abandoned
in order to relieve Masséna the sooner by way of Tortona. By May ninth
all was in order. By "general's reckoning, not that of the office," as
Berthier's words were, there were forty-two thousand men on or near
the Lake of Geneva. When Bonaparte arrived at Lausanne on the tenth,
Lannes was at the foot of the Great St. Bernard, with eight thousand
infantry; four other divisions, comprising twenty-five thousand men,
stood between Lausanne and the head of the lake; another, of five
thousand men, under Chabran, was in Savoy at the foot of the Little
St. Bernard. Besides these, Turreau, with five thousand men who had
originally formed part of Masséna's left wing, was at the southern end
of the Mont Cenis pass; and the fifteen thousand men detached from
Moreau were already marching under Moncey toward the northern entrance
of the St. Gotthard.

The situation of the Austrians and the French in Italy had not
materially changed on May thirteenth, and was of course still to the
advantage of the former. Masséna was in Genoa with twelve thousand
available troops and sixteen thousand sick or wounded. Ott was
conducting the siege with twenty-four thousand men. Melas, with his
twenty-eight thousand men, was still on the Var, firmly convinced that
the French reserve army would unite with Suchet's ten thousand in
Provence and attack from the front. Five days later he was informed of
the truth, and leaving a corps of seventeen thousand to guard the
Riviera, hurried with the rest back to Turin, which he reached on the
twenty-fifth. Ten thousand Austrians were watching the St. Gotthard at
Bellinzona, three thousand were in the valley of the Dora Baltea to
observe the southern exit from the St. Bernard range, while five
thousand were on the Dora Riparia and one thousand on the Stura for
similar purposes regarding the Mont Cenis. Six thousand were marching
from Tuscany to reinforce Melas, and three thousand remained there;
while in the Romagna, in Istria, and in various garrisons of upper
Italy, were sixteen thousand more.

On May fourteenth began what has been justly considered one of
Bonaparte's most daring and brilliant moves. Even at the present day
and after extensive improvement of grade, the road over the Great St.
Bernard is for a long stretch barely passable for wheeled vehicles; it
was then a wretched mule-track, more like the bed of a mountain
torrent than a highway, and at that season of the year storms of snow
and sleet often rage about the hospice and on the higher reaches of
the path. The First Consul had carefully considered the great outlines
of his strategy; the detail had wisely been left to able lieutenants.
One by one the successive divisions, with that of Lannes at the front,
climbed the steeps, crossed the yoke, and passed down on the other
side to Aosta. There was, of course, some snow, and there was in any
case no track for the gun-carriages; the cannon were therefore
dismounted, laid in sledges of hollowed logs, and dragged by sheer
human force along the rough highway.

The passage into the upper vale of Aosta was commonplace enough, and
on the sixteenth the head of Chabran's column also arrived there
safely by way of the Little St. Bernard. But every enterprise has its
crisis. Lower down, on an abrupt and perpendicular rock, was Fort
Bard, which entirely controlled the valley. It proved to be
impregnable. Lannes hesitated for a day. Berthier wrote him that the
fate of Italy, perhaps of the republic, hung upon its capture. This
proved to be a pardonable exaggeration. The French van took a rude
mountain-path which lay to the northward over Monte Albaredo, and,
leaving their artillery behind, advanced, or rather climbed across,
toward Ivrea. Bonaparte himself came up two days later, and, hearing
that Melas had now left the Var, ordered the path to be improved.
Lannes, in the interval, attacked Ivrea, but failed for want of
cannon. Marmont, the chief of artillery, could not wait for the
engineers to complete the new road, but, wrapping all his wheels in
hay, and strewing the streets of the hamlet at the foot of Fort Bard
with dung, carried all the guns safely past under cover of night. The
Austrians could not fire in a plumb-line downward, and, though aware
of the movement, they were helpless. The garrison held out for a time,
but surrendered on June first. Ivrea fell at once; the three thousand
Austrians in the valley were scattered; and the Italian plains lay
open to the daring adventurers, many of whom, having once outflanked
the Alps under the same leader, had now attacked and surmounted them.
Their enemy was first incredulous, then surprised and undecided; his
forces were so scattered that it seemed as if he could no longer hold
Tortona. Should that fortress fall into French hands, Genoa could be
promptly relieved.

Bonaparte at once became perfectly aware not only of the Austrian
position, but also of the favorable opportunity it opened for him. His
ideas began immediately to expand and change. Why not take advantage
of the time which must intervene before the Austrians could
concentrate for a decisive action, leave Masséna to hold Genoa a few
days longer, himself march to Milan and secure Lombardy, then cross
the Po, and, after having cut off all Melas's connections, offer him
battle? That a single battle might decide the fate of Italy was the
conception of a strategist. The inverse order of defeating Melas,
relieving Genoa, taking Milan, and driving the enemy behind the Adda,
would have meant a long campaign. This was the first appearance of
this keen conception, which recurs twice more in Napoleon's life--in
1809 and in 1813.

Before the end of the month every portion of the army had done its
work. Turreau was over Mont Cenis, and had driven in the Austrian
guards. Moncey had passed the St. Gotthard in safety, and was ready at
Bellinzona. A side column under Bethencourt had crossed the Simplon
and was near Domo d'Ossola. On June second the united French force had
crossed the Ticino in safety, and the vanguard entered Milan as the
Austrian garrison withdrew first to Lodi and then to Crema. Murat was
despatched with his cavalry to drive the retreating columns so far
that they could not interfere with the next serious operation, the
crossing of the Po. Bonaparte celebrated his return not only by the
reëstablishment of the Cisalpine Republic and by great civic
festivals, but by a religious solemnity at which he declared his
respect for the Holy Father and his attachment to the faith. The great
cathedral was his special charge. Among the statues of saints which
adorn its myriad pinnacles, one of the best is his own portrait.




CHAPTER XVI[17]

         [Footnote 17: References as before. The memoirs of Bourrienne
         are a publisher's enterprise, valuable in many places when
         controlled by other authorities: but for this period they are
         untrustworthy, as are those of Marbot. The memoirs of
         Antommarchi have little value except as he corroborates more
         authentic statements by others. Roederer's works are
         specially valuable for this period. Further, see Hüffer:
         Quellen zu 1799-1800; Sargent: Campaign of Marengo, Relation
         de Neipperg; Vivenot: Thugut, Clerfayt und Wurmser; Fournier:
         Skizzen; Du Casse: Négociations de Lunéville; Bowman:
         Preliminary Stages of Peace of Amiens; Pajol: Kléber, sa vie,
         sa correspondance.]

MARENGO

     Surrender of Genoa -- Bonaparte's Strategy -- Politics at Milan
     -- His Over-confidence -- The Chosen Battle-field -- Victor at
     Marengo -- The French Overpowered -- Defeat Retrieved -- Desaix
     and Kléber -- A Pattern Campaign -- Plots in Paris -- France
     Conquered in Italy -- Significance of Marengo -- Bonaparte
     Returns to Paris -- His Bid for Peace -- Austria Disavows the
     Negotiations -- Conferences at Lunéville -- Hostilities Renewed.


The news of all these movements reached Melas at Turin, where, with
the ordinary perspicacity of a good army general, he had expected the
battle. With Suchet to the westward on the Var, and Bonaparte in
front, his situation was critical. His first intention was to advance
by Vercelli, and fall on Bonaparte's rear; but learning how great the
force was which had crossed the St. Gotthard, he chose as a
rallying-point for his army the town, of Alessandria, the situation of
which amid lowlands and sluggish streams resembles that of Mantua, and
made it in those days of short range and weak projectiles a powerful
fortress. It was his daring intention to break through the French
center. Meantime Masséna, having conducted the defense of Genoa with
heroism and persistency until the last, had been forced to open
negotiations for surrender. He was embittered, charging that he was
both deserted and sacrificed: a glance at the map will show how
utterly impossible it would have been for the French forces from the
north to have crossed and recrossed the Apennines for his relief, and
moreover the strategic moves did not and could not foresee the
ill-advised Austrian tenacity in the siege of Genoa, at a time when
Melas's necessity required every man within reach to rally at
Alessandria as swiftly as possible. Could the French general have held
out for three days longer, Ott would have been compelled to raise the
siege in order to release his own troops for the greater struggle soon
to take place. As it was, the terms offered were the best possible,
and on June fourth the French marched out with eight thousand men
under no conditions, leaving the scene by water, however, instead of
joining Suchet to strengthen the army at once: a move which Bonaparte
savagely condemned in his latter days. On the sixth Ott left with his
army for the Austrian rendezvous. Had he renounced the capture of
Genoa, he might have joined the force of Melas with his army unharmed.
The sequel showed that some one had made a serious mistake; and that
some one was not the French commander-in-chief.

Simultaneously Bonaparte was directing from Milan the slow passage of
the great river at three points between Piacenza and Pavia, and
bringing in from all around the scattered companies which had been
clearing the country in various skirmishes. He left a fortified camp
at Stradella and five available bridges over the Po, in case he should
be beaten and compelled to retreat. On the eighth one of Melas's
couriers to Vienna was captured, and his despatches, which told of the
disaster at Genoa, also put the First Consul in full possession of
his antagonist's movements and plans. The French and Austrians began
their advance about the same time; the former, however, in closer
formation and less widely separated from one another. Ott and Lannes
met at Casteggio, near Montebello. Bonaparte's orders were to destroy,
if possible, the first Austrian column which appeared, "as it must of
necessity be weak." In the first struggle the French, who were much
inferior in numbers, were worsted; but reinforcements coming up
quickly under Victor, their rout was speedily turned into victory, and
the enemy was driven back upon the Scrivia, with the loss of four
thousand men.

The short week in Milan, from June second onward, was a fine
exhibition of Bonaparte's concentrated energy. There were a triumphal
entry, most impressive, a series of eloquent bulletins, soul-stirring
and illuminating, and a political reorganization of the Cisalpine
Republic, object-lesson to France of what she had to expect. The
horrors of Austrian rule were exhibited and execrated. What else could
be expected from the kings of Europe? As to religion, the people want
their worship, let the priests perform the desired rites. From Genoa,
when it fell into French hands, as it did within a few days, the
proclamation went forth announcing the policy of the Consulate. In the
exercise of its power the government would completely restore the
Roman Catholic cult, first because religion is essential to and in
man, second because that of Rome is the best form, and lends itself
best to democratic republican institutions. What had already happened
in France was sufficient evidence that the First Consul would arrange
matters with the new Pope, and recognize him, irregular as his
election had been.

[Illustration: Map of the Marengo Campaign.]

Melas was still west of Alessandria, at a distance of two days'
march. Bonaparte, after leaving Milan for headquarters, remained in
the rear, gathering and ordering the advancing army, but giving no
sign, by a personal appearance on the front, until all was in
readiness, of where the decision would be taken. It was a maxim ever
on his lips to prepare for a decisive action by bringing in every
available man; no one could tell when the result might turn on the
presence of a few men more or less. In this instance he was apparently
untrue to his own principle; for no less than twenty-three thousand
men had been sent so far out of reach--some to cut off all chance of
Austrian escape to the north, east, and south, and some for various
other purposes--that he now had only thirty-four thousand men
available. His over-confidence was in a sense justified by the enemy's
mistakes, but it came near to costing dearly. It went so far that
Loison, with six thousand soldiers more, was left behind at Piacenza.
By the twelfth Melas had joined Ott at Alessandria, which, in view of
Bonaparte's grand strategy, was inevitable. Desaix, in obedience to
the urgent summons he had received from the First Consul, had finally
reached the French headquarters at Stradella on the eleventh, and was
immediately put in command of one of the three corps, his colleagues
being Victor and Lannes.

The flat land about Tortona and Alessandria is watered by two small
rivers, the Scrivia and the Bormida, which flow parallel to each other
northward toward the Po. Irrigating canals and minor tributary
streams, all bordered by pollard willows and other low trees, separate
the fields, which are themselves planted with orchards, or yield rich
crops of cereals. It was customary for Bonaparte to select an open
plain for his battles, if possible. He could then, without fear of
being hampered, use his favorite arm, the artillery, which he
frequently massed with terrible effect on the wings, while his
effective cavalry were sent in repeated onsets to break his enemy's
center, and deliver the opposing ranks in broken masses to the
musket-fire and bayonet charge of his infantry. Such fields were, of
course, numerous between Tortona on the Scrivia and Alessandria on the
Tanaro just west of its confluence with the Bormida. The best was near
the great highway which, coming from the east, connects these two
towns, and goes on, due westward, by Asti to Turin. Two roads of
importance lead southerly, one from each town, to Novi, where they
unite, and then proceed to Genoa. On the northern side of the triangle
thus formed, and only three miles eastward from Alessandria, lies the
hamlet of Marengo, where Victor was posted on June thirteenth,
awaiting the attack of Melas when he should sally from the fortress.
Lannes was about three miles behind at San Giuliano. Desaix had been
sent southward toward Novi, lest Melas should swerve in that direction
to try a flank movement. Bonaparte, with the consular guard,--a picked
corps of twelve hundred trusted veterans which he had developed from
that formed for personal protection in his first Italian
campaign,--stood at Tortona. He could hardly trust himself to believe
that the Austrians would be bold enough to make a direct attack, and
had therefore disposed his troops in this scattered way.

But Melas, though slow and old-fashioned, was intrepid, and the
Austrians were daring fighters. On the morning of the fourteenth he
began to cross the Bormida, and as his van drove the French outposts
to Marengo, he was able to deploy east of the stream. Victor received
orders to hold the village at any cost, in order to gain time for
concentrating the scattered French columns to the right and left of
his position, which was to be the center. On a level battle-field the
solid brick or stone walls of a village, of a churchyard, or of great
farm-courts like those of Lombardy, afford the most desirable shelter,
and oftentimes, as at Marengo, Aspern, and even Waterloo, the loss or
gain of such a position turns the tide of battle; for an army equipped
with flint-lock muskets and small unrifled field-pieces, though
victorious in the open, dares not leave a considerable portion of
their enemy thus ensconced in the rear. Hence the ever-recurring and
enormous importance of farmsteads and hamlets in the Napoleonic
battle-fields. Lannes was to deploy on the right, and Murat was sent
with his cavalry in part to support the forming line, and in part to
prevent a flank movement along the slow, willow-bordered current of
the Bormida. If Desaix could come up in time, he would form the left;
in the mean time the younger Kellermann was stationed with his
dragoons to guard Victor's open flank.

The first attacks of the Austrians were repulsed, but with loss and
difficulty. At ten in the morning Ott came up, and attacked Lannes's
flank. The fighting grew ever hotter and more desperate, and the news
from Desaix was that it would be four in the afternoon before he could
arrive. Bonaparte called in his small reserve, under Monnier, to
strengthen Lannes; but it was of no avail. By midday the French were
driven out of Marengo, their front was broken, and their columns were
in full retreat to the eastward toward San Giuliano. The First Consul
was in despair, and as a last resource sent in eight hundred of the
consular guard. For the first hour of the afternoon the retreat was
stayed. But the French were soon outflanked on their left by Austrian
cavalry, and again began to withdraw. Bonaparte sat by the roadside,
and, swishing his riding-whip, called to the flying men to stand and
wait for the reserve, a body of troops which did not exist. Seven
thousand soldiers--a fifth of his entire available force--had, it is
estimated, already fallen. Desaix was not yet within reach. Melas
believed he had won the day. Perhaps if the weight of seventy years,
and a slight wound, had left the Austrian commander personally less
exhausted, he would, in spite of having long endured the heat,
fatigue, and dust, have carried his victorious columns onward until he
had utterly scattered his enemy. As it was, he deputed the final
discomfiture of the disorganized yet slowly, stubbornly retreating
Frenchmen to Zach, his chief of staff, and returned to Alessandria.
His command, ordered in single main column, followed directly on,
while Ott, with a minor one, deviated toward the left to seek a
parallel line of pursuit.

At this juncture, about five in the afternoon, Desaix appeared at the
head of his hurrying line. In an instant Bonaparte had despatched
riders in every direction, who were instructed to declare that "the
French line is forming again." The discouraged men who were still in
the ranks took fresh courage, many stragglers were gathered in, and
the line was really formed once more. Marmont even collected a battery
of eighteen guns, and Kellermann, with the brigade of dragoons which
had so long covered Victor's left flank, suddenly reappeared in good
condition on Desaix's right. In a moment all was changed. Desaix and
Kellermann threw themselves with fury on the head and left of the main
Austrian column. The first half was soon in confusion; six thousand
men laid down their arms. The second half was demoralized, and took to
flight. Their officers rallied the flying lines with difficulty, but
sufficiently to hold a bridge over the Bormida until Ott had joined
the retreat and safely passed. Before dark a portion of Melas's army,
about twenty thousand of the thirty he had collected at Alessandria,
were all behind the stream, and the French were again in full
possession of Marengo. But the gallant Desaix had perished in the
moment of victory. "Of all the generals of the Revolution," said
Napoleon to Gourgaud, "I only know Hoche and Desaix who could have
gone further." Of the latter he said, during the voyage to St. Helena,
that he was the best general he had ever known.

There were, however, two others he might have recalled. It is true
that among all the purely French generals of the republic and the
Directory, the name of Hoche, so prematurely cut off by death, stands
highest. But there was another of similar renown: second only to his
is that of Kléber. The latter, recognizing the desperate situation of
the French colony in Egypt, early in the year 1800 concluded with Sir
Sidney Smith, at El Arish, a treaty for honorable withdrawal. But
there was delay in accepting it at London, and no preparations to
fulfil the terms were made. In the interval Kléber, alarmed by the
gathering force of Turkish troops, turned on the Turkish pasha--who
now stood at Heliopolis with seventy thousand men--with the sadly
diminished army of twelve thousand French, and on March twentieth,
1800, in the most amazing fight ever seen by an Egyptian sun, swept
the horde out of existence. It was his admirable administration during
the ensuing months which, together with the achievements of its
scholars, gave all the luster to the ill-starred expedition which was
ever shed upon it. On the very day on which, at Marengo, Desaix
received in his heart the fatal ball, Kléber fell a victim to the
dagger of a Mohammedan fanatic. The French humiliation in Egypt was
completed a year later by the surrender of his successor, Menou.
Moreau, therefore, was now the solitary able survivor of Revolutionary
traditions in warfare.

[Illustration: MARENGO 14 June, 1800.]

[Illustration: MARENGO 14 June 1800.

_A distance of about three and a half miles separates the field of the
morning battle at Marengo from the field of the evening battle near
San Giuliano; the Austrians retreated across the Bormida to
Alessandria; the French bivouacked near Marengo._]

Exactly a month after the passage of the St. Bernard had begun, the
Austrians opened negotiations, and their general agreed to evacuate
all northern Italy, with its strong places, as far as the river
Mincio. The only Italian lands to be left in Austrian occupation were
Tuscany and Ancona. The strategical lesson which Bonaparte drew from
the victory at Marengo is often repeated by writers on military
science; namely, that the art of war is the art of combinations. His
detractors claim the honors of the day for Desaix and Kellermann. The
judgment of posterity must be that of his contemporary critics. To
plan is already to manoeuver; but in war, as elsewhere, to will is one
thing, to do is another. A successful battle disorganizes an opposing
army, but successful strategy entirely destroys its power. When will
and deed accompany each other the result is conclusive. The victory at
Marengo was such a decision. Bonaparte the army commander lost it;
Bonaparte the general-in-chief won it, exactly as it was. But even if
Desaix had not appeared, success would have been gained elsewhere. The
road to Stradella was open, the French connections were unbroken.
Although such later explanations have little value, Napoleon was
probably right when he said to Gourgaud: The French army was in an
abnormal position with its rear toward Mantua and Austria. Its only
line of retreat was by the left bank of the Po, and to leave that line
of communication without defense was not permissible. In an ordinary
position all the detachments should be drawn in for battle. Here this
was impossible without losing all the advantage of the (p.~183)
campaign. Had we been defeated, this fault would have been no
reproach, though properly enough the loss of the battle would have
been attributed to it; in that case the strength of the positions held
by the troops would have been manifest, since to it the army would
have owed its safety, together with the chance to await reinforcements
from Switzerland and France, and to reassemble at Mentz, for thus we
could have maintained ourselves on the left bank of the Po, while
Melas could hope only to withdraw to Mantua and take his normal
position. This was Napoleon's commentary at the close of his life:
likewise he had declared, as Antommarchi asserts, that he would have
crossed the Po on one of his five bridges covered by his batteries,
would have combined his first division with those he had left behind,
and then would have attacked and destroyed each successive Austrian
corps as it crossed the stream in pursuit. In any case Marengo was the
pattern of an offensive campaign organized, not to win battles and
spare the lives of soldiers, but to destroy an enemy. In a just cause
this policy is great and humane; in an unjust cause any warfare is
butchery. To assert, as many do, that Marengo was superb, but
unpatriotic, is simply to renounce the cause in which it was fought.
As to the strategy of the campaign, the final judgment must be that of
Napoleon himself: To be a good general you must know mathematics; that
serves in a thousand circumstances to clarify your ideas. Perhaps I
owe my success to my mathematical ideas: a general should never make
pictures, this is the worst of all. Because a partizan has captured a
position, you need not think the whole army was there; my great
talent, my chief distinction, is to see clear in everything, it is
even the style of my eloquence to see beneath all its appearances the
root of the question. It is the perpendicular, shorter than the
oblique. The great art of battle is during the action to change the
line of operations: my own idea, entirely new. That made me the victor
at Marengo: the enemy moved against my line of operations to cut it; I
had changed it and he then found himself cut off.

Throughout his absence from Paris, Bonaparte's mind was almost as much
absorbed in home as in foreign affairs. His correspondence, packed as
it is with details, gives only a faint idea of the multiplicity of his
cares in regard to his family, the army, and the nation. The capital
was full of conspiracies, machinations, complots, and intrigues: it
could not be otherwise, and he felt it. There were the British and the
Chouans combining to rekindle the flames of civil war, and rid the
earth of the man who would not restore the Bourbons. The Institute was
embroiled over the restoration of the Fructidorians it had expelled.
There was Fouché to be cajoled and bribed with promises, if only the
police would repress the cabals forming everywhere like mushrooms.
There were Bernadotte and all the touchy generals, aspirants to power,
who must be flattered and soothed. There were the newspapers to be
inspired and fed by a carefully organized news bureau. There was
Josephine clamoring for money, and his brothers to be appeased. There
were the consuls to be guided and the wheels of government to be kept
oiled. All these matters received his attention.

But in spite of such comprehensive care, things went wrong. On June
nineteenth Cadoudal wrote to Grenville that everything was arranged,
insurrection would break out in the west and south: the royalists were
certain of success if only the sixty men selected should remove the
"personage" from the scene. Fouché warned his chief that the baser
radicals, a group composed of red Jacobins and disgruntled half-pay
soldiery, had despatched an agent to dog his footsteps. The purpose
may be imagined. Royalists and anarchists considered the First Consul
vermin. Talleyrand was carrying water on both shoulders: the insiders
of the administration styled him and Sieyès with their adherents the
Orleanist party, scheming to put some member of that line on an
ineffectual throne as a creature of the other monarchies. Lucien and
the Bonaparte family began to discuss heredity and talk of a
succession in the Consulate as in a kingdom. They gathered many
adherents: Orleanists and Bonapartists alike counted on the
possibility of the First Consul's death, either by assassination or in
battle, on the still higher probability of his defeat. Death and
defeat they considered were for him synonymous, all the plotters of
every sort and condition forming plans to share in the contingent
legacy of his overthrow. Victory alone could save the First Consul and
his personal rule: to conquer in Italy was to reign supreme in France.
The plain folk seem never to have doubted for a moment, and their
instinct was true.

Heretofore we have seen in Bonaparte the general and the politician
commingled, with the former preponderating; now we have carefully to
distinguish not one but almost two men in the First Consul, as
afterward in the Emperor--the statesman and the general. The former is
henceforward always prominent, always in evidence; the latter often
hides himself, and does his great work, in the service of the former.
The conflict at Marengo was the first of the statesman's four decisive
battles, and he knew it. It gave him the undisputed mastery of France.
There never was a fight more carefully explained to a nation, both at
the time and subsequently, than this one. There was real danger that
the temporary check might obscure in the common mind the true
greatness of the main conception and its execution. To prevent such a
mishap was essential. In the form of bulletins, of inspired articles
in the obsequious press, in conversations, by hints, innuendos, and
every other known channel, such reports were put in circulation as
insured the full value of a great success to the chief magistrate of
France. Combined with the victories of Moreau, it restored the
finances of the country; for that general, who had in the interval
occupied Munich, levied forty millions of francs in a lump on South
Germany, while Piedmont and the reorganized Ligurian and Cisalpine
republics were now each to pay monthly tribute amounting annually to a
similar sum.

Leaving Masséna to command the Army of Italy, the First Consul
hastened to Milan, where he tarried only long enough to despatch a
peace commissioner to Vienna. He then hurried on to Paris. The public
had not at first understood that the chief magistrate would so
daringly violate the constitution. When his intention to assume
military command became clear, there was no audible discontent; the
only effect was to create a coterie about Talleyrand which discussed
the consequences if the daring adventurer were to be killed. While
deliberating whether Carnot or Lafayette should be the coming man,
their session was indefinitely adjourned by receipt of the news and by
the speedy return of Bonaparte. His journey through the provinces was
a continuous ovation; every town had its triumphal arch. By his
command the reception which Paris gave to the man whom victory was
fast making her idol was ostentatiously kept within moderate limits,
but on the evening of his return--July third, 1800--the entire city
burst into one great illumination. Every one was talking of Hannibal
and the Alps, of the army climbing like chamois and toiling like oxen,
of the hospice of St. Bernard with its devoted brothers and their
sagacious dogs, of precipices and avalanches, and of the climax to all
these toils in the plains of Italy, not forgetting the touching loss
of the gallant and handsome Desaix.

The hour for display was past, the time for solid achievement had
arrived. First, if possible, the peace so ardently desired must be
secured. In a letter from Milan to the Emperor Francis, explaining why
it was Austria's interest to abandon England, and become the friend of
France, on the old terms of Campo Formio, Bonaparte wrote: "Let us
give peace and quiet to the present generation. If future generations
are foolish enough to fight, very well; they will learn after a few
years of warfare how to grow wise and live in peace." But Austria,
having just bargained for a new subsidy from the apparently
inexhaustible coffers of England, could not consider a separate peace,
and the cabinet sent an agent with very limited powers to see whether
France might not be brought to make some concessions which would be
useful toward a general pacification. The personage chosen was one of
those who seem by accident to enter now and then the solemn councils
of history in order to enliven their gravity by blunders and mock
heroism. The Count of St. Julien, an Austrian diplomatist attached
after the fall of Genoa to the army, had been chosen by Bonaparte to
carry his proposition for a general armistice to Vienna. It was he who
was sent back to Milan with an Austrian counter-proposition, accepting
the armistice, but suggesting clearer definition of the terms on which
peace was to be negotiated than could be found in the treaty of Campo
Formio, a document which intervening circumstances and new engagements
had rendered impossible of execution.

The luckless diplomat, finding in Milan that Bonaparte was already in
Paris, transcended his instructions, and followed. Arrived on the
banks of the Seine, he was welcomed with ostentatious heartiness, and
intrusted to the wiles of Talleyrand, who intended so to use his
victim as to convince the French people that peace was within easy
reach since they had a living plenipotentiary among them. Accepting
the French minister's large interpretation of his powers, the
flattered ignoramus made his first misstep, and began negotiations.
Within a week he had actually signed preliminaries the execution of
which would have definitely sundered Austria and England. When St.
Julien reached Vienna, in August, Thugut was infuriated, and passed
sleepless nights at the mere thought of a formal negotiation having
taken place without the knowledge of Great Britain, his master's ally
and indispensable support. In order to undo the mischief as far as
possible, an account of the facts was promptly sent to England,
Talleyrand's preliminaries were utterly rejected, and St. Julien
himself was disavowed and imprisoned.

The Austrian strength was nearly worn out, but new troops were raised.
The Archduke John, still a mere boy, but with talents vaunted as
superior to those of the Archduke Charles, was put in Kray's place.
Melas was removed to make way for Bellegarde, a younger but less able
man. The former had eighty thousand men and a reserve under Klenau;
General Iller, with thirty thousand, was in the Tyrol; and Bellegarde
was on the Mincio, with ninety thousand. The tried and skilful Cobenzl
was sent to reopen negotiations. Joseph Bonaparte was appointed French
plenipotentiary to meet him. Their conferences were held chiefly at
Lunéville, a frontier town southeast of Nancy. The prolongation of the
armistice necessary for these arrangements was bought by the cession
of three fortresses to Moreau, and was the more easily secured
because Bonaparte, though furious at his failure to secure peace in
consequence of Marengo, still felt that peace was imperative. Soon
afterward court intrigue at Vienna overthrew Thugut, and Cobenzl was
forced to betray the inherent weakness of his position. In order to
conceal Austria's exhaustion, he had been instructed to make a bold
demand for an English associate, and to plead urgency for a general
peace; but he secretly gave Talleyrand to understand that sufficient
concession in Italy would secure a separate peace with Austria.
Bonaparte had no intention either of suing for peace with England, or
of granting more than he had originally offered to Austria. Finally,
in November, he determined to renew hostilities, declaring that the
state of the nation and Austria's procrastination justified the
prosecution of the war. Joseph Bonaparte and the Austrian
plenipotentiary continued their parleyings at Lunéville, but the
armistice was ended.




CHAPTER XVII

THE PEACE OF LUNÉVILLE[18]

         [Footnote 18: For the four years of the Consulate see the
         memoirs of Lavalette, Barante, Mme. de Chastenay,
         Chateaubriand, Duport de Cheverny, Mme. de Genlis, Miot de
         Melito, Ouvrard, Savary, Thibaudeau, Thiébault, and Mme.
         Vigée-Lebrun; Lady Morgan's Memoirs and Autobiography, Mme.
         de Staël: Dix années d'exil; the travels of Sir John Carr,
         translated into French with notes by Albert Babeau; Arnault:
         Souvenirs de Lacretelle, Histoire du Consulat; Stenger: La
         Société Française pendant le Consulat; Du Casse: Histoire des
         négociations relatives aux traités de Lunéville et d'Amiens;
         Bailleu: Preussen und Frankreich von 1795 bis 1807; Beer:
         Zehn Jahre Oesterreichischer Politik; Daudet: Les Bourbons et
         la Russie; Beauchamp: Vie de Moreau; Lemaire: Vie de Moreau;
         Forneron: Histoire de l'Émigration; Daudet: l'Émigration.]

     Hostilities in Germany -- Moreau's Position -- Battle of
     Hohenlinden Moreau's Renown -- The Peace of Lunéville -- The Czar
     Withdraws from the Coalition -- The Temper of France Bonaparte
     and the Plain People -- His Capacity for Work His Social Defects
     -- His Strength and Independence The Emigrant Nobility -- Their
     Return -- Their Treatment.


On the opening of hostilities in Germany, the Austrians held a
position of great strength behind the Inn. Moreau's line was near
Munich, skirting the forests on the Isar. To strengthen his force,
troops enough were sent to raise his numbers to about a hundred
thousand men, and twenty-five thousand were stationed under Augereau
on the Main. Masséna, whose ever more pronounced republicanism had not
passed unnoticed at Paris, was found guilty of bad administration in
Italy, and was replaced by Brune. This eclipse was, as it was intended
to be, only temporary. Murat was stationed in central Italy to watch
Naples; Macdonald stood in the Grisons with fifteen thousand troops,
ready to turn north or south at a moment's notice, as exigency should
demand. The time had come for the conclusive blow where alone it could
be delivered, in Bavaria.

The defensive position of the Archduke John was very strong. Moreau
had carefully studied the advantages for battle of the high plain on
which he himself stood, and in the raw, damp days of early winter
reluctantly began to prepare for an advance. His enemy, with the
over-confidence of youth, made ready simultaneously to abandon all the
strength of his position, and likewise moved forward. The French could
hardly believe their senses when, on December first, their left was
checked in its advance and driven back by what was evidently the main
army of their enemy. Moreau made ready to receive the Austrians on
familiar ground. The evening of the next day found his army arrayed
near Hohenlinden, eighteen miles east of Munich, so that every avenue
of approach by the neighboring forests was in their hands, and every
road to Munich closed.

[Sidenote: 1800--01]

The famous battle began on the morning of December fourth. It opened
at half-past seven, the main attack being on the center. Moreau,
supported by Grenier, Ney, and Grouchy, easily sustained the onset,
while right and left the wings began to infold the Austrians, who were
now blundering through the unknown woodland paths. When all was ready,
Ney and Grouchy were suddenly detached to break through and join their
forces to those of Richepanse, which had reached the Austrian rear.
The manoeuver was successfully accomplished, and by three in the
afternoon the day was won for the French, with a loss that was slight
in comparison with that of the Austrians, which was upward of twenty
thousand killed and wounded, besides much artillery and immense
stores. The flight was a rout, and even the Archduke narrowly escaped
capture. Moreau's pursuit was sharp, and a fortnight later he was
within easy reach of Vienna, where confusion and terror would have
reigned supreme had not the Archduke Charles been persuaded to resume
the chief command in the extremity. Fortunately also for Francis, this
rapidity had left Augereau's corps in danger from the possible advance
of Klenau, and, much as Moreau would have liked to eclipse his rival
in Paris, he dared go no further, and was compelled to rest content
with having won a victory greater than any Bonaparte had gained. The
campaign was of course ended, and to release Augereau from all menace
an armistice was signed at Steyer on Christmas day. In Italy, Brune
had with difficulty advanced to Trent on the Adige. He was there to
join Macdonald, whose feat of leading fifteen thousand men across the
Splügen in the heart of winter had scarcely attracted the attention it
deserved.

The sober judgment of posterity in the light of the fullest
information is that well-nigh every movement of both the Austrian and
French armies at Hohenlinden was haphazard and bungling, the former
ignorant, the latter lucky. But what with an open road to Vienna on
the north and the prompt successes of the French forces south of the
Alps, the consequences were decisive. Moreau enjoyed a renown in
France that was, though fictitious, of enormous political value. The
First Consul must be the first in generous recognition so as not to
alienate an important group of republican supporters; he was quick to
see it and to use the fruits of victory.

Hohenlinden brought matters at Lunéville to a speedy conclusion. A
separate peace for Austria was signed on February ninth, 1801, which
virtually shattered the time-honored Hapsburg policy of territorial
expansion. Her line in northern Italy was fixed at the Adige; the
Grand Duke of Tuscany lost his land, and, like him of Modena, received
no other compensation except a grant from the Breisgau in Germany; the
Rhine, from source to mouth, was to be the French boundary; and the
temporal princes so maimed were to be indemnified by the
secularization of the ecclesiastical lands on the right bank. Austria
was thus not only left insignificant in Italy, she was deprived of her
independent station as a great power in Europe; she was even
threatened in her Germanic ascendancy, for the spiritual princes of
the empire were her main support in the Diet, and the diminution of
their numbers meant the supremacy of Prussia in Germany. The treaty
was negotiated for France by Joseph Bonaparte; it was signed by
Austria, not only for herself, but for the Germanic body, in which,
according to its terms, the First Consul might, if necessary,
intervene in order to secure the execution of the stipulations made in
the document.

Such provisions could only mean either the permanent humiliation of
Austria, or the resumption of hostilities whenever recruited strength
would permit. It is doubtful whether they would have been accepted
even then had not the First Consul finally succeeded in winning the
Czar to his cause. It will be remembered that in the previous year the
cession of Malta to Russia had been suggested by the French envoy at
St. Petersburg. This was, of course, another step in the process of
widening the dissension already created in the coalition. The
proposition had been received by the Czar with great delight; and
when, on September fifth, 1800, the English compelled the French
garrison of that fortress to capitulate, and, careless of the Grand
Master's rights, entered on full possession of the island, Paul,
openly accusing England and Austria of treachery, entered an "armed
neutrality" with Sweden, Denmark, and Prussia to check English
aggression at sea. The real motive of Frederick William III in joining
this movement was to repress Austria's aspirations for the annexation
of Bavarian lands. He persisted in his neutrality, and would make no
alliance with Bonaparte; but he was glad to see his rival weakened.
The Czar believed that by diminishing Austria's power in Italy that
state would be impotent to restrain Russia's ambition in the Orient.
One authority declares that the Czar had been assured by the First
Consul that he was about to restore the Bourbons, and would himself be
content with an Italian principality; but this is doubtful. So ardent
was the Russian autocrat, however, that he urged forward the
preparation of plans for the projected Franco-Russian expedition,
which was to march by way of Khiva and Herat, and strike at the heart
of England's power by the conquest of India. This was the first of
those sportive tricks which for years to come Bonaparte was so
triumphantly to play with the old dynasties of Europe. The success of
this combination temporarily secured the peace of the Continent on
terms most advantageous to himself.

The people of France were tired of the awful earnestness which had
characterized the philosophical and political upheavals of the
eighteenth century, and were ever more and more eager for glory and
for pleasure. This was true of all political schools, excepting only a
very few men of serious minds. The masses had come to loathe royalty.
They were living under what was called a republic, and when an
expression was needed for the national life as a whole they and their
writers employed the common classical term "empire." The word
"citizen," used in both genders as a form of address, recalled the
days of rude leveling. It had lasted through the Directory; with the
Consulate it disappeared, first from official documents, and then, in
spite of resistance by a few radicals, it soon gave place everywhere
to the old "monsieur" and "madame." In like manner the former habits
of polite society quietly reasserted themselves with the return to
prominence of those who had been trained in them. Liberty could no
longer be endangered by admirable usages whose connection with
monarchy was forgotten. Such incidents were significant of the
movement which, with the assured stability of the Consulate, brought
immediately to its service those persons who represented, not exactly
the greatness, but the capacity of France. Excepting that which was
resident in a few royalists and in a few radicals, the power of the
nation rallied to the support of the new order. When Daunou, Cabanis,
Grégoire, Carnot, and Lafayette were identified with the Consulate,
the Jacobinism which had turned the early nobility of the Revolution
into baseness might well hide its head. For a time, at least, the
majority believed that the highest aims of the Revolution were to be
attained under the new government.

The Bonapartes resided in the Luxembourg from November, 1799, to
February, 1800. In that short time a little coterie of visitors, with
many royalists in its number, had been regular in attendance; but the
republican side was studiously kept prominent, and thence the First
Consul had married his sister Caroline to Murat, the son of an
innkeeper at Cahors. During that period the anniversary of the death
of Louis XVI was stricken from the list of public festivals, but those
of July fourteenth, the storming of the Bastille, and of September
twenty-second, the founding of the republic, were kept. After the
installation of the family at the Tuileries, in February, 1800, there
was little change, except that a clever beginning was made in
ceremonial and etiquette, which augured further changes, and the
bearers of noble names became more and more prominent. "It is not
exactly a court," said the Princess Dolgoruki of the receptions, "but
it is no longer a camp." Toward those who aspired to the familiar
address of equality the First Consul grew more forbidding; to the
plain people in civil and military life he was always accessible, and
with them he was simple, even confidential, in his manner and tone. "I
have your letter, my gallant comrade," he wrote to a sergeant. "I know
your services: ... you are one of the brave grenadiers of the army.
You are included in the list for one of a hundred presentation swords
which I have ordered distributed. Every soldier in your corps thought
you deserved it most. I wish much to see you again. The minister of
war is sending you an order to come to Paris." After the battle of
Montebello, the affair fought by Lannes five days before Marengo, when
Coignet, a common soldier who could neither read nor write, but who
had performed several daring deeds in that, his first engagement, was
by Berthier's orders presented at ten in the evening to the Consul,
the latter playfully caught his visitor by the ear, and held him thus
during a short catechism. At the close, the delighted peasant,
entranced by such familiarity, saw his services noted in a mysterious
book, and was dismissed with the remark that no doubt, eventually, he
would merit service in the guard, the members of which must be
veterans of four campaigns. The effect of such incidents was to turn
the popular admiration into a passion.

No one ever declared that Napoleon Bonaparte was a gentleman animated
by trained self-respect and consideration for others. Many thought
his accesses of feverish sensitiveness, which now began to be noted,
were due to a hysterical temperament: in society he often sat in
forbidding silence; sometimes he wept tears which the world would
consider unmanly, and appeared to be temporarily disordered in his
mind. But he had much rude good nature and considerable wholesome
sensibility. He worked regularly from twelve to fifteen hours a day,
evolving schemes which paralyzed his secretaries by their magnitude.
The hours which such a man of affairs spent in the companionship of
women were not marked by that quick appreciation and attention which
gratify the great lady. No one has suffered more at the hands of women
than Bonaparte. Mme. Junot and Mme. de Rémusat forgot nothing which
would place his rude passions in glaring contrast with their own
chastity, or even with the polished laxity of that notoriously immoral
society which scorned old-fashioned restraints. The long struggle for
recognition and attention which that "femme incomprise," Mme. de
Staël, waged with Bonaparte ended in her defeat, and she then turned
against her antagonist the weapon of her clever pen.

It is certain that with all his genius the great statesman and the
great general failed to understand the power of woman. His youth gave
him no due share in the society of those mothers, sweethearts, and
female friends who, in the routine of daily life, by instinct,
training, and ability, mold every generation as it rises to its place.
The years of nonage were absorbed in political intrigue, and those of
early manhood in tasks not laid upon most men until middle life. Amid
the storms of the Revolution was formed a general without experience
in those social forces of peace which finally overpower all others.
His married life began in passion and ambition; the relation was
checked in its normal development by ensuing hurricanes of alternating
jealousy and physical attraction. The social power of his wife was
great, but superficial; and while she powerfully supported her
husband's ambitions, and often captivated his senses, she failed in
creating any companionship with him in noble enterprise. The innate
coarseness of a giant was, therefore, never diminished, and the
society of those who turned pleasing and pleasure into a fine art, who
regarded entertainment as the chief concern of life, was generally
irksome to a man who looked upon many over-ready women as instruments
for gratifying physical passion; to a general who saw in all women the
possible mothers of soldiers; to a "scientific" politician who looked
on the family and on children as inert factors in a mathematical
problem; to a wilful dictator ignorant of the unalterable supremacy of
woman in her own sphere. But even Mme. de Rémusat admits that there
were times and places when serious women with earnest notions of duty
received at his hands the most gracious and considerate treatment. In
the main, Napoleon's nature was so dominated by his gigantic schemes
that he was impervious to the feminine fascinations by which men are
so often ruled. He would tolerate neither Egerias nor Hypatias,
neither Cleopatras nor Messalinas, although the times might easily
have furnished him with examples of each type.

The Consulate is the period of Bonaparte's greatest and most enduring
renown. In what he did the new France was heartily sympathetic; the
old France, with all its vices, spite, and bitterness, though
existent, was in abeyance, and remained so for some years to come. The
multitudinous memoirs concerning the time were for the most part
written in the days of the Restoration, when the revulsion of feeling
created a passion for the basest defamation, and unduly magnified the
small defects of etiquette, behavior, and dress in the preceding
régime. The scraps of evidence which these writings afford ought to be
carefully examined, and viewed from the standpoint of the
circumstances which produced them. Such a task being well-nigh
hopeless, the deeds of the First Consul must speak for him rather than
the statements about them and him which he himself and others have
made. He was not in touch with the polite society of Paris; he
certainly did most arbitrarily banish from its precincts Mme. de
Staël, the brilliant woman whose writings many praise but few now
read, and whose home was the focus for the discontented ability of the
time; he never appreciated the spirit of true liberty, and he often
misapprehended the gentler spirits who in its name sought his powerful
protection and patronage; he was not sensitive to the finer sentiments
of the mind, often mocking at the "ideologues"; and while he enjoyed
the society of Josephine and her friends, he repelled their
interference with his plans, and apparently never forgot that her
jealous devotion had grown with his power and reputation. All this
must be admitted in characterizing Bonaparte at the height of his
greatness; but the vile innuendos, insinuations, and imputations of
sordid traits, which so abound in the diaries of the time, must be
considered in relation to the murky natures of those who recorded
them, and, with allowances for the time and the training of the man,
may be consigned to the limbo of malice from which they came.

Exile had broken the spirit but had neither softened the hearts nor
enlightened the minds of the long-banished aristocracy and their
friends. The new society looked on the thousands and thousands of
returned emigrants with some pity and much indifference as they
wandered about Paris and the other cities in faded, worn,
old-fashioned garb. Their abodes were in garrets and cellars, their
ancient titles were carefully concealed; the few who were recognized
and betrayed by some vindictive spy were persecuted by legal tricks
even to death, and the rest were cowed. Their cowardly precipitate
flight had saved their lives, but it had destroyed their king, their
honor, and their self-respect. Artois at Turin, Condé at Worms, the
petty nobles at Coblentz, the great ones at Brussels, the clergy in
England with their adherents, grandees and gentlemen; each of these
groups had suffered in a different way from the rest, but all had
finally found themselves objects of suspicion to their hosts, and had
long since been reduced to an ignoble poverty. The employment in
foreign armies for which they had hoped was so guardedly measured to
them that their services were inappreciably small. They had been
driven for support to teaching and other such noble employments as
they could secure, then by a sure descent many became artisans,
craftsmen, and even menials, but, failing that, they were frequently
reduced to base mendicity, holding their hands for the alms which
their sad appearance and murmured pleas drew from the passers-by. This
was particularly the case at Hamburg, where twenty-five thousand took
refuge, and at Erlangen in Bavaria. But they had scattered everywhere
and had been a byword in all Europe.

Nevertheless, throughout Convention, Terror, and Directory they had
cherished high hopes, preserved some forms of courtliness and
organization, had kept their anniversaries, their military style, and
even a formal system, social and military; had dreamed of a
restoration in full form and a return to one-time wealth, dignity, and
social power; political power they had not had within the memories of
men, ecclesiastical power they enjoyed not as Frenchmen but as
Romanists. Their old-time merry arrogance had given place to an acrid
humor born of hunger and want, but they kept their temper and ambition
in spite of the mistakes they committed and heaped one upon another,
cradling their own hopes in the disasters of the Directory, which so
outdid their own as to insure, they were convinced, the
reëstablishment of monarchy. Brumaire and its consequences opened
their eyes and confounded their plans; every step in the consolidation
of Bonaparte's power was a new blow to their pretensions, and the
amnesty which he tendered of his mercy was gall and bitterness. But
facts are stronger than feelings; they returned in throngs, a hundred
and twenty-five thousand at the lowest estimate, slowly and painfully
securing the erasure of their names from the list of proscription,
reveling in their mother tongue and familiar scenes, winning a poor
livelihood by their accustomed arts while scheming, fawning even to
secure the crumbs which fell from the tables of those in power. The
great ladies who had never fled gave them some poor comfort, the
Jacobins scoffed and jeered, but the versatile Talleyrand, and above
all the plotting Fouché, were open to suggestions.

Within some months their plight began to awaken considerable sympathy,
and that sympathy gradually found expression in the theaters and
newspapers. The next development was a movement to secure restoration,
at least in part, of patrimony and station. Then a mild but
symptomatic storm burst on their heads. The sequestered estates,
ecclesiastical and secular, were now in new hands, and as order
followed anarchy their values to the republicans who had acquired them
were steadily increasing. Any attempt to dislodge the (p.~202)
possessors would have meant the overthrow of Bonaparte's still
insecure power. So he treated the suppliants with contemptuous
disdain. What he had done was done. They were home once more and might
remain, if subservient: otherwise their existence was their own
affair. In the perspective of St. Helena he thought he had erred; that
he might have assembled all the considerable estates still in state
ownership and have distributed them in bits to former proprietors.
Possibly and yet improbably he might have conciliated a large
constituency of the social and ecclesiastical hierarchy for use in the
empire. In this thought the history of France has measurably justified
his regrets. But in fact he put the old stock of the nobility in a
place far below the middle and upper burghers who rallied to his
support. It was a choice of enemies, and he chose radicals and
royalists. They accepted the challenge and met the fate of
conspirators.




CHAPTER XVIII

THE PACIFICATION OF EUROPE[19]

         [Footnote 19: Daudet: Les Bourbons et la Russie; the letters
         of Rostopchin in Woronzoff's Archives, Vol. VIII; articles by
         Tatistcheff in the Revue d'histoire diplomatique, 1889; by
         Buchholz in Preussische Jahrbücher, 1896; Rambaud: Histoire
         de Russie; Czartoryski: Mémoires; De Maistre (Joseph):
         Mémoires et correspondance; Téché: Les origines du Concordat;
         Sloane: The French Revolution and Religious Reform; Boulay de
         la Meurthe: Négotiation du Concordat; Theiner: Histoire des
         deux Concordats; Mahan: Life of Nelson; Schiemann: Die
         Ermordung Pauls; Langeron: Memoirs; likewise those of
         Norvins, Barante, and Moriolles; Brückner: Kaiser Pauls Ende
         (von R. R.); Bowman: Preliminary Stages of the Peace of
         Amiens; Fauchille: Du blocus maritime.]

     Russia, Italy, and Spain -- The Kingdom of Etruria -- The
     Consulate and Royalty -- The Church in France -- The Concordat --
     Affairs in England -- France and Russia -- The Battle of
     Copenhagen -- Preliminaries of Peace -- Terms of the Agreement --
     France and the United States.


[Sidenote: 1801]

The genius of Bonaparte was all-embracing, because it made one forward
step follow close upon another, and that with no appearance of
compulsion; for this reason he went so far. The treaty of Lunéville
was the first move toward a general pacification. What was to be done
with the rest of Italy, with Spain and with Portugal, in order to
secure his preponderance in western Europe? To the blandishments of
the Consulate, the Czar gave a hearty response. He suggested some sort
of demonstration against Great Britain, not alone in the Orient but on
her very shores; he advised Prussia to seize Hanover, turned the
pretender, Louis XVIII, and his court away from Mittau in midwinter,
and dismissed the Bourbon emissary from St. Petersburg. To checkmate
Austria he espoused the cause of Piedmont and the Two Sicilies,
suggested the Rhine as the French frontier and the restitution of
Egypt to Turkey. His Oriental plan was corollary to the armed
neutrality he organized to checkmate England. To give respectful heed
and retain the good will of Russia, which thus interceded for a
monarchical Naples, nothing was said about restoring the Parthenopean
Republic. Instead, Ferdinand IV, though compelled to evacuate the
Papal States, and to restore the pictures and other booty which in the
manner of the time he had removed to his capital, was left in full
possession of his crown. English ships were to be forbidden his ports,
and the expenses of a French army corps, which should lie, under
Soult, at Tarentum, were to be borne by his treasury.

The affairs of Spain had reached a crisis in the low intrigues of her
court. Marengo destroyed the influence of the anti-French party at
Madrid. Godoy, styled "Prince of the Peace" from his having negotiated
the treaty of Basel, had been made prime minister through the
influence of Queen Louisa, whom he had infatuated. Though successful
in being both the Queen's lover and the King's intimate friend, he was
nevertheless an incapable statesman. In 1796 he made Spain still more
subservient to France by the first treaty of San Ildefonso; and such
was the public resentment that he had to resign. Through Bonaparte's
influence he was restored to power, and in a second treaty of San
Ildefonso Spain became the servile ally of the Consulate. By the terms
of this compact, as already partly expressed in the treaty of
Lunéville, not only were Parma and Elba left in the hands of France,
but Louisiana was ceded to her, the French colonies in South America
were enlarged, and a combined force of French and Spanish troops was
organized, which compelled Portugal to abandon the English alliance
and accept Bonaparte's terms. The little but important realm was also
to shut her harbors to English ships, and pay twenty-five million
francs to France. In return, Tuscany was to be erected into a kingdom,
with the name of Etruria, for Louis, the heir of Ferdinand of Parma.
The latter was a son of Don Philip of Spain, and as his son, the young
King, had married the daughter of the ruling sovereigns of Spain, the
new royal family was virtually Spanish, their infant boy having only
one remote strain of Austrian blood.

When, shortly after, an actor in Paris recited from the stage, in
Bonaparte's presence, the line, "J'ai fait des rois, madame, et n'ai
pas voulu l'être," the house rocked with applause. The young King was
also brought to Paris and paraded as an attendant in the First
Consul's antechamber. A few felt the unworthiness of such a game, but
the national vanity was tickled. Attendant republics already revolved
about the great central French republic; were kingdoms, too, beginning
to join the round? It will be seen that, in comparison with the
radical anti-royalist policy of the Directory three years before,
these arrangements must be considered moderate. To abandon the Roman
and Parthenopean republics, and to constitute a new kingdom for a
Bourbon, were actions of great significance to the courts of Europe.

But a still more pregnant step was the relation established between
the Consulate and the papacy. Among all the institutions erected by
Bonaparte, none proved more valuable than that which restored the
French Church to Rome. The "civil constitution" of the Jacobin
republic virtually created a voluntary Gallican Church, because all
the conforming priesthood, of whom it will be remembered that Madame
Mère's half-brother Fesch was one, became dependent on the state in
support and allegiance. By the laws of 1790 the old diocesan
boundaries were wiped out, bishops and priests were chosen by the
people, and the celibacy of the clergy was abolished. In consequence,
there had at first been bitter resistance and stern repression. But
during the last years of the Directory both liberty of conscience and
freedom of religion reigned in theory throughout France. There was,
however, continuous social disturbance, bickering between sectaries
both Christian and infidel, license of speech and conduct; in short, a
condition pregnant with possibilities of disaster. Napoleon passed
through a stage of rampant unbelief in his youth, and wrote a thesis
in which he compared the Saviour unfavorably with Apollonius of Tyana.
But with advancing years the dimensions of the papacy impressed his
imagination, while ripening political wisdom convinced him of its
power. As his ambitions became dominant he defied the Directory, and
in 1797 left standing the framework of the papal edifice, because he
already saw that the French people had returned to papal allegiance.
In spite of the course imposed upon him by the events of Fructidor, he
understood that no reunion of all elements in the population was
possible except under the favor of Rome.

Shortly after Bonaparte's inauguration as First Consul there began to
be circulated a moving tale of how the great man was frequently and
visibly affected as he listened to the village chimes from his windows
at Malmaison, evidently recalling the hallowed influences of his
mother's faith. The act of the Consulate in ordering the performance
of funeral obsequies for Pius VI was a recognition of the popular
movement. After an interregnum of eight months a new pope, Pius VII,
was elected at Venice on March thirteenth, 1800. This was done under
the auspices of Austria and after long, fierce contention by the
fugitive members of an incomplete conclave, yet soon afterward
Bonaparte informed the Pontiff that, excepting the legations which
Austria still occupied, the territories of his predecessors were under
certain conditions at his disposal. The papal secretary, Cardinal
Consalvi, set out for Paris, after what was considered a becoming
delay; and before the middle of July, 1801, the treaty known as the
Concordat was concluded. The First Consul conceded that the laws of
1790 should be abolished, and that the Pope should be officially
recognized by the State as head of the Church. The appointments of
archbishops and bishops made by the government were not to be valid
until confirmed at Rome. In return the Pope was to end the conflict of
State and Church in France, rally all good Catholics to the support of
the republic, accept the loss of the confiscated ecclesiastical
estates in return for a subsidy of fifty million francs, and recognize
the clergy as civil officials in the pay of the State. Thus, at a
single stroke, the measure of religious liberty which revolutionary
atheism had unwittingly established was destroyed and the French
nation relegated to a modified control by Rome; but on the other hand,
the strongest support of the Bourbons was struck down, the existing
order recognized, and Bonaparte felt assured, as he declared at St.
Helena, that in view of France's overwhelming influence in Italy, the
Pope, as a petty Italian prince, would become entirely subservient to
himself. As is the case in all instances of that judicious compromise
which is the foundation of statesmanship, no party or clique in either
France or Rome was entirely satisfied. The Pope and his councilors
chafed under a series of "organic articles" which, though integral to
the treaty, emanated from the secular authority alone and interpreted
the treaty in a sense favorable to the secular power. The
free-thinkers of France sneered, the philosophers smiled
sarcastically, the military authorities were shocked, the returned
emigrants outraged. But the great French nation was consolidated in a
twinkling, and the Concordat stood for more than a century. The Pope
felt that the church in France had been saved as by fire, and forced
the treaty upon his unwilling associates, while Bonaparte was even
more peremptory and high-handed with his recalcitrant officials. Both
knew that it was this or religious anarchy.

But a spectacle even stranger was soon to be offered to the world.
Whatever form the struggle between France and England for ascendancy
had taken throughout the long centuries it had lasted, it was ever and
always bitter and envenomed. The French Revolution had offered the
English Tories an opportunity, as they believed, finally and literally
to crush France, even to the extent which Lord Chatham had always
declared necessary for enduring peace. The younger Pitt inherited his
father's idea, and the conquering policy of the republic had enforced
his position, so that since the beginning of the present struggle
between the two countries the British nation had reposed unbounded
confidence in him. Unfortunately, he used this popular feeling to
retain power after his convictions had changed. But successful as the
war had been, it seemed to many as if there were no limits to its
duration, and to timid minds the payment of lavish subsidies to the
successive coalitions, combined with the expensive mismanagement of
the naval establishment, augured bankruptcy. Pitt fell from power on
the question of Catholic emancipation in Ireland, a matter in which he
disagreed with George III, the unnerved, feeble King; the Addington
ministry which succeeded was popular because it was understood to be
above all else a peace ministry.

When, in 1799, Russia, furious at the perfidy of Austria and weary of
the tyranny exercised by England over the seas, had instigated a
renewal of the armed neutrality, and banished the French pretender,
the delicate attentions and substantial offers of Bonaparte, already
enumerated, completely won the heart of the Czar. Early in 1800 a
confidential Russian agent appeared in Paris, and urged the First
Consul to declare himself King. He also proposed to arrange terms for
an alliance of the two rulers in order to destroy English power in
India, according to plans already outlined by the Czar. An agreement
was quickly reached, which early in 1801 resulted in a proposition by
Paul for two expeditions: one Russian, by way of the Don and across
the carry to the Volga, thence through the Ural Mountains to the
Indus, and from the Indus to the Ganges; the other Franco-Russian, to
proceed by the Danube, the Black Sea, the Don, and the Volga to
Astrakhan and Persia, where it was to combine with the former. The
plan for the latter was worked out in the minutest detail, and every
item was carefully commentated by Bonaparte.

England's reply to the armed neutrality of the Northern powers was the
despatch to the Baltic of a powerful fleet, which reached Copenhagen
late in March, 1801. Negotiations were opened by Sir Hyde Parker, who,
because of his diplomatic abilities, had been made first in command,
and lasted for some days, but failed. On April second, Nelson, who was
next in command, opened fire on the lines of defense erected before
the city. His success was only partial. During the intervals of a
parley opened by him, ostensibly in the interest of humanity, he
withdrew his crippled ships out of danger and accepted an
inconclusive armistice. England's object, however, was reached in
another way. During the night of March twenty-third, 1801, Paul was
assassinated in his bed, not without suspicion of connivance on the
part of his son Alexander, who succeeded him. The murder was done by a
band of drunken brutes, officers of important regiments who had been
wrought to a pitch of frenzy. A clique of conspirator nobles had
persuaded themselves and the assassins that Paul was crazy and was
leading the country to ruin. Like the rest of Europe, the empire was
divided into French and English parties, the latter comprising all who
lived at ease on government places or inherited fortunes. The mass of
the nation and the troops worshiped their Czar for his defiance of
Great Britain, his French sympathy, and the reversal of Catherine's
policy. It was a palace clique which, as again and again in Russian
history, did to death a monarch thwarting the plans of aristocrats and
placemen. The new Czar, whatever his share in the compact which set
him on the throne, behaved at least like an agent of the conspirators,
for he did not continue his father's policy. On the contrary, he
immediately liberated the English ships in his harbors, and, further,
waived all claim to Malta. The league of Northern neutrals fell by its
own weight. For all this, however, Great Britain was still left
without a supporting Continental coalition in the face of Marengo and
Lunéville.

The death of Paul likewise affected the position of France, which
again became insecure. This disposed the First Consul more than ever
to yield to the universal clamor for peace. Addington's overtures had
at first been coldly received, for Bonaparte wanted the restoration of
all the colonial conquests England had made during the long war. But
the death of the Czar and the attitude of his successor changed the
situation. Still further came news that since Kléber's death one
disaster after another had overtaken Menou in Egypt. He had been
compelled to surrender Cairo in June, and the fall of Alexandria was
only a question of time. Negotiations with England were thereupon
seriously resumed. Both sides being equally eager for peace,
arrangements were completed within a reasonable time, and on October
first, 1801, the resulting preliminaries were ratified. The news was
received in London with joyous acclamations.

England bound herself by the preliminaries of London to restore all
her colonial conquests except Trinidad and Ceylon, and to withdraw
from Malta and the other Mediterranean ports which she had seized.
France was to restore Egypt to the Porte, to withdraw her troops from
Naples, and to guarantee the integrity of Portugal, which the First
Consul had intended to incorporate with Spain for his further
purposes. A week later a secret treaty between France and Russia was
signed: the two powers were to settle the affairs of Germany and Italy
in concert. The idea of perpetual intervention in the German empire by
France originated with Richelieu; no Russian monarch since the time of
Peter the Great could feel his dignity secure without the same
privilege. Such an agreement was, therefore, a final seal to France's
new alliance. With Turkey likewise the old relations of amity were
reëstablished by a new treaty. Bavaria was appeased by promises.

There would have been one other war-cloud on the distant horizon had
it not wisely been dispelled in time. The United States had suffered
much from the pretensions of the Directory to control its commerce in
the French interest, on the plea of gratitude. The declaration of
neutrality made by Washington in 1793 was ill received in Paris; the
treaty of commerce concluded with England in the following year was
regarded by the French government as a breach of neutrality, and the
Directory suspended diplomatic relations. Their insolent agents in the
United States had so embroiled the question of the relations of that
nation with the two countries respectively that a rupture with France
was threatened, especially when Talleyrand's unblushing effrontery in
demanding enormous bribes from the American envoys was made public.
Great as their obligations were, the United States had no intention of
becoming tributary to France. The recognition by England of their
neutrality had given them the whole colonial trade of France, Holland,
and Spain. Their principle was virtually that of the armed neutrality
of 1780: that neutral ships made neutral goods, "free ships, free
goods." For this they were ready to fight. The First Consul had
recognized the value for his own schemes of a great neutral maritime
state, and on September thirty, 1800, had concluded a convention
regulating commerce which for the time removed all sources of friction
between his government and that at Washington. It was reciprocally
agreed that the flag protects the goods, and that merchantmen under
convoy may not be searched.




CHAPTER XIX

THE REORGANIZATION OF FRANCE[20]

         [Footnote 20: The Memoirs of Mollien, Miot de Melito,
         Chaptal, Lucien Bonaparte, Pasquier, and Consalvi; the works
         of Thibaudeau and Roederer; Sagnac: Legislation Civile de la
         Révolution Française; Life of Sir Samuel Romilly;
         Haussonville: L'Église romaine et le premier Empire;
         Léouzon-le-Duc: Correspondance diplomatique du baron de
         Staël-Holstein et de son successeur le baron Brinkman.]

     The Uses of Peace -- General Zeal for Reform -- The First
     Consul's Diligence -- State Control of the Church -- Bonaparte
     and the Pope -- The Organic Articles -- Establishment of the
     Prefectures -- The Bank of France -- Its Successes -- Funding of
     the Public Debt.


With this general pacification there was widespread contentment.
Addington thought the peace would be no ordinary one, but a true
reconciliation of the first two nations of the world. The continental
dynasties believed that at last the expansion of liberal France had
been curbed. The French themselves could not restrain their joy at the
prospect of a new social and political structure sufficiently
commodious for the exercise of their awakened energies, sufficiently
strong to command respect from enemies at home and abroad. The
builders were already at work before the ground was fairly cleared;
the regeneration of French institutions which has indissolubly linked
the name of Napoleon with the life of modern Europe was under way
before the peace negotiations were concluded.

[Sidenote: 1800--01]

The master workman found at his disposal two most important
conditions: a clean tablet so far as the monarchical and
revolutionary systems were concerned, and a great body of able and
educated men anxious to coöperate with him. Their aim, like his, was
to make the nation strong and illustrious. But for them the
Revolution, confined in their minds to France, was over; while for
him, viewing it as a European movement, it was in full operation.
Whether they were royalists like Dufresne, or Girondists like
Defermon, or radicals like Fourcroy, or moderates like Regnault and
Roederer, or pardoned anti-Fructidorians like Portalis and
Barbé-Marbois, they were all alike animated with zeal for a strong
national life. But Bonaparte and a few of his intimates looked on
renovated French nationality as only the means to a further end. In a
pamphlet review of the situation, written in 1801, Hauterive declared
that the rotten European structure resting on the balance of power had
been overthrown by the wars of France, which was now, by her military
and financial strength, and by the principles of her government, ready
and able to make the beginning in a peaceful and prosperous federation
of nations. This was the revolutionary program in another form: under
the new conditions of French organization it eventually developed into
a scheme of European empire, in which a modernized and glorified
reproduction of Charles the Great, a French Charlemagne, was the
central figure.

Careful students of the life and labors of Bonaparte can scarcely
believe that human power could accomplish what he had already done.
His activity as strategist and general, as statesman and
administrator, had hitherto been fabulous: in the first years of the
Consulate it was simply doubled. To the minutest detail, every
department of the rising state received his attention, more or less
complete as occasion required. During the year 1801 the ablest
observers in the country, having been assigned one to each of the
military divisions into which the land was divided, were occupied in
compiling comprehensive reports to serve as a basis for legislation.
These papers took into consideration finance, the army, the
administration, public instruction, the alms-houses, the roads and
canals, commerce and industry, the public temper--in short, everything
which concerned the well-being of the people. They were the material
of Bonaparte's studies, and for the most part he mastered them. In
this work he utterly discarded the theory and ideals of the
revolutionists; the romance was ended, history must begin, he said. To
govern France as it is, to forget France as it had just been; to
discard the type unit of humanity, to deal with the real man in every
station; to scorn generalities, to assemble details; to abandon
possibilities, to secure actualities,--this was the trend of his mind;
the practical, the useful, the working machine were his goal. At this
task he often toiled fourteen hours a day, never less than ten, and in
his secretary Maret he had a minister as indefatigable as himself,
able to catch every thought and suggestion, to amplify and execute
every order, to coördinate the activity of his chief with all the
subordinate branches of the government. As a consequence, there is not
one of the great structures which combine in the logical unity of
French life as it exists to-day that did not receive the impress of
the First Consul's colossal mind.

For example, the Roman Church, which he had brought again to life,
comprised in equal numbers prelates who had accepted and those who had
refused the "civil constitution" of the republic. To impress the
imagination of the people, a service in honor of the Concordat was
celebrated at Notre Dame. Augereau and a number of his friends asked
to be excused from attendance, but were compelled to be present. The
First Consul went, with all the style--coaches, harness, lackeys, and
the like--which had been used by the Bourbon kings. But, after all, it
was a Napoleon Bonaparte and not a Louis Capet who was the personage,
and the remark attributed to an old general, whether correctly or not,
is utterly inapt--that everything had been restored except the two
million Frenchmen who had died for liberty. The difference was great.
For instance, a priest who had refused the rites of burial to a dancer
was removed from office for three months, in order that he might
reflect how Jesus Christ "prayed even for his enemies." Could anything
have been more antipodal to the state of things as it had been in 1762
and 1766, when the cases of Calas, Sirven, and Labarre, innocent men,
done to cruel, unmerited death by the connivance of church and state,
enabled Voltaire to launch his first thunderbolt on the devoted system
of the ancient monarchy so abhorrent to all intelligence and so
opposed to righteousness?

The Pope, moreover, was compelled to prohibit those who offended the
First Consul from residing at Rome, and when he suggested that
compensation should be made for the loss of Avignon, and that the
legations Bologna, Ferrara, and Romagna should be restored,--not, of
course, in return for the Concordat, which would savor of simony, but
as the proof of a heart magnanimous, wise, and just,--the First Consul
gravely forwarded to Rome the mortal remains of Pius VI, which had so
far rested in the common cemetery at Valence. Bonaparte is credibly
reported to have said ironically that the Concordat was the vaccine of
religion: in fifty years there would be no more in France. The army
openly expressed its contempt for the arrangement, the council of
state tittered when announcement was made that the Pope's ban was
withdrawn from Talleyrand, and for a long time the public
ministrations of a clergy which was called "a consecrated
constabulary" were not taken seriously by the multitude. A century has
failed to restore in France the consideration which even scoffers felt
for the hierarchy antecedent to the Concordat; nay, more, the First
Consul's augury has been largely fulfilled; but on the other hand, the
former bitterness has never since been equaled.

Bonaparte's innermost thoughts were not at the time revealed; if
indeed he had a clear and definite idea of his policy. Later
explanations are, however, probable interpretations. Protestantism is
at once sectarian and individualistic in its tendencies, Romanism
makes for central unified control, secular as well as religious. The
restorer of Romanism in France found consideration throughout Roman
Europe for his later plans of imperial expansion. The clerical or
white police of France was a model for the like institution elsewhere,
as the military or black police of France became the basis of armed
force everywhere. But the degree of spiritual mission yielded to the
Pope was measured with a hand as sparing as that which doled scanty
stipends to archbishops and bishops, now a prelacy of public
functionaries which had once been princely in its incomes.
Furthermore, the organic articles, which were nothing more nor less
than consular decrees, were unsparing in their use of the police power
for the control of public worship. No bull nor ecumenical ordinance
was valid in France, no council nor synod could assemble within its
borders unless authorized by government, nor could a prelate leave his
diocese without its assent, even though summoned to Rome by the Pope.
The temporalities of the church were in the hands of the state. Galled
by such pitiless restrictions, the hierarchy winced and cried out, but
France has remained inexorable. Later the cults of both the
Protestants and the Jews were similarly organized.

On February seventh, 1800, were promulgated the measures which still
control departmental administration in France, the law which virtually
revived the Bourbon system of intendants, imposing on the country that
rigorous hierarchical-political centralization which no succeeding
government--royalist, imperial, or republican--has been willing to
dispense with. Working in coöperation with the wonderful social system
of private life, it minimizes the consequences of political
revolutions, and preserves the identity of France. Each local
administration was a consulate in miniature. Every department had its
prefect, every arrondissement its subprefect, every commune its mayor.
These officials were all appointed by the executive, and were
subordinate to the minister of the interior. Each had an advising
associate appointed from the electoral lists; and the various
councils, some likewise appointed, some, however, elected, were in
ordinary times only the registers of the decrees sent down from above.
Before these measures were put into operation, neither country roads
nor city streets were safe, and brigandage was rife to the very gates
of Paris. The courts of law were disorganized, the police
undisciplined, and local government for the most part was a farce.
Within two years the whole machine was working smoothly throughout the
length and breadth of the land. Public order was restored, life and
property were safe, industry was guaranteed in its rewards, and the
productive energy of the people was unhampered by the fear of
injustice or by the uncertainty of possession. This transformation
made the institution tolerable to the Frenchmen of Napoleon's time,
but thoughtful men understand to-day that it annihilated liberty under
the Consulate and Empire, and that it still has undiminished
possibilities as an instrument of oppression.

It is significant that the great measure which went hand in hand with
this one was a true reform of the most vital nature. On January
eighteenth, 1800, was founded the Bank of France. The monarchy in its
straits had issued bills with no security; the Convention and the
Directory also flooded the country with worthless paper, although they
assumed to find an adequate collateral in the domains of the crown and
of the emigrants, which were seized and held as national property. But
war and internal strife destroyed the value of these lands, and in
1795 a gold livre was worth seventy-five in paper, while a year later
the price had risen to three hundred and forty. The Directory had
recourse to forced loans and the statutory regulation of values, but
to no avail: at the close of their career the public lands, except a
small part estimated to be worth four hundred million francs, had all
passed into private hands at a price about one hundredth of their
estimated value. The greediest usury, the most disgraceful
speculation, had been universal, and of all those who had owned
property in any shape in 1785 there was scarcely one who was not
reduced to beggary, while, with numerous exceptions of course,
adventurous men of doubtful character were now the landed proprietors
and controlling capitalists. The public creditors had seen their
obligations legally scaled to a nominal value of one third the face,
payable in paper, and these bonds were almost worthless. Under such
conditions it was not remarkable that the collection of taxes even by
the use of force had become well-nigh impossible. The amount of
arrears on the eighteenth of Brumaire was eleven hundred million
francs. The Directory and, for a time, the Consulate subsisted on
contributions levied on conquered states.

[Sidenote: 1801]

The avowed object of the Bank of France was the support of trade and
industry. To its capital of thirty million francs the government
subscribed five millions, which it took from the guarantee bonds given
by its employees on their assuming positions of trust. The operations
of brokers and money-lenders were then subjected to the strictest
control, and the enterprises of agriculture and manufactures were
regulated and encouraged by the reëstablishment of chambers of
commerce and by public rewards for excellence. In the first year of
his financial administration Gaudin inaugurated the success which
continued for the rest of his term. In every department a new and
equitable system of tax-collecting was instituted, and the assessments
were so fixed for a definite period at moderate rates as to awaken
public confidence. In a single year the returns from the public
forests were doubled, and the reorganization of the customs produced
similar results.

For the control of expenditures, Barbé-Marbois was appointed state
treasurer; Mollien was made director of a special office for the
gradual payment of the public debt. To this office was assigned the
management of about a quarter of the remaining public lands for the
purchase of state securities; and when their price rose, as it soon
did, to fifty per cent. of their par value, new obligations were
issued, and quickly subscribed at the same rate. The floating debt was
soon wiped out. Of the remaining public funds a hundred and twenty
million francs were assigned for the maintenance of public
instruction, and forty million for the pension list. The victorious
army remained quartered abroad. The effect of all these wisely
calculated measures was electrical. Taxes were promptly and willingly
paid, the public credit was revived, and the moneyed classes became
the stanchest supporters of the Consulate.




CHAPTER XX

THE CODE AND THE UNIVERSITY[21]

         [Footnote 21: Blanc: Napoleon Ier, ses institutions civiles
         et administratives; Sabatier: Le Code Civil; Aucoc: Le
         conseil d'état; Duvergier de Hauranne: Histoire du
         gouvernement parlementaire en France; Bignon: Histoire de
         France; Ernouf: Maret, duc de Bassano; Hélie: Les
         constitutions de la France; Duruy: L'Instruction et la
         Révolution; Hahn: Unterrichtswesen in Frankreich; Cambacérès:
         Éclaircissements inédits--quoted at length in Vandal:
         L'Avènement de Bonaparte, tome II; Nougaret de Fayet: Notice
         sur la vie et les travaux de M. le comte Bigot de Préameneu;
         Locré de Roissy: Procès-verbaux du conseil d'état, contenant
         la discussion du projet de Code Civil.]

     The Preparation of the Code -- The Men who Made it -- Its Defects
     -- The Changes it Wrought -- The Benefits it Conferred -- French
     Education under Royalty -- Schemes of the Revolution --
     Bonaparte's Aims in Education -- His Preliminary Measures -- The
     University of France.


The climax of these beneficent changes was a corresponding reform and
simplification of the laws. The name of Napoleon has been erased from
many of his institutions, but it still endures on that splendid system
of jurisprudence known as the Code Napoléon, and in the annals of
law-making it vies in luster with that of Justinian. The monarchy,
before its fall, had become aware of the inconvenience attaching to
the diversity of legal practice in the various French provinces. At
one extreme was the old customary law of the northern inhabitants, at
the other was the nearly pure Roman law of the south, and between them
every variety of peculiar and complicated local practice. One of the
meanings of the Revolutionary watchword "Equality" was the reform of
this inequality; but the turmoil prevalent during the years of the
Assembly, the Convention, and the Directory had made it impossible to
complete the work. Nevertheless, those years had been full of
discussion, and Cambacérès had a project in readiness. So convinced
was Bonaparte of the urgency of reform that on the very night in which
he assumed the reins of government the two commissions were charged
with the performance of the repeated promises which every republican
government had made. A statute was formulated, and passed on August
twelfth, 1800. In accordance with its provisions, a committee of three
great jurists--Tronchet, Bigot de Préameneu, and Portalis, with
Malleville as secretary--was appointed to make a draft. This was
completed in four months, submitted to the courts of appeal for
suggestions, and then in the council of state, the sessions of which
Bonaparte regularly attended, was speedily revised into its final
form. In the following year the code was promulgated.

The famous body of laws owes its solid value to its historical
foundation; for it is a compound of the ancient customs, the Roman
law, and the experiences of the Revolution, the third element
dominating the other two. Cambacérès's project is its basis, the
deliberations of the commissions molded its form, its paragraphs were
polished in the council of state according to the opinions of Boulay
de la Meurthe, Berlier, Treilhard, Cambacérès, and Lebrun, and
Bonaparte himself was the author of many radical regulations
concerning marriage, divorce, and property. Simplicity, directness,
comprehensibility, and appropriateness are the marks of the entire
structure, as they are confessedly characteristic of the First
Consul's mind. His good sense and his diligence are stamped on every
page. On the other hand, in many places it bears also the marks of
his unscientific and untrained intellect; and Savigny, the Prussian
jurist, went so far as to characterize it as a "political malady."

This remark is true, but only in the sense that, as in the Roman
empire, so in Napoleonic France, civil liberty developed in an inverse
ratio to political liberty. Austin thought the code was compiled in
haste and ignorance, and that its lack of definitions to the terms
employed, together with the absence of expositions either of
principles or of distinctions, gave it a "fallacious brevity."
Nevertheless, this very simplicity and brevity have been its strength,
and to this day--with, of course, many substantive modifications, but
still in an undisturbed identity--it successfully dominates France,
Italy, Holland, Belgium, and many important parts of Germany.
Believing it to be the most enduring portion of his labors, Bonaparte
to the latest day of his life claimed the exclusive credit of its
creation, to the unjust disparagement of the other great minds which
coöperated in its formation.

A few of the more easily comprehensible changes which it wrought will
illustrate its character. There are four divisions--one introductory,
the other three treating respectively of the law of persons, the law
of things, and the law of property and inheritance. The subject of the
civil law, the ego, the object of the civil law, the objective or
natural world, the relation between the two, or property--such is, in
a word, the method; the equality of all men before the law is its
principle; the respect for property and the directness of litigation
are its aims. Hereditary nobility and primogeniture were definitely
abolished--every child, of either sex, having equal rights of
inheritance before the law. The right of testamentary disposition was
extended so as to give greater liberty while not interfering with the
principle of family solidarity. To Jews were given the complete
rights of all other citizens, under a series of far-seeing and wise
provisions, set forth in special statutes, which destroyed many of
their antiquated customs, and all the shifts by which they had
hitherto avoided many civil obligations and still evaded the
performance of duties which weighed heavily on others. Every religious
confession was recognized, and all were alike supported by the state;
but the members of all were obliged to submit to official
registration, and to consent to the rite of civil marriage. While, on
the one hand, the necessity of divorce under certain conditions was
recognized and provisions were made for it; on the other, a series of
stringent and even barbarous regulations knitted the family more
closely together than ever before, or elsewhere in the world, and made
it a social rock against which political storms beat in vain to shake
the established order. Napoleon's iron will alone realized the notions
of regenerating feudal society which philosophers had formed and
agitators had sought in vain to establish.

The evils of both absolute royalty and feudalism were thus removed
from a vast population in western Europe which had groaned under their
burdens long after they had ceased to have any meaning or historical
vitality; and besides, the process of assimilation in life and thought
was measurably assisted by the adoption of identical laws among
millions of men differing in blood and language. The good work was
further promoted by a series of complementary codes of criminal
procedure and of commerce which are as potent and beneficent to-day as
when they were enacted. It is useless in this connection to compare
the respective merits of corresponding institutions among the Latin
and Teutonic state systems of Europe, or to enter on the long and
bitter controversy waged between French and English publicists. The
essential thing is a comparison between what Napoleon found and what
he left among the same peoples, and this proclaims him one of the
great social reformers of the world.

In no respect was the work of the Revolution more complete than in
regard to education. Royal France had a pompous list of academies,
scientific and special schools, universities, colleges, and common
schools. Their arrangements were haphazard, their origin and
management for the most part were ecclesiastical, and their patronage
was strictly ordered by social rank. Primary education, being
dependent altogether on the parishes, was in the main contemptible.
There were many great scholars and teachers, and a few choice
institutions; but the dependence of all on either the royal favor or
on the Roman hierarchy, or on both, rendered the measure of their
efficiency proportionate to the interest taken in them by crown and
church. There was consequently no general system efficacious either in
all its parts or even in all branches of one division.

The passion for national unity manifested itself, among other things,
in a demand for a system of national education. The great men of the
Assembly and of the Convention bent their shoulders to the task. For
the first time in the history of the nation it was recognized that
after the leveling of classes, the only guarantee for social order in
the future was to be found in the education of the masses.
Accordingly, they outlined a grand scheme of graded instruction. The
foundation was popular education by the primary school; then came a
system of middle or secondary schools; and then instruction by
professional faculties, including a magnificent normal school for the
training of teachers, and a polytechnic institution of the first
order. The whole was to be crowned by a museum, the College of
France, and the Institute. Education was to be gratuitous and
obligatory. The essential feature of the entire plan was the character
of the primary school, which was not to teach merely the necessary
rudiments of reading, writing, and ciphering, but the introductory
elements of the complete encyclopedia of instruction. The whole
structure was purely secular, and no account was taken of the
education of females after the age of eight. It was declared that
young girls should be trained by their parents, and entirely at home.
Condorcet alone believed in the intellectual equality of the sexes.
Lakanal secured a decree for mixed schools, under certain conditions,
in which the daughters of the republic should have the same
instruction as its sons "as far as their sex would permit"; but they
were to be chiefly occupied with spinning, dressmaking, and the
domestic arts then considered the chief ones proper to their sex. Some
parts of the enormous design were put into operation, but it was found
to transcend the abilities of an unsettled people. Talleyrand pared
down its dimensions, but at the fall of the Directory nothing had been
accomplished except the foundation of the polytechnic school.

[Illustration: NAPOLEON AS FIRST CONSUL

Profile in sepia by Lemoine. Belonging to M. Petit

Napoleon Exposition, 1895.]

It is well known that Bonaparte prepared himself for the rôle of
lawgiver by devouring the books lent him by Cambacérès, and by
studying the memorials already prepared by the Convention. Even then,
however, he was in the main guided by his instinct, combined with his
profound knowledge of men. The latter was his sole guide in
elaborating his scheme of public instruction. Talleyrand's plan was
before him, but the conclusion was his own. He was not at all
concerned to make scholars or to increase knowledge. He was stubbornly
determined to make citizens, as he understood the word. In a time of
utter chaos he professed himself indifferent to ideals, and was
animated by a purely practical spirit, doing nothing but what appeared
immediately essential. For this reason, in carrying out his plan, he
selected as an agent no expert with wide experience and settled
convictions, but an excellent chemist who had been a member of the
notorious Committee of Public Safety, and within a narrow horizon had
good capacities. To Fourcroy alone was intrusted the formulation of a
measure which, as Roederer said in its support, was a political
institution intended to unite the present generation with the rising
one, to bind the fathers to the government by their children and the
children by their fathers--in short, to establish a sort of public
paternity.

The religious societies which still retained their hold on such
instruction as there was had no connection with the state, and very
little with the new society. The new system was ingeniously devised to
bind up the youth of the nation with both the political and social
life of the new France. There was to be in every commune a primary
school with teachers appointed by the mayor, under supervision of the
subprefect. Next in order were secondary schools in the chief town of
every department, under supervision of the prefect; and coördinate
with these were such private schools as would submit to government
regulations. The next stage was composed of a limited number of
lyceums or colleges with both a classical and a modern side. These
were open only to such students as had gained distinction in the grade
below, and from them in turn a fifth were promoted to the professional
schools. Of these there were nine categories: law; medicine; natural
science; mechanical and chemical technology; higher mathematics;
geography, history, and political economy; the arts of design;
astronomy; music and the theory of composition. The First Consul
would listen to no more comprehensive or enlightened plan until this
should first be put into successful execution, as it soon was under
his impulse and Fourcroy's guidance.

Thereupon his ultimate object was unveiled. A few years later came
into existence the so-called University of France, whereby all
instruction was as perfectly centralized as administration had been.
There were three articulated degrees, primary, secondary, and
superior, controlled by a complete and rigid system of central
inspection. All institutions of each degree were divided by vertical
lines of territorial division into academies, each of which had its
own rector. These were in turn controlled by a superior council and a
grand master. The normal school was revived, military uniform and
discipline were introduced into the lyceums, and the instruction was
carefully directed toward imbuing the mind with notions suited to the
new conditions of French life, as Bonaparte meant to mold them. The
corporate university, as a whole, was not a portion of the ministry,
but while subordinate was distinct. This provision has probably been
the cause of a permanence which no political revolution has been able
to destroy. It is only since the Church secured permission for the
erection of faculties supported and controlled by itself that there
have been signs of any change of organization or any return to
academic liberty in the state institutions.




CHAPTER XXI

STEPS TOWARD MONARCHY[22]

         [Footnote 22: References as before. Further, Vulliemin:
         Histoire de la Confederation Suisse; Senfft: Mémoires;
         Organisation de la politique Suisse; Botta: Storia d'Italia;
         Cantù: Corrispondenze di diplomatici, etc. (Archives); Melzi:
         Memorie, documenti e lettere inedite di Napoleone I e
         Beauharnais; Theiner: Histoire des deux Concordats;
         Schoelcher: Vie de Toussaint Louverture; Reichardt: Vertraute
         Briefe; Roloff: Die Kolonial Politik Napoleons I.]

     The New Era -- Cæsar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte -- The Seizure of
     Piedmont -- Genoa -- Etruria -- The Valais -- Holland and
     Switzerland -- Censorship of the Press -- Manifestations of
     Discontent -- The San Domingo Expedition -- Toussaint Louverture.


[Sidenote: 1801--02]

With the return of forty thousand emigrant families under an amnesty
which restored to most of the former owners everything not sold
excepting woods and forests, and which in some few cases permitted the
redemption under easy conditions of entire estates; with the
reorganization of the judiciary, of administration, of legislation, of
public instruction, and of the finances under a new constitution
worked by the strong hand which had made it, every observer saw that a
new epoch had indeed begun. At the same time the trend of affairs
toward some form of government in which the power of a single man
should be dominant was likewise noticeable. This produced but little
effect in the mass of the nation, but there were manifestations of
discontent in two small classes of men at opposite poles of
conviction. The royalists believed that their "pear was ripe," and
again opened negotiations with Bonaparte. The republicans who had
repented the eighteenth of Brumaire even on the morrow of their
participation were now thoroughly alarmed, and manifested their
discontent where alone they had any means of expression--by their
voices in the tribunate, and by their silent votes in the legislative
assembly.

Toward the close of the year VIII, that is, early in 1800, appeared a
pamphlet, evidently inspired, which was entitled "Parallel between
Cæsar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte." It was ostensibly intended to allay the
distrust of the latter's ambitions expressed in many quarters, and was
gratuitously distributed everywhere throughout France. It declared that,
Bonaparte being a man superior to either Cromwell or Monk and comparable
only to Cæsar, the office of First Consul should be made hereditary in
his family. This was the real purport of the manifesto, that France
should already hail a Bonaparte dynasty; if fate destroyed Napoleon, a
brother ought to succeed him. The tract was written by Fontanes, its
revision and theatrical publication were the work of Lucien. Fouché as
the republican standard-bearer had already avowed himself against the
principle and practice of heredity. Mme. Bonaparte's sterility was the
safeguard of an elective chief-magistracy. To prevent divorce and
remarriage for the sake of direct heirs he had allied himself with
Talleyrand, Clement de Ris, and the Beauharnais influence. It was his
cynical delight that Lucien had been so hasty. This fact the First
Consul first suspected, and then by Fouché's help he assured himself of
it. He was angry, for, though agreed as to the principle, his preference
was Louis, who he thought had all the qualities and none of the faults
pertaining to the clan; and, moreover, the publication was so
unreasonable and hasty as to be an act of sheer folly, endangering all
his plans. So Lucien was forced to resign his portfolio of the interior
and withdraw from the scene. With bitterness in his heart he became
ambassador to Spain, and the elegant luxury of his post scarcely
softened the blow, under which he winced as he saw the dynastic idea
relegated to temporary obscurity by his brother, and himself forever
sundered from any share in it. It was only after Louis had proved a
broken reed that the question of divorce and remarriage to secure an
heir became acute. For the time being a hush fell over the schemers of
every sort: Napoleon's health was good and the temple of Janus was
closed. Worst of all, the people made no sign, and the wily chief
magistrate took no significant step until the preliminaries of peace had
been signed in London. Then he made a cautious advance. In January,
1802, Italian delegates were summoned to Lyons in order to outline a
constitution for the newly reorganized Cisalpine Republic. As a matter
of course, it was determined to reproduce the essentials of that which
had been made for the consular republic of France. One exception was
important: for a consulate of three members was substituted a single
chief magistrate under the title of "president."

At once the question arose, Who should this high official be? Here for
the first time it is well to consider the difficulties encountered by
the First Consul in connection with his family, inasmuch as with his
primitive Corsican devotion to those of his blood, he earnestly
desired on the one hand that his brothers and sisters should share in
his advancement. He would gladly see them rich, influential, and
clothed with a high degree of political power. On the other hand, what
he himself had wrought he was grimly determined he would control. To
the great ship of state there was to be but one helm and one pilot.
Joseph was the eldest, could he be considered as a possible president
in Italy? To this his reply was flat. If called to surrender his
modest life, his consideration as a temperate and simple private man,
he must have in return the substance and reality of rule. For
instance, to the Italian republic must be added, if Joseph were to be
president, all of Piedmont; Murat and the French army of occupation
must be withdrawn, and all the fortresses of the frontier toward
France must be rebuilt! Joseph could not be a political marionette.
But it was exactly a political puppet that Napoleon professed to
desire, and Talleyrand had found one. So Joseph was left to ruminate
on the charms of a simple life. For him as well as for Lucien these
consisted of intrigues and plots: both succeeded in collecting a
substantial following, for their brother was childless, and he was a
soldier, and there might be almost anything in the womb of the future.

Accordingly, after much apparent intriguing among the delegates at
Lyons, their choice fell unanimously upon Melzi, a Milanese nobleman.
The First Consul's agents promptly explained that the safety of the
"Italian Republic"--the significant name by which it was henceforth to
be called, Alfieri's "Italia virtuosa, magnanima, libera, et
una"--depended on its being ruled by him. The Italians at once drew up
a formal invitation to that effect, Bonaparte accepted, and the
servile newspapers of Paris declared that there was no menace to the
peace of France in the act; their First Consul could not have refused
such a call without a lack of courtesy, even of prudence. Melzi
accepted the vice-presidency, the proconsulate. To make a bridge
between his two domains, the Consul-President prepared to incorporate
Piedmont, not with his Italian republic, but with France. The Czar who
had taken up arms in behalf of the house of Savoy was dead. General
Jourdan informed the Piedmontese that their land was a French
military division, comprising six prefectures. Bonaparte said that
thereby was accomplished a natural reunion of French territory. This
idea was a reminiscence of Charles the Great's empire. As soon as the
treaty of Amiens was signed a decree of the senate informed the world
that Piedmont was a French department.

Valais could not well be given to Piedmont, on account of Swiss
jealousy. It was equally impossible to restore it to the Helvetian
Republic; for through it lay the splendid military road of the
Simplon, which France had been building across the Alps. Accordingly
the little land was declared an independent commonwealth. As to Genoa,
her still existing directorial constitution would now be as
impracticable to work as those of Cisalpina and Batavia. Salicetti
therefore offered to her government a new one prepared in Paris on the
consular model, and it was gratefully adopted. When the young King of
Etruria died on May twenty-seventh, 1803, Murat and Clarke were
appointed guardians of his widow, who was made regent for her infant
son.

With skilful allowances for national pride, a stroke similar to these
was also made in Holland. By the treaty of Amiens, the Batavian
Republic was to get back not only a nominal independence, but the
major portion of her colonies, including the Cape of Good Hope and her
chief East Indian possessions. In return for this a new constitution
was imposed upon her, which again was merely that of France under
another mask. The chief magistrate was called the "Grand Pensionary,"
and the place was filled by Schimmelpenninck, the devoted admirer of
Bonaparte. A French army continued to occupy the country at the public
charge. In Switzerland, also, changes were effected, but of a
different nature; for the First Consul thoroughly understood the
different character of her people. They had been unhappy under the
last constitution, and two embittered parties, the unitary and the
federalist, were struggling for mastery. Upon the withdrawal of the
French troops in compliance with the treaty of Amiens, it soon became
clear that there was danger of serious strife. Ney was sent to occupy
the country with thirty thousand men, and the chief Swiss statesmen
were summoned to Paris. In February, 1803, they adopted what was
called an Act of Mediation prepared by Bonaparte and to be guaranteed
by him. Its provisions were most wise, but it made the new state, then
called for the first time Switzerland, dependent for its very
existence upon him. In token of the new relation the confederation was
to furnish a subsidiary army of sixteen thousand men, and the chief
magistrate of France formally adopted the title of Grand Mediator of
the Helvetian Republic. Although many chafed under the relationship,
yet the ten years of Swiss neutrality which Bonaparte guaranteed were
probably the most prosperous in the country's history; consequently
the influence of Switzerland, so far as it was exerted, was all on the
side of Bonaparte.

The rigid censorship of the press established by the First Consul at
the beginning of his supremacy worked well for him. Out of a total of
seventy-three corrupt and quarrelsome journals published under the
Directory, only thirteen political newspapers had been left in
existence. These quickly became the most subservient mouthpieces of
the executive, iterating the sentiments which the public was to learn,
giving such news as they were allowed to give, and edited most
skilfully both to entertain and instruct their readers in all matters
foreign to politics. The nation rejoiced in the calm (p.~235)
produced by contemplating indifferent things. "Why did not Tacitus
explain how the Roman people put up with the wicked emperors who ruled
them?" This was a stock question of Napoleon's, his implication being
that there must have been a correspondence between the social state of
Rome and the character of her rulers which the historian dared not
openly explain. The parallel in the case of the French was manifest.
They had reveled in Jacobinism until suddenly the thing and the name
alike became intolerable; they had then swung to the opposite vicious
extreme of an indifference which courted a paternal hand in the
government. No act, however arbitrary or violent, could disturb a
people so accustomed to revolutionary shifts. When, three years later,
the shameful edict was issued which forbade the printing or sale of
books or plays that had not been authorized by a committee of
revision, there was scarcely a protest anywhere to be heard.

But from the beginning there were, nevertheless, emphatic protests of
more or less importance against the changes which were transforming
the vestiges of the republic into shadowy indications of a coming
monarchy. There was a single voice, that of Barnabé, lifted up at the
very first from the bench to declare that Brumaire was illegal; and
many foolish persons indulged to such an extent in loud seditious talk
that a charge of conspiracy was with some show of reason brought
against Ceracchi and Arena, two Corsicans, who were particularly
violent in denouncing their compatriot. The superserviceable police
pretended early in the year to discover details, but the alleged
complot was a pure figment. The army, in particular that portion which
had fought under Moreau, still cherished much of the republican
tradition. The soldiers of the Rhine had shown an angry contempt for
the Concordat, and their friends sympathized with them in the
instinctive feeling that a courtly religious hierarchy, when legally
restored, would lean toward a restoration of monarchy.

The First Consul, understanding that reactions must be checked in
their initial stages, determined to find occupation abroad for the
republican soldiers, as he had previously done for republican
politicians. Among other measures for the revival of commerce made
possible by the peace of Amiens, which secured the long-desired
"liberty of the seas," the government had determined to revive the
slave-trade, so as to populate the Antilles more densely, and create a
larger market. Admiral Bruix recalled that among the ancients slavery
had been consistent with the love of liberty; and argued that as
negroes, when left to themselves, preferred manioc to wheat, and
sweetened water to wine, they must be enslaved in order to give them
civilized tastes and make them consume the surplus of the French
harvests and vintage! Being natives of a burning clime, there was no
cruelty in carrying them to the West Indies! In pursuance of this
barbarous policy, Leclerc, the husband of Pauline Bonaparte, was
commissioned to conquer San Domingo, which, taking advantage of the
disorders incident to the Revolution, had asserted its independence.
Bonaparte may not altogether have understood the dangers of such an
expedition. If he did, he must have been willing to sacrifice his
sister; for he compelled Mme. Leclerc to accompany her husband. The
troops selected were mainly taken from the Army of the Rhine.
Thirty-four first-rate vessels, twenty frigates, and numerous
transports, with more than twenty thousand soldiers on board, sailed
on December fourteenth, 1801, and arrived safely about the end of
January, 1802.

But Bonaparte's plans were doomed to encounter an obstacle in the
most remarkable man of negro blood known to modern history. Toussaint
Louverture was the descendant, as he claimed, of an African chieftain.
Highly endowed by nature, he had obtained an excellent education, and
had gradually, though born a slave, cultivated his innate power of
leadership until all the blacks in San Domingo regarded him with
affection and awe. Asserting their liberties as men, he and his
fellow-slaves then rose against their masters, and a servile war
ensued. It was temporarily checked by British interference; but the
unacclimatized white soldiers died in such numbers that the English
were compelled to leave the fertile colony in full control of the
negroes. Louverture, in imitation of Bonaparte, thereupon organized a
consular government, and with consummate wisdom inaugurated a
civilized rule. When summoned by Leclerc to surrender, he refused. For
a time his resistance was successful, but in the end he was compelled
by superior force to withdraw to the mountains. Thence he was enticed
by guile, captured, and sent to France. Kept a close prisoner in the
castle of Joux in Franche-Comté, the rigors of the climate speedily
destroyed his health, and he died on April twenty-seventh, 1803. But
the heat and mephitic vapors of his native isle revenged him. As the
French soldiers sickened and died of yellow fever, the natives
inaugurated a struggle for liberation, which was marked on both sides
by horrible barbarity. In less than two years the task of subjugation
became hopeless, and on December first, 1803, Rochambeau, having
succeeded Leclerc, who had retired the year previous to die in the
Tortugas, surrendered eight thousand men, the remnants of the
expedition, to an English fleet. The island has since been left to its
unhappy fate, and under native rule has relapsed into semi-barbarism.
The magnificent French plan of American colonization, having lost the
supports of both San Domingo and Louisiana, collapsed, leaving no
trace. Its mere existence, however, was the strongest proof of
Bonaparte's confidence in a lasting peace. Whatever his
disappointment, he was at least rid of a republican general and a
republican army. It was not much in comparison with his hopes, but it
was something.




CHAPTER XXII

THE LIFE CONSULATE[23]

         [Footnote 23: The references for this chapter are those
         already cited; Fiévée, Fouché, Roederer, Musnier-Desclozeaux,
         Pingaud, Bourrienne. Also, de Martel: Étude sur l'affaire du
         3 nivôse an IX; Fescourt: Histoire de la double conspiration
         de 1800; Madelin: Fouché (publishes many documentary
         extracts).]

     Conspiracies against Bonaparte -- The Plot of Nivôse --
     Bonaparte's Ingenuity -- Blunders of the Moderate Republicans --
     The Tribunate and Legislature Purged -- Power of the Senate --
     Bonaparte's Reticence -- The Life Consulate Proposed --
     Complacency of the Chambers -- The Legion of Honor -- Lafayette's
     Withdrawal -- Amendments to the Constitution -- The Nation
     Content -- Change in the Character of the Army.


The Consulate was scarcely inaugurated before a dastardly attempt was
made to assassinate its head. Early in the year 1800 a remnant of
Jacobins, terrorists, and anarchists had formed a conspiracy for this
purpose. Their doings, however, were betrayed to Fouché, who watched
them in such a way that their organization, though not broken up, was
reduced to impotence. Many persons have since believed that the wily
minister was holding the pack in hand for his own purposes, and that
this notorious Arena-Ceracchi conspiracy, as it was called, had been
his own creation for use in case the First Consul should be killed in
Italy. It is certain that during the long career of Fouché as minister
he never failed to have in readiness some kind of a complot for the
eve of each decisive battle in which Napoleon Bonaparte must expose
his person and risk his life. This, therefore, might well have been
the first of them. The royalists had persistently negotiated with
Bonaparte while he was yet a rising soldier. He seemed now to have
reached the summit of power, and alone could open or bar the way to
the restoration of Louis XVIII. Having toyed with their offers, it is
claimed that he gave the pretender to understand that his own highest
ambition was an Italian principality. Hopes, thus awakened, had
strengthened the royalist party; but as its ranks grew in number
dissension kept equal pace, until, while one faction, the strongest,
standing on the strictest legitimacy, remained true to the so-called
King, who was now living in Mittau, another, under the leadership of
Artois, was scheming in England for that prince, and a third, weary of
the petulant and quarrelsome feebleness of the other two, favored the
young Due d'Enghien, and grew daily stronger in Paris by desertions
from both. The members of the Enghien faction were indefatigable, and
at last from among their Vendean supporters was formed a secret junta
which, on the evening of December twenty-fourth, 1800, placed an
infernal machine in front of the First Consul's carriage as he drove
to the opera through the narrow street of St. Nicaise. His coachman,
catching sight of the strange obstacle in time, swerved, and drove
swiftly past, barely saving his passengers from the effects of a
terrific explosion which occurred the moment after, killing outright
several innocent persons, wounding sixty, and destroying about forty
houses. The First Consul and his wife drove on, and, pale with
excitement, appeared for a few moments in their box before the
expectant audience, which had already heard the news. They then
quietly withdrew. The effect on the public was electrical, and the
measures subsequently taken by the government were heartily applauded.

From this circumstance Bonaparte reaped a rich harvest, his perfidy
being comparable to that of the plotters themselves. The shameful deed
was first charged on the radicals, and by decree of the senate a
hundred and thirty of them were deported to the slow torture of places
like the Seychelles, tropical islands in the Indian Ocean. Fouché,
suspected of lingering Jacobinism, was on a trifling pretext
temporarily deprived of his portfolio, and was not ostensibly restored
to favor until 1804. Appointed senator, however, and enjoying high
consideration, his treatment did not please the brothers of the First
Consul. Their irritation was further increased by their knowledge of
confidential relations between Napoleon and the senator. During the
latter's retirement from his ministry he seems to have been quite as
influential secretly as he was openly and manifestly when he resumed
office. In the interim Ceracchi, Arena, and their fiery-tongued
companions were falsely condemned and executed. It was soon known that
the true culprits were the Vendeans, but Bonaparte declared that the
banished radicals would not be allowed to return because their absence
was a guarantee of the public safety. Only two of the real criminals
were eventually captured and executed. But the most disgraceful
consequences of this conspiracy, known in French history as the Plot
of Nivôse, were the fall of Moreau and the murder of the Duc
d'Enghien, the remoter causes of which lie as far back as the First
Consul's determination, formed at this time, that he would diminish
the chance of such murderous attacks by striking terror to the hearts
of all his enemies.

In the rearrangement of powers consequent to the eighteenth of
Brumaire and the adoption of the constitution of the year VIII, the
able men of the republic had been provided for, partly in lucrative
offices connected with administration, partly in the tribunate and
the legislature. The greatest were in the former, and their
acknowledged leader was Benjamin Constant, the friend of Mme. de
Staël. They represented in a measure the courage and the idealism of
the Revolution, but they were in a false position, and showed neither
wisdom nor prudence. Accordingly, they made a serious tactical
blunder, and fixed upon certain doubtful paragraphs introductory to
the civil code in order to manifest their discontent with Bonaparte's
self-assertion. They resisted not only the reintroduction of such
antiquated barbarisms as the confiscation by the state of property
belonging to those who for any reason were deprived of their civil
rights, and of the goods of unnaturalized strangers who died within
its limits, but attacked likewise provisions of the judicial and
financial statutes which were wisely conceived, and were of great
utility to the country, some of them being in part their own work. As
they talked, their friends in the legislature voted.

By a provision of the constitution both these assemblies were to be
continuous, one fifth of the old members retiring every year; but a
method of designating the class to be retired first, and of choosing
their successors, was not presented. When the appointed time for this
change arrived, the First Consul was so determined to be rid of the
troublesome republicans in the tribunate that he even contemplated
expelling them by force, or abolishing the body as a whole. "There are
twelve or fifteen metaphysicians there," he had said on one occasion,
"fit only to be drowned. It is a kind of vermin which I have in my
clothes, but I shall not allow myself to be attacked like Louis XVI.
No, I shall not endure it." However, a less violent method was found
by Cambacérès, and adopted. The senate had been so constituted as to
represent the political indifference which made possible Bonaparte's
political career, and from the beginning it was a subservient tool. On
several occasions--as, for instance, when about to admit Daunou to
their number--the members had been made to feel the terrors of its
creator's wrath. The constitution and its interpretation being their
special charge, they were now ordered as a constitutional measure to
select not merely the names of both the tribunes and legislators who
should leave, but also those of their successors. Needless to say that
all the ardent and outspoken men like Daunou, Constant, and Chénier
went out. The only man of importance among those chosen to the
tribunate was Carnot. Fifteen generals or superior officers and
twenty-five officials took seats in the legislature.

It requires no astuteness to see that with the establishment of an
obedient senate as the guardian of the constitution, and superior to
its provisions, nothing was thereafter impossible under the cloak of
regular procedure. Any measure which was "conservative of the
constitution" could be legalized. The time seemed ripe to introduce
the hereditary element into the Consulate, a step which had lately
been desired by Bonaparte with an eagerness but poorly concealed from
his friends.

When the treaty of Amiens was to be formally ratified the opportunity
was at last found. This act marked the pacification of the world, a
consummation long and ardently desired in France. The popularity of
him who was the author of the peace could reach no higher limits. To
show the gratitude of the state, and to guarantee the perpetuity of so
great a work, his power must be prolonged. As to the extent, no one
could learn Bonaparte's wishes: whatever recompense the great powers
of the state chose to bestow he would accept. In vain were all
attempts to sound the depths of his desires; the crowning honor must
be forced upon him. But his friends failed to apprehend what would be
considered worthy, and the program laid down was consequently of petty
dimensions. When the treaty was laid before the tribunes their
president proposed that some striking mark of national gratitude
should be bestowed on General Bonaparte, First Consul, and a
resolution to that effect was adopted. There had already been
considerable discussion about presenting to him St. Cloud, the royal
residence nearest to Paris; but he had privately declared that he
would accept nothing from the people during his term of office, and
the proposition had been dropped. With something of this kind in view,
a committee of conference at once signified the action of the
tribunate to the senate in order that "the first assembly of the
nation should interpret a general sentiment" which the tribunes could
only express.

With a dexterity acquired by habit, the complaisant senate made ready
to formulate a decree. Both the prolongation for life of the Consulate
and making the office hereditary were proposed as fitting
testimonials. Pretending to believe that the First Consul's public
virtue would repulse anything so radical, the majority rejected these
suggestions, and prolonged the term of his office for ten years. When
he saw himself thus overreached the reticent chief magistrate
displayed a dangerous passion. But he soon mastered himself, and
replied to the senators with formal thanks, declaring that his respect
for the sovereignty of the people would not permit him to accept the
prolongation of his magistracy without the authorization of the
nation; that he was ready, if called upon, to make a new sacrifice. A
meeting between the family and many confidential friends was (p.~245)
at once held, in which either Lucien or the "wise Cambacérès"
suggested an appeal to the nation. The council of state then took up
the matter and proposed to ask for a plebiscite on the question, Shall
Napoleon Bonaparte be consul for life? Roederer wished to add, "and
have the right to name his successor," but the First Consul declared
that that would be an encroachment on popular rights, and struck out
the words. On May eleventh, 1802, it was publicly announced that the
voting would begin immediately. Three months elapsed before the
returns were complete. In the interval both tribunate and senate
hastened to vote in favor of the measure. Congratulations as to the
foregone conclusion soon began to reach the Tuileries from all
quarters.

It was in this interval, moreover, that the two servile bodies finally
stamped with their approval the measures which reëstablished the
slave-trade, even though nothing decisive had as yet occurred at San
Domingo. It is not difficult, considering the circumstances, to
understand the popularity of a measure, passed at about the same time,
for establishing the now well-known Legion of Honor. The passion for
pins, badges, ribbons, and personal decorations of every sort is
well-nigh universal. They gratify the sense of achievement among men
who are able, and flatter the vanity of those who are not. To this
passion, in itself not necessarily ignoble, the First Consul
determined to appeal for further support.

Every new institution of importance so far created by Bonaparte might,
with no great ingenuity, be turned into a prop of autocratic
government. The Legion of Honor was a measure easily manageable in the
interest of any government which might control it. Priests and
emigrants were now his natural allies, the constitution had been
virtually superseded, the troublesome senators, tribunes, and
legislators had been either dismissed or else called to order, and
the surrounding nations, one of them a kingdom, were, in relation to
France, like the sheaves bowing to Joseph's sheaf. Roederer declared
that the great deeds of the nation made it essential to revive the
sentiment of honor. Though the Convention abolished all titles it
nevertheless provided that "arms of honor" might be granted to
soldiers who had won distinction. An article of the new constitution
guaranteed, in the name of the French people, a recompense to its
armies. This simple phrase was the sanction chosen for the erection of
a corporation which, like the orders of absolutism, might intermediate
between the people and their magistrate in order to lend him the same
mystery which ever surrounds any monarch who is the "fountain of
honor." In well-considered and weighty words the First Consul declared
that truly great generals must possess a high degree of civil virtue.
That men in civil life were concerned in the main, not with force as
were mere soldiers, however brave, but with reason and truth, with the
general welfare and the discussion of principles: this was the
conclusive evidence to him of their right to drink at this fountain, a
right more imperative than that of military men. They could not
therefore be excluded. The republicans saw the trap, and resisted
sturdily, but to no purpose. The law having passed on May nineteenth,
1802, the ranks were at once constituted, and the decorative badges
determined. Every member swore devotion to the service of the republic
and resistance to any effort toward the restoration of feudalism in
all its attributes: consciences were thus quieted. Right and left the
men of science, of art, and of literature appeared with their ribbons
and rosettes; the nation applauded, and Bonaparte's opinion was
justified. "You call these toys! Well, you manage men with toys," he
had declared. The event justified him.

In August the result of the plebiscite was announced: among three and
a half millions of votes only a few thousand were in the negative. One
of them was Lafayette's. His gratitude to Bonaparte for release from
his Austrian prison had so far expressed itself in abstaining from
open opposition to his liberator's will, although in reality he was
the strongest exponent of what little enlightened liberalism was left
in France. Determined not to approve even negatively of what was
passing, but to withdraw from public life, he wrote to the First
Consul remonstrating against the latter's course. "Surely," he said,
"you, who are the first in that order of men who lay tribute on all
the ages in order to find a compeer and a place, would wish that such
a revolution, such conquest and bloodshed, such sufferings and
marvelous deeds, should have for you some other end than arbitrary
power." The protest was of course unheeded.

Thus, then, to use Bonaparte's language, "liberty and equality were put
beyond the caprice of chance and the uncertainty of the future." A few
finishing touches were given to the work after the announcement of the
vote. The lists of notables were abolished, and small cantonal
assemblies designated the candidates for lower offices. Electoral
colleges of manageable size sent up from the districts the names of
candidates for the tribunate; similar colleges sent up from the
departments the names of candidates for the legislature and the senate;
while all the electors of these primary assemblies were appointed for
life. The functions of the tribunate were limited, and it deliberated
thenceforward behind closed doors. The council of state was stripped of
its supremacy by the creation of a small privy council which did most of
its work. The powers of the senate were so enlarged as to make it nearly
sovereign. It could suspend or interpret the constitution, reverse the
decisions of the courts, and dissolve the tribunate and legislature,
always provided the proposition came from the government. And the
government retained only three prerogatives--the pardoning power, the
right to designate a successor in the office of chief magistrate, and
the right to nominate forty senators. In reality, the clever
manipulation of these provisions made the First Consul supreme for life,
and his office hereditary, without recourse to a further plebiscite.

A few wise men understood how the nation had been fettered, and one of
them proposed in a pamphlet that Bonaparte should be made king if only
he would restore constitutional government. It was easy to dismiss
with scornful disdain a proposition so subversive of "liberty." The
nation was content. The Revolution had at last culminated through the
fulfilment of its ideals in the person of a warrior strong to realize
them at home and defend them abroad. The boundaries of France were
enlarged, order prevailed within her borders, peace had been made with
honor, the "empire" of liberal ideas was established in the "empire"
of France, a favorite phrase of the Convention; and in it the
existence of beneficent institutions permeated by a liberal spirit was
guaranteed by the assured control of one who could turn experiments
into national habits.

Behind the Consul for life stood a now purged and unified army,
recruited by a system which insured its perpetuity and efficiency. The
child of the Revolution, the army, was a national institution; but the
influence of Bonaparte, combined with the conscription laws of the
Directory and the Consulate, had gradually and completely changed its
character and its spirit. Fathers no longer gave their sons for a
principle; families no longer saw conscripts march forth with the
sense that they were making a sacrifice to patriotism. Long
experience had made this a matter of course; young men went out to
fight for glory and, alas! too often for booty. Since the first
Italian campaign under him who was now chief magistrate for life, the
latter motive was always present and often avowed. The leader who
could be relied on to gratify the French passion for distinction, and
at the same time put money in the purse of his soldiers, might be
confident of their devotion.




CHAPTER XXIII

THE THRESHOLD OF MONARCHY[24]

         [Footnote 24: Personal details are abundant in Antommarchi,
         Montholon, Las Cases and Gourgaud; likewise in the memoirs of
         the brothers Joseph and Lucien, of the ladies Junot, de
         Rémusat, de Genlis, and Avrillon, of Barante, Barras,
         Bourrienne, Chaptal, Chateaubriand, Constant, de Gerardin,
         Mallet du Pan, Méneval, Thiébault, and Rapp; in Lord
         Holland's recollections and in the following books: Aubenas:
         Vie de Josephine; Ducrest: Mémoires sur Josephine; Bouilly:
         Mes récapitulations; Lamartine: Histoire de la Restauration;
         Lacretelle: Histoire du Consulat; Bégin: Histoire de
         Napoléon, and Stenger: La Société Française pendant le
         Consulat.]

     Bonaparte at Maturity -- Ability and Opportunity -- Personal
     Appearance -- Mind and Manners -- Personal Habits -- The Man of
     France -- The Consular Court -- The First Consul's Cynicism --
     The Feud between Bonapartes and Beauharnais -- Disuse of the
     Republican Calendar -- The "Genius of Christianity."


Bonaparte was now thirty-four. Thus far he had been not alone the tool
of fate nor yet entirely the architect of his own fortunes; he had
been both. In Corsica his immature powers had been thwarted by
conditions beyond his control. During the Revolution he had caught at
every straw which would spare his life and give him a living. Until
his marriage he was a soldier of fortune, and fortune made it
difficult, either by professional excellence or political scheming, to
grasp any of her favors. Accordingly he went without them, suffering,
erring, dreaming, philosophizing, observing, and gathering the
experience which made him mature at the age when most men are still
boys. The observer can descry no revolution in his character when
opportunities began to open. There are the same unscrupulous
enterprise, the same determination to seize the chances of the hour,
the same ability to make the most of circumstances; but the grist is
now wheat and the resultant output is flour.

Every success is made introductory to another effort, and his scheming
shows the same overweening self-confidence as that of his boyhood.
Only now his plans unfold, not in the chill blasts of habitual
failure, but in the mild breezes of prospering influences. Many
historians proclaim the existence of a great life-scheme, declaring
that with satanic powers the boy had prearranged every detail of his
manhood. Of this there is not the slightest proof. All that is clear
is the continued use, by a great mind tempered in the fires of
experience, of ever greater opportunities as they arose. Like all men
of commanding ability, Bonaparte belonged, not to one age, but to all
ages. His elemental nature made the time and place and conditions in
which he actually lived a means to his end, exactly as another century
and another environment would have been. Whatever he might have been
elsewhere or in another age, he was the personification of France as
she was in his time, when he arrived by her desire and connivance at
the height of his power.

[Sidenote: 1803]

"Calm on a fiery steed"; thus he desired that the great painter of the
time, David, should portray him for posterity. Thus he firmly decided
both to appear and to be. But the trustworthy portraits of the time,
varying strangely, according to the artist and the mood of the sitter,
leave in the composite a quite different impression, expressed by
Lamartine as that of a "restless flame." His massive brow jutting over
piercing blue eyes, his fine-cut nose, his thin curved lips, his
strong short chin, all crowned by scant lank chestnut hair and firmly
set on a sturdy neck, gave an impression of manly strength; so, too,
did his long bust. But his rather muddy complexion, his short stature,
his fine and exquisitely modeled hands and feet, the former dazzling
in their clear white skin, the easy comfort of supple hat, loose
garments, and wrinkled footwear, were evidence of a nervous
temperament, impatient of physical discipline. His voice was
ordinarily soft and caressing, but his address was cold and haughty,
especially to strangers; when roused, however, his speech was brief,
sharp, incisive. His gestures were inelegant and his carriage uneasy;
his French was incorrect, and the expression of his face had little or
no connection with his language. His smiles were forced, but his
laughter was hearty. "Smite brass with a glove," he said, "and it is
mute, but strike it with a hammer and you get its ring." So he was
almost rude in addressing persons of importance, but he was neither
affected nor arrogant. It is the universal testimony of those who saw
him that his presence was grave and noble, even majestic. De Staël
declared that "more and less than human, comparison was impossible."

His imagination was considered by his poet contemporaries to be
prodigious: his word memory was poor, but he recalled figures with
accuracy, in numbers and details that were bewildering; and he
mastered the reports of finance and statistics in such perfection as
to stun his agents and ministers. He had an intimate acquaintance with
the persons, lives, and family archives of his officers, and as he
paced with his hands behind his back, his head on one side, his lips
mechanically working from side to side, he could open any pigeonhole
of his memory and dictate facts, figures, orders, suggestions for
hours. Enemies like Rémusat and Talleyrand thought him ill-bred, but
they admitted that his judgment was infallible, and his capacity for
work beyond compare; that, at least, of four men in one. He was an
indefatigable reader, especially in the fields of law, philosophy,
administration, and war; and in conversation with great specialists he
could draw from their stores by apt question the exact explication of
difficult points in such a skilful way as to infatuate and fascinate
the great men whose society he sought.

Time was his most precious commodity, and for every stage and state of
life he had a routine from which he deviated most unwillingly. In
these years his days were spent in the careful husbanding of every
hour. He rose at seven, summoned his secretaries, and saw both letters
and papers opened before his eyes. He read all the former, and heard
full reports of the latter, the periodicals, and journals, English and
German, as well as French. Meantime he was thoroughly rubbed from head
to foot with a silk brush, sprayed with perfumed alcohol, and dried
with a sponge. This was varied by frequent baths, for cleanliness, not
for invigoration. He then shaved himself before a glass held in
position by his body-servant, the Mameluke Rustan. He then slipped
quickly into his clothes, all made of the finest, softest materials
procurable; his ordinary uniform being the green coat of his chasseurs
with a colonel's epaulettes, white nankin breeches, and varnished
boots with spurs. Having taken his handkerchief and snuff-box from an
attendant, he passed through the door into his office and worked until
ten, when a plain breakfast, some simple dish with a single glass of
wine, was set before him on a little mahogany table. Having eaten, he
took an easy posture on the sofa, spending a short time in reflection,
often in light sleep; then rousing himself swiftly, he resumed his
dictation, pacing the floor with knitted brow. The late afternoon was
devoted to outdoors and the reception of visitors, his dinner hour was
seven, the evening was given to relaxation, and at ten he was asleep.
When affairs were urgent, as they very often were, he rose again at
midnight, took some light refreshment, chocolate or ices, and wrapped
in a gown resumed his work with secretaries at hand for the purpose.
His labors terminated, he retired once more and fell at once into a
sound sleep. When overwhelmed with anxiety he withdrew from the
Tuileries to the quiet of Malmaison.

Visionaries might say in vain and beautiful phrase, as they did then
and do now, that, having harvested his laurels and exhausted the
glories of conquest, he should turn to ameliorate the race, to guide a
great nation with the easy reins of popular law in the brilliant paths
illuminated by the light of the century. The ideal nation referred to
did not exist. It was because the despotism of monarchy and the
madness of revolution had shown the utter absence of self-control in
the nation--because the French as a whole were avid not of virtue but
of pleasure, not of self-denial but of luxury, not of stern morality
but of glory--because Bonaparte was a man after their own heart, that
he had some justification in his reply to a demand for liberty of the
press: "In a moment," said he, "I should have thirty royalist journals
and as many Jacobin ones, and I should have to govern with a
minority." Many an earnest, liberty-loving French statesman of to-day
has had cause in the bitterness of his heart to recall the language.
As the ministries in France topple, and a dozen legislative factions,
having each its journal, combine for no other purpose than the sport
of overturning the government, it is, alas! too often a minority which
neither governs nor rules, but guides the public career by a (p.~255)
kind of sufferance. This occurs because control of the government,
even for a short time, means the autocratic control of power,
patronage, and honor, as it was arranged by Bonaparte for his own
purposes.

There is no doubt that the First Consul realized what he had done and
whither he was going. The conspiracies had seriously affected his
nerves; more and more he withdrew from the society of all but a few
confidants, and surrounded himself with a more rigid etiquette. Mme.
Bonaparte gathered to the Tuileries ever larger numbers of the
fortune-hunting nobility, who hoped that Bonaparte's elevation would
yet prove a stepping-stone to restore the Bourbons. These elegant
persons laughed in their sleeves at what they heard and saw. The dress
and state of the monarchy were restored, but neither the chief
magistrate himself, nor the late republicans who had made good their
position at court, had the manners or the morals of those for whom the
social institutions of royalty had been developed. The returning
nobles thought it very funny that the great man liked seclusion, and
found what amusement he took in ghost-stories, in the sighing of the
wind, in brusque sallies of coarse wit, or in the rude familiarities
of bluff intimacy with plain people; they considered it very absurd
that his vices were commonplace and perhaps even worse; they thought
it laughable that the newcomers slipped on the polished floors, and it
seemed most entertaining that the gentlewomen of the old régime who,
like Mme. de Rémusat, had accepted permanent positions as ladies of
the palace, were often subjected to treatment and put into positions
not foreseen in the training they had received from courtly tutors.

But, for all this, it was not merry at the Tuileries. The chief grew
timid and dark before his own achievements, as he sought to master
difficulties which ambition does not foresee, but with which it must
reckon. No one liked less than Bonaparte to ride abroad surrounded by
guards, or to muse in green alleys where, as at Malmaison, every tree
was at times the post of a patrol. Yet even he could not alter the
necessity, and the system of espionage was extended about him like a
cage for his protection. As to friends, they grew fewer and fewer; for
one of the First Consul's maxims was the cynical aphorism of
Machiavelli, that friends must always be treated as if one day they
might be enemies. Even the notion of duty, not to speak of its
practice, was foreign to him; generosity, honesty, and sincerity were
utopian conceptions of which his world and his experience had never
known. The attractive visions and ideals of virtue which mingled with
the speculations of Rousseau or Voltaire had become, like the mirage
of the desert, empty illusions that heighten the barrenness of
self-interest and ambition beneath them. Human greed, passion,
vanity--such, Bonaparte declared, are the motive forces by which kings
rule; the justice of governors was for him the safeguarding of
comfort, of material prosperity, and of the superstitions which under
the name of religion create a moral power necessary to the public
order.

In the circle immediately surrounding Bonaparte there was much
quarreling and jealousy. Josephine having been barren since her second
marriage, would the succession go to her children or to her husband's
relatives? This was becoming a serious question. Joseph Bonaparte had
kept the new order in touch with the republican idea by his skilful
diplomacy both in society and in foreign negotiation. He was disposed
to yield to his arbitrary brother in any extremity, and his beautiful
wife was a tower of strength to the family interest. The vigorous and
able Lucien had risen to the height of his chances, and, having
acquired a handsome fortune while occupying the post of French
minister to Madrid, began to assert his old democratic independence.
He was now a widower, and refusing to marry the queen regent of
Etruria, espoused a wife from among the people, and this step
eventually cost him the penalty of exile. Josephine was successful in
making a match between her daughter Hortense and her husband's third
brother, Louis; but although at a later time the Emperor contemplated
bequeathing his power to their son, for the present their quarrels,
instead of appeasing, intensified the Bonaparte-Beauharnais feud. It
was sometimes said in loud whispers that the only solution of the
impending difficulties was the divorce of the First Consul from his
wife; but the question was not yet seriously discussed. The consular
pair had never been married by ecclesiastical form, and many have
since suggested that it was a discontented husband who had spoken in
the manifest partiality for easy divorce which Bonaparte displayed in
discussing the civil code. Jerome had been among the officers
blockaded in the West Indies by the English fleet. Having escaped to
the United States, he became desperately enamored of Elizabeth
Patterson, a beautiful woman of Baltimore, and in December, 1803,
married her. The pre-nuptial contract is couched in language which
proves that her father understood the risks he was taking. As might
have been and was expected, the First Consul was furious, refusing to
recognize the marriage or the child born of it, and forbidding his
sister-in-law to live in France. In a short time the unworthy object
of his wrath deserted his family, and returned, with few qualms
apparently, to his elder brother's fold and a share in the splendors
of the Empire.

The Bonaparte women were clever intriguers. Madame Mère lived quietly
in her own home, where, to her son's exasperation, she continued to
speak the Corsican dialect and to save money; it is said that she
always distrusted the permanency of her son's elevation. Elisa, now
Mme. Bacciocchi, was a shrewd woman of the world, and with Lucien's
aid formed a literary coterie of which Chateaubriand was the
illumination. Pauline returned from San Domingo to marry Prince
Borghese, and became notorious for her conjugal infidelities.
Caroline, the wife of Murat, chafed under her husband's intellectual
inferiority, but used her position with skill in behalf of her family.
Of all his connections none was more useful to the head of the State
than Fesch, who was easily persuaded to reënter the Church, and not
long after the Concordat became Archbishop of Lyons and cardinal. The
republican calendar still nominally survived, but after the
reconciliation of State and Church the celebration of the ten-day
festival of Décadi, instituted under the republic, fell into disuse,
the Church resumed the observance of Sunday, and among the diligent
attendants at mass on that day was the First Consul. His near
relationship with an ecclesiastical dignitary did not tend to weaken
the bonds which tied his government to the religious sentiment of the
common people.

In the great world outside the Tuileries there was for a moment peace.
Nothing was left of Jacobinism or revolutionary ferment. Old names
were restored to streets and places, just as every one now wore the
garments of the ancient régime, except the impoverished aristocrats,
who in mild protest continued to wear the trousers of the
sansculottes. Even they, however, had got back a small portion of
their properties, and the newly rich saw in the confirmation of
personal government by a consul through a so-called republic the
guarantee that restitution of the rest to its former owners would
never be required of them. Both alike were therefore satisfied with
what was sure. Thus in the same way monarchists and republicans were
equally gratified, the latter with a semblance of democratic
government, the former with a reality which might end in royalty, the
full fruition of their yearnings. In short, public confidence was
restored, and showed itself in a respectable, temperate decency of
living which had been foreign to Paris under the Directory. Everything
appeared as if society were performing its normal functions in
commerce, trade, industry, and religion. Even art and literature
revived as if upon a solid substructure of permanent organic life.
Mme. de Staël had fought gallantly for notoriety and for the attention
of the great, so dear to her woman's heart in spite of all its
philosophy; but Bonaparte never forgave her persistent self-seeking,
nor the insight into his character which she and her friends
displayed, and he discovered that the air of Paris disagreed with her.
Chateaubriand, a noble of high imaginative power and brilliant
literary gifts, after several unsuccessful ventures as a romantic
youth, had finally published in 1797 an "Essay on Revolutions," which
was intended to be a peacemaker in the struggle of ideas, to mediate
between the monarchy and the republic. It was imbued with atheism and
the philosophy of Rousseau. Very soon after its appearance the author
was the subject of a remarkable conversion, and at once began the
composition of his treatise on the "Genius of Christianity," that
exquisitely literary and pious work which established his fame.
Although he had been hitherto unknown to Bonaparte, his book was so
opportune in its far-reaching influence that men could not rid
themselves of the feeling that the writer was sponsor for the
Concordat. Eloquent and poetic in style, the dissertation is
nevertheless arid in opinion and scanty in argument. Its life was
therefore ephemeral, but its influence while it lasted was supreme; as
a reward for its composition, Chateaubriand was made the French
representative first in Rome, afterward in the republic of Valais.




CHAPTER XXIV

EXPANSION OR THE REVOLUTIONARY SYSTEM[25]

         [Footnote 25: Aside from the documentary authorities, printed
         and otherwise, which have been already enumerated, the most
         valuable memoirs for this period are those of Chaptal,
         Czartoryski, Lucien Bonaparte, Joseph de Maistre, Méneval,
         Metternich, Miot de Melito, Moriolles, Norvins, and Pasolini.
         Further, Hansard's Parliamentary Debates, Cornwallis's
         Correspondence, Castlereagh's Letters and Despatches, the
         Paget Papers, Malmesbury's Journal, and Carr's Stranger in
         France. See likewise Lecestre's New Letters of Napoleon
         (Lettres inédites, etc.).]

     The Interpretation of a Treaty -- The Document Signed at Amiens
     -- Addington's Policy -- English Influence in Germany --
     Reconstruction of the German State System -- Its Consequences --
     Lord Whitworth at Paris -- Bonaparte's Attitude -- Influence of
     the Army -- English Disenchantment -- Recriminations between
     England and France -- The Trial of Peltier -- Diplomatic
     Hostilities -- Sebastiani's Report.


[Sidenote: 1802--03]

The First Consul might well feel that the constitution of the year
VIII had approved itself. The madness of Jacobinism was not merely
checked, it was utterly crushed out; political liberty had apparently
not been diminished, civil liberty had been formulated and assured as
never before; finally, the renown of France had never been more
brilliant, and the Consulate had used her glory to make the peace with
honor so earnestly desired. Nothing was left but to secure permanency
for the well-ordered life thus begun. Opinions varied widely as to how
far this was possible. The diplomatists of Europe were not hopeful,
knowing as they did what self-control had been exercised on both sides
in negotiating the treaty of Amiens, what knotty questions had been
passed over, and how easily the stipulations might be rendered of no
effect by opposite interpretations of their spirit; on the other hand,
Bonaparte, though aware of the strain which at such an epoch must
exist in the relations between monarchies and republics, and of the
warlike temper of the dynasties, believed that the pressure of public
opinion would insure the observance of the treaty. For him its
essential feature was the restoration of Malta to its former owners,
the Knights of St. John, that is, to the sphere of French influence,
or, in other words, England's surrender of absolute control in the
Mediterranean. He does not appear to have recalled that others might
think a corresponding diminution of French influence on the Continent
equally essential to its correct interpretation.

For the treaty of Amiens contained other stipulations. England's
warfare was not to be in vain. Trinidad and Ceylon were splendid
acquisitions to her colonial empire, and she retained her right to use
the harbors of the Cape of Good Hope. Except the two islands just
mentioned, Spain and the Batavian Republic got all their colonies
back, and the House of Orange was to be indemnified for its loss of
power in Holland. As to the Oriental question, England's pride was not
humbled, Turkey being left as before the war in respect to her
territorial boundaries, and being recognized again as the suzerain
both of the Ionian Isles and of Egypt. In return Great Britain was to
evacuate the latter country, and by the surrender of Malta abandon her
control of the Mediterranean highway. France was to evacuate Rome,
Naples, and Elba. Such was the paper to which on March twenty-seventh,
1802, Joseph Bonaparte, Cornwallis, Azara, and Schimmelpenninck set
their hands for their respective countries--France, Great Britain,
Spain, and the Batavian Republic. No mention was made of Piedmont, or
of the Helvetian Republic, or of the reconstruction of Germany in
accordance with the peace of Lunéville, a matter which was to be
settled by agreement between France and Russia according to a treaty
which had been signed on October eighth, 1801. Alexander, the new
Czar, on his accession in the previous March, had promptly abandoned
the armed neutrality and the doctrine of "neutral flag, neutral
goods." Ostensibly he remained friendly to Bonaparte, but he declared
in his instructions to Markoff, his ambassador at Paris, that the
First Consul, "in flattering the deceased Czar, had been mainly
desirous to use him as a weapon against England." To Paul, who had
been ready to fight for the "liberty of the seas," and to check Great
Britain in India, Bonaparte might have yielded control in Italy; but
to Alexander, who, it was clear, was about to desert France, he would
naturally not yield one shred of continental control beyond what was
absolutely essential for peace.

The success of the negotiations at Amiens was largely due to the
personal characters of two men--Lord Cornwallis and Joseph Bonaparte.
The latter was conciliatory; the former, as Napoleon told Lord
Ebrington, in 1814, was from his integrity and goodness an honor to
his country. No sooner was the treaty signed than the opposition
leaders of the English Parliament began to declare that it gave to
France the mastery of the Continent. Addington stoutly denied the
allegation. Addison had always held the view that Great Britain had
been made an island in order that she might be the arbiter of the
Continent. This well-worn doctrine Addington vigorously maintained,
and, stung by the taunts of his opponents, he began the reign of peace
with a stronger emphasis than ever upon the time-honored (p.~264)
policy of meddling in continental affairs. In the Batavian, Helvetian,
Cisalpine, and Ligurian republics the English diplomatic agents
renewed their efforts to discredit the French influence, giving
comfort and support to those who would gladly have overturned all that
Bonaparte had done. The malcontents were, however, comparatively few,
because the people, having so long been the plaything of the old
European dynasties, had been but slightly invigorated by the
revolutionary epoch, and were content if only they might enjoy a
period of uninterrupted repose.

In Germany, however, the English envoys had a better field, for in
that disrupted land the case of the population, though resembling that
of those who dwelt in the countries just enumerated, was not
identical. Ever since France had asserted the doctrine that her
natural frontier was the Rhine, the simplest answer to the question of
how the temporal princes of the Germanic body were to be indemnified
for the territories she was seizing had evidently been found in
recurring to Richelieu's policy at the close of the Thirty Years' War,
namely, the secularization of bishoprics, and their incorporation with
dynastic states. In the Congress of Rastadt, Austria had grudgingly
admitted this as a guiding principle, disastrous as it was to her
supremacy in the empire--a supremacy based on the support of the
ecclesiastical rulers, who, being bound to no dynasty, naturally
rallied about the great Roman Catholic power, in opposition to
Prussia, her Protestant rival. So far, therefore, Roman Catholicism in
Germany had been in the main conservative, and English diplomatists
found ample room for the display of their ingenuity in offsetting
religious factions, as well as political cliques and dynastic
interests, one against the other.

But after the Concordat Bonaparte's position was so utterly changed
that all the liberal Roman Catholics in Germany, and a large
proportion of the rest, had little to choose between France and
Austria. He was therefore able to carry out in Germany the excellent
policy of entire reconstruction which he had pursued in Italy--a
policy which had had the sanction of French royalism and of French
republicanism. As a protector of the Church he could go only so far in
the wholesome process as he was able to make the world believe to be
necessary. Insisting, with this in view, that both the great German
powers should be separated from the Rhine by a line of little states,
he began to carve lands and transfer communities without the slightest
regard to their will. Nothing proves more conclusively how entirely
the balance of power had been destroyed, or how the old conceptions of
international relations were crushed, than the position of the
Germanic body and the disposition Bonaparte made of it. The petty
states fell suppliant at Talleyrand's feet, and the venal minister
spared those which paid the most; the others disappeared from the map
without any protest except from their own deposed princes. Scores of
the corrupt little courts which had disgraced the German name died
without any to mourn their demise, and proud imperial cities were
forced to bow before the semi-feudal dynasties. The process wrought
havoc in the local jealousies which had prevented in Germany that
wholesome national development already advanced among other European
peoples.

In a succession of treaties the work went steadily on. The Czar was
pacified by liberal grants to his relatives of the reigning house of
Würtemberg. Prussia got an exchange for Cleves and the price of her
neutrality in such fine domains as Hildesheim, Paderborn, Quedlinburg,
and many others; Austria suffered for her defeats in accepting the
Italian arrangements, and a smaller share than seemed her right in
Germany; but the Grand Duke of Tuscany got Salzburg, Berchtesgaden,
Brixen, Trent, and part of Eichstädt. Bavaria received Passau in
fulfilment of Bonaparte's promises. Baden and Darmstadt were, as
border states, made slightly stronger than they had been. The
substance of the arrangement between France and Russia was the
humiliation of Austria, the strengthening of Prussia, the
dismemberment of the Holy Roman Empire, and the dislocation of the
hitherto existing scheme of European politics. The ruling houses of
Bavaria, Würtemberg, Baden, and Darmstadt were all related to the
Czar. It seemed a gain for him that their strength was increased; on
the other hand, they discerned in Bonaparte the power which rewarded
them for their fidelity to France, and became his firm supporters. It
is needless to say that English statesmen looked on aghast at this
reconstruction of Europe, and began to ask if their country's
traditional enemy could thus work its will without hindrance, and to
the hurt, not only of England's glory, but of England's prosperity,
perhaps to the menace even of her independence.

These changes were in steady progress throughout the autumn of 1802
and the first month of 1803, being completed in February of this year.
They were not announced as the "enactment of the imperial delegates,"
so called by courtesy, until then, and whatever might have been
suspected, they were not definitely known before then. But as early as
September, 1802, Addington took a step which proves that at that early
date his government was determined to put its own interpretation on
the treaty of Amiens, or rather to consider any interpretation of the
treaty of Lunéville not in England's favor as a breach of the treaty
of Amiens. This step was the appointment as British ambassador at
Paris of Lord Whitworth, a stately, unbending, self-restrained
aristocrat. He would have been an admirable representative of Great
Britain at a Bourbon court; his presence at the quasi-republican
consular levees of Bonaparte was in itself a standing rebuke to the
new order. The character of his instructions was in consonance with
his appointment. They expressed suspicion that France was secretly
planning to harm English interests, and required him to pay special
attention to the lands "under the dominion of the republic." The
annexation of Piedmont was cited as a grievance, as was also the
attitude of France to the three new republics. He was to refuse any
satisfaction concerning Malta, and not to commit "his Majesty as to
what may be eventually his intentions with respect to the island." In
particular, he was to watch the French policy in regard to the Indies,
both East and West. Such a man with such instructions could in no wise
be considered or felt to be a minister of peace. He began in December
to assert that the French nation despised its government, and that
Bonaparte's finances were in serious disorder. Thenceforward carping
and faultfinding were intermingled in his correspondence with
statements outwardly calm but suppressedly indignant about the course
of France. He said, moreover, that every year of peace was better for
Great Britain than a year of war, because it would give strength and
courage to those of the French whose interest lay in overthrowing the
Consulate, which, on the other hand, would be weakened by inactivity.

The First Consul was equally astute. It is said that during the winter
a member of the council of state expressed his satisfaction with the
peace. "Do the signatures of the great powers make them any less our
foes?" was the rejoinder of Bonaparte. The response was of course in
the negative. "Well, then," he continued, "draw the necessary
conclusion. If these states are always keeping war _in petto_ in order
to renew it, the sooner it comes the better; for with every day fades
the memory of their defeats, while the prestige of our victories is
forgotten in equal measure. Every advantage, then, is on their side.
Remember that a first consul is in no respect like these kings by the
grace of God, who look on their kingdoms as heirlooms. This is for
them an advantage, for us a hindrance. Hated by its neighbors,
compelled to hold in restraint various classes of internal malcontents
and at the same time to inspire respect in so many external foes, the
French state needs glory, and therefore war. It must either surpass
all others or fall. I shall put up with peace as long as my neighbors
are able to keep it, but I shall think it an advantage if they compel
me to take up my arms before they are rusty.... From our point of view
I regard the peace as a short armistice, and consider myself doomed to
fight almost without intermission throughout my term of office." This
language, though credibly reported, was set down at a much later time,
as also was a statement of Lucien's in his memoirs that it was
ambition, not patriotism, which after the peace of Amiens made war a
necessity to his brother. The notices of the time which have come to
us from those not in the thick of plot and intrigue--men like Rapp and
others of his kind--create a different impression: that Bonaparte was
heartily sick of war, and really desired peace, not of course a peace
of recession, but one of further penetration for French prestige and
influence, an invading peace as it has been aptly styled.

Yet it is impossible to feel sure of the First Consul's innermost
desire, in view of the great army at his back eager for war and still
posted at the most advantageous strategic points of Europe. Where
such an army exists there must be a powerful military party, and such
a party must influence a great general. As late as 1875 the great
military leaders of the German Empire nearly thwarted the statecraft
of Bismarck, and almost succeeded in renewing the Franco-Prussian war
for the purpose of reducing France to vassalage. Similar influences
may have weighed at times with Bonaparte; but the charge that already
in 1802 France was the destined victim of Bonaparte's ambition, and
all Europe but its tool, remains unproved. He was not yet convinced
that war was essential for the extension of his influence, and there
is no proof until two years later that his dreams of Western empire
had taken definite form. Then, when France was fighting for her life
with an England governed by a narrow-minded and unwholesome king, and
when dynastic Europe was all allied against him, he appears to have
become convinced that the time had finally arrived when, to defeat
England and destroy dynastic rule in Europe, he must by all means at
his command unite the Western world under his sway.

Both the preliminaries of London and the peace of Amiens had been
hailed with joy by the industrial and mercantile classes of England.
It is true the Christian sentiment of the country was shocked by the
official restoration of the slave-trade on the part of France; but
that feeling was momentarily stilled in view of the untold benefits to
commerce which might justly be expected as the result of peace. In
this expectation, however, the merchants were disappointed, for the
Consulate immediately put in force certain arbitrary and annoying
shipping regulations intended to limit any encroachments on its rigid
protective policy. The pious philanthropy of England has ever seen
missionary zeal go hand in hand with British commerce as the best
means of simultaneously fulfilling England's destiny and ameliorating
the world. Accordingly, public opinion again took up the cry against
the slave-trade, and soon was so changed that the cheers of the
multitude were turned into renewed execrations of Bonaparte.
Thenceforward the influences which combined to create a warlike temper
in England were cumulative. It was found by private citizens that the
clause of the treaty which removed all sequestrations from their
property in France was not easily enforced. Statesmen began to say
that by a further extension of the system of federated states under
French hegemony their maritime empire would insure nothing but the
insignificant carrying-trade with the colonies, while the European
commerce, which was far more important, would be delivered into other
hands. The King feared lest, with the guarantee of territorial
sanctity, which was its mainstay, absolutism itself would go.

The bitter discontent of the British was expressed in the public press
almost before the ink was dry on the treaty of Amiens. Bonaparte,
demanding the right to establish consuls in the chief ports of England
and Ireland, designated the officials and sent them to their posts.
Under the pretext that these men were spies, charged to make and
forward to Paris plans of the harbors, they were seized, and forbidden
to enter on their duties. Moreover, one Peltier, an emigrant, began
without hindrance from the authorities to publish in London a French
royalist journal, "L'Ambigu," which lampooned and abused the First
Consul in a shameful but brilliant way. Two months after the date of
the treaty Bonaparte began to remonstrate against such license. The
English administration pleaded the freedom of the press under
constitutional guarantees, and asserted the truth of the allegations
brought against the consuls. Soon the tide of recrimination was in
full flood, and the columns of the "Moniteur" were filled with matter
similar to the offensive contents of the English press. The journals
of Paris began to declare that "Carthage must be destroyed." It was
the irony of fate that while in England the government could deny its
responsibility for the utterances of the newspapers, Bonaparte, who
had utterly destroyed the freedom of the press in France, could be
held to strict account for every word printed.

As early as July, the First Consul made his grievances a subject of
diplomatic remonstrance. Receiving a mild reply, he then enumerated as
matters of complaint, in addition to the license of the English
papers, the residence of emigrants in Great Britain, her harboring
conspirators like Georges Cadoudal, and her protection of the Bourbon
princes. Although the Alien Act would have made it possible for the
government of England to banish political refugees, it was contrary to
a wise policy to do so, and this was explained to the French
ambassador. In order, however, temporarily to appease the French
government, Peltier was prosecuted for libel of the First Consul. By
the skill of the defendant's counsel the trial was turned into a
jubilation over the liberty of the press; and though the culprit was
technically condemned, he was never brought to punishment. Thereafter,
by the aid of a subvention from Bonaparte, the Irish radicals began to
publish in London a fiery paper, the contents of which were supplied
from Paris, and were intended to counteract the influence of the
English journals.

Meantime the First Consul gave every evidence that his only warfare
was to be a diplomatic one; his chief interest was clearly the
improvement of French industries, the extension of beneficent public
works, and the consolidation of his colonial empire. Louisiana had
been ceded to France by Spain in exchange for the kingdom of Etruria,
and an expedition was being fitted out to go and take possession of
it. Efforts were directed also to the eastward, Sebastiani, a skilful
diplomat, being despatched in September, under the guise of a
commercial agent, carefully to examine Persian affairs and report on
the situation in the Levant. As a countercheck to the outcry which
Bonaparte believed would be raised over the annexation of Piedmont, he
filled Ireland with secret agents whose duty it was to foment and
organize the spirit of insurrection, while carefully studying the
country. Ostensibly they too were commercial agents, and even when
some of their instructions were seized by English officials, nothing
to the contrary could be proved. In their case, as in that of
Sebastiani, it does not appear that Bonaparte was aiming at anything
but to secure an alternative in case of extremity. That he had
eventually to take the alternative in Ireland is no proof to the
contrary. Similarly there was no overt hostility in the fact,
considered from any point of view, that Ney's fine army of thirty
thousand men, sent to Switzerland ostensibly in the interest of good
order, served likewise to check both Prussia and Austria, should they
prove restive under the new reorganization of Europe. When England
remonstrated, Bonaparte declared in a note of October twenty-third,
1802, to his ambassador in England, that his resolution was taken. If
war was threatened, it must needs be a continental war, the
consequence of which could only be to force him to conquer Europe. He
was about thirty-three years old. Hitherto he had destroyed only
second-class states. "Who knew how long he would take to change the
face of Europe again, and resuscitate the empire of the West?" This
paper Otto, the ambassador, virtually suppressed, knowing how far the
threat would jeopardize the peace.

During the summer of 1802, Fox journeyed to Paris, where he was
presented to Bonaparte early in September. The English statesman was
fascinated, and departed with the conviction that his host desired
nothing but peace with a liberal policy both domestic and foreign as
far as was consistent with safety. But the English press became none
the less virulent in consequence of Fox's favorable report, or of a
brilliant defense of France, which he made from his place in
Parliament. Toward the close of January, 1803, Talleyrand remonstrated
with Whitworth, plumply demanding what England intended to do about
Malta. Whitworth made an evasive answer, hinting that the King's
opinion of the changes which had taken place in Europe since the
treaty might be of importance in determining him as to the disposal of
the island. This was the first official intimation that England did
not intend to keep her promise. A few days later Sebastiani returned
from the East, and on January thirtieth, 1803, the "Moniteur"
published his thorough and careful report. It was a long document,
fully explaining every source of English weakness in the Orient, and
setting forth the possibilities of re-establishing French colonies in
Egypt and the Levant. There was only one menacing phrase, but it
expressed an unpalatable truth, that "six thousand French troops could
now conquer Egypt." The publication in England of this paper raised a
tremendous popular storm, and it has pleased many historians to regard
Bonaparte's course as a virtual declaration of war. In reality it was
merely a French Roland for the English Oliver. If England intended to
keep Malta, let her beware of her prestige in the East. Had Bonaparte
proposed to act on Sebastiani's report, he certainly would not have
published it. Of course, the English populace utterly failed to grasp
so nice a point, and the incident so strained the relations of France
and England that all Europe saw the impending crisis--one or the
other, or both, must consent to a modification of the treaty in
respect to Malta, or there would be war.




CHAPTER XXV

TENSION BETWEEN ENGLAND AND FRANCE[26]

         [Footnote 26: In addition to the authorities given with the
         last chapter there are Garden: Traités. Leclercq: Collection
         des Lois. Lefebvre: Cabinets de l'Europe. Du Casse:
         Négociations relatives au Traité d'Amiens, Négociations de
         Lunéville; Jurien de la Gravière: Guerres Maritimes. Lettres
         inédites de Talleyrand à Napoléon. Stern: Briefe von Gentz in
         Oesterreichische Geschichtsforschung, Vol. XXI. Bailleu:
         Correspondance inédite du roi Frédéric-Guillaume et la reine
         Louise avec l'empereur Alexandre I. Himly: Histoire de la
         formation territoriale des États de l'Europe centrale.
         Holtzhausen: Der erste Consul und seine deutschen Besucher.
         Reichardt: Un Hiver à Paris sous le Consulat. Browning:
         England and Napoleon in 1803. Stanhope: William Pitt;
         Denkwürdigkeiten des Grafen de Bray.]

     Reciprocal Impressions -- Imminence of War -- State of England --
     Bonaparte as a French Burgher -- The Democracy of the Tuileries
     -- Private Interview of Bonaparte and Whitworth -- The English
     Militia Mobilized -- Hot Words at Bonaparte's Reception --
     Explanation of the Scene -- France Still Pacific -- England
     Immovable -- Declaration of War.


[Sidenote: 1803]

A trustworthy estimate has fixed the number of strangers who flocked
to France during 1802 at twenty thousand, of whom four fifths were
Britons--Fox and Lord Holland among the number. The impressions of the
sympathetic English were not merely favorable, their senses were
stunned. Like Great Britain herself, France seemed rejuvenated by her
successive revolutions, the national life getting new vigor from
movement and change. It was clear to them that the new France would be
a foe vastly more redoubtable than either the recent or the former
one. Pleasure-seekers found nothing of what they desired, neither
reckless vice nor flippant gaiety. Paris was serious, settled, almost
reserved. The country was busy and peaceful, agriculture prosperous,
the church restored, life and goods safe, the highways improved,
social and mercantile relations regular and dignified. The person of
Bonaparte impressed them as that of a sagacious statesman; a
commingling, they thought and feared, of Cromwell and Washington. Of
anything like their own industrial revival they saw nothing; the
ruler, they could see, was not a great financier, not even a fair
economist. But he was equally great as a warrior and a civilian, so
they returned to report to deaf ears that peace must be maintained
even at great sacrifice. Liberal and sympathetic Germans made similar
observations, and they marked with interest the simple life and plain
ways which prevailed in the Tuileries as the example given to the men
of power who had risen to replace the theorists of the Revolution. The
France that would offer itself in expiation of monarchical crimes, the
regenerator of peoples, the expounder of Utopias, was no more. Firm
and erect as her ruler, she appeared no longer as an enchantress, but
as a Bellona; herself regenerate, she was defiant of the unregenerate
dynasties, which retained but a single high quality: they were the
only outward expression of continental nationality.

[Illustration: In the Museum at Liège, Belgium

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, FIRST CONSUL

From the painting by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres Presented to the
city of Liège by Napoleon in 1806. This is claimed to be one of the
few portraits for which Bonaparte posed.]

These strained relations between the two great Western powers were the
natural consequence of their antipodal interests, and of the fact that
neither was yet exhausted by war. Speaking of the treaty of Amiens
soon after it was signed, George III said, "I call this an
experimental peace; it is nothing else." It was a double experiment.
How far would Bonaparte curb his ambition? How far would England
surrender her control of European commerce? It soon became clear that
a conciliatory temper existed on neither side, and that the
so-called peace was merely a truce. Moreover, Bonaparte, not long
after the arrival of Lord Whitworth, came to feel that the truce would
be a short one. Accordingly he recalled from London the too pacific
Otto, replacing him in December by General Andréossy. His conviction
was assured by the language which the English ambassador used to
Talleyrand in January. The interval of peace, short as it was, had so
confirmed Bonaparte in the good graces of the French that he likewise
felt able to dismiss three other public servants who seemed unwilling
to accept the new state of absolute control by the First Consul. These
were Fouché, Roederer, and Bourrienne: the first a shrewd,
unscrupulous, self-seeking Jacobin; the second a wise, devoted, but
fearless and sometimes troublesome adviser; the third a venal,
light-headed, and often untruthful secretary, who presumed too much on
early associations in order to continue an annoying intimacy. Almost
at the same time Lannes was restored to favor, and the consular guard
was strengthened. At the opening of what bade fair to be a struggle
for life, the protagonist seemed determined to cast off every weight,
to discard even his true friends when troublesome.

The landed aristocracy of Great Britain saw all its prestige
endangered by Bonaparte's successes; its control of Parliament, its
influence in the local governments, its hierarchy in church and state,
its absurd control of the suffrage, all stood in glaring contrast to
the reforms of diametrically opposed tendency established in France,
where burghers and peasants had come to their own and flaunted their
rights and powers before all Europe. A British revolution was
imminent. The great masters of industry were equally savage and
determined. There was a sudden union of all important interests. If
Piedmont were annexed, Switzerland made a protectorate, (p.~278)
Italy brought to terms, the lands of the valley and mouths of the
Rhine intimidated or won to sympathetic subservience, and the treaty
of Lunéville made operative, the island kingdom was isolated indeed.
Such a continental combination would close the door in the face of
British commerce. Yet there was a greater world than the Continent and
markets quite as important. So a continental coalition would open the
highways of the ocean, not one of the powers, great or small, being
able to maintain an efficient army with an efficient fleet. The policy
of alliances and subsidies was ever at hand, and to this again the
English ministry recurred. Neither Austria, Russia, nor Prussia,
antiquated as were their systems and policies, unstable as were their
governments and finances, uncertain as were their very boundaries and
the loyalty of their subjects; patched, darned, and frayed as were
their dynastic relations; not one of them was content, nor easy, nor
secure. The material was at hand for a new coalition, quite as rotten
as others since the dynastic cloth was old on the garment, the growing
and novel sense of nationality. To the labor of renovation George and
his ministers put their hands; renovation of old stuff, old patterns,
old fashions, all of which should have been thrown into the rag-bag.

The war which was imminent would in no proper sense be a war between
England and France, but rather an appeal to arms concerning
Bonaparte's expansion of the revolutionary system for his own
purposes. Well aware that if war was inevitable it should for his own
sake come quickly, Bonaparte determined to learn whether it was
inevitable, and to do so in such a way as further to endear him to
that class of the French people which now appeared to be his strongest
support--the great middle class, or bourgeoisie. Whether general,
diplomatist, or statesman, he had never since his entrance on French
public life permitted them to forget that he was one of them.
Incidentally it may be remarked that his determination to gratify the
middle class whenever possible played a considerable rôle in the
grandiose scheme of public works conceived and partly achieved by him.
The building of great canals, the perfection of highways, the lavish
expenditure of public moneys for the administrative buildings which
beautified the provincial towns while distributing the appropriations
for these works among the inhabitants, the general control of these
enterprises from Paris--all this enormously strengthened the hold
which the chief magistrate had upon the country at large. He dressed,
behaved, and talked, as far as in him lay, like a French burgher,
scornfully and ostentatiously using the forms of society and diplomacy
as baubles necessary just so long as they were useful, but holding
them up to public contempt whenever that course served his purpose.

Much of the same policy was displayed in the official receptions held
in the Tuileries. In the first place, the domestic life of the
Bonapartes was carefully accented by the presence of the First
Consul's wife and of his sisters with their families. No mistresses
were ever allowed to flaunt themselves in public under either the
Consulate or the Empire. The same standards of conjugal fidelity were
to be supposed valid in the first family of the land as in those of
the masses. Then, too, there was displayed a genial familiarity,
sometimes even brusque and rude, like that prevalent among the middle
class--the good-fellowship which they admired above every other
quality. On high occasions the great officers of state with the
diplomatic corps were arrayed in a circle like that customary in
courts from immemorial times; but grand as they were, they had to put
up with much the same treatment from the First Consul while (p.~280)
making his rounds as that which his relatives, his civil and military
officials, and the plain people of France generally received at his
hands. These unceremonious ways afforded Bonaparte exactly the chance
he needed to bring England to an explanation. On Sunday, March
thirteenth, 1803, there was held a consular levee at the Tuileries. No
one apparently thought it likely to be different from any other, and
there was the usual attendance, Lord Whitworth being present to
introduce some English ladies and gentlemen to Mme. Bonaparte. But the
occasion was destined to be of the first importance historically, and
what occurred has been the subject of more misrepresentation and
turgid rhetoric than any single event in the life of Napoleon.

For some weeks previous, France had continued to fit out armaments in
her ports, destined, it was declared, and probably with truth, to
confirm her colonial power in the West Indies and America, and to make
good her commercial standing in the Levant and farther Orient. These
movements, as well as those of her troops, were declared by the
English to be preparations solely intended for the renewal of the war.
On Friday, February seventeenth, Whitworth, contrary to all diplomatic
precedent, had been summoned to the Tuileries, where he was received
by Bonaparte with "tolerable cordiality," to use the ambassador's own
words, and seated on one side of the First Consul's table in his
private cabinet, while the chief of state dropped into a chair on the
other, and began without ceremony to state his views concerning the
situation. Acknowledging his irritation at the mistrust shown by
England in interpreting the treaty of Amiens, he categorically refused
to acquiesce in the continued occupation of Malta and Alexandria by
her, but disclaimed any intention of either seizing Egypt or going to
war. Expatiating on the respective forces of England and France, he
strove to prove that neither could gain anything by going to war. On
many occasions antecedent to this Bonaparte had emphatically stated
his conviction that the Western world was a unit, face to face with
the other unit, the Oriental world. Their reciprocity is the life of
the globe. On this occasion he flatly asked why the two Western powers
of the first magnitude, one mistress of the seas, the other mistress
of the land, should not arrange to coöperate and govern the world. But
Whitworth was no philosopher, and, mindful of his instructions, he
gave no sign of taking notice. In conclusion, therefore, the First
Consul demanded the speedy evacuation of Malta as the event on which
must turn peace or war. If he had really desired war, he said, he
could have seized Egypt a month earlier without difficulty. Whitworth
made the rejoinders which had been used all along, and when about to
instance the territories and influence gained by France was
interrupted by Bonaparte with apparent temper. "I suppose you mean
Piedmont and Switzerland. Those are trifles,"--"The expression he made
use of," Whitworth interrupts the quotation to say, "was too trivial
and vulgar to find a place in a despatch, or anywhere but in the mouth
of a hackney-coachman,"--"and it must have been foreseen," continued
Bonaparte, "while the negotiation was pending. Vous n'avez pas le
droit d'en parler à cette heure." ["Now you have no right to speak of
it."] Napoleon said of his own temper that it never went below his
neck; and as to his vulgar expression, any French scholar can supply
it and see that Whitworth did right not to report it; for to translate
it would have been to distort the proportions of its significance.
Moreover, the English diplomat must have felt the truth of Bonaparte's
reasoning, for he at once turned to the matter of English claims on
France, and the First Consul excused the delay by disclaiming all
wrong intention. Whitworth expressly states that he brought away no
other impression than that Bonaparte intended "to frighten and bully."

Under this impression the English ministry determined to meet bluster
with bluster. There was, in spite of all Fox's efforts, a substantial
unanimity of anti-French sentiment in Parliament. This the government
inflamed by a royal message sent to that body on March eighth, which
exaggerated the military preparations in the ports of France and
Holland out of all proportion by stating them as a reason why
additional measures should be taken for the security of England. On
March tenth the militia was called out. News of the message reached
Paris on March twelfth. Duroc was in Prussia on a special embassy. The
paper was forwarded to him at once, with instructions to say to
Frederick William that, if war was declared, France would occupy
Hanover--a menace intended to make that monarch active in preserving
peace. It was beyond peradventure part of this same system of bluster
which made Bonaparte prepare the scene of March thirteenth, before the
news of England's arming her militia could have reached him.

While the court was assembling the First Consul passed the time in
chatting with the ladies of his family and familiarly joking with
their attendants, in particular playing with his nephew, the little
Napoleon, son of Louis. His air was unaffected, and he was even merry.
Being told that the circle was formed, his manner changed, and he
advanced to make his round. Whitworth and Markoff were standing side
by side. Asking the former if he had news from England, and receiving
an affirmative reply, he said, as Whitworth reported, "'So you are
determined to go to war.' 'No, First Consul,' I replied; 'we are too
sensible of the advantages of peace.' 'We have,' said he, 'been at
war already for fifteen years.' As he seemed to wait for an answer, I
observed, 'That is already too long.' 'But,' said he, 'you want war
for another fifteen years, and you force me to it.' I told him that
was very far from his Majesty's intentions. He then proceeded to Count
Markoff and the Chevalier Azara, who were standing at a little
distance from me, and said to them, 'The English desire war, but if
they are the first to draw the sword I shall be the last to sheathe
it. They pay no respect to treaties. It will be necessary henceforth
to cover them with black crape.' I suppose he meant the treaties. He
then went his round, and was thought by all those to whom he addressed
himself to betray great signs of irritation. In a few minutes he came
back to me, to my great annoyance, and resumed the conversation, if
such it can be called, by something personally civil to me. [The
reader will note the words "personally civil."] He then began again:
'Why such armaments? Against whom such measures of precaution? I have
not a single vessel of the line in the harbors of France: but if you
wish to arm, I shall arm also; if you wish to fight, I shall fight
also. You could perhaps destroy France, but never intimidate her.' 'No
one would desire,' said I, 'the one or the other. The world would like
to live on good terms with her.' 'Then treaties must be respected,'
replied he. 'Woe to them who do not respect treaties! They shall be
answerable for it to all Europe.' He was too agitated to make it
advisable to prolong the conversation. I therefore made no answer, and
he retired to his apartment repeating the last phrase.... I am
persuaded that there was not a single person who did not feel the
extreme impropriety of his conduct, and the total want of dignity as
well as of decency on the occasion." Such is Lord (p.~284)
Whitworth's own account. That it is substantially accurate is proved
by Bonaparte's despatch to Andréossy, dated the same night, in which
the words used by the First Consul are given in almost identical form.

This is the much discussed "insult to the British ambassador," the
scene in which Bonaparte has been represented as threatening to strike
Whitworth, "the violent harangue," etc., which has been given as the
reason why England broke the treaty of Amiens. As a matter of fact,
the whole picture speaks for itself. Bonaparte's behavior was not
courtly, and his conduct was a piece of bluster; for the rest, the
scene was not merely, as Talleyrand explained it, the First Consul's
method of calling the attention of all Europe to the political
situation: it was both a means of warning England in the interest of
peace and of warning France in the interest of war, if war there must
be.

Five days later Whitworth himself wrote that his agent had seen
nothing at Havre "which can be construed into an armament; and," adds
the ambassador, "I verily believe this is the case in every port of
France." He also declared that, judging from Talleyrand's note to the
French envoy in London, France was not ready to declare war. The
United States minister in Paris was of the same opinion. When next
Bonaparte received the diplomatic corps, on April fourth, Whitworth
reported that he had every reason to be satisfied with his treatment.

But the despatches of Lord Whitworth were not published in England as
they were written and transmitted. They were printed with such
omissions and changes as to make them serve the purpose of the
ministry, which was to inflame public opinion. Negotiations were kept
up for a few weeks, but without sincerity. England, refusing admission
within the fortifications of Malta to the Neapolitan garrison which
had been stipulated for, on the ground that it could not be trusted,
suggested that she should keep the island until the transfer could
safely be made. Bonaparte then suggested either an Austrian or a
Russian occupation, for a term of years, but this England rejected.
France then proposed a joint French and English occupation, but this
was likewise rejected, and Whitworth was instructed to stand on the
ultimatum of a ten years' occupancy by England.

On May tenth the diplomatic rupture occurred, and on May sixteenth
England formally declared war. Wilberforce asserted in opposition to
the act that "the language of Bonaparte in the later stages of the
negotiations" afforded reason to believe that he would have acquiesced
in the independence of Malta, or even in the English retention of it
for ten years. Whitworth's attitude was felt by moderate and liberal
Englishmen to have been far from conciliatory.

The first appearance of William Pitt in the House of Commons after a
serious illness brought together on the twenty-third a brilliant
audience. It was with breathless interest that they heard him gasp
forth the eloquent periods in which he denounced the lambent flame of
Jacobinism embodied in Bonaparte, and satirized the Whigs who pleaded
the cause of a devastator. The triple round of applause, unprecedented
at Westminster, with which his speech was cheered at its close was
ominous for those who were to follow. Not even Fox, whose polished
oratory was heard with respectful attention, could diminish by a jot
or tittle the enthusiasm for war. So therefore the struggle of
centuries between France and England, orderly conservatism undismayed
and turbulent liberalism afire with zeal, was again renewed. The
continental powers were the pawns on the board, the players were Pitt
and Bonaparte.




CHAPTER XXVI

FRANCE AND ENGLAND IN ARMS[27]

         [Footnote 27: In addition to the authorities already given,
         see Rose's Napoleon and Napoleonic studies; Philippon in the
         Revue Historique for March, 1901; Bourgeois, Manuel de
         Politique Étrangère; Castlereagh's Letters and Despatches;
         Mahan's Sea Power and Life of Nelson; Pellew's Life of Lord
         Sidmouth; and the Memoirs of the Earl of St. Vincent.]

     A Debatable Question -- The Attack on English Commerce --
     Bonaparte Abandons his Colonial System -- The Neighbors of France
     -- The Feint against England -- The Army at Boulogne -- England
     Aroused -- Enthusiasm in France.


The much debated question as to whether or not Bonaparte was victor in
the diplomatic struggle, desired the rupture as it occurred and wanted
war, is, in the light of the fullest information, apparently
unanswerable. If he were a profound philosopher and constructive
statesman disposed to abandon the struggle for mastery on the high
seas and confine the expansion of France to the Continent, he was
ready and his wishes were fulfilled; if, on the other hand, he
intended to confront England by sea and her allies by land, he was
unready, for he had no fighting navy and he had not expected war so
soon. There were the beginnings of colonial empire in Australia,
Decaen was on his way to Réunion with a squadron to establish a base
of action against British India, the Cape of Good Hope was French,
there was every prospect of a powerful Mahratta-French alliance in
India itself. There were high hopes in the Ionian Isles, in Greece,
and for Egypt. Malta might be wrested from England, and so forth. Ten
of his battle-ships were far away, the remaining thirty-three were
just available and no more; there were orders out for building
twenty-three new ones, and a visit to Normandy convinced him that all
sixty-six could be manned by splendid crews from western France. He
indulged in much bravado about possibilities. But the hard fact is
that in May, 1803, the French naval power was negligible, while the
French land power was in the highest state of efficiency. Pitt had his
enormous fleets and his possible coalition in hand, Bonaparte his army
and his incomparable military genius.

Hostilities began by the seizure of many French merchantmen which were
constructively in English harbors, though in many cases really at sea.
The reply of the First Consul to this conduct was equally high-handed:
every Englishman between the ages of eighteen and sixty within the
borders of France was seized and thrown into confinement. For twelve
long years these unfortunate persons were held as prisoners of war.
The French embargo on hostile ships antedated England's by three days,
and simultaneously with its publication Clarke was instructed to drive
English ships from the harbors of Tuscany. In the last days of May an
army under Mortier occupied Hanover, and, closing both Bremen and
Hamburg to British commerce, exacted large contributions of money from
them. In June another force under Saint-Cyr entered Naples, which in
strict observance of the treaty of Amiens had been evacuated, and laid
a similar embargo on the ports of Taranto, Brindisi, and Otranto. In
the case of Hanover, France utterly disregarded the fine point in
international law which had so far distinguished between George III as
King of England and the German Elector whose patrimony was Hanover; in
that of Naples she displayed a disregard for treaty obligations not
entirely consistent with Bonaparte's maledictions on those who did
not observe them.

Finally, in July the famous "Continental System" was instituted by the
decree which absolutely forbade the importation of all English wares
into France or the sphere of her influence. In order to cut his enemy
off from another quarter of the globe, to strengthen a maritime power
hostile to England, and to secure new resources, Bonaparte had already
extended the hand of friendship to the United States, having sold to
them in April the immense territory then known by the name of
Louisiana. The event was second in importance to no other in their
history; for it gave them immediate control of the entire
intercontinental river-system and later that of the Pacific coast,
while indirectly it prepared the way for the conflict of 1812, which
finally secured their commercial independence. Thenceforward Bonaparte
concentrated his energies for the control of Europe. His financial
condition was acute, for Barbé-Marbois had failed in his efforts to
negotiate a loan of forty million francs from the Dutch bankers. It
was possibly a conversation between Bonaparte and Ralph Izard of South
Carolina which turned the attention of the First Consul to Louisiana
as a quick asset. The United States easily secured the cash where the
French had failed, in Amsterdam by the intermediation of Stephen
Girard. With sixty million francs in hand as security, Bonaparte
raised as much more on credit, and the purchasing power of this
hundred and twenty million francs was fully equal to that of four
times the sum to-day. With it he refitted his little fleet, and
purchased two hundred and fifty thousand muskets, a hundred thousand
cavalry pistols, thirty thousand sabers, and a hundred batteries of
field artillery, all arms of improved quality and pattern, the arms
used at Austerlitz, and to which, as he told Latour-Maubourg, he owed
that signal victory. The West Indies and Louisiana in one hemisphere,
in the other the Cape of Good Hope, Egypt, and a portion of India,
with St. Helena and Malta as ports of call--of this he had dreamed;
but the failure to secure San Domingo, and England's evident intention
to keep Malta, combined to topple the whole cloud castle into ruins.
The Continent must be his sphere of action.

At once the states bordering on France were made to feel their
position. Holland agreed to furnish five ships of the line, a hundred
gunboats, eleven thousand men, and subsistence for a French army of
eighteen thousand. For this France guaranteed her territorial
integrity with the return of all her colonies, not even excepting
Ceylon. Switzerland was to furnish half of her little army in any
case, and nearly the whole of it if France were attacked. The sale of
Louisiana spread consternation throughout Spain, which had always
hoped to recover it, and with that end in view had included in her
treaty with France a clause retaining the right of redemption for
herself. Deriding her exasperation, Bonaparte despatched an army to
the frontier, and demanded in place of the twenty-five ships and
twenty-eight thousand men agreed upon in the treaty of 1796 a subsidy
of no less than six million francs a month. Godoy, the "Prince of the
Peace," who had been made chief minister of Spain, first thought of
war, but his masterful opponent threatened the weak king, Charles IV,
with a public exposure of the scandalous relation between his queen
and that minister, and before the end of the year the demand was
granted. Portugal purchased neutrality by a contribution of one
million francs a month, and Genoa agreed to furnish six thousand
sailors for the French fleets. In consequence England began to prey on
Spanish commerce.

The second preparation for war was the much discussed equipment of an
expedition to invade England. It is a commonplace of history that the
British empire has ever been fortified in the separation of the
kingdom from the continent of Europe by a narrow but stormy estuary.
There had been repeated invasions from the days of the Anglo-Saxons
themselves down to the expedition of William of Orange; but growing
wealth had furnished ever increasing armaments, and made access to
England's shores so much more difficult with every year that, finally,
successful invasion had come to be regarded by her enemies as
impossible. On the other hand, the English remained skeptical, and
fell into periodic panics on the question. Even now a clever fiction
like the "Battle of Dorking," or a revival of the project for
tunneling below the Channel, can awaken such anxiety as to insure the
passage of any grant for strengthening the navy. This distrust was
well known to the French. For years the project of a descent on
England had been the standard pretext of the Convention and of the
Directory to extort money from office-holders and patriots. This
inheritance was exploited by the First Consul to its full value. In
general his preparation was doubtless a feint, but there were probably
times when the scheme commended itself as an alternative. He told
Whitworth that there was but one chance in a hundred of its success;
he never seriously tried to execute it; and in the undiplomatic but
apparently sincere effusion of October twenty-third, to Otto, the
whole stress of his argument is laid on the chances of continental
conquest.

Nevertheless he made enormous outlays of money. Boulogne was the spot
nearest to England which was available for the gathering and drill of
a mighty force. Thither were summoned to form an Army of England the
flower of the troops, a hundred and fifty thousand veterans and
recruits, commanded by Soult, Ney, Davout, and Victor. For the first
time Bonaparte could work his will in the construction of a
fighting-machine. The result was the best machine so far constructed.
Tactics were improved, the system of organization was reformed,
equipment was simplified, discipline was strengthened, and enthusiasm
was awakened to the highest pitch. Moreover, the soldiers were trained
in the management of great flatboats, from which they were taught to
disembark with precision and skill, both in stormy weather and in the
face of opposition. Some were also instructed in the duties of the
sailor in order that their services might be available if needed
aboard men-of-war. In a letter to Decrès, minister of marine, dated
September thirteenth, 1805, the First Consul admitted that his success
in these respects had not been striking: he found that his great
floats were nearly unmanageable in the currents and tides of the
Channel, and that a three days' calm would be necessary for crossing.
It also became clear that the attempt could not succeed without the
coöperation of a fleet. The chief advantage of the camp at Boulogne,
as Bonaparte then saw it, was that he could there keep from eighty to
a hundred thousand men in a wholesome situation, ready at a moment's
notice to be transferred to Germany.

But the effect in England at the inception of the enterprise was
electrical. Her standing army was already a hundred and thirty
thousand strong, the militia numbered seventy thousand, and the
reserve fifty thousand. In addition there was a body of volunteers
which eventually reached the number of three hundred and eighty
thousand in England and of over eighty thousand in Ireland. A system
of signals was arranged between vessels of observation in the Channel
and stations on the shore, beacons were ready on every hilltop, and
the whole land was turned into a camp. The navy was not less
strengthened: the number of men was raised from eighty to a hundred
and twenty thousand, and a hundred vessels of the line, a hundred or
more frigates, and several hundreds of smaller vessels, such as
cruisers and gunboats, were gathered to protect the coasts. Pitt
undermined the Addington ministry by calling for ever greater means of
defense, and appeared daily for a time at the head of three thousand
volunteers raised on or near his own estates. Even Fox laid aside his
French sympathies for a while. Parliament authorized a loan of twelve
millions sterling, which was promptly taken, and raised the taxes so
as to double the revenue. The "nation of traders," as the First Consul
sneeringly called them, again stood at ease ready to face her
hereditary foe, under a burden of expense which the people a year
before had believed would crush them. These were the "slight
derangements" which, as the exile of St. Helena told Las Cases, had
permanently thwarted the invasion, then represented in his bitterness
as having been a serious purpose. It is true that during the period of
extravagant preparation a medal was struck with Bonaparte's profile on
the reverse, and on the obverse Hercules strangling a Triton, and that
measures were discussed for administering the conquered island and for
stripping it of its art objects. But further evidence that the entire
movement was in the main a pretext for assembling and drilling a great
land force to be held in readiness against Austria and Russia will be
given in another connection, and on the whole it seems to outweigh
that which indicates a definite, uninterrupted intention to invade
England. In view of the stupendous land and sea forces assembled by
Great Britain, it is altogether conceivable that the First Consul
might have formed the notion of an invasion of the inverse sort, of an
English army landing on the eastern shores of the Channel, and an
offensive movement by English troops against the French armies. If so,
he kept it deep in his mind, but for that alternative he was likewise
in readiness by reason of the camp at Boulogne.

Although the Revolution had failed in giving the French their
political freedom, it culminated under Bonaparte in giving them civil
rights. In view of the hatred felt by the dynastic powers for a
movement which shook their thrones, it may easily be argued that to
protect this immense gain political centralization like that of the
Consulate was essential. On whichever side of this question lies the
truth, one thing is certain--that the nation as a whole felt as if
moderate republicanism had triumphed; and much as they suffered in
trade, industry, and agriculture by the renewal of war, they
nevertheless were enthusiastic in upholding their leader and his
measures. His bitterest enemies have admitted, and still admit, the
national character of the support which he had in 1803. The government
was popular, so much so that it even ventured to bestow a pension of
thirty dollars a month on Mlle. Robespierre. Addresses which promised
willing assistance were numerous. The masses, not yet free from the
old sense of security created by the leadership of a powerful man or
of a family trained in the management of public interests, were
comforted by the presence and the work of their chief magistrate. In
the tribunate a higher degree of the same spirit found expression in
the significant phrase "consular majesty," with which an orator
addressed the First Consul. There was no manifestation of discontent
with the censorship of the press, which was regarded as a necessary
war measure. Books could not be published until after the censors had
possessed a copy for seven days and had given their permission; the
newspapers could reprint no news from foreign journals, and were
mercilessly controlled in the contents of their columns. When the
"Moniteur" and its kindred poured contempt on English perfidy and
wrote of Punic faith, when they portrayed Albion as rushing madly on
her fate, the readers liked it and applauded.




CHAPTER XXVII

WARNINGS TO ROYALISTS AND REPUBLICANS[28]

         [Footnote 28: References: Pasquier: Mémoirs; Fauriel: Les
         derniers jours du Consulat; Desmarest: Témoignages
         Historiques; Méhée de la Touche: Alliance des Jacobins de
         France avec le Ministère Anglais; Cadoudal: La conspiration
         de Georges Cadoudal; Lecestre: Lettres inédites; Tratchefski:
         Recueil de la Société d'Histoire de Russie; Pingaud: Les
         dernières années de Moreau (Revue de Paris, 15 Dec., 1899);
         Huot de Penanster: Une conspiration en l'an XI et XII;
         Caudrillier: Le complot de l'an XII (Revue Historique,
         1901-1902); Rose: Napoleon, I, 406 (quotes the original
         papers in British archives); Paget Papers; Castlereagh:
         Letters and Despatches; Pellew: Life of Lord Sidmouth, Earl
         of St. Vincent; Welschinger: Le duc d'Enghien; Boulay de la
         Meurthe: Les dernières années du duc d'Enghien; Sorel:
         Lectures Historiques.]

     Moreau and the Republicans -- Royalist Conspiracies -- Moreau's
     Fall -- The Passion for Plotting -- Royalist Dissensions -- The
     Duc d'Enghien -- His Plans and Conduct -- The Activity of the
     French Police -- Appearances against Enghien -- The Expedition to
     Seize Him -- His Imprisonment -- Arrival at Paris -- Bonaparte at
     Malmaison -- The Commission to Try Enghien -- Bonaparte's
     Decision -- Pleas for Clemency -- The Trial of Enghien -- The
     Execution -- The First Consul's Explanations -- Disastrous
     Effects of the Deed -- Revulsion of Feeling.


[Sidenote: 1803--04]

But there were still a very few sturdy men who felt that one side of
the Revolution was falling into atrophy at the expense of that which
Bonaparte so ably represented. In spite of his disfavor, they made
themselves heard; and Carnot even dared to remonstrate in the
tribunate against the adulation of this second young Augustus who was
using the forms of a commonwealth to found an empire. In the senate
also this little sect had a remnant, some eight members in all. Their
power lay not in themselves, nor in their strict republican
principles, but in the latent sympathies of many influential officers
of the army. During the second campaign in Italy Moreau had smothered
his discontent when the Army of the Rhine was weakened at a critical
moment by the transfer of twenty-five thousand men into Italy in order
to assure the glories of Marengo. An official journal falsely declared
that his soldiers had been paid from the public coffers. Such was the
state of public morality that the charge was considered injurious, as
in fact it was intended to be. Moreau in reply boasted that he had
received but eighteen million francs from Paris, that he had levied
forty-four millions on Germany, and that of the total there was a
surplus of seven millions which had been distributed among the
soldiers and officers. This paper was pigeonholed in the ministry of
war, and the newspapers were forbidden to print the copies sent to
them. The writer's feelings may be imagined. If he and the others who
were discontented had shown the craft which Bonaparte did, their
opposition would have been dangerous; but they were so carefully
watched that their every movement was known beforehand and thwarted.
Still further, they were, by the wiles of their enemies, insensibly
led to the commission of foolish deeds and the utterance of rash
words, which put them within reach of the law. In this particular
network of conspiracies, Fouché was not the principal, although he was
a valued consultant.

This system was admirably illustrated in the fall of Moreau, who was
not a wary man, and had permitted royalist agents to hold
communication with him. One of these, the Abbé David, was seized, but
no damaging evidence was obtained. Thereupon recourse was had to the
services of Méhée de la Touche, a base creature who, after
participation in the September massacres of 1792, and an underground
career of espionage during the Terror, had opposed Bonaparte on the
eighteenth of Brumaire. He was at the moment in exile for
participation in the plot of Nivôse, and eagerly accepted his new
employment. After many adventures, he finally won the confidence not
only of the French royalists in England, but of Pelham and other
members of the British government. He described to the consular
government the dissensions between the Bourbon leaders and the agents
of Great Britain, telling how Georges Cadoudal, the Chouan leader, had
been landed in France on August twenty-first, 1803, from an English
ship commanded by Captain Wright, and unfolding a plan whereby the
royalists could be encouraged to bring the conspiracy of which Georges
was the agent to a head. His scheme was adopted, and after writing
from Altona to Louis XVIII, now in Warsaw, offering his services, he
visited Munich, and probably Stuttgart, where he told the story of a
Jacobin rising which was soon to occur in France, and obtained from
the English resident ministers money and instructions for organizing
it. The official denials of the period made by the British government
as to its participation in the Cadoudal conspiracy were long accepted
as true and incorporated in the standard histories. Since the opening
within a few years of the British archives to investigators the proof
of the contrary is patent. The connected list of despatches, letters,
and reports presents conclusive and damaging evidence that whether or
not the ministers were privy to the plot for assassinating the First
Consul, the French conspirators were in British pay.

In order to implicate Moreau in the Cadoudal conspiracy of which they
had learned, the Paris police employed another person of the same
stripe, Lajolais by name, who had been an officer in the Army of the
Rhine, and who, as such, succeeded in meeting Moreau and extorting
from him a few words of pity for Pichegru. Thereupon the police, by
means still baser, got together two committees, one of royalists and
one of old-time Jacobins, and had each select Moreau as its leader.
This was possible, because the Bourbon pretender had, in accordance
with Méhée's letter, issued a proclamation promising constitutional
government and the sale of the public lands in case of his
restoration. Lajolais then started for London, where he persuaded
Pichegru that France was weary of Bonaparte, that Moreau was ready,
and that the time was ripe for overthrowing the Consulate. As a
consequence, the dupe and the decoy, with the chief military leaders
of the emigrants, landed from Captain Wright's ship on January
fourteenth, 1804, at Biville, near Dieppe. Artois and his son were to
follow in a few days. By further misrepresentations Moreau and
Pichegru were brought together on the sidewalk of a street near the
church of the Madeleine, and in Lajolais' presence they exchanged a
few noncommittal sentences. Within a few days a police agent,
approaching Moreau as an ambassador from Pichegru, was told that if
the latter would lead a movement,--and in that case the consuls and
government must be disposed of,--his friends would be protected by
influence which could be secured in the senate. Moreau steadily
refused either to meet Georges Cadoudal or be implicated in the plot
for seizing Bonaparte, of which the Chouan was the leader.

About the middle of February everything was ready and Moreau was
arrested. On examination he weakly protested too much, and, being
convicted from his own papers of inconsistency, was imprisoned. A few
weeks later Pichegru was discovered by the aid of an informer, and he
too was thrown into prison. Finally on March ninth Georges himself was
seized in the streets of Paris after a desperate and bloody
resistance. Soon the most popular picture in the shop windows of the
city was a colored print representing the fifty "scoundrels" who had
been found to be implicated in the conspiracy against the First
Consul, and among the faces was an unmistakable likeness of Moreau.
After a long trial, Georges and his accomplices were condemned and
shot. Pichegru was found dead in his cell: although royalists confined
in that adjoining afterward declared that they had heard a scuffle
during the fatal night, there is no reasonable doubt that the prisoner
committed suicide. The suspicions cast upon Moreau had utterly
destroyed his popularity, and numerous addresses were sent in both
from the army and by civilians denouncing him. Just before his trial
he made the terrible mistake of sending to Bonaparte an exculpatory
letter. This he did, instigated by his silly, ambitious wife, who
seems in turn to have received the suggestion from Mme. Récamier.
Rumor said that the notion originated with Fouché. The fact and nature
of the appeal suggested guilt, but the first decision of the court was
for acquittal. Popular feeling, however, ran so high that the First
Consul compelled a reconsideration of the verdict, and the prisoner
was sentenced to imprisonment for two years. Bonaparte, furious at
this leniency, commuted the penalty to banishment. Moreau withdrew to
America, where he remained until 1813, when he returned to take up
arms against Napoleon before Dresden and was killed.

"I have incurred no real danger," wrote Bonaparte to Melzi on March
sixth, 1804, "for the police had their eyes on all these
machinations." The verdict of history implicates that ubiquitous
agency in fostering by its spies and agents many of those same
machinations, but leaves no doubt of the desperate character of the
ringleaders in them. What England really, and the Bourbons ostensibly,
wanted was a Jacobin insurrection; many of their infuriated agents
would certainly not have hesitated at assassination. The general
opinion in France was not wrong in condemning the extreme measures
taken by the Bourbons to gain their ends, and for the moment royalists
of all three factions were silent, feeling that their cause had
received a blow from which it might never recover. As to the moderate
republican party, it was temporarily extinguished by the fate of
Moreau. Skilful as a general and sincere as a democrat, his career had
been short-sighted and contradictory. Friendship had led him to
conceal his knowledge of Pichegru's dealings with the royalists of
1797. Ambition led him to assist at Brumaire, but he would not accept
the consequences. Indecision led him into a trap, but even then he
might have escaped, but for the letter he wrote by the advice of a
proud and foolish wife.

The closing scenes of this drama of plot and counterplot, of
assassination and murder, of falsehood, treachery, and execution,
formed a fitting dénouement to the piece. That age had seen and
condoned acts of revenge which in quieter times would have been
considered unpardonable. Nelson had sanctioned the judicial
assassination of Caraccioli, the Neapolitan admiral, whose crime was
that in the interest of the Parthenopean Republic he had fought the
English fleet. Austria's skirts were not clean of the murders
perpetrated at Rastadt. A little later the Bourbons, with the assent
of the allied sovereigns, ordered the execution of Ney for deserting
them to support his former chief at Waterloo. Bonaparte, relying on a
conviction that every one regarded him as a harried and innocent man
acting in self-defense, and apparently unconscious of how utterly the
royalist agitation had been discredited by Cadoudal, determined so to
stun the already prostrate Bourbons as to render them harmless for
years to come.

Neither Artois nor his son Berry had entered France; the self-styled
Louis XVIII was in distant Warsaw. Both these pretenders were more
eloquent than courageous. Even the royalists of Paris were doubtful
about the leadership of either one, and the partizans of
constitutional monarchy had for some time been disposed to rally about
a third Bourbon, the Duc d'Enghien, heir apparent to the glories of
the house rendered so illustrious by Louis XIV's famous general known
as "the Great Condé." The young duke was both fearless and clever.
Burning to take arms in honorable warfare for the cause of his house,
he had consulted both English and emigrant agents as to how that could
best be accomplished; but he was innocent of conspiring for
assassination.

For some time he had lived in close proximity to the French frontier
at Ettenheim, a manor-house in Baden, some sixteen miles from
Strasburg, where Cardinal Rohan had resided with his niece since his
resignation of the bishopric of Strasburg after the Concordat. The
duke had for some time been secretly married to this lady, the
Princess Charlotte of Rohan-Rochefort, and for that reason, though
repeatedly warned of his danger, would not take refuge in England.
Before the treaty of Amiens he had been the friend of the Swiss
reactionaries and the patron of the royalists in Alsace; after the
rupture he was active in strengthening their attachment to the Bourbon
cause. In response to the manifesto of the self-styled king, his
relative at Warsaw, issued in March, 1803, he declared that he was
still faithful. When war began he sought permission to enter the
English service and repel the expected invasion by Bonaparte; but
England would not permit a Bourbon to draw sword on her soil.

At this crisis the publication of the Warsaw manifesto, and of the
duke's response, made his continued residence at Ettenheim a subject
of still greater inquietude to his friends; but he remained, and spent
much energy in forming plans to invade France through Alsace. As the
probabilities of war on the Continent grew stronger, he again applied
to the English court for a commission, this time through Stuart, the
British envoy to Vienna. He now desired employment on the mainland,
either in an allied army or with the first English troops which should
disembark on the Continent. Meantime the activity of the English
residents at the minor German courts intensified his purpose to raise
a regiment of men from the anti-Bonaparte elements of central Europe,
to be officered by the scattered veterans who had fought under the
second Condé but had been dismissed from the Austrian service after
the treaty of Lunéville. The news of Moreau's arrest and of Cadoudal's
conspiracy came like a thunderbolt, and the duke, though conscious of
no guilt, made ready to withdraw to Freiburg in the Breisgau; but in
order to mask his uneasiness he instituted a hunt and other
festivities which lasted a whole week.

Bonaparte's first intention had been to seize Charles of Artois on his
arrival in France; but a thorough supervision of the shore made it
evident that the prince's caution had again got the better of his
courage. Disappointed in this quarter, the police agents began to
develop an intense activity on the German frontier. They professed to
have discovered in Offenburg, with which the Duc d'Enghien was in
constant communication, the existence of a body of emigrants who were
not there. They reported that the young prince sometimes came down to
Strasburg to attend the theater; they represented two harmless
visitors at Ettenheim to be officers of the Prince of Condé arrived
from England; still worse, they declared an emigrant friend of the
duke who lived near by--the aged Marquis of Thuméry, whose name in
German mouths had a remote resemblance to that of Dumouriez--to be
that dangerous general himself. This occurred a few days before March
ninth, and almost simultaneously Bonaparte received from an agent in
Naples an extract from one of Dumouriez's letters to Nelson, urging a
concerted plan not merely of defense, but of offense. No one then
doubted that Dumouriez himself was on the Rhine, busy with Enghien in
perfecting this very plan.

Rumors of every sort became rife. It was known that the old intriguer
General Willot was again in the South. Men declared that Berry was
coming to Brittany, that Charles of Artois was perhaps already in Paris,
that Enghien and Dumouriez were on the eastern frontier. It was a
perfect investment of plots. When Georges was captured he asserted that
he was the associate of princes, and then relapsed into a profound
silence which he did not again break. His servant deposed that he had
seen his master in communication with a distinguished-looking youth in
the suburb of Chaillot. The police remembered that in January the Duc
d'Enghien had solicited from the French ambassador at Vienna a passport
to cross France, and, recalling the festivities at Ettenheim, believed
they were but a pretext to cover the host's absence in Paris at a time
which would coincide with the mysterious interview asserted to have
taken place between Georges and the unknown stranger. This was the chain
of evidence which convinced Bonaparte of Enghien's participation in the
plot for his assassination. True, he had not been in actual danger, for
the police had been alert; but did that alter the enormity of the
Bourbon intrigues against his life? It was only too natural that the
terror, hate, and fury accumulated in the mind of the First Consul
should concentrate on an object within his reach.

Réal, Fouché, and Talleyrand were all consulted. As yet their personal
interests were bound up with their ruler's welfare, and alike they
urged prompt and ruthless action to end the schemes and complots of
the time. The two former needed no credentials of faithfulness.
Talleyrand gave his in writing on March eighth; he had so dallied with
royalists that his position must be definite now. Later efforts to
discredit the note as a forgery have failed. Moreover, there is every
reason to believe that all three intended by the seizure and execution
of a Bourbon so to "marry," as the phrase ran, the First Consul to the
terrorist side of the Revolution that he could never retreat from the
position of radicalism to which they felt he had not been sufficiently
committed, even yet. On March tenth the council heard and, as a body,
approved Bonaparte's plan, although Lebrun was evasive and Cambacérès
demurred. That night one column of a double expedition was despatched
to the Rhine; it was commanded by Ordener and destined for Ettenheim.
The other, under Caulaincourt, set out next day for Offenburg with a
diplomatic note to the court of Baden. The latter commander was
utterly ignorant of what his colleague had in hand, being instructed
merely to disperse the reported company of emigrants and demand the
extradition of a notorious intriguer, the Baronne de Reich. Ordener
was to seize the Duc d'Enghien. The two columns proceeded by way of
Strasburg without delay. Finding the baronne already a prisoner, and
the police report unfounded, the generals then carried out the minute
instructions of their chief as to the other part of their task.

On the twelfth, Enghien had been warned of his danger; but he was not
to be intimidated, and on the thirteenth he sent a messenger to
observe how immediate the danger was. On the fourteenth a French spy
was despatched from Strasburg; he was recognized as such at Ettenheim,
and was pursued, but escaped to report everything favorable. Still the
rash young duke refused to move. On the morning of the fifteenth he
awoke to find the house surrounded by French troops. Every avenue of
escape being closed, he surrendered, and all his papers were seized.
With his household and friends he was hurried to the citadel of
Strasburg, where he was detained for two days. Couriers were promptly
despatched to Paris, and the court at Karlsruhe received a formal
notification of what had been done, signed by Talleyrand. Bonaparte
learned by the despatches received on the seventeenth from both his
expeditions that Dumouriez was not on the Rhine, and on the nineteenth
he himself examined the duke's papers, which had been inventoried in
their owner's presence, and then forwarded to Malmaison.

On the night of the seventeenth there arrived in Strasburg orders,
written while Bonaparte still believed the reports concerning
Dumouriez to be true, which directed the immediate removal of the
prisoners--that is, of Enghien and Dumouriez--to Paris. In pursuance
of these the duke was awakened at midnight, placed in a post-chaise,
and driven rapidly toward his destination. He arrived at eleven in the
morning of the twentieth, and was immediately taken to Vincennes. His
seizure had created the deepest sorrow and consternation in Baden, and
Massias, the French minister at Karlsruhe, not only despatched a
letter direct to Paris declaring that the duke's conduct had always
been "innocent and moderate," but went in person to notify the prefect
at Strasburg that there was neither an assembly of emigrants nor a
conspiracy at Ettenheim. Talleyrand was afterward charged by Napoleon
with having suppressed Massias's despatch; and it is not known whether
the prefect sent a report to the same effect or not.

On the twelfth, the First Consul had withdrawn to the seclusion of
Malmaison. It was evident that under the surface there were tumultuous
feelings, but in his expression there was an icy calm. At times he
recited scraps of verse on the theme of clemency, but his chief
occupation was consulting with the police agent Réal and with Savary,
his aide-de-camp. It was arranged that the castle of Vincennes should
be the prison, that the court should be military, composed of colonels
from the Paris garrison, and that the main charge against the duke
should be that he had borne arms against his country. He was to be
asked whether the plot for assassination was known to him, and if, in
case it had succeeded, he were not himself to have entered Alsace.

The court-martial was modeled on those pitiless tribunals created by
the Revolution. The statute declaring that any Frenchman taking up
arms against his country was a traitor and worthy of death had never
been repealed. The Consulate restored the activity of these military
commissions in order to tame refractory conscripts and condignly to
punish tamperers, conspirators, and spies. These courts had been
accustomed to take their cue as to severity or leniency from the
government for the time being, whatever it was. There was therefore
but little difficulty in constituting such a body expressly for the
punishment of any offender. In this instance none of the members
except the president and judge-advocate knew the station of the
accused. Préval, who had been chosen to preside, refused when he heard
the name of the prisoner, on the plea that both he and his father had
served in the royalist regiment named d'Enghien, and that he had
therefore tender memories incompatible with the service required of
him. General Hulin, an old-time Jacobin, made no excuses, and,
understanding perfectly what was expected, was invited to report the
verdict direct to the First Consul.

During these days Bonaparte had also constantly before him both the
papers of the English minister at Munich and the inflammatory,
untruthful reports of his police agents. He studied these, and
reviewed the measures taken to guard the eastern frontier against the
emigrants and their hostile sympathizers, who were making
demonstrations in Swabia. Until the evening of the seventeenth he
believed that Dumouriez had been at Ettenheim; but though informed of
his mistake, the resolution already taken became iron, and the papers
of the duke were read on the nineteenth with an evident determination
to construe them into evidence of his guilt. They afforded no proofs
of direct complicity with Georges, but they contained two phrases
which, wrested from the true sense of the correspondence, were of
awful significance--one in which the duke qualified the French people
as "his most cruel foe," the other in which he declared that during
his "two years' residence on the frontier he had established
communications with the French troops on the Rhine." These were
included in the interrogatories for the trial and intrusted to Réal
for his use. If the duke were tampering with the loyalty of the
troops, what need of proof that he was in any sense a participator in
the plot?

Mme. Bonaparte learned with intense sorrow of the (p.~308)
determination taken by her husband. In the main his measures and his
convictions had been kept a secret, but she confided both to Mme. de
Rémusat, and the First Consul himself had told them to Joseph. On the
twentieth the decree for the duke's trial and the questions to be put
were dictated by the First Consul from the Tuileries, and in the early
afternoon he returned to Malmaison, where at three o'clock Joseph
found him strolling in the park, conversing with Talleyrand, who
limped along at his side. "I'm afraid of that cripple," was
Josephine's greeting to her brother-in-law. "Interrupt this long talk
if you can." The mediation of the elder brother was kindly and
skilful, and for a time the First Consul seemed softened by the
memories of their boyhood, among which came and went the figure of the
Prince of Condé. But other feelings prevailed: the brothers had
differed about Lucien's marriage, and also about the question of
descent if the consular power should become hereditary; the old
coolness finally settled down and chilled the last hopes in the
tenderhearted advocates for clemency. To Josephine's tearful
entreaties her husband replied: "Go away; you're a child; you don't
understand public duties." By five it was known that the duke had
arrived at Vincennes, and at once Savary was despatched to the city
for orders from Murat, the military commandant. On his arrival at
Murat's office, from which Talleyrand was in the very act of
departing, he was informed that the court-martial was already
convened, and that it would be his duty to guard the prisoner and
execute whatever sentence was passed.

The scenes of that fateful and doleful night defy description. The
castle of Vincennes was beset with guards when finally, at about an
hour before midnight, the various members of the court assembled.
Their looks were dark and troubled as they wondered who the
mysterious culprit might be. None knew but Hulin, the president; the
judge-advocate; and Savary, the destined executioner. In a neighboring
room was the duke, pale and exhausted by his long journey, munching a
slender meal, which he shared with his dog, and explaining to his
jailer his dreary forebodings at the prospect of a long imprisonment.
He thought it would be ameliorated if only he could gratify his
passion for hunting, and surely they two, as prisoner and keeper,
might range the forest in company. But at last he fell asleep from
sheer fatigue. The jailer could not well encourage the expectations of
his new prisoner, for he had that very morning supervised the digging
of a grave in the castle moat. At midnight the duke was awakened and
confronted with the judge-advocate. Réal was unaccountably absent, and
the interrogatory so carefully prepared by Bonaparte was not at hand.
To the rude questions formulated by Hulin, with the aid of a
memorandum from Murat, the prisoner, in spite of repeated hints from
the members of the court-martial as to the consequences, would only
reply that he had a pension from England, and had applied to her
ministers for military service; that he hoped to fight for his cause
with troops raised in Germany from among the disaffected and the
emigrants; that he had already fought against France. But he stoutly
denied any relations with Dumouriez or Pichegru and all knowledge of
the plot to assassinate the First Consul. He was then called to the
bar in the dimly lighted sitting-room where the commission sat. To the
papers containing questions and answers he was ironically permitted to
affix a demand for an audience with the First Consul. "My name, my
station, my mode of thought, and the horror of my situation," he said,
"inspire me with hope that he will not refuse my request." The
tribunal followed its instincts: its members, knowing well the
familiar statutes under which such bodies had acted since the days of
the Convention, but not having at hand the words or forms of a verdict
as prescribed by the pitiless laws concerning those who had borne arms
against France, left in the record a blank to be filled out later, and
pronounced their judgment that the "regular sentence" be executed at
once. They were actually engaged in composing a petition for clemency
to the First Consul when Savary burst into the room, demanding what
had been done, and what they were then doing. Snatching the pen from
Hulin's hand, he exclaimed, "The rest is my affair," and left the
room.

It was now two in the morning of the twenty-first. "Follow me," said
the taciturn Harel to Enghien, "and summon all your courage." A few
paces through the moat, a turn of a corner, and the flare of torches
displayed a file of troops not far from an open grave. As the adjutant
began to read the sentence, the victim faltered for a moment and
exclaimed, "Oh, God! what have I done?" But immediately he regained
the mastery of himself. Calmly clipping a lock of his hair, and
drawing a ring from his finger, he asked that they might be sent to
the Princess Charlotte. A volley--and in an instant he was dead.
Savary put spurs to his horse to carry the news to Malmaison. At the
gate of Paris he met the carriage of Réal, who seemed almost
overpowered by what he heard in reply to his eager questions, and
terrified by his own remissness. If it really were such, it must be
attributed to a misunderstanding and not to lack of zeal.

Bonaparte believed to the end that his victim was a guilty
conspirator. For a time he had recourse to some unworthy subterfuges
tending to show that the execution was the result of a blunder; but
later he justified his conduct as based on reasons of state, and
claimed that the act was one of self-defense. "I was assailed," he was
reported to have said--"I was assailed on all hands by the enemies
whom the Bourbons raised up against me. Threatened with air-guns,
infernal machines, and deadly stratagems of every kind, I had no
tribunal on earth to which I could appeal for protection; therefore I
had a right to protect myself, and by putting to death one of those
whose followers threatened my life I was entitled to strike a salutary
terror into others." When on his death-bed, his maladroit attendant
read from an English review a bitter arraignment of him as guilty of
the duke's murder. The dying man rose, and, catching up his will,
wrote in his own hand: "I had the Duc d'Enghien seized and tried
because it was necessary to the safety, the interest, and the honor of
the French people, when by his own confession the Comte d'Artois was
supporting sixty assassins in Paris. Under similar circumstances I
would again do likewise." Nevertheless he occasionally endeavored to
unload the entire responsibility on Talleyrand. To Lord Ebrington, to
O'Meara, to Las Cases, to Montholon, he asseverated that Talleyrand
had checked his impulses to clemency.

The perpetrator of this bloody crime represented the Revolution too
well to suit the new society. A shudder crossed the world on receipt
of the news. But the only European monarch that dared to protest was
the Czar, who broke off diplomatic relations and put his court into
mourning. But he could go no further; for he could find no one on the
Continent to join with him in declaring war. Prussia remained neutral
and her king silent. Austria withdrew her troops from Swabia, and sent
a courier to say at Paris that she could understand certain political
necessities. In the autumn, however, when they had gained time to
observe France and mark Bonaparte's policy, Russia and Austria began
to draw together. Dynastic politics therefore rendered the public
expression of popular opinion impossible; but in France, as in the
length and breadth of Europe, the masses were aroused. Was the age of
violence not passed? Were they merely to exchange one tyranny for
another more bloody? The same men who years before had looked on in a
dumb stupor, and with consenting approval, at the events of the Terror
in Paris were now alert and alarmed at the possibility of its renewal.
The First Consul was mortified and angry. Many of those nearest to him
had opposed his course from the outset, and he felt deeply their
ill-disguised disapproval. His only remedy was arbitrary prohibition
of all discussion, and to this he had recourse. Intending to fix the
blame of conspiracy and assassination on England and the Bourbons, he
found himself regarded as little else than a murderer. A Richelieu
could execute a Montmorency with impunity, but not so could a
Bonaparte murder a Condé. Long afterward he dictated to Méneval, "The
merited death of the Duc d'Enghien hurt Napoleon in public opinion,
and politically was of no service to him." But the masses are
proverbially fickle, and easily diverted. Three days after the
execution Talleyrand gave a successful ball.

The Parisian world was in fact very fickle. Society had been much
exercised over the execution of Enghien, but rumors of coming war
furnished more interesting topics of conversation. The giddy majority
had a few passing emotions, gossiped about one theme and the other
alternately, and then went on with its amusements. The grave men who
sincerely desired their country's welfare were profoundly moved, and
whispered serious forebodings to each other. The world at large was
sensitive to both currents of thought, but in the main the masses
considered the coming coronation ceremonies, the splendors of empire,
and the prospects for unbounded glory opened by Napoleon's unhampered
control vastly more entertaining as a subject of flippant speculation
than anything else.




CHAPTER XXVIII

DECLARATION OF THE EMPIRE[29]

         [Footnote 29: See in particular the memoirs of Miot de
         Melito, Pasquier, Ségur, Thiébault, Marmont, Lafayette,
         Savary, Rémusat, Rapp, Thibaudeau, and Bourrienne; the
         Souvenirs of Macdonald and Chaptal; and the Lettres inédites.
         Also, De Bausset: Cour de Napoléon; Masson: Josephine,
         Impératrice et Reine; Aulard: Révolution Française; Remacle:
         Relations secrètes des agents de Louis XVIII à Paris sous le
         Consulat.]

     Bonaparte's Principles -- His Comprehension of French Conditions
     -- Meaning of Enghien's Murder -- The Dynasties of Europe -- The
     Possibilities of Hereditary Power -- The New France -- Desire for
     a Dynasty -- Suggestions of Monarchy -- The Empire Proposed --
     The New Constitution -- Imperial State -- The New Nobility --
     Device of the Empire -- The New Court -- The Plebiscite.


Step by step, laboriously and painfully, by guile and prudence, in the
exercise of consummate genius as soldier and politician, Napoleon
Bonaparte had now climbed to the pinnacle of revolutionary power.
Insubordinate as a subaltern under a worn-out system, he found for his
soaring ambition no fitting sphere in the country of his birth, the
only fatherland he ever knew; and in that limited field he was both
ineffectual as an agitator and unsuccessful as a revolutionary. But
with keen insight he studied and apprehended the greater movement as
it developed in France. Standing ever at the parting of the ways, and
indifferent to principle, he carefully considered each path, and
finally chose the one which seemed likeliest to guide his footsteps
toward the goal of his ambition. Fertile in resources, he strove
always to construct a double plan, and in the failure of one
expedient passed easily to another. His career had been marked by many
blunders, and he had often been brought to a stand on the verge of
some abyss which threatened failure and ruin; yet, like the driver of
a midnight train, he kept the headlight of caution trimmed and
burning. Careless of the dangers abounding behind the walls of
revolutionary darkness which hedged his track, he ever paused before
those immediately confronting him, and sometimes retreated far to find
a hazardless circuit. Brumaire was almost the only occasion of his
larger life on which, unwary, he had come in full career upon an open
chasm. Fate being propitious, he was saved. Lucien, with presence of
mind, opened the throttle, and, by releasing the pent-up enthusiasm of
the soldiers at the critical instant, safely drove the machine across
a toppling bridge.

Sobered for the moment by contemplating a past danger which had
threatened annihilation, and by the crowding responsibilities of the
future, the First Consul put into practical operation many important
revolutionary ideals. But in this process he took full advantage of
the state of French society to make himself indispensable to the
continuance of French life on its new path. By the parade of civil
liberty and a restored social order he so minimized the constitutional
side of his government as to erect it into a virtual tyranny. The
self-styled commonwealth, with a chief magistrate claiming to hold his
office as a public trust, was quite ready to be launched as a liberal
empire under a ruler who in reality held the highest power as a
possession.

[Sidenote: 1804]

The murder of the Duc d'Enghien was virtually a notification of this
fact to all the dynasties of Europe as well as to the French nation.
Their behavior was conclusive evidence that they understood it as
such. Death was the fate destined not merely for the intestine and
personal enemies of the First Citizen, but for the foreign foe, prince
or peasant, who should conspire against him whom the French delighted
to honor. Had the continental powers been ready for war, it is quite
possible that they would have made the execution of a Bourbon, and he
the most popular of his line, the ground of immediate action. But they
were far from ready. When a few days later the "Moniteur" made known
the high probability of what is now a certainty, that Drake and Smith,
British diplomatic agents in central Europe, were compromised
hopelessly in the conspiracy to kill the chief magistrate of France,
the bitterness of all classes, even the aristocracy, in France was
assuaged. Great Britain could do nothing officially except to knit up
a coalition and strengthen her forces. The Elector of Bavaria
dismissed Drake, the British envoy at his court, as a base
conspirator; the Duke of Würtemberg congratulated Bonaparte on his
escape from assassins; the Holy Roman Emperor at Vienna kept silence
while his ministers expressed sympathy for France; the King of Prussia
and Alexander of Russia exchanged letters of reciprocal regard and
awaited the British subventions to complete their armaments: but they
gave no offense in any official way. The Pope exhibited his grief
without restraint, but uttered no remonstrance, and the court of
Naples was of course indifferent. There was a general putting on of
mourning garb in the high circles of Europe; Louis XVIII sent back his
decoration of the Golden Fleece to Madrid because Bonaparte had
received and retained its insignia, and the dethroned Gustavus of
Sweden returned to Frederick William the badges of the Red Eagle for a
similar reason. Pretenders may indulge their sensibilities as
hard-working kings dare not. It is entirely possible that Bonaparte
believed himself, and a dynasty proceeding from his loins, to be the
best, if not the only, conservators of the new France; that he
conceived of a purely French empire which should be the depository for
that land of all that had been gained by the Revolution; and that he
believed he could overcome the inertia of the tremendous speed with
which he had entered upon his career of single rule. But it is not
probable; for no one knew the French better, appreciating as he did
their patriotism and their passion for leadership among nations. It
was because the Bourbons had failed to represent these qualities that
reconstructed France despised the Bourbons; it was because the new
France saw their incarnation in Bonaparte that it had assisted him to
climb. He must have known very well that, having mounted so high, he
would be compelled to mount still higher.

He also understood the dynastic exclusiveness of Europe. In a sense
the houses of Hanover, of Hohenzollern, and of Savoy were parvenus in
the councils of royalty; yet they were ancient princely stocks, and
their accession to supreme power had not shocked popular feeling; the
dubious and blood-stained title of the Czar did not diminish his
influence, for his succession was not more irregular than that of many
of his predecessors on the semi-oriental Russian throne. But to
substitute for the Bourbons, the oldest divine-right dynasty of
Europe, and in the enlightened West, a citizen king of low descent,
who based his claims on popular suffrage, was to hurl defiance at a
system than which to millions of minds none other was conceivable. To
reach the goal fighting was not a voluntary choice, but an absolute
necessity; for the French must be left in no doubt but that their
popular sovereign was quite as able to assert his peerage among kings
as any one of royal lineage and ecclesiastical unction would be.

These were the conditions under which the bark of liberal empire was
to set sail. It does not seem possible that any pilot could have saved
her amid such typhoons as she must encounter. Bonaparte was more
likely to succeed than any other, and for years his craft was taut and
saucy; but she had no friendly harbors in which to refit, she rode out
one storm only to enter another more violent, and at last even the
supernal powers of the great captain failed him. Even at the outset
the omens were not as propitious as they appeared to be, since the
defiance contained in Enghien's murder was better understood abroad
than at home. For the moment the mistake, which in the long run was an
element in Napoleon's undoing, appeared of little importance. The
French public began almost immediately to discuss whether the consular
power should not be made hereditary, and, within a week after its
occurrence, relegated the "Enghien affair" to apparent oblivion.

For this there were numerous reasons. The discontent in the army
virtually disappeared with Moreau's disgrace, and for long thereafter
both generals and men were entirely docile. The Bourbons returned to
their conspiracies, but so ineffectively that neither the cabinets of
Europe nor the French people felt any active interest. Royalism in
France was thus temporarily crushed. The France of 1803 was the new
France. Her church had been reconstructed; her army was devoted to
Bonaparte as the man of the nation; her revolution had been partly
pruned and partly warped into the forms of a personal government, her
laws revised and codified, her old orders of chivalry replaced by a
new one, her financial administration purified and strengthened, her
educational system renovated, her social and family life given new
direction by the stringent regulation of testamentary disposition, her
government centralized--in short, the whole structure, from foundation
to turret, had been repaired, restored, strengthened, and given its
modern form.

The people, composed of successive alluvia of immigrants and
conquerors since the days of Julius Cæsar, had been thoroughly unified
by the spirit of the French Revolution. They were convinced that the
gains of the Revolution would be better secured by making hereditary
the power of a house which must represent the principles of that
event. All but a few sincerely believed that patriotism for the new
France was in large measure only another name and form for devotion to
the man who presided at its birth and claimed to be its progenitor.
For some time past the phrase "French empire" had been used by orators
and writers to designate the majesty of its institutions. As early as
May, 1802, the Austrian ambassador heard the First Consul spoken of as
"Emperor of the Gauls," and in March, 1803, an English gentleman in
Paris recorded the same expression in his journal. There was,
therefore, neither shock nor surprise anywhere in the nation when on
March twenty-seventh, 1804, the senate presented to the First Consul
an address proposing in the name of the people that he should take
measures "to keep for the sons what he had made for the fathers." This
was the moment, presumably, of Bonaparte's greatest unpopularity--not
a week after the execution of the Duc d'Enghien; while yet the
blundering trial of Moreau was incomplete, and his friends were
representing their hero as the victim of Bonaparte's hate; before
Georges had been condemned, and while Pichegru was yet alive. Yet all
expected the event, most desired it, partly for the reason given by
the senate, partly for the dramatic effect, partly because they wanted
neither the Bourbons nor the Terror again. The senate was now known as
the tool of the First Consul; Fouché was second to none of his
colleagues in power and he thirsted for a renewal of favor, imperial
if that was the desired label. In spite of changes, the tribunate
still retained the national respect: it was desirable that the formal
initiative should come from this body. During the weeks which elapsed
between the address of the senate and the end of April, Bonaparte had
made certain that neither Austria nor Prussia would oppose, and that
army and people were willing. Indeed the fate of Moreau had, as the
officers all felt, cast a limelight on the chances of insubordination,
and had illuminated into a dazzling brilliance the possibilities of
complaisance. The efforts of historians to prove that France did not
want the empire are all failures. Every new contemporary document
which sees the light of day contains more or less to prove the
contrary. The French of any intelligence understood the Roman meaning
of empire and indeed it was easily comprehensible. They had had long
experience of the interests of all in the charge of an oligarchy; that
type of democracy had brought them to the verge of ruin since nowhere
could responsibility be fixed or penalties be inflicted. But the
interests of all in the charge of one supernal man was a conception so
plain as to be almost tangible, and to a nation distracted by
revolution, most attractive. It was an imperial democracy which they
desired, which they got, and which for a time retained its character.
On the twenty-fifth, therefore, the First Consul seized once more the
shield of the Revolution, and told the senate that he had heard with
interest their plan "to insure the triumph of equality and public
liberty," and would be glad to know their thoughts without reserve. "I
should like on July fourteenth of this year to say to the French
people: 'Fifteen years ago by a spontaneous movement you ran to arms,
you secured liberty, equality, glory. To-day these chiefest treasures
of the nation, assured beyond a doubt, are sheltered from
every storm; they are preserved for you and your children.'"

On April thirtieth, a member of the tribunate who had been richly
bribed brought in a complete project. In the interval a committee had
inquired what title the future incumbent of the new hereditary office
would like to have--consul, stadholder, or emperor. His prudent choice
fell on the last. The word has acquired a new significance in our age;
but then it still had the old Roman meaning. It propitiated the
professional pride which had taken the place of republicanism in the
army, and while plainly abolishing radical democracy, it also bade
defiance to absolute royalism. Accordingly, the tribunes voted that
Napoleon Bonaparte be intrusted with the government of France as
emperor, and that the imperial power be declared hereditary. There was
only one man who dared to interpose his negative vote--Napoleon's
earliest protector, the veteran republican Carnot. He admitted that
there was already a temporary dictator, and that the republican
constitutions of the country had been unstable, but he thought that
with peace would come wisdom and permanency, as in the United States.
Bonaparte was a man of virtue and talent, to be sure, but what about
his descendants? Commodus was the son of Marcus Aurelius. Whatever
might be the splendor of a man's services, there were bounds to public
gratitude, and these bounds had been reached; to overstep them would
destroy the liberty which the First Consul had helped to restore. But
if the nation desired what he conscientiously opposed, he would retire
to private life, and unqualifiedly obey its will.

The legislative body was quickly summoned to a special meeting, and,
according to the constitution, made the resolutions law by its
approval. As soon as decency would permit, a new constitution was laid
before the council of state, discussed under Bonaparte's direction,
and sent down to the senate for consideration. On May eighteenth the
paper was adopted in that body with four dissenting voices, including
that of the Abbé Sieyès, who hated all charters not of his own making.
On the same day the decree of the senate constituting the Empire was
carried to the First Consul at St. Cloud, where it was duly approved
by him, and was formally promulgated. It was found that the difficulty
concerning heredity had been evaded by giving to Napoleon, but to none
of his successors, the right of adoption; and should there be neither
a natural nor an adoptive heir, by settling the succession first in
the family of Joseph, then in that of Louis, both of whom were
declared to be imperial princes. All chance was thus removed for the
return of a dynasty likely to disturb the existing conditions of
property.

The changes in the constitution were radical, and many of them were
not made public except as they were put into operation. The tribunate
was untouched; but the legislature was divided into three sections,
juristic, administrative, and financial. Its members regained a
partial liberty of speech, and might again discuss, but only with
closed doors, the measures laid before them. The senate became a house
of lords. Six great dignitaries, sixteen military grandees called
marshals, and a number of the highest administrative officials were
added to its numbers. Referring to the imperial state of the great
German whom the French style Charlemagne, the imperial officers of
Napoleon were designated, some by titles from Karling history, such as
the "Great Elector," the "Arch-chancellor of the Empire," the
"Arch-chancellor of State," the "Arch-treasurer"; others by ancient
French designations, such as the "Constable" and the "High Admiral."
These, with the imperial princes, were to be addressed as
"Monseigneur," or "Your Highness," either "imperial" or "most serene,"
as the case might be. The Emperor himself was to be addressed as "Your
Majesty" or "Sire." His civil list was twenty-five million francs; the
income of each "arch" dignitary was a third of a million. Cambacérès
was made Chancellor; Lebrun, Treasurer; Joseph Bonaparte was appointed
Elector, and Louis, Constable; Fouché was reappointed Minister of
Police; Talleyrand remained Minister of Foreign Affairs. The heraldic
device chosen for the seal of the Napoleonic dynasty was the favorite
symbol of the Holy Roman Empire, an eagle "au vol"--that is, on the
wing.

There was nothing original in the idea of all this tawdry state except
the institution of the marshals, which was altogether so. In
prosperity this military hierarchy was a bulwark to the Empire, but in
adversity it proved a serious element of weakness. The list was
shrewdly chosen to assure the good will of the army. Jourdan, who as
consular minister had successfully pacified Piedmont, was named as
having been the victor of Fleurus in 1794; his republicanism was thus
both recalled and finally quenched. Berthier was rewarded for his
skill as chief of staff; Masséna for his daring at Rivoli, his victory
at Zurich, his endurance at Genoa. Augereau, another converted
democrat, was remembered for Castiglione; Brune was appointed for his
campaign in Holland against the Duke of York; Davout for his Egyptian
laurels; Lannes and Ney for their bravery in many actions; Murat as
the great cavalry commander; Bessières as chief of the guards;
Bernadotte, Soult, Moncey, and Mortier for reasons of policy and for
their general reputation.

The "lion couchant" had been suggested as the heraldic device of the
new Empire, but Napoleon scorned it. In all his preparations he
carefully distinguished between the "State," which was of course
France with its natural boundaries, and the "Empire," which was
evidently something more; the resting lion might typify the former,
the soaring eagle was clearly a device for the other, which, like the
realm of Charles the Great, was to know no "natural" obstacles in its
extension.

The most immediate sign of the new order was a changed life at the
Tuileries. The palace was thronged no longer with powerful but
maladroit persons who did not know how to advance, bow, and recede,
and who could not wear their elegant clothes with dignity; nor with
others who, more refined in their training, smiled condescendingly at
the imperfect manners of the former. A thorough court was organized
with careful supervision and rigid etiquette. Soon everybody could
behave with sufficient grace and dignity. Fesch was the Grand Almoner;
Duroc was Grand Marshal of the Palace; Talleyrand, Grand Chamberlain;
Berthier, Master of the Hounds; and Caulaincourt, Master of the Horse.
Many of the returned emigrants filled minor places of imperial
dignity. The perfection of ceremonial was assured by the appointment,
to regulate all etiquette, of Ségur, once minister of Louis XVI to
Russia. Everybody was expected to study the rules and be present at
numerous rehearsals. Mme. Campan, formerly a lady in waiting to Marie
Antoinette, was summoned to lend her assistance.

Finally the now traditional formality of seeking the popular approval
was not forgotten. To be sure, the question put was merely whether the
imperial succession should remain in the Emperor's family. The reply
was a thunderous yes; there being, out of three and a half million
votes all told, only two and a half thousand in the negative. It was a
sign of the times that among the latter were those of all but three of
the Paris lawyers.




CHAPTER XXIX

THE DESCENT INTO ENGLAND[30]

         [Footnote 30: References: the memoirs of Barante, Rémusat,
         Ségur, Macdonald, Thiébault, Marbot, Bigarré, the works of
         Roederer, the Memorial of Norvins, the volumes of Fauriel,
         Masson, d'Haussonville, and Welschinger, the Correspondence
         of Davout. Also, Fontaine et Percier: Sacre de Napoléon;
         Artaud de Montor: Vie et Pontificat du pape Pie VII; Nicolay:
         Napoleon at the Boulogne Camp; Wheeler and Broadley: Napoleon
         and the Invasion of England. Rose and Broadley: Dumouriez and
         the Defence of England; Rose: Napoleonic studies; Desbrière:
         Projets et tentatives de débarquement aux Îles Britanniques.]

     Legitimacy Desired for the Empire -- The Pope's Conditions -- The
     Festival at Boulogne -- Position of Josephine -- The Court at
     Aachen -- Pitt and the Continental Powers -- France Defiant --
     The Feint against England -- Napoleon's Naval Plans --
     Consolidation of his Sea-Power -- Manoeuvers of his Fleet --
     Attempt to Mystify England -- The Underlying Purpose --
     Napoleon's Own Statement -- Corroborative Proof -- Pitt's
     Prophecy -- The "Descent" Impossible.


[Sidenote: 1804--05]

When Pepin the Short asked Pope Zacharias in 752 whether the name or
the fact made the legitimate king, the reply was, "He is king who has
the power"; and in token of this doctrine it was the papal sanction
which sealed the legitimacy of the Karlings in Boniface's crowning
Pepin as king. Half a century later Pope Leo III, acting by an
arrogated but admitted authority, likewise established their imperial
dignity by setting the imperial crown on the head of Charles the
Great. This event occurred on Christmas day of the memorable year 800.
Early in May of the year 1804, a millennium later, word came that the
occupant of St. Peter's chair must once more empty the little vial on
the head of another Western emperor, and this time not of his own
volition, nor in eternal Rome, but by the Emperor's demand, and in
Paris, inheritor of classic glory and renown. The feeble Pontiff was
made wretched by the summons. But the Concordat was recent, and
doubtless other much-longed-for advantages might be secured by
compliance; the legations, once his, but now forming the fairest
provinces of the Italian republic, were still outside the pale of his
temporal power; moreover, no adequate compensation had ever been
received for Avignon and Carpentras, lost to him since the peace of
Tolentino in 1797.

At last a hesitating consent was given: the Pontiff would come "for
the welfare of religion," if the Emperor would invite him on that
pretext. Besides, he hoped there would be a reconsideration of the
organic articles of the Concordat, if, as head of the Church, he
should demand the expulsion of the "constitutional" bishops. One minor
stipulation was that under no circumstances would the Holy Father
receive Mme. Talleyrand. Out of gratitude for the Concordat he had, to
be sure, removed the ban of excommunication from the sometime bishop,
and had given him leave "to administer all civil affairs," but the
interpretation of this clause into a permission to marry had been
intolerably exasperating. The Emperor in reply recited all his own
services to the Church and to the papacy; and what might not hereafter
be expected of one who had already done so much? With this indefinite
pledge the Pope was obliged to content himself, and the coronation
ceremony was appointed for December second.

[Illustration: NAPOLEON AS FIRST CONSUL

  Sir:

  Since you would like to know when, where, and under what conditions
  I drew the pencil portrait of Napoleon just sent you, here is the
  account:

  In 1801 I was made a member of the Cisalpine delegation which went
  to Lyons in order to draft under the presidency of Napoleon, then
  First Consul, the constitution of my country. When all was settled
  the First Consul came to preside in person over the Cisalpine
  Assembly, knowing he would be elected president of our republic, to
  which he gave under those conditions the name of Italian Republic.

  I was seated not far from him during the time when a rather prolix
  and fulsome orator recited a wordy speech destitute of sense and
  taste. Possibly Bonaparte was paying no attention; but he looked
  quietly at the speaker, thinking of something more important. I saw
  him in profile as he is represented in my drawing, and a fine light
  coming from the large window in the front of the church where we
  were gathered marked his nose rather more strongly than the rest of
  his features. The sketch, almost completed, was so nearly an entire
  success that little remained to be done in finishing it. Everybody
  both in Lyons and Paris, whither I afterwards went, thought it at
  the time the most striking portrait of that extraordinary man.

  This, Sir, is my account of the portrait. I am at your service.

  Most devotedly,

                                             JOSEPH LONGHI.

  Milan, June 4, 1828.

_Now in the Bodleian Library._]

But festivities and activities alike began immediately after the
declaration of the Empire on May eighteenth, 1804. A most successful
ceremonial of inauguration was held in June at the Hospital of the
Invalides. The titled emigrants who were now numerous in society
assumed a most amusing pose. They pouted and with contemptuous
gestures signified their sense of shame at having fallen to such low
estate. But our evidence is conclusive that by dint of unwearied
solicitation they "forced themselves to be forced," in the words of a
later historian. The self-styled aristocracy of the day resembled no
other: most of their titles were either new or were held by persons
otherwise consequential, not by birth, but on account of either wealth
or influence, who had at no very distant date married or assumed the
dignities they flaunted. This had long been true even under the old
monarchy; the Revolution had enabled many shrewd bargainers to assume
territorial names and particles which were for the best of reasons not
questioned by needy adventurers of older stock; the dawning imperial
society, though yet untrained to the severe restraint of the courtier,
was making rapid progress and had moreover all the influence which
proceeds from a fountain of honor which is likewise the well-spring of
power. Hungry aspirants to imperial favor must needs brook more
exasperating associates than even the rude soldiery and the Bonaparte
family, who, though utterly common, were at least personally good to
look upon and exhibited all possible zeal to acquire the manners of a
more experienced nobility. The number of those who expressed their
disgust for Napoleon's weakness in the tawdry display he so admired
was few indeed. Courier said that in the arrangement of empire the
hitherto great man had aspired to degradation, and Beethoven changed
the dedication of his Heroic Symphony from the form, "To Bonaparte,"
into the sad caption, "To the memory of a great man." The legend on
Napoleon's new coinage was most significant: French Republic,
Napoleon Emperor. To be Emperor of the French Republic would have been
to continue great. Human nature and unfavorable environment made it
impossible.

The Tuileries, however, blazed with candles and jewels; the
extravagance and heartburnings of a court began at once. Thanks to
Ségur, the exterior at least was gorgeous. That the cup of the
aristocracy might overflow, the clemency of the Empire was first
displayed in the pardon of all the nobles who had been implicated with
Georges. The Emperor's first journey was in July to his camp at
Boulogne, where a distribution of decorations and the swearing of
allegiance by the army were made the occasion of a second magnificent
ceremonial. The ancient Frankish warriors were accustomed to set up
their kings on a stage formed of their own bucklers. Napoleon received
the acclamations of his troops seated in an iron chair, which was said
to have been Dagobert's, and gazing over the sea towards the cliffs of
Albion.

On this notable journey, which was intended to have political as well
as military significance, he was accompanied by Josephine. Her
position was far from comfortable. As will be remembered, her husband
when first in Italy had been disappointed in the expectation that she
was soon to give him an heir, and her intrigues at Milan were the
cause of frequent quarrels between them. Bonaparte had justified his
public and scandalous association with a certain Mme. Fougé in Egypt
by a suggestion that if he could but have a son he would marry the
child's mother; the reconciliation of Brumaire was an act of
expediency, and while it did a perfect work for the Consulate, the
discussions which had been rife about the line of descent ever since
the talk of empire had become general showed the instability of the
relation between the imperial pair; even the formal regulations of
the new constitution had inspired little confidence in the Beauharnais
party. The new Empress, therefore, was the embodiment of meekness, but
for the present she was, according to the old Roman formula, "Caia"
where her husband was "Caius." Side by side, and apparently in perfect
amity, they proceeded from Boulogne to Aachen, the ancient capital of
Charles the Great, on the German frontier.

As if to mock the Roman and German claims of Francis, Napoleon and his
consort held high court in that historic town, whose memories were
redolent of European sway, and whose walls had been the bulwarks of
that medieval Roman empire which, though itself an ineffective
anachronism, was about to be renewed in modern guise. The dukes,
princes, and kings of Germany, either in person or by their
ambassadors, came to do homage; even Austria had a representative.
Constantine had made a capital for his reunited empire by building a
new Rome on the banks of the Bosporus; Paris and France could see how
easily Napoleon might adopt a similar policy. They did observe, and
not without dismay.

But while the princes of the earth were jostling each other to honor
this new monarch of monarchs, the underground currents of feeling were
doing his work. Already the "Empire" meant war; but the war so far was
with England alone, and must necessarily be either a maritime conflict
or else a costly and risky invasion. Pitt's return to power on May
twelfth signified the resistance of a united Britain to Bonaparte and
all his works: on her own soil, if necessary, but preferably by the
renewal of the premier's old policy of continental coalition against
France. It was the irony of fate that, thanks to the intricacies of
party politics and the King's imbecility, the strong man was brought
back to power with a contemptible and feeble cabinet. For the first,
therefore, he could only fortify the island kingdom. Signs soon began
to appear, however, that his enemy would meet him at least half-way in
provoking a new coalition; the union of western Europe for war would
give Napoleon the Emperor a new hold on France, that second string to
his bow which he always intended to have by him, and of which he now
had greater need than ever. Moreover, success would mean to him the
immediate realization of a French empire so transcending the
boundaries of France herself that men would forget the old nation in
the splendors of a new inclusive French political organism,
destructive of nationality as an influence in the world.

In July, Russia, whose ruler in reality had cared little for the death
of Enghien, and was actuated by an unbounded ambition for Oriental
empire, made a formal protest against France's foreign policy,
demanding the evacuation of Naples and an indemnity for the King of
Sardinia. Talleyrand replied roughly that France had asked no
explanation of the suspicious death of the Emperor Paul; that Russia
had naturalized notorious French emigrants; that she had sent to Paris
in the person of Markoff a distasteful diplomat, who, by the sarcastic
disdain of his manners, clearly showed his master's animus toward
France; and that, moreover, she had occupied the Ionian Islands. "The
Emperor of the French wants peace," said Talleyrand, "but with the aid
of God and his armies he need fear no one." Taken in connection with
certain high-handed acts already committed by Napoleon,--as, for
example, the expulsion from their posts, by his command, of the
English envoys at Stuttgart and Munich, who had imprudently plotted
with Méhée de la Touche; and the much more arbitrary seizure at
Hamburg of Rumbold, the recently appointed minister of England to
Saxony, while on his way to assume his diplomatic duties,--these
words of Talleyrand meant nothing less than defiance to the whole
Continent, as well as to England. Russia had protested in vain against
the violation of Baden's neutral territory by the seizure of Enghien;
Prussia was successful in her remonstrance with regard to Rumbold, but
in view of the continued occupation of Hanover by a strengthened
French garrison, this scanty grace did not reassure her ministers.

These provocations seem to furnish cumulative evidence that the
ostentatious preparations for invading England were little more than a
feint. It may have been that, as ever, the colossal genius of the man
who knew that he was a match in military strength for the whole
Continent was making ready for either alternative. The romance of his
imperial policy knew no bounds: thwarted in crossing the Channel, he
might confirm his new position by overwhelming the coalition which, as
a result of his conduct and of Pitt's time-honored policy, was sure to
be formed at once; or, on the other hand, checked on the Continent, he
might retrieve all by one crushing blow at England. But this is the
most that can be conceded, even in view of his great preparations and
his apparent earnestness.

The autumn of 1803 and the spring of 1804 had seen a steady
development of resources at Boulogne. It was tentatively arranged that
a French fleet of ten sail of the line under Latouche-Tréville should
leave Toulon on July thirtieth as if to reoccupy Egypt, and thus tempt
Nelson to follow with the hope of repeating his victory in the scenes
of his former exploits. But the French admiral was to turn and appear
at Rochefort on the Bay of Biscay, increase his armament by the
addition to it of six first-rate vessels with a number of frigates,
and then, by a long detour, arrive in the Strait of Dover, as if
doubling Cape Clear from the West. "Masters of the Channel for six
hours, we are masters of the world," wrote the Emperor. This scheme
was thwarted by the untimely death of the admiral.

However, a much grander one was evolved in September. Napoleon's
policy of conciliating Spain by gifts and promises to the Duke of
Parma had made the queen of that country his friend, and her criminal
intimacy with Godoy, the Prince of the Peace, being already notorious,
both she and her paramour paid the price of toleration by abject
servility. At the First Consul's nod Spain invaded and humiliated
Portugal, whose ships had aided Nelson in the Levant, and whose fine
harbors were invaluable to England. At the peace of Amiens he gave the
Spanish colony of Trinidad to England without consulting its owner,
and he sold Louisiana in utter disregard of the right of redemption
reserved by Spain. He now forced his ally to a monstrous treaty
whereby she was to keep Portugal neutral, and increase her subsidy to
the exorbitant sum of six million francs a month. This alliance made
Napoleon absolute master of the Spanish maritime resources, when, in
December, 1804, as was inevitable, war broke out between England and
Spain: he commenced even earlier to act as if the French mastery of
the seas were to be not for six hours, but forever. A feverish
activity began in all his dockyards and arsenals; press-gangs ranged
the harbor cities and seized all available sailors, and in a few weeks
the imperial marine was nearly doubled in ships, guns, and men. Its
efficiency unfortunately diminished in the direct ratio of its
unwieldy size. Villeneuve, the new commander at Toulon, though capable
in many ways, was only too well aware of the utter demoralization in
French naval affairs. He was consequently destitute of all enthusiasm,
and shy of the task imposed upon him.

This mattered little, for his and the Rochefort squadron were now
destined to sail for the West Indies separately, in order to draw away
the English; incidentally they were to recover San Domingo, if
possible, and to strengthen Guadeloupe, Martinique, and Santa Lucia.
Ganteaume, the commander at Brest, was to bring out his squadron of
twenty line-of-battle ships with Augereau and eighteen thousand men on
board, sail westward half-way to Newfoundland as a feint, then,
returning, land the soldiers in the north of Ireland, and, sailing
thence, enter the Channel from the north to coöperate with the
flotilla of invasion which, with great expense, had been got together
at and near Boulogne. How little in earnest the Emperor was in this
showy plan is evinced by his carefully studied letter of January
sixteenth, 1805, in which he proposes attacking England in the East
Indies with this same Brest squadron and a force of thirty thousand
men. This proposition was seriously made even before Villeneuve had
put to sea; it should not be considered as one of the occasional
divagations which such a man may either claim as revealing a genuine
state of mind, or which may be ridiculed by himself, and forgotten by
others, as chimerical, according to the turn of affairs. The Rochefort
squadron succeeded in passing the English blockaders, and reached
Martinique in safety. Villeneuve left Toulon on January seventeenth,
1805, under cover of a storm, which he hoped to use in running from
Nelson; but it so dispersed his ships as to make any concerted action
impossible, and the separate vessels returned with some difficulty to
their port of departure. Ganteaume did not even make an effort to run
the English blockade before Brest.

Three months later a third preposterous scheme for mystifying England
was divulged, the Indian expedition being held still in reserve. This
time the apparent object was to effect a union of all the French naval
forces in the West Indies, and orders were given accordingly. Thence
under the command of Villeneuve the vast fleet, forty ships of the
line, should return, by the tremendous detour around Scotland and
through the North Sea to sweep the Channel clear and keep it so until
the flotilla of transports could cross. The whole scheme has been
stigmatized as a landsman's conception. In fact, viewed as a serious
design, it makes every quality of Napoleon's mind the reverse of what
it really was. The monstrous expense of sustaining for such a length
of time, and without the usual war indemnities, both a fleet and a
large army entirely disproportionate to the demands of invasion; the
theatrical character of all these arrangements; the apparent
carelessness of indefinite delay; the calmness with which the news of
Trafalgar was heard by the great captain--all these are considerations
which cumulatively lead to the conclusion that he was in earnest
neither with the maritime campaign nor with the invasion, and that his
real armament was the costly land force which was prepared for the
purpose of conquering Austria, the enemy against whom, in the
following year, it was actually used; while the naval armament,
including the Boulogne flotilla, was intended to prevent, as it did,
the active interference of England to destroy his own so-called
blockade of the continental ports, and thereby to renew her commerce.

Napoleon's generals, whose ability was as remarkable as the feebleness
of his admirals, were interested, as their own memoirs and those of
other keen observers prove, in an empire of Europe by which their
dignities were to be perpetuated and strengthened. Joseph told the
Prussian minister that his brother's strength with the army was in
the new laurels which they hoped to pluck, and in the wealth which
would follow as a result. The Emperor had revealed the truth to his
favorite brother when he said that he himself would never attempt a
landing on British shores, but that he might send Ney to Ireland. It
is perhaps a significant straw that when Robert Fulton, as tradition
asserts, offered to make the flotilla independent of wind and wave by
the use of steam, Napoleon, the apostle of science, friend of Monge
and Volney, member of the Institute, displayed very little scientific
interest. For some time past he had been coquetting with the great
American inventor, granting him inadequate subsidies to prosecute his
schemes for applying steam-power to various marine engines of
destruction. It must, however, be remembered that there is no proof of
actual negotiations between the two for the application of steam to
navigation. The Emperor probably intended to keep others from using
Fulton's inventions; that he made no fair trial of them himself would
seem to show that he had no real use for them.

Most English historians have believed that Napoleon's forecast saw a
successful invasion of their country, and Great Britain as a
consequence disgorging a vast war indemnity wherewith his invincible
legions could be recruited and the continental powers could be reduced
to subjection. Englishmen have always felt that it was a deed of high
enterprise for Britons to overawe the Corsican ogre by the magnitude
of their preparations to resist him, and have by constant iteration
convinced large numbers that this among other honors is also theirs.
They have rarely considered the anxiety of the other side lest English
troops should be landed on the Continent under the protection of such
an overwhelming sea-power as Great Britain possessed. It will, of
course, never be known how serious the Emperor's much-paraded purpose
was during 1803 and 1804. But a more significant sign even than those
already enumerated is the fact that in January, 1805, while the
council of state was discussing the budget, he declared that for two
years France had been making tremendous sacrifices. "A general war on
the Continent," he said, "would demand no greater. I now have the
strongest possible army, a complete military organization, and am this
moment on the footing which I generally have first to secure in case
of actual war. To raise such forces in time of peace--twenty thousand
artillery, horses and trains complete--there was need of a pretext in
order to levy and bring them all together without rousing suspicion in
the other continental powers. This pretext was afforded by the project
for landing in England. Two years ago I would not thus have spoken to
you, but it was nevertheless my sole purpose. I am well aware that to
maintain such an equipment in time of peace means throwing thirty
millions out of the window. But in return I have the advantage of all
my enemies by twenty days, and can take the field a whole month before
Austria can even prepare her artillery."

Even within the labyrinthine turnings of the most tortuous mind there
is a clue, and this time Napoleon probably spoke the truth. The
inherent probability is further strengthened by the evidence of what
followed. Some weeks later he said in a moment of frankness: "What I
have so far done is nothing. There will be no peace in Europe except
under a single chief, under an emperor who shall have kings for
officials, who shall distribute kingdoms to his lieutenants, making
one king of Italy, another of Bavaria, this one landmann of
Switzerland, that one stadholder of Holland--all charged with duties
in the imperial household.... You may say there is nothing new in
this, that it is only an imitation of the plan on which the German
Empire was founded; but nothing is absolutely new: political
institutions revolve in an orbit, and it is often necessary to return
to what has been." "We were soon aware," wrote Miot de Melito in
August, 1804, referring to the demonstration against England, "that
the Emperor, in the execution of a plan already abandoned, had made
such demonstrations only to increase the security of the continental
powers, and lure them to some decisive step which would permit him to
speak out and act."

It is well to recall that if the great Egyptian expedition was
intended by Bonaparte and his friends in the Directory to mystify the
French, the naval preparations, made as if both to meet England on her
own undisputed element, and likewise to invade her soil, may well have
been made with similar intention regarding the English. The one
hypothesis requires no greater credulity than the other. Having driven
the Addington ministry from power, Pitt said, on May twenty-third,
1803, that France would base her hope of success either on the
expectation that she could "break the spirit and shake the
determination of the country by harassing us with perpetual
apprehension of descent upon our coasts," or on the supposition that
she could "impair our resources and undermine our credit by the
effects of an expensive and protracted contest." There is no reason to
regard this as other than a prophetic utterance, except that the
preparations of Napoleon for invasion assumed such dimensions as to
give the whole scheme for "harassing" England the appearance of a real
purpose. But it must be remembered that no other course would have
deceived a people so astute as the English, and this fact, taken in
connection with the Emperor's ever-increasing determination that no
power within the sphere of his influence should remain neutral, but
that all should close their doors to English commerce, is very strong
proof that Napoleon was fighting England in both the ways indicated by
Pitt.

It is also pertinent to inquire what would have happened had Napoleon
been successful in landing an army on English shores. In the first
place, his mastery of the seas would have been quickly ended by the
combined efforts of the English war-vessels then afloat, and he would
have been left without base of supplies or communication. In the
second place, he would have met a resistance from a proud, free,
enlightened, and desperate people which would have paralyzed all his
tactics, and would have worn out any force he could have kept
together. Napoleon had said before that an army which cannot be
regularly recruited is a doomed army. He knew very well that with the
fleets and flotillas at his disposal a permanent control of the seas
was out of the question. The impression which Metternich received in
1810, that the Emperor's intention had been a continental war from the
first, and the lavishness with which Napoleon, throughout his public
career, made use of any form of ruse, even the costliest, in order to
mislead his foes, are complementary pieces of evidence which furnish
the strongest corroboration.




CHAPTER XXX

THE CORONATION OF NAPOLEON I[31]

         [Footnote 31: As before. Fontaine et Percier: Le Sacre de
         Napoléon; Masson: Napoleon et sa famille; Welschinger: Le
         divorce de Napoléon; Artaud de Montor: Vie de Pie VII;
         Welschinger: Le pape et l'empereur, 1804-1815; Botta: Storia
         d'Italia; the Memoirs of Consalvi, Montgaillard, and Bigarré;
         Lumbroso: Napoleone I{o e} l'Inghilterra; Marmottan: Le
         royaume d'Étrurie.]

     The Pope's Perplexities -- Arrival of Pius VII at Fontainebleau
     -- Arrangements for the Coronation -- Ecclesiastical Marriage of
     Napoleon and Josephine -- The Procession to Notre Dame -- The
     Coronation -- Significance of the Act -- Disenchantment of the
     Pope -- A Presage of War -- Europe Prepared -- The Rise of
     National Feeling -- Prosperity of France -- Literature in France
     -- The New Coalition -- Napoleon King of Italy.


Paris had not been agreeably impressed by the spectacle of the
imperial court held at Aachen, and when there appeared in the
"Moniteur" a shrewd reminder that the seat of Roman empire had been
permanently transferred to a Greek city, the feeling of disquiet was
heightened to the desired point. The Parisians were therefore not
disinclined to exhibit an enthusiastic loyalty on the unique occasion
of the coronation. The sometime atheist, later Oriental hero and son
of heaven, quasi-Mohammedan and destroyer of the papacy, but now for
some years past the professed admirer of Christianity, had recently
been addressed by Pius VII, in the form used in addressing legitimate
rulers, as his "son in Christ Jesus." Having gone so far as this
climax, the Pope's scruples finally disappeared, and, on November
second, he set out for his winter journey to the French capital. It is
said that he drew back at the last moment, alleging, not, as he might
well have done, that Napoleon had violated every tradition of Europe
and broken all the commandments, but that the Emperor's letter had
been irregularly delivered by General Caffarelli, instead of being
duly transmitted by the hands of two bishops! No wonder that the
distracted but tenacious man was drawn two ways: as a temporal prince
he must bow as others had done; as the vicar of Christ upon earth, how
could he give the sacred unction to one who so violated the Ark of the
Covenant? But perhaps one office might give assistance to the other;
if neither secular nor spiritual restitution could be obtained in
completeness, partial satisfaction for wrongs of both sorts might be
got.

In due time the venerable traveler reached Fontainebleau. Since the
Pope had come to Paris, and the Emperor had not, as of old, gone to
Rome, so by another reversal the prodigal son had this time come out
to meet his spiritual father. Napoleon was in hunting costume, and
seemed by accident to meet the Pope's carriage as it traversed the
forest. Against his loud protestations the successor of St. Peter
alighted with satin shoes and robes of state upon the muddy ground.
But the Emperor, though a prodigal, was not repentant, for after his
first effusive greeting little acts of contemptuous discourtesy--such,
for example, as himself taking the seat of honor in the carriage which
they entered together--showed that this late successor of Charles the
Great was no second Henry IV, who thought a crown well worth a mass,
but an Otto or a Henry III, determined to assert the secular supremacy
against any assumption recalling the pretensions of Gregory VII.

The day before the ceremony a delegation of the senate had formally
announced the result of the plebiscite, and the Emperor not only had
guaranteed the popular rights as secured by the Revolution, but had
promised to transmit them unimpaired to his children. But where were
the children? That same night, at the last hour, the Empress, who in
the eyes of the Church had so far been only a concubine, obtained by
the Pope's insistence what was the chief desire of her heart, but what
had so often been refused by her husband--a secret marriage to him by
ecclesiastical rite. Would this work a miracle and remove the reproach
of her barrenness? In any case it removed the bar to her coronation by
the Pope, of which nothing had been said in the preliminary
negotiations. This act completed the preparations. The great church
had been renovated and gorgeously decorated; the brilliant costumes,
the imperial scepter, the jeweled crown, were all in readiness;
rehearsals, too, had been held; and still further, by means of
ingeniously devised puppets, every participant had been carefully
taught his exact movements. It had been suggested that, like former
sovereigns, Napoleon should, on the eve of his coronation, repair to
the sanctuary, confess, and receive absolution; but he drew back as
before a sacrilege. In the official program of the ceremonies it was
also arranged that "Their Majesties" should receive the holy
communion; but the article was dropped, and it was currently reported
that the reason was Napoleon's fear lest the Italian prelates should
poison the elements. The Holy Father was not urgent, for he feared a
more serious rebuff than any he had yet received. At the outset he had
inquired whether, according to immemorial custom, he was himself to
set the crown in place on the head of the sovereign. "I will arrange
that," had been Napoleon's reply, and the imperial decision was still
unknown.

It was cold and cloudy on the morning of Sunday, December second,
1804, as the gorgeous procession passed from the Tuileries to Notre
Dame. The streets were lined and the houses decorated; but the people
of Paris, sated with ceremonials, were, in spite of self-interest,
silent and critical. On the other hand, the presence of the German
princes in the train, and the glittering costumes of the court, threw
the provincial deputations, and the throngs of office-holders who had
come up from all France, into a delirium of enthusiasm. The irreverent
tittered when the papal chamberlain ambled by on a mule at the head of
His Holiness's court, but immediately fell on their knees and received
the papal blessing. Clergy and choristers intoned the hymn, "Tu es
Petrus," as the Pontiff entered the majestic cathedral from the
transept, and proceeded to his throne in the center of the choir to
the right of the high altar. After an interval of an hour or more
appeared the Emperor's attendants, Murat leading at the head of twenty
squadrons of cavalry. Then followed the imperial chariot, surmounted
by a crown, and drawn by eight superb and richly caparisoned steeds.
Facing the Emperor and Empress sat Joseph and Louis; the other
brothers were in temporary disgrace, and Madame Mère, stubbornly
devoted to Lucien, was traveling with him somewhere between Milan and
Paris, approaching by stages carefully calculated the capital where as
yet both would have caused embarrassment by their presence. They were
scarcely conspicuous by their absence when, as the artillery salvos
resounded, there advanced eighteen six-horse carriages with the court,
all moving to the sound of triumphal music. Passing in a burst of
sunshine to the archiepiscopal palace, and entering the vestry, the
Emperor donned his coronation robes and a crown of laurel leaves.
Thence, with the Empress at his side, he proceeded in state to the
place prepared for them in the lofty nave, facing the high altar.
Joseph, Louis, Cambacérès, and Lebrun were his pages, and supported
the train of his mantle, heavy with gold and embroidery. The yet empty
throne had been erected in the heart of the choir. From twenty
thousand throats burst the cry, "Long live the Emperor!" as the slow
and stately march proceeded. There was one and only one incident, but
how significant, in this short progress, when Napoleon with head half
turned whispered to Joseph: "If our father could see us now." At last
the entrance of the choir was reached, and the Pope, descending from
his chair, began to intone, amid the deep silence of the throng, the
majestic chant of "Veni, Creator."

This ended, the personages of the court found their appointed seats,
the regalia were laid on the altar, and Pius, holding out a copy of
the Scriptures, demanded in the Latin tongue whether the Emperor would
use all his powers to have law, justice, and peace reign supreme in
the Church and among his people. The Emperor laid both his hands on
the book, and "Profiteor" came the solemn answer. Pope, cardinals,
archbishops, and bishops began the litany, and the sovereigns kneeled.
As the closing strains sounded forth, the imperial pair advanced under
priestly conduct to the steps of the high altar, and kneeled again.
The Pope, pronouncing the customary but long-disused prayer, then
solemnly anointed both in turn with the triple unction on head and
hands. Returning to their chairs, the two chief actors seated
themselves, and high mass began. Midway in its solemn course there was
a pause; the Emperor stepped forward to the altar as if to be invested
at the papal hands with all the insignia of power--ring, mantle, and
crown. The last of the consecrated baubles to be lifted was the
crown. At the pregnant instant, just as the Holy Father, doubting but
hoping, lifted it aloft, the Emperor advanced two paces downward, and,
firmly seizing it in his own hands, set it on his own brow. Without a
movement of hesitancy he then crowned the Empress, and the two,
stepping upward, seated themselves in the great throne of the Empire.
The Pope recovered his self-control, if, indeed, he had momentarily
lost it, and said, "May God confirm you on this throne, and may Christ
give you to rule with him in his eternal kingdom." Then, giving
Napoleon the kiss of peace, he cried, "Vivat imperator in æternum!"
The throng shouted in antiphony with deafening acclaim. Then the
ritual proceeded, and the religious ceremonial was soon ended. At its
close the presidents of the great assemblages of the State advanced.
The Emperor, with his hands on the Bible, said, "I swear to maintain
the principles of the Revolution, the integrity of French territory,
and to govern for the welfare, happiness, and glory of the French
people." Other particulars, equally radical in their nature, were
added according to constitutional requirement. The hierarchical clergy
must have shuddered as they listened. Then the chief of the heralds'
college stood forth and cried: "The thrice glorious and thrice august
Emperor Napoleon is crowned and enthroned. Long live the Emperor!" At
this moment the cannon outside proclaimed the consummation of the
ceremony. The French nation and the Napoleonic Empire, it was
believed, were wedded in the fusion of Church, State, and army, for
the loyal support of what the masses were sure was now France--"one
and indivisible," as the motto of the Revolution expressed it.

It was just before this pregnant event that Napoleon had freed his
mind to Roederer concerning the ambitions of Joseph and his family in
general. Already his brothers and sisters were organized for the
enterprise of exploiting their relationship, and already they were
rash in their claims. The elder brother was essentially a man of the
clan epoch in the development of society, and begrudged the ascendancy
of his junior. He was nevertheless clamorous for wealth and power,
using his brother's ministers to secure them, to demand them as a
right. To this the younger retorted: My brothers are nothing except
through me, great because I made them so. The French people knows them
only by what I have said. There are thousands of persons in France who
have rendered greater service to the state than they. I will not abide
that they be set beside me in the same row. Joseph is not destined to
reign. I was born in poverty; like me, he was born in the lowest
mediocrity. I have raised myself by my own deeds, he has remained
exactly where he was born. From this position Napoleon never swerved:
for them there must be no expectation of empire. Minor kingdoms,
principalities, and duchies he was glad to distribute with lavish
hand. Wealth beyond the dreams of avarice they accumulated with his
connivance. Lucien married to his own liking and remained a commoner,
but in the positions he held under the consulate and empire he left no
source of gain untouched and lived like a prince, if he had not the
title. Joseph was twice a king, unable in both cases to decide whether
he should be true to his imperial brother or to his subjects, a
vacillator in Spain, as for a time was Louis in Holland: the latter,
however, was at least loyal to his folk if not to his superior.
Jerome's career was a farce, in marriage, in statesmanship, in
everything: it is relieved only by the high character of the consort
Napoleon selected for him. Of the women in the family, not much can be
said which indicates a sense of gratitude to their imperial brother
for his prodigal favors. Caroline, the spouse of Murat, was a woman of
force, and was more loyal to her benefactor than any of his blood,
unless it were the giddy, light, beautiful, fascinating Pauline, who,
though a child of the sixteenth rather than the nineteenth century,
had a heart and showed it in great crises.

Pius VII was a disenchanted man. He claimed that the Emperor had
broken an express promise in seizing the crown, and was silent only
because the official journal called no attention to the incident. For
several months he remained a suppliant in Paris. One demand after
another was perforce abandoned. He had hoped to destroy the last
vestige of Gallican liberties, and to see the Roman Church recognized,
not as a privileged sect, but as the national ecclesiastical organism.
His temporary secretary, Cardinal Antonelli, found in Napoleon's
minister of public worship, Portalis, an adversary as learned in
ecclesiastical matters, as polished, adroit, and unctuous, as himself,
and spent his diplomatic arts in vain. Two small concessions were
indeed made. The statesman promised to restore the Gregorian calendar,
and the Emperor, with a half-ironical, half-superstitious feeling,
dated the course of the Empire after January first, 1806, not by the
Revolutionary reckoning, but by the Christian. It was likewise ordered
that the bishops and priests who had sworn to the civil constitution
should take the ecclesiastical oath, and thus return to the fold. In
the field of temporal negotiations the Roman prince was quite as
unsuccessful as in the spiritual. It was in vain that he pleaded the
gift of Charles the Great, which made him a sovereign prince.
Talleyrand replied that what God had given to the Emperor the Emperor
must keep, but an opportunity might offer to increase the States of
the Church. The successor to St. Peter left Paris wounded and
disillusioned, considering, says his memorialist Consalvi, that the
Emperor must have intended, by the poverty of his gifts, to show the
light estimate he put on the papal services. Weakened in dignity and
general esteem, outwitted at every point, the Pope returned to Rome, a
bitter and secret enemy of the Empire he had sanctioned.

When the legislature assembled, two days after Christmas, and the
Emperor opened its session with a state proportionate to his new
dignity, his speech from the throne was not merely an enumeration of
what France owed to the new dispensation,--the civil and other codes,
prizes for the encouragement of letters, industry, and the arts, the
achievement of splendid public works,--it was also a presage of war.
He declared that Italy, like France, needed a definite organization;
that Austria was recuperating her strength; that the King of Prussia
was the friend of France. Turkey, however, he said, was pursuing with
vacillation and timidity a policy foreign to her interests, and he
dragged in an expression of his desire that the spirit of Catherine
the Great should guide the councils of the Czar Alexander. "He will
remember," said the Emperor, "that the friendship of France is a
necessary counterpoise for him in the European balance.... Set far
from her, he can neither touch her interests nor trouble her repose."
These were clearly words of warning. They meant that Russia must
abandon her new Oriental policy, forget the anxiety she felt about
French control in Italy and Naples, and forbear to chafe under the
limitations of her trade with England, necessitated by the closing of
all harbors in western Europe to English commerce.

The feeling arose, and at once became general, not only in France, but
in Europe, that these words of the Emperor meant an appeal to force.
The Revolution had claimed to have a world-wide mission in protecting
the oppressed and establishing justice. The nations had felt a solemn
awe when they saw this task intrusted to the greatest general of his
day. But now in a twinkling all was changed; here was a new kind of
monarch; not a king, but a king of kings; and headstrong, wilful, and
selfish, just as kings were, with no more respect than they for the
rights of man. The greatest general of Europe was now its most
ambitious and ruthless sovereign. It was a powerful argument for the
royalists of the Continent that their old kings, whom they knew, were
better than this novel, unknown tyrant.

It is a trite remark that, however rapidly events may move, no gulf or
cleft separates two epochs either of national life or of general
history. The germs of that national uprising which later overwhelmed
Napoleon can be observed as early as 1805. The tide of his success was
still to flow high before the turn, but his alliance with a great idea
began to dissolve before he struck the first blow for his dynasty. It
was with a light heart and a new enthusiasm that Europe went to war in
1805. Even the Russian peasants, peering into the misty diplomacy
which strove to conceal the Czar's Oriental ambitions and dynastic
pride under complaints about the Duc d'Enghien, and demands for
indemnity to Piedmont, a kingdom almost extinct, saw dimly that the
principles of eternal justice and right were no longer on the side of
France, but on theirs. If France was to live henceforth under
monarchical rule, her ruler must be made to keep his place in the
former political equipoise and abide by the old rules of international
law. This fact constituted the moral strength of Russia's position
when she somewhat hastily dismissed the French envoy from St.
Petersburg. Even then men began dimly to apprehend that, for the
triumph of the rights of man which the republic had so loudly
proclaimed, the nations must now rise against Napoleon and rally to
their dynasties.

While this change of sentiment, elemental in the history of the time,
was gradually taking place outside of France, that nation was
interested in itself as rarely before. Commerce and industry were
rising and developing under a sense of security. Trade and engineering
had received a mighty impulse by the inception of those splendid
public works which still make the First Empire illustrious,--the
superb highways of the Simplon, Mt. Cenis, and Mt. Genèvre, the great
canals of St. Quentin, Arles, Aigues-Mortes, in France proper, with
those of even higher importance in Belgium,--and by the improvement of
every land and water route which made intercommunication easy. Where
the Emperor's interest made it seem best, public buildings rose like
magic. Labor was abundant, and prosperity almost commonplace; the
spell of Napoleon's name and dynasty fascinated men to an ever-growing
degree. There were shadows: the budget for 1805 was alarming, for the
last harvest had been bad; the American payment was spent, Spain could
not be asked for a further subsidy when arming herself for French
support, and the prohibition of English trade diminished the customs
revenues. The price of French bonds fell for a time at a tremendous
rate. But the ingenuity of the Emperor was still fecund. A new tariff,
a new syndicate of bankers to scale the public debt, a new tax laid on
litigants: such were his expedients, and they temporarily succeeded.
When the senate adjourned in March, the members of that high assembly
were requested to report how the new machinery was working in their
respective homes. It appeared to be working very well.

At the same time the imperial masquerade was further continued in a
proclamation which it pleased the imperial writer to date from Aachen,
the capital of Charles the Great. Rome reëstablished in France, the
land of science, literature, and art, the glories of the coming
century should eclipse those of the past. To this end were founded
prizes, some of ten thousand, some of five thousand francs, which once
in ten years, on the eighteenth of Brumaire, the Emperor with his own
gracious hand would distribute in state to successful competitors in
the race for scientific, artistic, and literary honors. The best book
in each of the physical, mathematical, and historical sciences
respectively would then be crowned; so, too, the best play, the best
poem, the best opera, the best mechanical invention, the best
painting, the best statue. Unfortunately the brightest spirits of the
nation were in exile. The inspiration of those who worked under fear
was but a scanty rill, and the French intellectual life of the
Napoleonic age was feeble and uncertain. Not that the output was
meager, for it was not; but the censorship was applied to newspapers
and books with ever-increasing rigor, and what did appear in books or
on the stage was in general utterly colorless and vague. The only
exceptions were those pieces which summoned historical allusions to
bolster the existing government. The censors smiled approval on the
story of "William the Conqueror" as told by Duval, on the tale of
"Peter the Great" in the words of Carrion-Nisas, on M. J. Chénier's
"Cyrus," or Raynouard's "Templars," on any thing which, in the
Emperor's own words, set forth the "passage from the first to the
second race," provided only the theme was from days sufficiently
distant. The career of Henry IV, founder of the Bourbon line, who
became king by the victories of the Protestants and by the (p.~351)
consent of the people, was not to Napoleon's liking, even though he
traced in that career a resemblance to his own. The daily papers could
publish no news except such as redounded to the credit of France, and
dared not discuss religious matters at all. In the whole country there
was but one unfettered genius, that of the painter Prud'hon, and he
was free because he moved in the orbit of antiquity, within limits
which did not intersect the public life of his day. Gros might perhaps
rank near him, but David's talent and Chénier's muse were alike
enthralled in fetters light but strong. Some high authorities have but
lately claimed immortality for Sénancour and the subtle abstractions
of "Obermann"; but they are caviare not merely to the multitude, but
to many of the initiated.

With France at his back and his great army perfectly equipped, the
Emperor was now ready for the continental war which was to give
permanency to his system. In the eyes of all Europe the rupture with
England had been due to British bad faith in refusing to evacuate
Malta according to the treaty of Amiens. Napoleon, in a second
personal letter to George III, written with his own hand on January
second, 1805, deprecated the consequences of this fact; he felt his
conscience awakened by such useless bloodshed, and conjured his
Majesty "not to refuse himself the happiness of giving peace to the
world, nor to put it off to become a sweet satisfaction to his
Majesty's children. It was time to silence passion and hear the voice
of humanity and reason." The answer was evasive. England must first
consult the continental powers with which she had confidential
relations. As Parliament had in February voted five and a half million
pounds sterling for secret purposes,--that is, as a subsidy to
Austria,--there could be no doubt of what this answer meant.

The war with England was felt therefore to be just. Russia was in a
state of hostility, but quiescent because she had meddled with what
was not her affair. If she began a war, that likewise would be a
conflict on Napoleon's part for French independence. How could Austria
be put in the same position? The answer was not difficult for a man of
such universal grasp. It was clear that those states dependent on
France which, following her example, had adopted in turn the forms and
constitution of a directorial, and subsequently of a consular,
republic, must still follow their leader and accept the rule of a
single man. They could not be imperial commonwealths except as part of
France, for there could be but one emperor: they could accomplish the
end only by giving a new meaning to kingship. The Italian republic was
not averse to securing constitutional monarchy if only it might be rid
of French officials and the payment of subsidies. Taking advantage of
this, Napoleon determined to make the change, and bestow the crown
either on Joseph or on the child which was accepted by the world as
Louis's eldest son. On this infant he had always lavished the
attentions of a father. Both brothers flatly refused the proposal on
the ground that it would prejudice their rights in the imperial
succession. Their sovereign appeared to be very angry, but soon
suggested to the Italian delegation which he had summoned to Paris
that he might himself accept the dignity, a hint which was a command.
Late in March, with a suite comprising the chief courtiers, Napoleon
began his progress toward Milan. The Emperor of Austria--for to this
title Francis was reduced by the dismemberment of Germany--was told in
a gracious personal letter that with Russian troops at Corfu and
English soldiers at Malta the two crowns of France and Italy could not
be kept apart, except nominally, but that "this situation would cease
the moment both these islands were evacuated." The attention of all
Europe was momentarily diverted from Boulogne to the spectacle at
Milan. On May twenty-sixth, in the cathedral, the Emperor of the
French was, by his own hand, crowned King of Italy, and that with the
iron crown of Lombardy, a diadem considered the most precious on
earth, for it was said to be made from the nails which pierced the
Saviour's feet and hands. It was with perceptible defiance that, as he
set the emblem on his head, he uttered the traditional words: "God
hath given it to me; let him beware who touches it." The herald called
in clarion tones: "Napoleon, Emperor of the French and King of Italy,
is crowned, anointed, and enthroned. Long live the emperor and king."
The church rocked with joyous acclamation, in the square and the
streets women and children wept, men threw themselves before his
carriage as he passed, and were saved with difficulty from the death
they sought in their delirium of joy. The great of the land were
intoxicated with the enthusiasm of the masses, and even when sobriety
regained its seat the attendant festivals surpassed in splendor
anything yet seen in the Lombard capital.




CHAPTER XXXI

THE THIRD COALITION[32]

         [Footnote 32: Mahan: Life of Nelson and other writings;
         Jurien de la Gravière: Guerres Maritimes; Rousset: L'Art de
         Napoléon; Alembert et Colin: La Campagne de 1805 en
         Allemagne; Huidekoper: Seizure of the Tabor Bridge,
         Napoleon's Concentration on the Rhine and Main in 1805
         (Journal of the Military Service Institution, May-June, 1905;
         and for September, 1907); the collections of Bailleu,
         Martens, Leclercq, Garden, and Tratchefski; the Memoirs of
         Mollien, Méneval, Dumas, Marmont, Ségur, Rapp, Lannes (ed.
         Thomas), Savary, Oudinot, Hardenberg, Czartoryski, and the
         Countess Potocka; the works of Hüffer, Ranke, and Oncken, and
         the correspondence of Napoleon in both Lefebvre and the
         official publication. For the Austrian sources see von Angeli
         in the Mittheilungen des K. K. Archivs, Ulm and Austerlitz.
         The first coalition of more than two powers against France
         was in 1793, the second in 1798; the war of 1792 was against
         Austria and Prussia, that of 1795 against England and
         Austria.]

     The Expansion of Empire -- Great Britain and Russia -- Napoleon's
     Attitude -- Russia and Austria -- The New Coalition -- Weakness
     of Austria -- Nelson and Villeneuve -- The French Fleet at Cadiz
     -- Responsibility for the Napoleonic Wars -- The Grand Army of
     France -- The Menace of War -- Declaration of Hostilities -- From
     Boulogne to Ulm -- Napoleon and Mack -- Their Respective Plans --
     Victory Won by Marching -- Surrender of Ulm -- Failure of Murat
     -- A Dishonorable Ruse.


The coronation at Milan was startling to cabinets and kings; but the
sequel was in their eyes a downright menace. Piombino and Lucca were
given to the Bonaparte sisters; Parma and Piacenza were endowed with
the new French code, and as the climax of audacity the entire Ligurian
Republic was incorporated, with France. Only a short time since,
Napoleon had informed the world through an allocution to the
legislature that Holland, Switzerland, and three fourths of Germany
belonged to France by right of conquest, but that, such was his
moderation, the two former lands would be left independent. The
partition of Poland and the conquest of India, as he had previously
remarked, prejudiced France in the European balance; but again, such
was French moderation, Italy was to have remained independent, the two
crowns separate, and no new province was to have been annexed to the
Empire. But now it was otherwise ordered, and by no fault of his he
had been forced to unite the two crowns; this being so, Genoa had
become essential to the unity of the Empire. Austria might well ask
what the word "Italy" in the royal title was intended to mean. No
sooner were the coronation ceremonies ended than half of the sixty
thousand troops which had either accompanied Napoleon or had been
summoned from near were stationed on the so-called sanitary cordon of
Austria, the old Venetian boundaries. Wearing the worm-eaten coat and
battered hat which he had worn at Marengo, and on the memorable field
which had witnessed his agony of doubt, fear, and joy, the King of
Italy rehearsed with the remaining thirty thousand the events of that
decisive day. Later, at Castiglione the other contingent gave a
similar exhibition.

[Sidenote: 1805]

It is now known, and probably Napoleon suspected at the time, that
Pitt's exertions had already been half successful. On November sixth,
1804, Austria and Russia had signed a defensive treaty like that
already concluded between Russia and Prussia. Then, as now, the
cabinets and peoples of the former lands heartily disliked each other.
But Alexander was a dreamer. His notorious scheme for the
redistribution of European territory, printed only a few years ago
for the first time in the memoirs of Czartoryski, his minister for
foreign affairs, is conclusive evidence of his character. By this plan
he himself was to have the whole of Poland, together with the
provinces from which the kingdom of Prussia takes its name; and
besides, Moldavia, Cattaro, Corfu, Constantinople, and the
Dardanelles! Austria was to get Bavaria, France the Rhine frontier,
Prussia a slight compensation in Germany, and so forth. Great Britain
was clever enough to use this dreamer, leading him to hope for some
concessions to such of his visionary schemes as were known to her, but
putting her propositions in such a form as would to a certainty be
unacceptable to Napoleon: for example, she would not promise to
evacuate Malta. The Czar accordingly proposed to mediate with the
Emperor of the French for peace, not now as a solitary rival, but in
the name of all Europe, except, of course, Prussia, which was
negotiating with France for Hanover.

In May, therefore, Alexander's envoy asked from the court at Berlin a
safe-conduct into France, with which Russia had broken off diplomatic
relations. Napoleon received at Milan a letter from Frederick William
notifying him of the circumstance. He replied in what appeared a
conciliatory tone; but declared that any peace with England must bind
her cabinet not to give asylum to the Bourbons, and must compel them
likewise to muzzle their wretched writers. "I have no ambition," ran
one clause; "twice I have evacuated the third of Europe without
compulsion. I owe Russia no more explanation concerning Italian
affairs than she owes to me concerning those of Turkey and Persia."
The news of what had been done with Genoa, Lucca, and Piombino reached
St. Petersburg in due time, and emphasized the grim sincerity of the
French Emperor.

As time passed Napoleon also claimed that the city of Naples was a
focus of anti-French conspiracies, and that by the queen's influence
Russia had occupied Corfu. The independence of Etruria, under the
so-called protection of the French troops quartered in the kingdom,
was already a phantom; that of Naples was, in spite of existing
treaties, not really more substantial. The King was the obedient
servant of his masterful Austrian consort, Maria Carolina, who was the
real ruler. She had been told in January that the existence of her
power depended upon her attitude. If she would dismiss her minister,
Acton, expel the French emigrants, send home the English resident,
recall her own from St. Petersburg, and muster out her militia,--in
short, "show confidence in France,"--she might continue to reign. No
one could doubt that this foretold the speedy end of the Italian
Bourbons. The Czar at once recalled his peace envoy from Berlin, for
he had not journeyed farther, and immediately Russia and Austria put
aside their conflicting ambitions. They could look on at all
Napoleon's aggressions, they could even condone the murder of Enghien,
and continue their rivalry; but they could no longer do so when
Austria felt Venice slipping from her grasp, and Alexander saw his
Oriental ambitions forever defeated, as would be the case if the
western shore of the Adriatic should fall into his great rival's
hands.

So evident was all this to the world that early in May the provisional
treaty between England and Russia was already rumored to have been
made binding. The French papers denounced the report as another
English snare; their St. Petersburg correspondence, written, of
course, in their own Paris offices, declared that the coalition had
collapsed. The Emperor lingered in Italy, carefully noting the Italian
and Austrian dispositions, until July, when at last he hastened to
Paris, leaving his stepson Beauharnais, the "Prince Eugène," as
viceroy at Milan. There was no longer any doubt as to the existence of
the new coalition. England had failed in winning Prussia, for
Hardenberg desired, by observing the old neutrality, to secure the
consolidation of the Prussian territory through the acquisition of
Hanover from the French.

Austria was in a serious dilemma. Relying first on the treaty of
Lunéville, then on the preparations at Boulogne, as likely to assure a
long peace, she had fallen into Napoleon's trap, and had begun a
series of important army reforms. Her new system, modeled on that of
France, had not yet been perfected. There were only forty thousand men
under arms, and there was no artillery. The Archduke Charles might
well shrink from taking the field with such an insignificant armament.
But England promised cash and Russia offered men; it was no slight
inducement that Italy and perhaps Bavaria were to be won. Should
Prussia fail to assert her neutrality, and declare for France, the
house of Austria might even recover Silesia. On July seventh the
cabinet yielded, and orders were given to mobilize the troops. General
Mack, who enjoyed a swollen reputation as an organizer, was intrusted
with the task of making ready.

This was the condition of affairs, almost certainly known to Napoleon
through his emissaries, at the time when he thought best to announce
with unusual emphasis that the invasion of England was fixed for the
middle of August. In April Nelson had finally been enticed to the West
Indies, and Villeneuve, eluding him, had returned in May to European
waters. Nelson, mistaking his enemy's destination, sailed in pursuit
to Gibraltar; but one of his detached cruisers learned that the united
French and Spanish squadrons were to meet at Ferrol, and by the
middle of July the English admiralty was fully informed as to the
whereabouts and plans of the French fleet. On the sixteenth of that
month the Emperor issued orders for Villeneuve to unite the Spanish
vessels with his own, and then to reinforce himself with the French
squadrons of Rochefort and Brest, and appear in the Channel. On July
twenty-second a British fleet under Calder met Villeneuve off Cape
Finisterre in a dense fog, but the latter was not checked in his
passage to Vigo. By August second he found himself at the head of a
Franco-Spanish fleet numbering no fewer than twenty-nine ships of the
line, which were assembled in the harbors of Ferrol and Corunna. He
complained, however, that he had "bad masts, bad sails, bad rigging,
bad officers, bad sailors." Conceiving himself in all probability to
be only the tool of a feint, he lost the little enthusiasm he had, and
became sullen. Nelson had joined Admiral Cornwallis before Brest, and,
leaving his best eight ships to strengthen both the guard and the
blockading fleets, made for Portsmouth. Calder, too, had reinforced
the blockaders, so that by August seventeenth there would be eighteen
vessels before Ferrol; eighteen remained before Brest, while a third
squadron, under Sterling, was cruising with five more, prepared to
join either. Villeneuve was not ready for sea until the thirteenth.
Were his orders, in view of the changed situation, still valid? After
an effort to beat northward against a violent storm, the French
admiral received false news from a Danish merchant vessel that an
English fleet of twenty-five sail was approaching. He thought himself
in the exercise of due discretion when he turned and made for Cadiz,
especially as the Emperor's orders contained a clause authorizing him,
in case of unforeseen casualties which materially altered the
situation,--"which with God's help will not occur,"--to anchor in the
harbor of Cadiz after liberating the squadrons of Rochefort and Brest.

It was no feigned anger with which Napoleon received this news. What a
contrast between the efficiency of his land force and the utter
incompetency of his shipbuilders, sailors, and naval officers! If he
had really hoped to throw an army on English soil under the momentary
protection of his fleet, that project was ended: but if at heart he
despised that Revolutionary legacy, the "freedom of the seas and the
invasion of England," if he always intended to destroy Great Britain,
not by direct attack on land or sea, but by isolating her through the
destruction of her continental allies, he might still be furious that
his best efforts had resulted in so trivial a display, and that this
fiasco by sea might be considered as a presage of similar results in
the coming land campaign. History must accept this dilemma: either
England or France was the author of the Russian and Austrian alliance
which brought in those wars that drenched European soil with human
blood. Either Pitt, by his subsidies and diplomacy, turned an army
intended for the invasion of England against his continental allies,
or else Napoleon taunted and exasperated them into a coalition for his
own purposes. If the latter be true, then all the thousand indications
that the French Emperor was never serious about the invasion are
trustworthy.

The first distribution of crosses after the institution of the Legion
of Honor had taken place in July, 1804, with great pomp, at the
Hospital of the Invalides; the second occurred at Boulogne just a year
later, when the "Little Corporal" appeared among his men to distribute
the coveted decorations with his own hands. So skilfully was the
distribution managed that no man, however illiterate or mean,
despaired of one day attaining the distinction of his favored
comrades. The common soldiers and officers alike were thenceforward
the Emperor's devoted slaves, and obeyed without question or murmur.
Glory or profit, or both, were to be had in his service everywhere.
They were consequently neither eager for the particular duty they
believed was before them, nor the reverse, but, like fine machines,
fit for anything.

Meanwhile Napoleon's purposes were steadily realizing themselves. By
the middle of July the King of Prussia agreed that the French army of
occupation in Hanover should be relieved by Prussian troops. This
removed all fear of the two hundred and fifty thousand soldiers which
Frederick the Great's successor could put into the field, a force
considered throughout Europe to be quite equal in efficiency to that
of France. On the thirty-first the Emperor wrote to Talleyrand that
the Italian news was all for war; on August second the Paris
newspapers began to abuse Austria and Russia in unmeasured terms; on
the twelfth the "Moniteur" summoned Austria to desist from arming, and
threatened an advance from the ocean to Switzerland of the great army
at Boulogne. Next day the Emperor wrote to Talleyrand that if the
court at Vienna gave no heed to his demand, he would attack Austria,
be in her capital by November, and thence advance against Russia.

On August twenty-third the declaration of war was composed and held in
readiness. The same day Napoleon wrote to Talleyrand that his
resolution was taken: if the fleet appeared in the Channel there was
still time, and he would be master of England; if not, he would start
for Germany. "I march to Vienna, and do not lay down my arms until I
have Naples and Venice, and have so enlarged the territories of the
Elector of Bavaria that I have nothing more to fear from Austria."
Two days later in the same correspondence he wrote, "The Austrians
have no idea how quickly my two hundred thousand will pirouette." On
the twenty-fourth, Marmont received orders to hasten by forced marches
from the Texel to Mainz; on the twenty-seventh, marching orders were
issued to the Army of England, otherwise the Army of the Coasts of the
Ocean, and after August twenty-sixth down to the end the Grand Army;
the swift columns were hurrying eastward before Europe understood what
had happened. Duroc was already on his way to offer Hanover to Prussia
as the price of a threatening demonstration against Austria.
Bernadotte was to mass the army of occupation at Göttingen. Eugène was
instructed to collect the troops from northern Italy under Masséna on
the banks of the Adige, and Saint-Cyr to make ready for the occupation
of Naples.

The merest layman can not only see the colossal proportions of this
plan, but he must recognize as well the symmetry of its parts. It is a
matter of opinion whether Napoleon devised it in the few days between
the receipt of news that Villeneuve had failed him and the departure
for Germany, or whether its combination was the result of a
long-studied and carefully concealed design. Either hypothesis borders
on the miraculous, and yet, paradoxical as it may appear, it requires
less strain on one's reason to believe that both are in a measure
correct; the test imposed on the navy having failed, the alternative
which was long foreseen and always preferred became imperative. So
rapid was the wonderful march that scouts could scarcely outrun it
with reports, and the newspapers were either without information or
dared not print what they knew. It was a force of about two hundred
thousand men which crossed the Rhine, and, passing through Hesse,
Baden, and Würtemberg to crush the utterly disproportionate and
feeble Austrian army, reached the Danube valley near Ulm early in
October. It was the third of September before Francis declared war; on
the twenty-first, his forces, sixty thousand strong, were on the Iller
in sight of Ulm. It was not so much Bavaria that he had in mind; it
was Italy for which he was concerned. Austria's weight in the balance
now depended upon her keeping the Venetian lands, and her generals
made no haste in an advance which would not only put the Alps between
her own two armies, but separate her van from her approaching
auxiliaries.

The agreement with Russia was that her army, now on the borders of
Galicia, and eighty thousand strong, should enter Austria in three
divisions, the first of which should reach the Inn on October
sixteenth. The Archduke Charles was to command the main force in
Italy; the youthful Archduke Ferdinand, under the direction of Mack as
quartermaster-general, that in Germany. Napoleon had made the
acquaintance of this officer six years before while he was a prisoner
of war at Paris, and considered him entirely mediocre--"likely to get
a lesson if ever opposed to a first-rate French general." Now that the
two were matched the Emperor must have laughed in his sleeve, for he
played with his adversary in a spirit of confident and amused
assurance.

In order to apprehend Napoleon's supernal greatness it is essential at
this period of his life to shut out of view the politician, and fix
the eye again on the general; to see him, moreover, solely as a
strategist. It may be said that he was for the first and last time
unhampered. His political independence and personal popularity were
alike secure. His army was the best in Europe, composed of young and
well-drilled conscripts, who had been eighteen months under arms, with
a large nucleus of trained veterans. Of the generals who commanded
the seven corps destined for Germany only two, Augereau and
Bernadotte, were over forty years of age. The Emperor himself, Soult,
Lannes, and Ney were thirty-six, Davout was thirty-five, and Marmont
only thirty-one. Of the division commanders one half were between
thirty and forty, while only a single one was fifty. Not one of these
men was commonplace. They knew their profession, and had practised it
with success; they were without an exception self-reliant and
enterprising, familiar with their leader's methods and requirements.

And yet there was the imperfection of all human arrangements even in
this masterful and stupendous campaign. An inferior commander might
easily have pleaded one of many excuses for failure in such an
enterprise. The Rhine crossing was delayed by insufficiency of
transport carriages and pontoons, though the further advance was amply
arranged. There were many desertions from the ranks, there was an
insufficiency of officers, the artillery force was unduly delayed in
coming up, the subsistence was scanty and imperfect, and the supply of
clothing, especially shoes, was a source of anxiety. Most of all, the
French treasury was utterly disorganized, pay was in arrears, no ready
money was forthcoming for either ordinary or extraordinary expenses,
there was slackness and distrust among the civil officials, and
Mollien declares that the situation was so desperate that "in victory
alone" Napoleon "saw and sought the remedy."

These facts shed a bright light on the course of affairs throughout
the autumn. They explain why Napoleon forgot entirely that he was an
emperor, and was first and last throughout the campaign a general.
Every highway and cross-road from Boulogne to the Danube had been
surveyed by his confidential officers and circumstantially (p.~365)
described to him; and out of these reports he evolved a plan for the
march which in the teeth of every hindrance was executed to the
letter. The order for crossing the Rhine is a classic in military
literature. No sooner was the advance from one line to another
complete than reserve camps were established in the rear, the strong
places fortified, and depots of munitions established. The Austrians
had chosen for defense the line of the Iller. In addition to their
main force of sixty thousand, there were twelve thousand in the
fortified camp at Braunau, which contained their stores, and fifteen
thousand on Lake Constance. They had not compelled Bavaria either to
disarm or to accept their alliance, and the Elector had consequently
gathered an army at Bamberg. Such was the situation when the French
and Austrians came within striking distance of each other. The latter
did not know that their foe was so near, for by a masterly and
seemingly reckless use of his cavalry Napoleon had temporarily misled
them as to the true position of his columns, which had flanked the
Black Forest, and were holding the northeast line from Weissenburg
southwesterly to Ulm by Nördlingen and Aalen, being actually in the
rear of their enemy.

The next move of Napoleon was one of daring genius. By a series of
carefully prescribed marches, continuing for a week, the seven corps
were all thrown northward to the left as if to surround the enemy.
Bernadotte, violating the Prussian neutrality, crossed the duchy of
Ansbach to Ingolstadt; Marmont was at Neuburg; the other five held the
line from Heidenheim to Offingen. Mack learned the facts, and
believing, like every Austrian, that the French people hated Napoleon,
concluded that his enemy was facing about in order to retreat by the
southerly line to France! The French people, he thought, were
threatening revolution and causing anxiety; the English, he was
positive, were about to make a landing. So he stood still and waited
until, on October seventh, the French, instead of marching for home,
began to cross the Danube.

Three weeks after the passage of the Rhine, the Emperor wrote to
Josephine: "I have destroyed the enemy merely by marches." It was
literally true. On October ninth, the French, having beaten the
parties sent out to harry them, had crossed the Danube also. Soult
seized Memmingen and cut off the retreat to the Tyrol; Bernadotte and
Davout remained to observe the Russians, whom they expected to see at
any moment. In a sort of dazed uncertainty Mack finally marched out
from Ulm to cross the Danube at Günzburg; but he found Ney in
possession of the bridge, and in the night of the tenth he returned to
the city. Two days were spent in discussions as to the probable course
of the French, Mack persisting in the hallucination that they had
retreated, the archduke, with better sense, perceiving that the toils
were ever drawing closer about his army.

On the twelfth Napoleon moved with his whole force. The Archduke
Ferdinand escaped into Bohemia with three battalions of infantry and
eleven cavalry squadrons; but Mack, now stubbornly insisting that the
Emperor was going to attack the Russians, remained, as he said, to
strike the passing columns of the French on their flank! On the
thirteenth it became clear that the goal of the enemy was Ulm; on the
fourteenth they had virtually beset the town; and on the sixteenth the
mortified commander opened negotiations for surrender, which were
completed the following day. "If within a week," ran the stipulations,
"the auxiliary forces do not appear, the army of Ulm are prisoners of
war: except the officers, who march out on parole." On the (p.~367)
eighteenth, Murat captured the division of Werneck at Nördlingen. In a
personal interview between the Emperor and Mack on October twentieth,
three days before the expiration of the limit, the latter was wheedled
into admitting the terms as already complete, and twenty-three
thousand Austrians laid down their arms. During the scene, according
to the journal of one of Mack's officers, Napoleon, "in the uniform of
a common soldier, with a gray coat singed on the elbows and tails, a
slouch hat, without any badge of distinction, on his head, his arms
crossed behind his back and warming himself at a camp-fire, conversed
with vivacity and made himself agreeable." An Austrian corps had
started from Vienna to guard the crossing of the Inn; the Archduke
John was advancing from the Tyrol; the Archduke Charles was holding
the Adige. A month later all these were able to unite at Marburg in
Styria; but they were too few to assume the offensive, and Mack's
capitulation at Ulm was the virtual destruction of Austria's power.
The safety of Vienna depended not on its feeble garrison, but on the
Russians, who had gathered on the Inn at Braunau and on the Enns at
Wels. Almost immediately the French, who had been "gathered to
strike," were "separated to live," as their commander's motto ran. Ten
days later Braunau with all its stores fell into the hands of Lannes
without a blow, and the van of the allies began a somewhat precipitate
retreat toward the river Enns, the line which the Aulic Council at
Vienna had determined to defend.

But Kutusoff, the Russian general, was not of the same mind, and in
order to secure, if possible, the support of the second division of
his emperor's army, which was advancing under Buxhöwden from the
frontier, crossed to the left bank of the Danube at Krems, and
hastened northeastward by Znaim toward Brünn, the capital of Moravia.
Murat had been instructed to hang on the enemy's skirts and harass his
retreat. Instead, he kept down the right bank of the Danube, hastening
toward Vienna for the laurels he hoped to seize in occupying that
undefended capital. "I cannot explain your behavior," wrote Napoleon
to his brother-in-law; "you have lost me two days, and thought only on
the glory of entering Vienna." In fact, an unsupported division under
Mortier was caught by the Russians at Dürrenstein on the left bank and
utterly destroyed. A victory won at Leoben by Ney over the Austrian
division of Merveldt was unfortunately productive of no results and
left Napoleon's situation very difficult. There was nothing now
possible but for Murat to secure the river at Vienna, cross with two
army corps, and hurry backward toward the northwest to prevent
Kutusoff from reaching Moravia. This was possible only if the
Austrians had not yet destroyed the bridges over the Danube. It was
their bad habit, as Marmont has remarked, when defending the passage
of a river to leave the bridge intact to the last moment for the sake
of a counter-attack. This they had done at both Lodi and Arcola in
Italy, and they had done it once again, all three times to their utter
undoing.

Entering Vienna on the twelfth, Murat hastened to the Tabor bridge,
which, as had been his hope and expectation, he found all laid with
combustibles ready to be set on fire by a garrison troop of Austrians
who had retreated to the opposite shore, but had not destroyed the
bridge. The danger was real and the crisis imminent. Taking advantage
of the fact that on the third the Emperor Francis had vainly
endeavored to open negotiations with Napoleon, Murat declared to the
Austrian commander what he knew to be an untruth--that an armistice
had been concluded, and that there was still some prospect of peace.
Bertrand fortified the statement by his word of honor; the Austrians
withheld their torches, and the French crossed the bridge, while the
victimized garrison drew back in the direction of Brünn. The union of
the two Russian divisions with the remnants of the Austrian army was
thus rendered doubtful, and their chances of defeating the reunited
French were doubly uncertain. Napoleon's reputation as a strategist
was saved in extremity. By another series of almost superhuman marches
his main army reached Vienna on the next day, ready to follow on
Murat's heels. On the fourteenth Napoleon's headquarters were
established in the palace of Schönbrunn.




CHAPTER XXXII

TRAFALGAR AND AUSTERLITZ[33]

         [Footnote 33: In addition to the references given, see the
         works of Burke, also the volumes of Alembert and Colin, of
         Schönhals, and of Rüstow on the war of 1805; the Diaries of
         Sir G. Jackson; Bernhardi: "Denkwürdigkeiten" of Count Toll;
         Friant: Vie militaire du Lieutenant-Général Comte Friant;
         Chénier: Histoire de la vie militaire, politique et
         administrative du Maréchal Davout; Bernard: Art de la Guerre;
         Yorck von Wartenburg: Napoleon als Feldherr; Dodge:
         Napoleon.]

     The English Navy -- Villeneuve's Plight -- Preliminary Manoeuvers
     -- The Attack off Trafalgar -- Victory of the English -- Suicide
     of Villeneuve -- The Effects of the Battle -- Prussia and the
     Continental Campaign -- Napoleon's March to Vienna -- The Combat
     near Hollabrunn -- Napoleon's Situation -- The Czar Decides for
     Battle -- The Struggle for Position -- Plans of the Antagonists
     -- The Eve of Conflict -- The Battle-field of Austerlitz -- The
     Struggle for Pratzen -- The Allies Overwhelmed -- Napoleon and
     Francis -- Conduct of the Czar -- The Fighting at Austerlitz --
     The New Tactics.


In spite of Villeneuve's retreat to Cadiz, Great Britain was by no
means sure of her naval superiority. The French had fought bravely at
the battle of the Nile; Nelson, though not exactly outwitted in the
chase to the West Indies and back, had failed to catch his opponent,
who had escaped a second time without serious loss. In the
administration of the admiralty there had been great slackness, except
during Barham's short term; and it is now generally agreed that the
navy was not highly efficient. Every official except Admiral
Collingwood was totally in the dark as to the enemy's plans, and even
he was correct only in one surmise, the firm belief that Villeneuve
would return at once from the West Indies; he was wrong in his
conviction that Ireland was Napoleon's mark. The united French and
Spanish fleets made a fine appearance in the accounts which reached
the admiralty, and the activity of the French dockyards was alarming.
England's naval ascendancy appeared to the English to be seriously
jeopardized.

Villeneuve and his subordinates were apparently the only ones who
positively knew that the show made by the allied fleets was deceptive.
They complained bitterly, as has been said, of the deficiencies in the
equipment of both, and had good cause to do so. That Napoleon was not
altogether unaware of this is sufficiently proved by the fact that
some one less despondent than Villeneuve was not put in his place. In
justice to the French admiral it should be remembered that after his
return from the West Indies he displayed great ability. It was a
series of masterly movements in which he withdrew from before Calder,
entered Ferrol, sailed thence and beat up against a storm to enter the
Channel until he was informed that a powerful British fleet was in his
path. Many of his ill-equipped craft were much damaged by the gale,
and recalling the Emperor's alternative orders, he ran for Cadiz,
entering the harbor with thirty-five ships. Collingwood drew off his
little blockading squadron, but immediately returned to hover before
the port, reinforcements being already on their way from England.
Villeneuve remained at anchor. On September twenty-fifth he received
orders which had been issued on the fourteenth to weigh anchor, pass
through the Strait of Gibraltar, take up the ships lying at Cartagena,
and proceed to Naples, in order to cooperate with the army under
Saint-Cyr. He was to engage the enemy wherever found. The wretched
admiral was in despair; for lack of stores he had been unable to
improve his equipment, and the number of his ships was an
embarrassment rather than a source of strength. He prepared to obey,
but sent home a remonstrance. On the very heels of his first order,
Napoleon despatched Rosily to supersede Villeneuve, who was to return
immediately to Paris and answer charges preferred by Napoleon himself.
The news outran Rosily's speed. Villeneuve, hearing of the disgrace
which had overtaken him, hastened his preparations, and sailed on
October nineteenth with thirty-three ships of the line, five frigates,
and two brigs. It is easy to see what a tremendous effect the presence
of such a naval power in the Mediterranean would have had upon the
grand campaign Napoleon had arranged against Austria.

Meantime the total number of ships of the line in the blockading fleet
had been raised to thirty-three. On September twenty-eighth Nelson
himself came to take command, Collingwood remaining as second. The
great admiral hoped for nothing short of absolutely annihilating the
naval power of the allies. But he was compelled to send his vessels to
Gibraltar for water in detachments, and consequently had only
twenty-seven present and available when called on to fight. These were
disposed southwestwardly from Cadiz toward Cape Spartel, the main body
being fifty miles away when Villeneuve sailed, believing that there
were only twenty confronting him. On October tenth Nelson published to
his fleet the plan of the coming battle, but in order not to terrify
his enemy he hovered at a long distance from the shore. On the
twentieth he advanced toward the northwest, having learned from his
frigates, which had been watching Cadiz, that the allies had started.
Next morning at daybreak his watch descried the enemy sailing
southeasterly, just north of Cape Trafalgar. The French fleet,
simultaneously descrying the English, at once turned northward so as
to be ready for retreat toward Cadiz; and Villeneuve, skilful but ever
despondent, drew up his ships for battle in two long lines parallel
with the shore, those of the rear covering the spaces between those of
the first, so as to make the whole virtually a single compact curved
line, concave toward the enemy, and therefore prepared to deliver a
cross-fire.

It was a bright morning, with a light westerly breeze, but a heavy
ocean swell, as the British, with the advantage of the wind, slowly
advanced in two columns, one led by Nelson in the _Victory_, the other
by Collingwood in the _Royal Sovereign_. All was silent when at the
appointed moment the famous signal fluttered from the flag-ship:
"England expects every man to do his duty." Responsive cheers burst
from ship after ship, and the French admiral murmured, "All is lost!"
Nelson had given a stirring order: "In case signals cannot be seen or
clearly understood, no captain can do wrong if he places his ship
alongside that of an enemy." Villeneuve's was scarcely less so: "Any
captain not under fire is not at his post, and a signal to recall him
would be a disgrace." It was a splendid audacity on Nelson's part
which, fearing lest the light wind might make an engagement
impossible, offered each of his ships in two attacking columns, one
after the other, to the fire of a whole fleet. Collingwood's line--the
southern--came into action first, just at noon, and broke through the
enemy's ranks, as was expected; but although this was by
prearrangement with Nelson, yet the _Royal Sovereign_, having
outsailed her consorts, went too far, and was isolated for twenty
minutes, being exposed to the fire of all the enemy's ships which
could reach her, and was nearly lost before she could manoeuver or
her consorts come to her assistance.

The _Victory_ hastened on against the _Bucentaure_, which carried the
standard of Villeneuve, as fast as the treacherous breeze would permit,
and in turn attacked on the north. She too was in advance of her
consorts, and was riddled before they could come to her relief. For a
time the _Redoutable_ withstood the onset both of the _Victory_ and the
next in line; but three more British vessels coming up, the five finally
broke through, capturing the _Bucentaure_, the _Redoutable_, and the
_Santissima Trinidad_. Both the English flag-ships were saved, but the
fighting was terrific on both sides. To the over-confidence of the
British was opposed a dull timidity in their opponents, and in the end
this began to tell. The allied van failed to use their guns with either
rapidity or precision, while their inner line drifted away to leeward
and was enveloped by the enemy. It was about half-past one when Nelson
received a mortal wound from the maintop of the _Redoutable_, but he
lived to hear the news of victory. He was a victim to his own system,
which subordinated caution and every other idea to the single one of
success. His men loved him just as Napoleon's did, and fought
desperately for his approval. He was still in his prime, and in many
minds his loss offset the victory. Of the whole armada, eleven
ships--five French and six Spanish--escaped under Gravina; four put to
sea under Dumanoir, but were eventually captured.

That night there was a violent storm. It continued throughout the
twenty-third, and on the twenty-fourth three of the eleven vessels
which had escaped under Admiral Gravina, having put out to cut off
prizes from the British, were dashed to pieces on the shore; all but
four of the English prizes were wrecked, and of Villeneuve's (p.~375)
proud squadron only eleven were finally left. He himself was taken
prisoner, and released on parole. Early in the following April he
landed at Morlaix, and, proceeding to Rennes, asked for an opportunity
to plead his cause before the Emperor. What the reply was is not
known, but on the twenty-second he was found dead in his room, stabbed
in several places, the knife embedded in the last wound. The
reproaches Napoleon had heaped upon him must have been in the main
undeserved, for he was never degraded; but they broke his spirit, and
he doubtless committed suicide.

The effect of Trafalgar in England was enormous. No doubt of her
superiority on the seas could now remain, for the navies of her foes
were wiped out. She had been freed from the fear of invasion by
Napoleon's great countermarch, and, in spite of the tremendous
subsidies paid on the Continent, might now hope for a revival of
industry and trade on whatever shores the oceans rolled. Napoleon's
career was one long, thick shadow which hung menacingly over English
life. The victory of Trafalgar was a great rift in the cloud. It ended
French maritime aggressions for the duration of the war, but it
scarcely changed the eventual course of affairs on land, and it in no
way interfered with Napoleon's operations for the moment. It did not
necessitate, as has been claimed, the notorious continental system,
for that system was already in existence; it merely hastened the
effort to enforce it rigorously enough to lame England by attacking
her commerce. Her naval supremacy had been from the beginning a factor
in determining French policy; it became after Trafalgar the most
powerful element in molding Napoleon's policy, though it was not the
only one. The continental allies of England, while of course they
rejoiced, felt that, after all, the effects of Nelson's (p.~376)
victory were remote. For the moment Austria and Russia were engaged in
a struggle which even Trafalgar did not influence to their advantage.
Napoleon's simple but characteristic remark on receiving the news was,
"I cannot be everywhere." He began at once the reconstruction of a
navy for the purpose of destroying commerce, but he never again
assigned it any other share in his plans. In France there was a
stunned feeling, but it quickly passed away under the influence of
another event which marked nearly the highest point ever reached by
the imperial power. The one most noticeable result of Trafalgar was
the quick dejection it produced in Napoleon's grand army; this was
symptomatic of an evil still in its initiatory stages, which, though
easily cured for the moment, became in a short time periodic, and
finally fatal.

[Illustration: Napoleon Exposition, 1895

NAPOLEON, FIRST CONSUL, BY INGRES

Belonging to M. Germain Bapst.]

He was almost immediately confronted by a new foe, but there is no
link between the destruction of his sea power and that fact. While the
French had been crossing from the valley of the Rhine into that of the
Danube, they had treated the minor German states with scant courtesy,
using their territories as those of either conquered people or
dependent allies. This ruthless treatment did not, however, awaken a
spirit of resentment among them. But Prussia, still considering
herself a great power, grew furious when Bernadotte rashly violated
her neutrality and marched over her lands at Ansbach. The Czar, who
had already directed his troops toward the Prussian frontier in order
to coerce Frederick William into joining the coalition, and intended,
if necessary, to violate Prussian neutrality as Napoleon had done,
appeared in Berlin about the middle of October. The court party,
headed by Queen Louisa, sympathized with the coalition, and used the
French ruthlessness to arouse public opinion for itself. Aided by
Alexander's presence, it then gained a temporary victory in the treaty
with Russia, signed at Potsdam on November third, which virtually
ended the policy of neutrality so carefully cherished for ten years by
Frederick William, and in the pursuit of which Prussia had lost her
vigor and her political importance. The wavering king finally bound
himself to armed mediation, to put his army on a war footing, and then
either to secure from the Emperor of the French the liberties of
Naples, Holland, and Switzerland, with the separation of the crown of
Italy from that of France, and an indemnification for the King of
Sardinia, or else to enter the coalition with one hundred and eighty
thousand men. The Russian troops might occupy or cross Prussian
territory whenever needful. It was believed that the necessary
negotiations with Napoleon would turn one way or the other by the
middle of December. Shortly afterward the two monarchs, who had
wrought themselves into an exalted fervor, swore eternal friendship
over the tomb of Frederick the Great. Their dramatic oath initiated
the policy of secret dealing in everything pertaining to the imperial
usurper who had defied all Europe, and with whom no faith in any
literal sense could be kept. There was some momentary compensation to
the Emperor of the French for the serious blow he had received by this
new alliance in the fact that he could now openly consolidate his
power in western and southern Germany, relying on the interested
friendship of the three electors who had gained so much by the
enactment of the imperial delegates, so called, in 1803--those,
namely, of Baden, Würtemberg, and Bavaria. The grateful Elector of
Bavaria personally thanked Napoleon for his condescension, and again
occupied Munich, from which the Austrians had driven him. His visit
was short, for Napoleon was in haste; in fact, his position was
critical. As to the immediate future, Russia and Austria were in
front, and if he should give unsatisfactory answers to the envoy from
Berlin, Prussia would be in his rear. All depended, therefore, on a
quick and decisive struggle with the two allied empires.

During his advance to Vienna, Napoleon, without a single conflict
which might justly be called a pitched battle, had manoeuvered both
Austrians and Russians out of his way. By serious inadvertence he had
suffered the division of Mortier, left isolated on the left bank of
the Danube, to be annihilated at Dürrenstein; and through Murat's
vainglorious stubbornness, Kutusoff had escaped with the Russian
contingent. Nevertheless, as has been told, the main French army had,
by the most amazing marches, reached Vienna on November fourteenth,
and the same day Napoleon had established his headquarters in the
neighboring palace of Francis at Schönbrunn. Murat was hurrying
forward with his cavalry, and the divisions of Suchet and Lannes were
close on the heels of Murat. If these should attack one Russian flank
while a second army turned the other, Kutusoff's force could be
dispersed. But two important duties demanded immediate attention. The
troops had been scattered over a wide territory to live on the
country; now they must be gathered in to strike. It was consequently
essential that regular provision-trains be organized and supplied.
Both these tasks were pursued with untiring zeal. "They say I have
more talent than some others," Napoleon wrote to Marmont on November
fifteenth, "and yet to defeat an enemy whom I am accustomed to beat I
feel I can never have enough troops. I am calling in all I can unite."

Murat pushed onward after the retreating Russians, and in spite of
their tremendous marches overtook them on the fifteenth. Kutusoff's
men were so weary that they could proceed no farther without a rest,
and from Schrattenthal he sent back a subordinate, Bagration, to
Hollabrunn, with six thousand of the freshest troops, to check the
French advance, if possible. Believing the main army of Kutusoff to be
before him, the French leader felt unable to engage. Accordingly he
despatched a messenger under a flag of truce with the statement,
purely fictitious, though speciously based on certain irrelevant
facts, that negotiations had been opened for a general armistice.
Kutusoff, pretending to be familiar with the details of the falsehood,
heartily entered into a proposition to negotiate, using the time thus
gained to prepare his further retreat. A paper was duly drawn up,
signed, and sent to Napoleon at Schönbrunn, where the bearer arrived
on the sixteenth. The Emperor, seeing how Murat had been outwitted,
immediately sent off an adjutant to him with peremptory orders to
attack at once. When this command arrived at Hollabrunn, Soult had
come in with three divisions, but Kutusoff with his army was far away
on the highroad to Znaim. Murat fought bravely, but Bagration's vastly
inferior force resisted with equal stubbornness until eleven at night,
when, their purpose of gaining time having been accomplished, they
followed the main army. Napoleon had by this time come up to take
charge in person, but it was too late: Murat had "destroyed the fruits
of a campaign." Near Brünn, Kutusoff met the Vienna garrison, and at
Wischau the united force of forty-five thousand men joined the first
detachment, fourteen thousand strong, of a second Russian army, which
was advancing under Buxhöwden. The second detachment of this army, ten
thousand strong, was found next day, November twentieth, at Prossnitz.
The great fortress of Olmütz was just beyond, with a garrison of
about fifteen thousand; Alexander had arrived with his imperial guard;
and Bennigsen, one of Paul's assassins, who had been preferred to high
command by Alexander, was already marching from Breslau with another
army of forty-five thousand. The Archduke Ferdinand was in Bohemia
with an Austrian corps to guard the right, and the Archduke Charles
was on his way to Vienna with the Austrian army from Italy--the two
together about eighty thousand strong.

At first sight it appears as if Napoleon were outnumbered, his
detachments scattered, and his communications endangered; and these
charges have been brought in order to attribute his subsequent success
to good fortune alone. But a scrutiny of the Emperor's grand strategy
will show that he could be perfectly secure. From far and near his
scattered but well-trained divisions were moving on. Masséna had left
Italy; Ney, having swept the enemy from the Tyrol, was coming up; and
all about the southern line divisions were moving to guard strategic
points, to stop the hurrying Austrians, and yet be within "marching
distance." With this comfortable assurance, the great captain advanced
to the Moravian capital, and there established his headquarters on the
nineteenth. Once again, by his amazing power of combination, he had
gained the advantage, his troops being so disposed that in one day he
could call in fifty-four thousand men; in two, seventy-five thousand;
in four, eighty-five thousand; and his line of retreat was secure. If
compelled to withdraw, he could fall back on Davout, Mortier, and
Klein, assemble one hundred thousand men, and again make a stand. If
Kutusoff and Charles should march straight to Vienna to effect a
junction, he could oppose to their combined army of a hundred and
sixty-nine thousand troops a hundred and seventy-two thousand of his
own. The defensive position of his foes was virtually impregnable,
but they could not unite for attack as swiftly or advantageously as
he. His own defensive position was less strong, because he had for
some distance about and behind him a hostile country. What the allies,
therefore, needed was time; what Napoleon wanted was a battle.

But where and how? There would be little advantage and much danger in
simply attacking the foe to drive them farther back into their own
lands. The battle must be swift and conclusive, or else the year, with
all the prestige of Ulm, would be lost. In this juncture what Napoleon
chose to call his fate or destiny signally favored him; in reality it
was his own calm assurance which misled his opponents. The Austrians
had too often felt the weight of Napoleon's hand, and all their
officers except Colonel Weirother, a favorite of Alexander's, were
cautious; the Russians, recalling that Napoleon had never fought with
them, were eager to destroy his renown. Czartoryski, though he had
resigned his post of foreign minister, was again at Alexander's side.
"Our true policy--and this I told to every one who would listen," he
wrote, in 1806, "was to wear out the foe with skirmishes and keep the
main army out of reach, secure Hungary, and unite with the Archduke
Charles." But the Czar's other advisers were the more intent because
there was no love lost between them and Austria. Francis had already
despatched two able agents, Gyuläi and Stadion, to coöperate with the
Prussian envoy Haugwitz in negotiating with Napoleon for peace. These
negotiations, if successful, would greatly diminish Russia's
importance. Moved, therefore, by a characteristic pride, Alexander
harkened to those who clamored for battle, and, taking the momentous
decision on his own account, began to prepare. Napoleon could
scarcely realize the possibility of such rashness, and received the
news with delight. Haugwitz and the Austrian diplomats were directed
toward Vienna, where Talleyrand was to conduct the negotiations;
Napoleon's adjutant, Savary, was sent direct to Alexander himself,
nominally to see whether he would consider a partition of Turkey, in
reality to observe the state of the Russian forces. The crafty
disposition of the diplomats was the never-failing second bow-string,
in case the decision of arms should be doubtful; Savary's mission was
a feint to gain time and information.

Napoleon heard on November twenty-seventh, from a deserter, that the
enemy was actually advancing, but he could not believe it. Next day
the news was confirmed by his own cavalry, and in such a way as to
indicate the method of attack--a flank movement against the French
right. That night his own plan was completed and the outlying
divisions were summoned. They came so promptly that the very next
morning found him on the heights above Austerlitz, twelve miles to the
east of southeast from Brünn, and ready to meet the enemy. Bernadotte
accomplished what seemed impossible, and on December first was in
position across the highway between Brünn and Olmütz. Davout was close
behind, and the same night reached the cloister of Great Raigern,
seven miles south of Brünn, and about twelve from Austerlitz. There
are on record no such feats of marching as those performed by French
troops, with incredible swiftness, on the days preceding Austerlitz.
Friant's division marched from Leopoldsdorf through Nikolsburg to
Raigern, seventy-eight miles, in exactly forty-two hours!! And after
six hours' rest, they marched five miles further, engaged the columns
of the allied left wing and fought against terrific odds for eight
hours!!! There are records of other similar feats in the same campaign
by single brigades, but nothing approaching this in the annals of
warfare.[34] But the enemy was not yet visible in force on November
twenty-ninth, and it was only when Savary returned from the Russian
camp with complete and precious information that there seemed no
longer room for doubt. Accordingly the French were withdrawn during
that day in a line southwesterly from Austerlitz, to take up a
position stronger than that in which they stood. To preserve the
appearance of sincerity, Savary was sent back in hot haste to
Alexander with a second meaningless proposition. As a return move
Prince Dolgoruki was sent on the thirtieth with a like message from
Alexander to Napoleon. The prince was utterly hoodwinked, and some
have thought that the Russian decision to fight was due to his report
that the French were on the point of retreat.

         [Footnote 34: See Huidekoper in Mil. Service Journal,
         July-September, 1906.]

On the highest hilltop between Brünn and Austerlitz, still known as
"Napoleon's Mount," the Emperor bivouacked during the night of
November thirtieth. Having been aware since morning that the enemy's
slowness would give him yet another day, he had carefully examined the
land in front and far to his right. The result was a daring
resolution. The Czar's advisers had determined to turn the right wing
of the French: this Napoleon had now learned through a traitor in the
Russian camp. It would be easy to thwart them by occupying a high
plateau to the right, on which stood the hamlet of Pratzen, with his
right wing on the Littawa stream; in which case he would win "an
ordinary battle," to use his own phrase. But it was not such a victory
that he wished: his aim was nothing less than the annihilation of the
coalition. So he determined to leave this apparently commanding
position, feeling sure that his over-confident foe would occupy it as
a manifest vantage-ground.

On December first the hostile army appeared, marching in five columns,
and before night the two divisions of the center were drawn up, on and
behind the plateau of Pratzen; the three which composed the left were
on and before its southern slopes. Their movements and their position
convinced the experienced observer that his information was exact.
Late in the afternoon was held a council of war in which every general
received the most minute directions. Soult especially was carefully
instructed as to the "manoeuver of the day"--an advance in echelon,
right shoulder forward. Nicely poised combinations need careful
attention, and the uneasy but confident Emperor spent the night
passing from watch-fire to watch-fire, encouraging and observing his
men. With noisy enthusiasm they besought him not to expose his life on
the morrow, and promised to bring him a suitable bouquet for the
anniversary of his coronation. For a time the whole camp was
illuminated with extemporized torches of hay. But, though excited, the
troops, as well as their general, were confident; they understood his
casually uttered but carefully considered words, which passed from
mouth to mouth: "While they are marching to surround my right, they
will offer me their flank." For a time, also, he rode in the darkness
to reconnoiter the enemy's position, and being convinced that no
movement was to be made before morning, he returned to his tent about
three and slept until dawn. He has been charged with having for the
first time shown cowardice at Austerlitz. This is because in a
proclamation he promised not to risk his life, as his men had
requested; but this promise was expressly conditioned on their doing
their duty, and he kept his word because they kept theirs. General
Bonaparte had led his soldiers where danger was greatest, but Napoleon
the Emperor, having won his stake, had no need to take such risks;
having more to lose, he now for the first time used the ordinary
caution of a man whose life is worth that of many common men. It was
only what every great royal and imperial general is accustomed to do.

The early hours of December second, 1805, were misty, although there
was a sharp frost; but by seven the sun had dimly risen, and soon the
thick fog lay only along the streams. At that hour the Russians and
Austrians began their marching. Those behind the Pratzen heights
passed swiftly up, and, uniting with those already there, marched in
the general direction of the forest near Turas, intending to cross the
intervening Goldbach and with their own left, which stood at Telnitz
and Sokolnitz, surround Napoleon's right wing. The battle-field of
Austerlitz is approximately an isosceles triangle, the short base
extending north and south between Raigern and Brünn, a distance of
about seven miles, and the equal sides, twelve miles in length,
converging in Austerlitz to the eastward. About half-way on a
perpendicular let fall from the apex, and parallel with the base, the
Goldbach flows on the west side of the Pratzen plateau, nearly due
south, the villages of Schlapanitz, Puntowitz, Kobelnitz, Sokolnitz,
and Telnitz being at about equidistant intervals from north to south
on its banks. A mile north of Schlapanitz the road from Brünn to
Olmütz forms the north side of the triangle; the forest of Turas lies
about two miles to the west of Puntowitz, on a high plain. In a line
eastward of Schlapanitz, about a mile from that village and from each
other, are the villages of Girzikowitz and Blasowitz. Napoleon's
bivouac was on the high hill northwest of Schlapanitz, at the base of
which, on the other side, was Bellowitz. North of the Olmütz road is
a commanding hill, dubbed by the veterans of the Egyptian expedition
with an Egyptian name, Santon, from a fancied resemblance of the
little spire which crowned it to a minaret. This was to be the pivot
of the battle, and Napoleon fortified it with a redoubt and eighteen
pieces of cannon. South of it stood the left wing under Lannes; next
toward the south stood the cavalry under Murat; then the center under
Bernadotte; and Soult with the right was west of Puntowitz. Oudinot
was eastward, in front of the imperial bivouac, with ten battalions;
and ten battalions of the guard, with forty field-pieces, were
westward behind it. Davout, having arrived the night before, was at
Raigern. Legrand stood between him and Sokolnitz, on a pond lying
southeast of that village.

At five in the morning Davout marched from Raigern, and about nine
joined Legrand to engage the enemy's left. Meantime, at a quarter to
eight, Soult began to climb the Pratzen slopes with the divisions of
Vandamme and Saint-Hilaire. In about twenty minutes--the exact time in
which he had declared he could do so--he had made good his position,
and was fiercely engaged with the column of Kollowrath, which formed
the enemy's center, and with which Kutusoff was present in person. The
latter, realizing for the first time what the loss of Pratzen would
mean, endeavored to concentrate toward the right; but his efforts were
unavailing: he could only stand and fight. The two Austro-Russian
columns on his left swooped down to the Goldbach, and seized both
Telnitz and Sokolnitz. Simultaneously with Soult's advance, Bernadotte
and Murat moved forward, encountering between Girzikowitz and
Blasowitz the enemy's cavalry under Prince Lichtenstein, and the
Russian imperial guard under the Grand Duke Constantine. (p.~387)
Napoleon advanced to observe the conflict, and a little before eleven,
at the critical moment, when the regiment of his brother Joseph was on
the verge of being engulfed and lost, he threw in the cavalry of his
own guard, under Bessières and Rapp, upon the Russian guard, turned
the scale against them, and with his own eyes saw Constantine
withdraw. The Russian vanguard under Bagration had meantime come in
from Bosenitz, and was hotly engaged with a portion of the French
left. The entire cavalry mass of Lichtenstein and Murat was commingled
in bitter conflict. With the retreat of Constantine began the rout of
the whole Austro-Russian right wing. Lannes, supported by the Santon
redoubt, had stood like a rock until then; at once he precipitated
himself, with the divisions of Suchet and Caffarelli, upon Bagration,
and drove him back. Lichtenstein, who, up to that moment, had at least
held his own,--if, indeed, he had not shown himself the
stronger,--could no longer stand, and late in the afternoon he too
began to yield.

Between eleven and twelve Soult had cleared the Pratzen heights, and
pushing ever toward the right, had finally, just as the sun burst in
splendor through the clouds, separated the enemy's left wing from its
center. The latter had been sadly weakened both by detachments to
strengthen the left and by its losses in conflict. At noon it began to
retreat, and Napoleon, having satisfied himself that all was well on
his left to the north, rode south to join Soult, and in passing
despatched Drouot's division against the fugitive Kutusoff, whose
column was thus overpowered and thrown into utter confusion. Since
nine in the morning Davout had stood on the west shore of the
Goldbach, flinging back the successive charges of the enemy's
overgrown left. The continuous struggles had been terrific; the
stream literally flowed blood as the soldiers of both sides crashed
through the ice, and, unable to disengage themselves from the muddy
bottom, stood fighting until they died. By two o'clock, however, his
labors were over: the great move of the day, Soult's echelon march,
right shoulder forward, was complete; Saint-Hilaire and Vandamme had
recaptured the villages of Sokolnitz and Aujezd; the three
southernmost Austro-Russian columns were entirely surrounded, and only
a few from each escaped to join the remnants of their right, center,
and reserve, running for life across frozen ponds and ditches, by
dikes, and over rough-plowed fields toward Austerlitz. About five
thousand of the fugitives, mostly Russians under Doctoroff and
Langeron, had risked themselves on the ice of the Satschan lake and
were hurrying across when Napoleon arrived. He ordered the
field-pieces to be turned on the ice so that the balls weakened and
cracked it.[35] In a few moments it gave way; with shrieks and groans
many sank into the slowly rising waters and disappeared under the
tossing icefloes. According to the account of the bulletins,
frequently doubted but never refuted, nearly two thousand of them were
drowned: when the ponds were drained after the battle forty Russian
guns and many corpses were found. The fighting strength of the
coalition was destroyed; so likewise was their moral courage. Shortly
after Kutusoff's retreat, General Toll found Alexander seated weeping
by the wayside, and accompanied by only a single adjutant.

         [Footnote 35: This statement is merely a deduction from the
         events as they occurred and were narrated by eye-witnesses.
         The Emperor's fate was even more at stake than the general's:
         it was consonant with the character of the man to disregard
         all considerations of mercy in such a crisis. Many of his men
         and officers claimed later that the crushing of the ice was
         incidental to the cannonading, and recounted acts of French
         courtesy in rescuing the drowning.]

Hostilities were scarcely ended for the day before Francis despatched
Lichtenstein with proposals for an armistice. Napoleon received the
envoy while making his round of the battle-field, but refused to treat
for two days. He intended to reap the fruits of victory, and ordered a
skilful, thorough pursuit. Such was the rout of the allies that the
position of the shattered columns of Austria and Russia was not known
until the fourth of December. The Czar was in such danger of being
captured that early in the day he sent to Davout a flag of truce and a
hastily penciled note declaring that the Austrian emperor had been in
conference with Napoleon since six that morning, and that a truce had
been arranged. This falsehood enabled Alexander to escape across the
river March and avoid being made a prisoner of war. It was only in the
afternoon that the Emperor Francis was received by Napoleon in a tent
near Holitsch, and it was not before the sixth that the campaign was
ended by Austria's acceptance of such terms for an armistice as the
Emperor of the French chose to impose.

Considering the character of the battle, the terms first suggested
were not hard: No loss of territory for Austria if the Russian emperor
would withdraw to his own territories and shut out England from his
harbors; otherwise Napoleon would take Venetia for Italy and Tyrol for
Bavaria. Alexander would not listen to the embargo project, nor to
Francis's desperate suggestion that they should continue the war. On
the sixth, having, according to Savary, exchanged fulsome compliments
with Napoleon, he marched away for Russia, leaving his ally to take
the consequences of what was really his own rashness. This was a
complete rupture of the coalition: its weightiest stipulation was that
none of the members should make a separate peace. The only hope of
Austria for endurable terms now lay in Prussian coöperation. But
Haugwitz could no longer offer the ultimatum agreed upon at Potsdam;
the battle had of course utterly changed the situation. Napoleon now
demanded nothing less from Prussia than the long-desired alliance
offensive and defensive. On December fifteenth Frederick William's
envoy assented provisionally, and set out for Berlin to secure the
royal assent, if possible. His master was to keep Hanover and close
her ports to the English; to give Cleves, Wesel, and Neuchâtel to
France; to cede Ansbach to Bavaria; and to acknowledge the latter as a
kingdom, with such eastern boundaries as Austria would agree to yield.

For an instant Napoleon thought of continuing the war to annihilate
Austria forever. Talleyrand's hand, however, had been crossed, as no
one doubted, with an enormous bribe from Austrian sources, and he
persuaded the Emperor not to follow the bad advice of his generals,
but to "rise higher as a statesman" and make peace. With his assent to
this went ever larger and harder demands, until Francis actually
contemplated a renewal of the desperate and unequal struggle alone and
unassisted. He had in all probability a fighting chance, but his
longing for peace prevailed. When the treaty was signed, on December
twenty-sixth, 1805, at Presburg, Austria surrendered Venice, with
Friuli, Istria, and Dalmatia, to Italy; ceded Tyrol to Bavaria;
consented to the banishment of the Bourbons from Naples; accepted all
the new arrangements which had recently been made by Napoleon in
Italy, and agreed to pay a war indemnity of forty million francs. The
contributions laid on Austrian lands in irregular ways during the
progress of the campaign had been probably more than as much again.
The recognition of Bavaria as an independent kingdom, and the
rearrangement of German territories, put an end to the (p.~391)
empire; Francis, having in 1804 assumed the title Emperor of Austria,
was heartily tired of the rather bedraggled imperial Roman style which
he still wore. Würtemberg received five cities on the Danube, the
counties of Hohenems and Wellenburg, with part of the Breisgau, and
became a kingdom like Bavaria; Baden got the rest of the Breisgau,
together with Ortenau, Mainau, and the city of Constance; Bavaria
received not only Tyrol, with the Vorarlberg, but Brixen, Trent,
Passau, Eichstädt, Burgau, Lindau, and other minor possessions, to
round out her new frontier. In scanty amends Salzburg and
Berchtesgaden were assigned to the Austrian Empire.

The fighting on both sides at Austerlitz was in the main superb. "My
people," said the Emperor to his soldiers--"my people will see you
again with delight; and if one of you shall say, 'I was at
Austerlitz,' every one will respond, 'Here stands a hero.'" The
legions of the Empire had indeed fought with unsurpassed bravery, as
had likewise the Austrians. The Russians were not so steadfast. In
their first experience of the "furia Francesa" their old notions of
courage were wiped out. "Those who saw the battle-field," said the
"Moniteur," "will testify that it lay strewn with Austrians where the
fight was thickest, while elsewhere it was strewn with Russian
knapsacks." Such was the effect upon his men that not only did
Alexander leave his ally in the lurch and march back into Poland, but
he felt called on to publish a bulletin asserting the valor of his
own, and the timidity of the Austrian troops. But the "Battle of
Austerlitz," as it is called in French phrase, the "Fight of the Three
Emperors," as the Germans designate the day, was epochal, not merely
for the courage displayed, but for the tactical revolution it wrought.
It was the first true Napoleonic battle. Thenceforward the greatest
conflicts were arranged on its commanding principle--a principle
which had long been used, but was then for the first time fully
developed and accepted.

Throughout the preceding period of warfare an army was set in motion
as a whole, every portion being from first to last in the commander's
hand ready for manoeuvering. If any division was hemmed in, or any
portion of the line was broken, the result was defeat. From 1805
onward any single part, center or either wing, could be annihilated,
and the victory still be won elsewhere by the other parts. For this
two things are essential: first, fresh troops to throw into the proper
place at the proper time; second, a line of retreat, with a new basis
for operations, previously prepared. The highest military authorities
go so far as to say that in a well-arranged battle one portion of the
line should even be sacrificed to the enemy in order to secure victory
with the others. The pursuit after Austerlitz was as fine as the
attack, and so colossal and comprehensive was Napoleon's genius that
he had made complete arrangements for withdrawing in case of defeat,
not, as the enemy thought, toward Vienna, but through Bohemia to
Passau. The total numbers engaged were, on the side of the allies,
about ninety thousand; on that of the French, about eighty thousand.
The Austrians and Russians lost fifteen thousand killed and wounded,
with twenty thousand taken prisoners, while the French had seven
thousand killed and wounded in the long and dreadful stand made at the
Goldbach by their right, and about five thousand elsewhere. The
Emperor thought it a small price to pay for the hegemony of Europe,
and his favorite title was "Victor of Austerlitz." "Soldiers," he
cried at Borodino, as the sun burst through the dun clouds, "it is the
sun of Austerlitz!" and his flagging army revived its drooping
spirits.




CHAPTER XXXIII

NAPOLEON, WAR LORD AND EMPEROR[36]

         [Footnote 36: Ducasse: Les rois frères de Napoléon; Lefebvre:
         Histoire des cabinets de l'Europe; Rambaud: Napoléon Ier et
         l'Allemagne; Fiévée: Mes relations avec Bonaparte; the
         Memoirs of Mollien, Pepe, d'Hauteville, Joseph de Maistre,
         Miot de Melito, Vitrolles, Montgaillard, d'Hauteroche,
         Courier, Moriolles, Consalvi, Pasolini, and de Bray; Masson:
         Napoléon et sa famille; Gentz: Mémoires et lettres inédites;
         Cavaignac: Origines de la Prusse contemporaine; Louis
         Bonaparte: Documents historiques et Réflexions sur le
         gouvernement de la Hollande; Cantù: Corrispondenze di
         diplomatici (1796-1814); Stanhope's Life of W. Pitt; C. J.
         Fox: Memorials and Correspondence; Tratchefski, Vol. III,
         Correspondence of Ouvril; Strogonof: Nicolas de Russie.]

     The New Map of Europe -- The Reapportionment of Italy --
     Treatment of the Papal States -- Holland a Vassal Kingdom --
     Royal Alliances of the Napoleon Family -- Prussia Humiliated --
     Negotiations with Great Britain and Russia -- The Transformation
     of Germany -- The Confederation of the Rhine -- Napoleon's
     Disdain of International Law -- Russia Enraged -- Napoleon as
     Emperor -- The Theocracy -- Cares for the Army -- The Financial
     Situation -- Napoleon's Conceptions of Finance -- Social
     Avocations.


Pitt was in Bath recovering from an attack of gout when he heard the
news of Austerlitz; within twenty-four hours his features became
pinched and blue, taking on an expression long known as the
"Austerlitz look." Returning to his villa at Putney, with the hand of
death upon him, he is said to have entered through a corridor on the
wall of which hung a map of Europe. "Roll up that map," he hoarsely
murmured to his niece; "it will not be needed these ten years." He
died soon afterward, on January twenty-third, 1806, in his
forty-seventh year; and the last words he was heard to utter were, "My
country--oh, how I leave my country!" He had hoped, and, as the sequel
proved, not in vain, that as England had saved herself by her own
exertions, so she might save contemporary Europe by her example. In
the new ministry, Fox was secretary of state, but, liberal as he was,
he could not resist public opinion, which was outraged at the
preëminence of France. Austria was stripped of leadership even in
Germany; there was but a difference of degree in the subservience of
Russia, Prussia, Bavaria, and Baden.

[Sidenote: 1805--06]

The effect of Austerlitz in the French army was to silence criticism,
which had been rife after Kutusoff's escape. In France itself the war
had for some time been growing unpopular; the long-feared panic had
actually begun; for since Trafalgar all prospect of colonial trade was
at an end, while commerce with the East had well-nigh ceased. Though
there were forty million francs in subsidies from Spain and Italy,
loans thrice that sum were negotiated and only by the shrewdest
manipulation of public finance could the increased establishment of
the empire be supported. The people, moreover, groaned under the
hardships of the ruthless conscription, and many cared more that
France herself should be at peace than that she should have the
ascendancy in Europe. But the news of Austerlitz was irresistible, and
shifts were devised to tide over the financial crisis until the great
administrator should return and, with the aid of his war indemnities,
rearrange the pieces on the board of domestic affairs. Such victories
were not dearly bought in money, but were an actual source of revenue.
Other nations might be made contributory in a financial as well as a
political way, or rather the two would go hand in hand, prestige and
cash. The temptation was subtle.

Thus was opened the way for what was the most profound and influential
effect of Austerlitz: the attempted substitution for the effete Holy
Roman Empire under a German prince, of another Western empire to be
ruled by the Emperor of the French, with territorial subdivisions
under Napoleonic princes, all subject to the central power.

The first step taken toward establishing this new conception was a
further advance in Italy. At the critical moment of the Austerlitz
campaign, Caroline, the Queen of Naples, Napoleon's irreconcilable
enemy, had broken her sourly given engagement with him. Her harbors
were opened to English ships, and Russian troops occupied her
territories. The Czar had prided himself on his guardian relation to
the Two Sicilies: his check at Austerlitz and his dismissal from the
scene of action were not a sufficient humiliation; the very next day
an army order was issued which sent Masséna to Naples, and declared
that the Bourbon dynasty had ceased to exist. By decree of the French
senate, Joseph Bonaparte was on March thirtieth, 1806, made king of
Naples and Sicily. It was with reluctance and under the sting of sharp
admonitions that he left his elegant, important ease and took the
crown upon his uneasy head, "to keep a firm hand" on unwilling
subjects, "to be master" where he was at best an unwilling tool. The
new monarch retained his French dignities, but assumed the rôle of a
dependent ally of France. At the same time and in the same way all
Venetia was incorporated with the kingdom of Italy. Elisa's appanage
of Lucca was increased by the districts of Massa-e-Carrara and
Garfagnana; the principality of Guastalla was made over to Pauline.
Still further, twenty hereditary duchies were organized, either at
once or later, bearing the titles of Dalmatia, Istria, Friuli, Cadore,
Belluno, Conegliano, Treviso, Feltre, Bassano, Vicenza, Padua,
Rovigo, Ragusa, Gaeta, Otranto, Taranto, Reggio, Lucca, Parma, and
Piacenza. These were fiefs, not of France, but of the French Empire;
the first duty of the holders was to the Emperor, their second to
France. A landed aristocracy, thus founded, might be indefinitely
enlarged and thus afford not merely society for the lonely summits of
the hierarchy, but a comfortable intercalation as the seat of the
throne, removed by one stratum from the restless foundation elements.
To the Emperor himself the kingdom of Italy was not alone a bastion of
political power, but a treasure house: it was to pay fourteen million
francs a year, and the kingdom of Naples one million. Later the same
system was extended to Germany and Poland. What could be plainer than
the meaning of this?

The Pope, returning empty-handed from the coronation, had firmly
refused to grant a divorce for Jerome Bonaparte, who had
pusillanimously expressed repentance for his American marriage. In the
Austerlitz campaign the Pontiff preserved an absolute neutrality. But
the papal territories were nevertheless desecrated, since Bernadotte
was made titular prince of Ponte Corvo, and Talleyrand, the unfrocked
and married bishop, created prince of Benevento. French soldiers
seized Ancona on the plea of maintaining it against the English
heretics and pagan Turks. The Roman ports were declared shut to all
enemies of France. It is credibly reported that Napoleon contemplated
having himself crowned as Western emperor in St. Peter's, but whether
this be true or not, he demanded recognition as Emperor of Rome, and
exacted the expulsion of Russians, English, and Sardinians from the
Papal States. The Pope pleaded that for the Emperor of the French to
be recognized as Roman emperor would destroy the papal power (p.~397)
in all other lands, and obtained a respite by dismissing from his
office as secretary of state Consalvi, who headed the opposition.

The title was unimportant compared with the reality, and this Napoleon
set about securing still further by erecting Holland into a Napoleonic
kingdom. Schimmelpenninck, Napoleon's stanch supporter, was still
grand pensionary, and at a wink from the Emperor a deputation of Dutch
officials came to Paris. Their chairman, Verhuel, was informed that
his country was to receive a new executive in the person of Prince
Louis; otherwise Napoleon could not, at the peace, hand back her
colonies; that as to religion, the new king would keep his own, but
every part of his kingdom should have the same right. The constitution
should remain unchanged. The delegates protested, and pleaded the
treaties of 1795 and 1803, which guaranteed Dutch independence; but
the Emperor stood firm: either Louis as king, or incorporation with
France. On May twenty-fourth, 1806, the "High and Mighty States"
ceased to exist, and on June fifth a new king, much against his will,
was added to the great vassals of the Empire. It was a sorry office,
foredoomed both to disgrace and mortify its occupant; being, from the
imperial side, little more than that of a stern customs-collector
defying Great Britain on one hand, and on the other that of an
economic tyrant compelling a proud people to commercial degradation by
intolerable restraints on their natural activities. Louis Bonaparte
was not of stern material; his irregular life, his morbid sensibility,
his boundless self-esteem, his sensuality, each separately and all
combined, rendered it impossible for him to play his assigned rôle.
His personal pose was to transcend the official, to be king of his
people, to be caressed by his court and the nation; to go his own way,
in short, indifferent to the hand from which he had fed.

The humiliation of Germany was scarcely less profound than that of
Italy and Holland. With the advance of years Napoleon's earlier
religious impressions, always vague, had degenerated into a mild and
tolerant deism. Less than a fortnight after Austerlitz he found time
to reprimand sharply a member of the Institute for printing atheistic
books; but Christianity, with its attendant morality, was for him,
after all, only an important social phenomenon of which atheism would
be destructive. Nevertheless, outward respect for Roman Catholicism
had been a powerful lever for his ambitious purposes both in Italy and
in France. In the latter country he had formed to his profit a stable
alliance between Church and State, and this same lever he purposed to
make use of for the complete overturning of the old political system
of Germany. Among other complaints which he poured out to the Pope was
one concerning the utter disorganization of the Church among the
Germans. This was largely true, for some of the petty ecclesiastical
princes were as licentious as their secular contemporaries. Protestant
Germany was apathetic, and almost everywhere religion and morality
were at a low ebb. The remnant of good men were as uneasy about the
Church as the sensible masses were about the political tyranny under
which they suffered. When Bavaria, Würtemberg, and Baden were enlarged
and emancipated from the overlordship of Austria, the reigning princes
either misunderstood what had actually occurred,--the transfer of
their suzerainty from Austria to France,--or else they felt no sense
of shame in becoming vassals of the French emperor. The so-called
sovereigns occasionally made a mild endeavor to assert some little
independence; but such efforts were so often followed by a message
from Paris suggesting that they held their offices, not for
themselves, but as part of the French system, that they soon desisted
entirely. Yet they long rejected Napoleon's proposals for matrimonial
alliances between their families and his. Austerlitz overcame their
repugnance. On January fourteenth, 1806, Max Joseph of Bavaria yielded
to the Empress Josephine's long-cherished desire, and gave his
daughter Augusta as consort to the viceroy Eugène, breaking her
engagement with the heir apparent in Baden. Soon after, Eugène's
cousin Stéphanie, whose relations with Napoleon had made a scandal
even in Paris, was married to the prince who had been Augusta's
suitor. A year later, Jerome, in defiance of ecclesiastical laws, was
wedded to the Princess Catharine, daughter of King Frederick of
Würtemberg. Although these arrangements gratified the Emperor's
personal pride, they were made primarily to support the new imperial
state policy. In them there was nothing calculated to rouse England
from the comparative lethargy into which she fell after Trafalgar, nor
to exasperate Prussia unduly.

But this moderation was only apparent. There was a bolt in the forge
which, if rightly wielded, would speedily reduce Prussia to vassalage,
and eventually bring England herself to terms. When Haugwitz, the
Prussian envoy, returned from Schönbrunn to Berlin, the treaty of
alliance with France which he had felt bound to make was not welcomed,
and with some suggestions for important changes the bearer was
despatched to Paris by the King to see whether better terms could not
be obtained. The Prussian monarch was, in fact, afraid of the Prussian
national temper, and dared not face his people without something more
than Hanover to show for his previous losses on the left bank of the
Rhine, and the new cessions he had been compelled to make after
Austerlitz. The Emperor received the plenipotentiary kindly, and
seemed on the point of yielding the modifications, which were that
Frederick William should receive along with Hanover the cities of
Hamburg, Bremen, and Lübeck. But the advent of Fox to power
momentarily turned Napoleon's head. With one great liberal at the helm
in England, and another autocratic in France, the two, he felt, could
change the face of Europe and the character of the world. This
delusion suggested peace with England, and the Emperor thought for an
instant of keeping Hanover as a medium of exchange; his second
thought, however, was not to buy peace, but to enforce it.
Accordingly, even harder conditions than before were laid upon Prussia
as to the exchange of territories, and besides she was compelled to
enter the continental embargo on English trade. The King was in
despair, but he yielded. Hardenberg, the head of his cabinet, was
dismissed, at Napoleon's desire, because he represented the national
self-respect; and Prussia, lately so proud but now humbled and
disgraced, listened, stunned and incredulous, to the insults of the
"Moniteur," while her King, on March ninth, 1806, set his hand to a
paper which seemed to secure Hanover at the price of Prussian
independence. Three months later, on June eleventh, Fox declared war
against Prussia. At that very moment Napoleon was negotiating for the
return of the electorate to George III of England, its hereditary
prince, as the price of a peace with Great Britain.

Fox had found an opportunity to open communications with the French
government in connection with the current report of a plot to
assassinate the Emperor. Being given to understand that Napoleon would
gladly make peace on the basis of the treaty of Amiens, negotiations
were opened through Lord Yarmouth, one of the travelers detained in
France under the Emperor's retaliatory measure when war was declared
by England. Talleyrand offered as a basis for negotiation all that
England could desire, including the restitution of Hanover and the
principle of _uti possidetis_, which meant that England could keep
Malta with the conquered colonies; besides, the Naples Bourbons,
though banished from the mainland, could reign in the island of
Sicily. But the French minister stipulated, apparently for France,
that Russia should not treat in common with Great Britain. With these
seemingly favorable terms Yarmouth set out for London. In reality
negotiations with Russia had already been opened, and it was
Alexander's express injunction through Oubril, the special
plenipotentiary sent to Paris for the purpose, that Russia should not
join England in negotiation. The Czar was unwilling to hamper himself
in the Orient by even a temporary alliance with Great Britain, his
rival in that quarter. This was playing directly into the hands of
Napoleon, whose diplomacy was, like his strategy, dependent for its
overwhelming success on the utter surprises it prepared for his
opponents. Such a one was now in readiness. No sooner had Yarmouth
returned to Paris in June than the French government began to draw
back. King Joseph could not get on without Sicily, and the only
possible indemnity to the former rulers would be a domain formed from
the Hanseatic cities. After a few weeks of such fencing, during which
Yarmouth appeared to mirror by a yielding complacency the supposed
peace policy of Fox's cabinet, Oubril provisionally signed just such a
treaty with Russia as Napoleon desired. Then first the bolt thus far
kept in concealment was loosed by publishing as an accomplished fact
the organization of a great power subsidiary to France in the heart of
Europe--the Confederation of the Rhine. This was the most audacious of
all Napoleon's audacious schemes.

It meant, indeed, a new map of Europe, the minimizing of England's
influence on the Continent, the permanent neutralizing of both
Austrian and Prussian power, the exclusion of Russia from the councils
of western Europe. The means by which it was brought about were as
astute as the measure was momentous. Among the German princes who had
lent their presence to the splendors of Napoleon's coronation was the
only ecclesiastic who had maintained himself amid the changes incident
to the general secularization which took place after the treaty of
Lunéville--to wit, the Archbishop Dalberg, Elector of Mainz, who had
formed the ambitious plan of securing that unity and efficiency of the
German Church which both the Pope and Napoleon desired. Of an ancient
and noble line, he found no difficulty in putting himself at the head
of an extensive movement among the Roman Catholics of western and
central Germany, who desired to restore the Church in Germany to a
position of influence, and to secure her purity and power in a way
similar to that which had been followed in France through the
Concordat. The rulers of France had for more than a century been
desirous of establishing between their own territories and those of
the great German states, Prussia and Austria, a belt of weak states,
to serve as a bulwark against their enemies and as a field for the
extension of their own influence. Napoleon, making use of the
malleable temper produced in Europe by the fires of Austerlitz,
proceeded to realize the project. To the Pope he said that, since his
authority was not sufficient to bring order out of the ecclesiastical
chaos in Germany, he would intrust the task to Dalberg as primate.

Assured not only of subservient obedience from Bavaria, Würtemberg,
and Baden, but of considerable good will from the devout inhabitants
of western Germany, the Emperor of the French had formed the plan of
confederating the three considerable powers above mentioned, with new
ones to be formed by "mediatizing" most of the petty ones still
remaining. This term was a euphemism to emphasize the transformation
of their hitherto immediate into a mediate relation to the Empire. But
immediacy was quasi-autonomy, mediacy was virtual annihilation, the
rulers retaining only their personal effects and respective
patrimonies. No sooner was the existence of this design whispered
abroad than Talleyrand was beset by agents from the twenty-four
princelings concerned. Their hands were not empty, and again the
minister lined his coffers. When the papers were finally drawn up, and
the necessary signatures were added, it was found that only a few of
the little principalities and counties had escaped annihilation. For
various reasons, those of Isenburg, Arenberg, Lichtenstein, Salm,
Hohenzollern, and Von der Leyen were still permitted to live. The
electors of Hesse-Cassel and of Saxony, who were friendly to Prussia,
were excluded from the league. The components of this new power were
Bavaria, Würtemberg, Baden, Nassau, Hesse-Darmstadt, the city and
lands of Frankfort, with Dalberg as prince-primate, the six districts
just enumerated, and, lastly, a new state, the grand duchy of Cleves
and Berg, created for Murat, another Napoleonic prince, who reigned as
Joachim I. These all declared themselves members of a federal state
independent of both Prussia and Austria, but under the protection of
the French Empire. Napoleon could introduce new members to the
confederation, had the right of appointing the primate, and, most
important privilege of all, was to control the army. This followed as
a corollary of the article which declared that every continental war
which one of the contracting powers had to wage was common to the
others. Bavaria was to furnish thirty thousand men, Würtemberg twelve
thousand, Baden eight thousand, Darmstadt four thousand, Berg five
thousand, Nassau and the other pygmies four thousand. This
arrangement, whereby sixty-three thousand soldiers were added to the
armies of France, was then dignified by the name of "alliance."

The decree was published on July twelfth, 1806; on August first the
Diet at Regensburg was informed that the Germanic Empire had ceased to
exist: on August sixth the Emperor Francis, who had declared himself
hereditary Emperor of Austria in 1804, now declared under compulsion
that he laid down his Germanic crown. The way to true German national
union was opened by Napoleon's contempt for local prejudice together
with his wholesale and ruthless violation of dynastic ties. It was
ostensibly to perfect his communications with this new ally that the
Emperor now for the first time established a permanent garrison on the
right bank of the Rhine. The spot he chose was Wesel, in the grand
duchy of Cleves and Berg. To be sure, he gave a formal assurance that
he did not intend to expand the borders of France beyond the Rhine.
This doubtless was literally true; but the French Empire was another
thing than France. The attitude of the Emperor was perfectly
illustrated in his continued negotiations with Yarmouth, whose easy
compliance had to be neutralized by a new commissioner, Lord
Lauderdale, specially instructed by Fox to be peremptory about
preserving the existing conditions of sovereignty on the Continent.
Napoleon did not hesitate to offer England, as a substitute for
Sicily, either Albania or Ragusa, or the Balearic Isles. In other
words, the whole idea of territorial sanctity was in his opinion
antiquated except when so-called sovereigns could make good their
claim. Hanover had passed to Prussia by French conquest and treaty
agreement, the Hanseatic towns were free cities, Albania belonged to
Turkey, Ragusa was nominally independent under Austria's protection,
and the Balearic Isles acknowledged the sovereignty of Spain; but he
offered any one or all of them as if they were his own.

Alexander of Russia had much the same conception. Seeing his Oriental
designs menaced by the treaty of Presburg, he had evacuated Naples to
strengthen Corfu, and now proceeded to occupy the Bocche di Cattaro as
an outpost. This station, though so far autonomous, was held by
Napoleon to be a part of Dalmatia, and that province was to go to
Italy with the rest of Venetia. This act of open hostility by the Czar
was the complement to his haughty rejection of the treaty with
Napoleon which Oubril submitted for his master's signature. In
consequence, Francis, the third of the three emperors, was informed
that the French army would not evacuate his fortress of Braunau until
he could fulfil his obligations and deliver Dalmatia intact. The great
army of France, therefore, was not withdrawn, and still continued to
occupy Swabia, Franconia, and all southern Germany. This fact assured
the existence of the Rhine Confederation and reduced Prussia to
impotence. Moreover, it was one among many reasons which finally ended
the negotiations with England. Lord Lauderdale gave the surrender of
Sicily as his ultimatum, and when it was refused, demanded his
passports on August ninth. Fox having finally grasped in its fullest
meaning the aggressive, all-inclusive policy of Napoleon, his cabinet
saw itself compelled to accept, item for item, the program of Pitt;
and during the short remainder of his life, although he did not appear
in Parliament after June, he was its hearty, persistent supporter. His
death on September thirteenth made no change in the attitude of
England. The coalition which was dissolved at Austerlitz was cemented
again; only this time Prussia, which had so far preserved a selfish
neutrality, was to be associated with England and Russia.

After Napoleon returned to Paris on January twenty-seventh, 1806, he
had promptly abandoned the avocation of war, and had reassumed his
favorite rôle of emperor. On New Year's day the republican calendar
had ceased to exist; there was not even that to remind him of the
past. His figure was beginning to grow more portly; his carriage was
more stately, and his demeanor more distant. The great Corsican began
to emulate the Oriental conquerors of old--men of the people who, like
himself, had risen to giddy heights by usurpation and military
conquest--in surrounding himself with mystery and hedging himself
about with various ranks of courtiers. Nearest him, absent in person,
but present in their representatives, were the subsidiary reigning
kings, princes, and grand dukes. Next in order, present in the flesh,
and first in actual splendor, were the newly made honorary princes and
dukes. Some of the old nobility continued to smile contemptuously at
this array of former republicans and Jacobins, but many, and those not
the least able and influential, hurried to accept office at the court,
where their presence was earnestly desired. Etiquette reached an
artificial perfection which showed how unnatural it was to those who
practised it. In the Tuileries, as was wittily said, everything moved
to the tap of the drum. The parvenu princes and dukes had each his
proper state, and being now assured of ample income and hereditary
office, they displayed a self-indulgence and an independence which
augured ill for their continued devotion to their creator.

Behind this impenetrable screen the activities of the Emperor were
resumed with a greater intensity and a higher velocity than ever. Not
content with a daily task, his hours of recreation became shorter and
shorter, until he ceased to have any capacity for pleasure, and found
no comfort for his mind except in labor. Paris was in raptures of
loyalty, and from every conceivable source came proposals for
triumphs, statues, or other honors to "Napoleon the Great." The Church
vied with the populace. Among many similar utterances one bishop
declared the Emperor to be the chosen of God to restore His worship
and lead His people; another announced that recent events, occurring
on the anniversary of the coronation, had given Napoleon a divine
character; while the cardinal archbishop of Paris cried aloud, "O God
of Marengo, thou declarest thyself the God of Austerlitz; and the
German eagle with the Russian eagle, both of which thou dost desert,
is become the prey of the French eagle, which thou ceasest not to
protect." Before long the monarch was everywhere called the "man of
God, the anointed of the Lord," and occasionally he was designated as
"his sacred Majesty." Opportunity was therefore ripe for radical
changes. "My house," "my line," "my people," were phrases which had
for a year past been on the Emperor's lips and in his letters. He now
began to take measures for lending a theocratic character to his
reign, which, in view of his religious belief, were simply shocking.
Not only did he express the wish that his imperial standards should be
regarded with "religious reverence," but he closed his letters with
the royal, absolutist, and Roman Catholic formula, "I pray God to have
you in his holy keeping," and was styled in public papers, "Napoleon,
by the Grace of God Emperor." For this he could of course make no
other plea than the universal though antiquated customs of the
existing European dynasties, which still claimed to reign by divine
right. But he went further, and in personal coöperation with an
obsequious church dignitary prepared a catechism from which every
French child learned in a few months such medieval and now blasphemous
dogmas as these: Napoleon is "the minister of the power of God, and
his image on earth"; "to honor and serve the Emperor is to honor and
serve God." The climax of this insincerity was to be found in the
awful menace, instilled with absolute solemnity into the mind of every
learner throughout all the dioceses, that as to disobey the Emperor
was to resist the order ordained by God, such disobedience would
prepare eternal damnation for the guilty. Although Napoleon ever
refused to admit that he himself had any moral responsibility, and
seemed to act on the doctrine that he had been born what he remained
to the end, he nevertheless attributed immense influence to education
in others. "There can be no settled politics," he said of the
university, "without a settled body of teachers."

Above all else, the Emperor was solicitous for the army. "The reports
on the situation of my armies," he said, "are for me the most
agreeable literary works in my library, and those which I read with
the greatest pleasure in my hours of relaxation." He was so assiduous
and thorough that, as it has been declared, and probably without great
exaggeration, he knew to a man his effective force; and when his
armies were scattered over half the world he was more familiar than
his ministers with the station of every battalion. This was only the
beginning of his cares; his chief concern was for the equipment and
well-being of the men--not only for their uniforms, accoutrements, and
arms, but for their food, shelter, and pay. It was with the same
thoroughness that accounts, inventories, and all the other dry
details were examined; his fighting machine must not only be perfect,
but he must know that it was so. The enormous levies raised in the
late campaigns were turned into an army-chest for the benefit of the
army, and the management of that fund was intrusted to Mollien, his
most skilful financier. The pleasures of his soldiery were also a
matter of interest to him. But carefully as he had studied their
psychology, both personal and collective, he was mistaken when he
asked the city of Paris to provide Spanish bull-fights and contests of
wild beasts for his returning soldiers; and, recognizing his blunder,
he revoked his order. For, after all, by the rigid enforcement of the
conscription laws, the nation and the army were not far from being
identical; hence the softening influences of home life were never
entirely absent from the conscripts, and they were powerfully present
when the young fellows were on furlough with their mothers and
sweethearts. No captain ever understood the art of appealing to the
pride and affection of his men as did Napoleon; but his success was on
the eve of battle, not in peace. Quite as much as for the army he
spent his energies upon the finances. But here he was not an expert.
There were no pains he would not take, no toil he would not endure, to
master the endless lines of figures, which, as one of his ministers
said, he sought to marshal like battalions. Whether in military or in
civil life, he desired to prearrange and order every detail. For this
end he employed, in addition to his official machinery, an extensive
unofficial correspondence. Among other things, he had news of the
stock market, of the banks, and of all prices current. When a fact was
incomprehensible he had it explained by an expert. The intensity of
his interest in finance, and the just appreciation of its importance
which he felt, appear in his acts. The very evening of his arrival in
Paris after Austerlitz, a midnight message summoned the ministers to
council for eight next morning. Their congratulations were brusquely
cut off by the dry statement: "We have more serious matters to
consider. It appears that the greatest danger to the state has not
been in Austria. Let us hear the report from the minister of the
treasury." The document read by Barbé-Marbois mercilessly displayed
the situation: the insufficiency of income, the venality of officials,
and the shifts to which he himself had been put in order to avoid, not
a panic,--for that had come,--but an utter crash. Three of the guilty
office-holders were summoned on the spot.

The scene, according to Mollien, could be described only as "a
discharge of thunderbolts from the highest heaven for a whole hour."
One culprit burst into tears, a second stammered weak excuses, the
third was stiffened into blank silence, and all three were dismissed
with a threatening gesture. The session of the council, which lasted
nine hours without a break, was not ended until five o'clock in the
evening. When Marbois, who, though honest himself, had failed to keep
others so, finally left the room, the Emperor turned to Mollien and
said: "You are now minister of the treasury. Find sixty millions
stolen by the officials, and I will appoint a successor to you in the
management of the sinking fund I have destined for the reward of the
army." He would listen to no excuse, and could not then, or in fact at
any time, be brought to understand the rise or fall, and even
disappearance, of values. He thought government bonds could be kept at
one price no matter what happened, and that an annual budget was
simply a nuisance. "It cannot be more difficult to govern the little
corner of Paris they call the Exchange than to govern France," he
said. The lesson which he had to learn cost him many millions of his
hoarded contributions. By pouring his treasure into the gulf he
succeeded in reëstablishing public confidence for the time.

These were the serious occupations of the Emperor's first half-year;
its avocations were of a social nature--chiefly banishing the
possessors of biting tongues, and arranging matrimonial alliances
between what he designated as the old and the new aristocracy.
Napoleon's words and mien had at last become so awe-inspiring that the
accustomed quip and jest of the old nobility were uttered only in
whispers behind the closed doors of their residences in the Faubourg
St. Germain. The most famous society of the Consulate and early Empire
was accustomed to gather in the drawing-rooms of Mme. Récamier, wife
of the great banker. The wealth of her husband and the distinction of
her own manners made her a personage of great importance among the
returned emigrants, who flattered and caressed her. By her spirit and
beauty she wielded enormous influence, but not in Napoleon's behalf,
for she considered him a parvenu. She was in reality one of the most
insidious, and consequently one of the most dangerous, of his foes. He
tried to buy her silence, through Fouché's intermediation, by the
offer not merely of a place as lady in waiting, but of the influence
she might hope to exercise over himself. Her persistent refusal was
really the cause of her husband's bankruptcy, for the Bank of France
refused him assistance in his straits. She was not one of Mme. de
Staël's intimate friends, although Necker's great daughter, when
banished from Paris, had visited her at Écouen. But many of those who
had frequented her salon adored that "rascally Mme. de Staël," as
Napoleon, in a letter to Fouché, called the exile, who since her
retirement to Switzerland had played her rôle so well as to render
herself almost a divinity to her followers. These made annual
pilgrimages to Coppet, returning to Mme. Récamier's drawing-room with
new arrows of spite and wit to discharge against the Empire. In the
end both the hostess herself and the frequenters of her husband's
house were therefore visited with condign punishment, on the charge
that they had excited public alarm and discredited the Bank of France.
With several of her friends the great lady was banished from Paris,
and later was sent into exile. From 1806 onward every word uttered
about the state was apparently overheard by the police, and high and
low alike suffered for any indiscretion. This made clear to the
ancient aristocracy and gentry that criticism of the new court must
cease; and under the influence of fear many gave their daughters in
marriage to the imperial generals. The most conspicuous wedding of
this sort was that of Savary: man of mystery at the Due d'Enghien's
execution, conspirator suspected of complicity in the deaths of
Pichegru and Captain Wright, he nevertheless married Mlle. de Coigny,
a great heiress, and the daughter of a most ancient family.




CHAPTER XXXIV

THE WAR WITH PRUSSIA[37]

         [Footnote 37: Gentz: Ausgewählte Schriften; Garden: Traités;
         Bailleu: Frankreich und Preussen; Hardenberg's
         Denkwürdigkeiten; Czartoryski: Mémoires; Foucart: Campagne de
         Prusse; Fitzmaurice: Duke of Brunswick; Hohenlohe: Letters on
         Strategy (Eng. ed.); Lettow-Vorbeck: Der Krieg von 1806-07;
         Desvernois: Mémoires; Hansing: Hardenberg und die Dritte
         Coalition; Bonnal: La Manoeuvre de Jena; Gourgaud: Sainte
         Hélène; Lecestre: Lettres inédites; Davout: Correspondance,
         etc., Opérations du 3e Corps, 1806-07; the works of Oncken
         and Rocquain.]

     The Prussian Despotism -- State of Society -- The Patriots -- The
     Liberals -- The Execution of Palm -- The Prussian Court and the
     Nation -- Demoralization of the Army -- The Conduct of Napoleon
     -- War Inevitable -- The French Army -- Napoleon's Strategic Plan
     -- Prussian Feebleness -- Napoleon's System of Travel -- His Life
     in the Field -- Another Campaign of Marching -- The Affair at
     Schleiz -- The Prussians Outflanked -- French Soldiers in the
     Leash -- The Battle of Jena -- Davout and Bernadotte -- The
     Battle of Auerstädt -- Rout of the Prussian Army.


[Sidenote: 1806]

Frederick William I of Prussia built up a system of admirable
simplicity and economy in civil administration, which enabled him to
lavish proportionately large sums on the finest army of the day. This
instrument his brilliant son, Frederick the Great, used to increase
the Prussian territories by an area of seventy-five thousand square
miles; and when he died, having pursued his father's policy, he left
his country without a debt, with a reserve of nearly forty-five
million dollars in her treasury, and with a greatly increased income.
His nephew and successor, Frederick William II, was also a despot,
but a feeble one. Under him throve the disgraceful system of
irresponsible cabinet government whereby both religious and
intellectual liberty were necessarily diminished, if not destroyed. By
a shameful subserviency to Austria he increased his territories,
securing a small share in the disreputable partitions of Poland; but
on his death in 1797 the people were sluggish, the nation was in debt,
and the army was disorganized. Frederick William III was a good
citizen, but a poor king. Inheriting the policy of neutrality, he had
obstinately clung to it, surrounding himself with irregular privy
councilors who hampered the ministers in their functions, and
prevented the king from putting confidence in his legal advisers; his
court was rent by factions, and but for one circumstance, shortly to
be noted, would have been utterly out of touch with the nation.

In 1806, therefore, Prussia had not come under the influence of modern
ideas to any appreciable degree. Serfdom of a degrading sort still
existed, although not in its worst forms; the old estates of the
middle ages still existed also, for the law not only upheld the
division of land into noble, burgher, and peasant holdings, but even
drew a corresponding distinction between various occupations,
forbidding any man to pass from one class to the other, or to transfer
real estate from one category to another. The towns still rested on
their respective charter rights; the medieval restrictions of trade
and communication were not yet entirely abolished; the common schools
founded by Frederick William I were as narrow and rigid as either the
craft or cathedral schools of the middle ages. Society in the smaller
towns and in the country was stagnant, and the position of the
individual was immobile, for he was without the spur of ambition. The
land-owners were a caste which, having asserted itself as the
guarantor of public order after the Thirty Years' War, and having
undone the good work of the Reformation by the usurpation of feudal
privilege, still held manorial courts. Though they no longer wrung
their quota of the taxes from the peasants, they were haughty,
exclusive, and tenacious of many petty and annoying privileges.

The one illuminated spot in this picture was small but brilliant. The
young and beautiful Queen Louisa was pious, thoughtful, and
high-spirited. About her was a small court party of intelligent men
and women, who understood the true mission of Prussia, and were
therefore eager for a declaration of war against the aggrandizing
policy of Napoleon. Many of them were young and ardent, like the
princes Louis and Henry; others were mature and cautious like
Hardenberg and Stein, to whose efforts as alternating heads of
Frederick William's cabinet Germany eventually owed her regeneration.
Besides them, there were in this reform party Müller, Humboldt,
Blücher, the Princess Radziwill, and others of less renown. The
efforts of this little band were soon seconded by those of a somewhat
larger one. The universities, having been founded in the principles of
liberty, were never entirely mute. Many of the professors appreciated
the backwardness of Germany, and the students formed secret
associations for the destruction of local prejudice and the promotion
of a large patriotism. In the greater cities, which had not entirely
forgotten their former struggles with feudalism, there were also
burghers in considerable number who received such doctrines kindly,
and rendered invaluable service in keeping the embers of liberty from
extinction.

Among the indifferent millions there was also a remnant who, having
been at first enthusiastic for the liberalizing side of the French
Revolution, were now opposed to its conquering and domineering
tendency as represented by the Empire, and looked for the realization
of their ideals in the regeneration of their own country. Early in
1806 their leading men began to be heard: Schleiermacher among the
clergy; Fichte, the sometime admirer of the revolutionary movement,
among the philosophers; E. M. Arndt among the men of letters. By the
middle of 1806 the new doctrines had mildly permeated the whole
nation. The few earnest spirits who still believed in the cosmopolitan
equality of all men as the goal of humanity, who longed for
Augustine's city of God on earth, without the rivalry of nations and
the tumults of exaggerated patriotism, were soon reduced to silence.
If Napoleon were, as thousands believed, the appointed agent for this
end, they might still hope, but they could no longer speak.

The faith of these idealists must have been rudely shaken by various
pieces of news received during the summer. In the very midst of the
seething agitation, Murat, the Grand Duke Joachim I of Berg, dashing
and irresponsible, spoke of a kingdom soon to be his, possibly meaning
the Hanseatic cities; or perhaps he looked for Sweden, whose royal
house, one of the most despotic in Europe, was so hated by Napoleon
that it was merely a question of time when it would cease to reign.
This feeling had recently been intensified by a fatuous attempt to
besiege Hameln and drive the French from Hanover, made in the previous
November by the Duke of Södermanland, then regent for Gustavus
Adolphus IV, but afterward King Charles XIII. The noisy Augereau, too,
had exasperated the people of Ansbach, where he was in command, by
drinking toasts in public to the success of the French in their coming
war with Prussia. These and a thousand other minor irritations
combined with the occupation of Wesel to raise the tide of popular
feeling still higher. The Emperor of the French was dismayed, but he
could think of no other remedy than severity. Accordingly, Berthier
was instructed to proceed against the authors and publishers of
"political libels" by martial law, on the plea that a commander must
care for his army, and that those who stir up the people against it
are worthy of death. This might be well enough in war, but it was an
absurd and wicked pretext not only in a time of peace, but during an
illegal occupation. A certain Ansbacher, Yelin, had but lately written
a plain, truth-telling pamphlet entitled, "Germany in her Deepest
Humiliation," and it was circulated, though not exactly published, by
Palm, a bookseller of Nuremberg. The author was unknown to the French
authorities, but Palm was arrested, hastily court-martialed, and shot.
He met death with the fortitude of a martyr, conscious that his blood
was the seed of patriots. The news of this murder traveled like
wildfire; excitement and indignation reached their highest pitch, and
the uprising against Napoleon became national in the widest sense. It
was long before the officials of Prussia realized the vital importance
of the popular feeling thus aroused.

For some weeks after ratifying the treaty which Napoleon substituted
for that of Schönbrunn the Berlin cabinet simply fretted in impotence.
The young officers of the war party were sharpening their swords on
the steps of the French embassy and demanding the disgrace of
Haugwitz; there was even insubordination, and the King, with tears
streaming from his eyes, threatened to abdicate. His cup of bitterness
was more than full. When the Confederation of the Rhine was formed, he
besought the Czar to guarantee the integrity of Turkey, hoping that
this apple of discord between Russia and France being removed, Prussia
would be secure. But Alexander, trusting to gain French neutrality
and carry out his schemes of Oriental aggrandizement by slight
concessions in the Oubril negotiations as to Naples, Sardinia, and
Hanover, refused, vaguely promising to do all in his power to protect
the integrity of Prussia, provided Prussia would not attack Russia
should he go to war with France about Turkey. The privy councilors of
Frederick William, blind to the national feeling which would gladly
support a war against Napoleon's tyranny, proposed thereupon to form
what French diplomacy skilfully suggested, a League of the North. The
King and his advisers at first thought such a federation would be an
offset to the menace of their dangerous neighbor on the West. Although
kept in ignorance of the Russian and English negotiations at Paris,
they heard in August that Hanover had been offered to Great Britain,
and felt that the French occupation of southern Germany was
intolerable. Accordingly the King opened negotiations with Napoleon
for the formation of a North German Confederation to include Saxony,
the two Mecklenburgs, Oldenburg, Hesse-Cassel, the Hanseatic towns,
and a number of minor principalities. The Emperor could not well give
a categorical refusal, and consented on condition that Prussia should
disarm. In this interval Alexander contemptuously rejected the
extraordinary conditions granted by Oubril in a paper which not only
abandoned the Naples Bourbons, the house of Savoy, and the Hanoverian
question, but also guaranteed the integrity of the Ottoman Empire!
This attitude of the Czar made the disarmament of Prussia essential to
Napoleon's supremacy in Germany, the more so because, by the demise of
the German-Roman Empire, Russia had lost her right of intervention in
Germany, and would probably seek a new pretext to recover it.

The warlike attitude of England and Russia was a strong support to
Prussia. After the terrible treaty with France, just signed, her army
was more demoralized than ever. Like that of Austria, it had been
resting on old traditions and on laurels won by a former generation.
The antiquated system virtually made slaves of the common soldiers.
Every captain maintained his own company, farming it to the
government. One half of the men must be Prussians, the other were the
scum of Europe; nearly all were secured by forced enlistment or
crimping, and they were all compelled to serve until superannuation
released them, when, instead of a pension, they were given a license
to beg! It was the interest of every captain to secure the highest
efficiency at the least expense, and his soldiers, like costly
chattels, were too precious to be risked except under compulsion. The
companies had no moral cohesion, and the discipline was necessarily
very severe, corporal punishment being inflicted without stint. The
principal officers had become venerable creatures of routine. There
were majors in the hussars not less than sixty years of age. The Duke
of Brunswick, commander-in-chief,--the same who had sold nearly six
thousand mercenaries to George III for use in the war of the American
Revolution,--a spendthrift, a loose liver, and a martinet, was
seventy-one; Möllendorf was over eighty, Kalkreuth was sixty-six, and
even Blücher, the exception, the most youthful and fiery general of
them all, was over sixty. The staff having occupied itself for years
with an absurd refinement and development of Frederick the Great's
system, there were only a few of the younger officers who understood
Napoleon's revolutionary tactics and strategy. Unfortunately for the
country, the aristocratic pride of their class kept them from setting
a just value on the efficiency of the French democrats.

But, as the summer advanced, the foolish ardor of the war party
combined with the rising sentiment of nationality and the threatening
tenor of Napoleon's language to influence the government. To other
imperial aggressions was added a new one--the seizure of valuable
abbey lands lying on the border of Berg, which had been assigned to
Prussia in 1802, and the cool suggestion that, in order to indemnify
herself, Prussia should stir up strife with Sweden and seize
Pomerania. It was reported that the French were reinforcing the Wesel
garrison and had occupied Würzburg; it was even said that they were
advancing against Saxony. At last, when assured that Napoleon had
actually offered Hanover to England, the King yielded to the
solicitations of his people, which grew louder and more angry when
they too heard of Napoleon's perfidy. On August ninth, the same day on
which Lord Lauderdale demanded his passports from the French minister
of war, orders were given to mobilize the Prussian army. Napoleon was
not even yet clear as to his own readiness, and, in view of the Czar's
still uncertain attitude, would ostensibly have been glad to purchase
Prussian disarmament by agreeing to the formation of the North German
Confederation. In Talleyrand's despatch of July twenty-second to the
French envoy at Berlin the suggestion was flatly made that Prussia
should federate the states "still belonging to the Germanic Empire,
and install the imperial crown in the house of Brandenburg." At the
same time the French minister urged the Elector of Saxony to declare
himself an independent prince, and his influence was shown in the fact
that neither the Hanseatic towns nor Hesse-Cassel would give a direct
answer to Prussia.

There is, however, reason to believe that Napoleon still hoped for
peace. As late as August twenty-sixth he wrote to Berthier that he
really intended to evacuate Germany; but a week later the Czar's
rejection of the Oubril treaty, in a note dated August fifteenth, was
formally announced at the same time with the demand of Frederick
William for the evacuation of Germany. The French army was left where
it stood, for it seemed clear to Napoleon that a new coalition must
have been formed. If Prussia was arming merely from fear, she must be
stopped; if she was arming to make ready for war in conjunction with
England and Russia, he must lose no time in order to prevent a united
movement. In reality, matters had not advanced so far, as Prussia was
still nominally at war with Great Britain on account of Hanover, and
there could be no coalition without English subsidies. With his usual
vacillation, Frederick William repented almost immediately of the
course he had taken, and on August twenty-fourth vainly suggested to
his cabinet the revocation of his orders for mobilization. Pending
these hesitancies Napoleon again took up the thread of negotiation
with Lord Lauderdale, who had not yet left Paris. This was a feint to
gain time, for he began to prepare at the utmost speed for a war
which, believing in England's exhaustion and Russia's timidity, he had
not expected, and which he accepted as an almost fatal necessity. As
yet the renown of Frederick the Great's armies had not been forgotten
in France. Moreover, both in 1802 and in 1805 Prussian officers had
been able to observe the outlines of his system, and would be
forewarned. "I believe," he said at the time, "that we have a more
difficult task than with the Austrians; we shall have to move the
earth." "The reputation of the Prussian troops was high," he said
later to Mme. de Rémusat; "there was much talk about the excellence of
their cavalry, while ours commanded no respect, and our officers
expected a sturdy resistance."

Accordingly he mustered his arms in double strength--eight army corps
and the guard, a powerful cavalry force under Murat, and an auxiliary
army from Bavaria. At once his officers began to study the possible
roads from central to northern Germany, and the best appeared both to
him and to them to be by the way of Bamberg. By September twenty-fifth
the new levies of a hundred thousand well-drilled recruits were ready,
and on that day the Emperor left Paris for Mainz with all possible
secrecy. On the other hand, the Prussian king knew not whither to
turn. The Bavarian agent in Paris recorded it as his opinion that
Frederick William yielded to the war party in order that, having been
defeated in one battle, his people would understand the impossibility
of resistance and permit him to make the best terms possible. Whether
this be true or not, the unhappy and unready King, unable any longer
either to secure advantage from the misfortune of his neighbors, or to
pursue a policy of weakness and indecision, with England still hostile
and Russia not ardent, finally decided for war. On September
twenty-fourth he arrived at his headquarters in Naumburg, and on
October first the Prussian minister in Paris presented his sovereign's
ultimatum to France. Germany must be evacuated, Wesel restored, and no
obstacle be thrown in the way of a North German Confederation. The
term set for a reply was October eighth. Napoleon received the paper
on October seventh, in Bayreuth, and his columns were already
marching. The answer was, of course, in the facts, which were a quite
sufficient refusal.

In single combat, with equal arms, the prowess of the victor must be
measured by the resistance of his foe. This is not necessarily true in
warfare. Knowing, as we now do, the weakness of Prussia in 1806, it is a
cheap and simple method of belittling Napoleon to belittle his enemy.
But this is unfair as well as unhistoric. Moral courage is more
admirable than physical daring, and considering the high renown of the
Prussian soldiery it was a deed of great bravery to provoke a conflict.
Moreover, skill went hand in hand with pluck, for Napoleon's
preparations were better than any hitherto made, and his strategic plan
was one of the greatest conceptions so far formed by a master in that
department of military science. It is not so striking as some others,
because tremendous geographical obstacles like the Alps play no part in
it: but it is quite as novel as any, and probably shows the best
possible adaptation of means to an end; it has, moreover, the
superlative merit of having been overwhelmingly successful--too much so,
in fact, for its author's reputation, since it appears to illustrate the
proverb of using a sledgehammer to crush an egg-shell. For the sake of
estimating Napoleon's power, it is necessary to apprehend at least the
outlines of his great design, and further still, if possible, to grasp
certain portions of otherwise uninteresting professional detail. In the
first place, the Emperor of the French completely metamorphosed himself
into the commander-in-chief of the French armies, and for a few weeks
gave his undivided attention to the matter in hand. In the second place,
he conceived and sketched a form of advance into Germany so far untried
in the annals of European warfare, and then proceeded to work it out to
the minutest detail. Finally, he developed the principles of Austerlitz
into a scheme of open formation, venturesome to a degree, large in
outline, and dependent for success upon complete knowledge and a perfect
coördination of all the parts. We already begin to feel that nothing
less than the Napoleonic concentration of Napoleonic powers could
assure the completion of such a design. Choosing the fortress of
Würzburg, and later that of Forchheim, as his point of support, he
determined to concentrate his force on the extreme right of his line and
infold the enemy from the east. To this end he risked abandoning direct
connection with France by way of Mainz, but in return he made sure of an
indirect one by way of Forchheim, Würzburg, and Mannheim, reserving as
his line of retreat that into the Danube valley. If unexpectedly the
Prussians should extend their front farther to the eastward, he had in
hand the alternative of driving his own mass through their center--an
old and favorite manoeuver. In order to secure the Rhine, Louis, his
brother, was ordered to throw the strongest possible garrison into
Wesel, and hold himself ready to attack the Prussians in case they
should attempt to turn the French left. As a further safeguard, a corps
of fifteen thousand men under Mortier was to occupy Mainz and to make
demonstrations as far as Frankfort-on-the-Main. The preliminary stages
were all successfully completed before the end of September. The troops
behaved admirably, the officers, though anxious, were obedient and
trustworthy, and Napoleon was confident of success.

The contrast between the majestic, imperial plan of Napoleon and the
petty, inharmonious scheme of Prussia is incredible. On September
thirtieth the aged Duke of Brunswick and the King with his staff were
at Naumburg with the main army, fifty thousand strong. This body was
to be reinforced by twelve thousand more who were coming in, but at a
distance of several days' march. The Prince of Hohenlohe was at
Chemnitz with nineteen thousand men, awaiting the arrival of twenty
thousand Saxons who were not yet even mobilized! General Rüchel was
between Erfurt and Eisenach with a nominal force of eighteen thousand
men, but many of this number had not yet arrived from Westphalia. All
three commanders were alike ignorant of the French positions, and
without an idea as to the enemy's purpose; not one of them had a
trustworthy map of the country. "They are a set of wiseacres" were
Napoleon's own words.

The admirable celerity and accuracy of Napoleon's movements in the
field were due to the excellent arrangements by which they were
governed. His two inseparable companions were the grand marshal Duroc
and Caulaincourt, master of the horse. The latter had always the map
of the country through which they were driving or riding ready for
instant use. The seats of the imperial carriage could be converted
into a couch for the Emperor's frequent night journeys, but ordinarily
Berthier and Murat took turns in sitting at his side, while
Caulaincourt rode close beside the door. Behind, and as near the
wheels as possible, rode seven adjutants, fourteen ordnance officers,
and four pages, who must be ready on the instant to receive and carry
orders. Two of the officers must be familiar with the speech of the
country. Rustan, his Egyptian body-servant, rode with them. There were
also two mounted lackeys, each carrying maps, papers, and
writing-materials. This escort was protected by a body of mounted
chasseurs. In case the Emperor alighted for any purpose, four of these
instantly did likewise, and, surrounding him with fixed bayonets or
loaded pistols pointed outward to the four points of the compass,
preserved this relative position as he moved. Last of all came the
grooms with extra horses; for the Emperor's personal use there were
from seven to nine. These were substantially the arrangements still in
vogue during the Prussian campaign. Thereafter his distrust (p.~426)
of those about him gradually increased, until toward the end of his
career it became acute, and then, as a consequence, the numbers of his
suite were much diminished. Whenever there was need of post-haste the
Emperor found relays of nine saddle-horses or six carriage-horses
prepared at intervals of from seven to ten miles along his route. In
this way he often journeyed at the rate of fourteen miles an hour for
six hours at a time. Similar arrangements on a much smaller scale were
made for the staff.

[Illustration: NAPOLEON BONAPARTE AS FIRST CONSUL

From a marble bas-relief brought to America by Joseph Bonaparte.]

Arriving at his night quarters, the Emperor found his office ready--a
tent or room with five tables, one in the center for himself, and one
at each corner for his private secretaries. On his own was a map
oriented, and dotted with colored pins which marked the position of
each body of his troops. For this campaign he had the only one in
existence, prepared long in advance, by his own orders. As soon as
possible was arranged the Emperor's bed-chamber, across the door of
which Rustan slept, and adjoining it was another for the officers on
duty. Dinner occupied less than twenty minutes, for in the field
Napoleon ate little, and that rapidly. By seven in the evening he was
asleep. At one in the morning the commander-in-chief arose, entered
his office, where the secretaries were already at work, found all
reports from the divisions ready at his hand, and then, pacing the
floor, dictated his despatches and the orders for the coming day.
There is an accepted tradition that he often simultaneously composed
and uttered in alternate sentences two different letters, so that two
secretaries were busy at the same time in writing papers on different
topics. The orders, when completed and revised, were handed to
Berthier. By three in the morning they were on their way, and reached
the separate corps fresh from headquarters just before the soldiers
set out on their march. It was by such perfect machinery that accuracy
in both command and obedience was assured.

Colonel Scharnhorst of the Prussian staff had prepared in advance a plan
whereby his sovereign's forces should cross the Thuringian hills and
secure their position a fortnight before the arrival of the French, in
order to take the offensive, and use their fine cavalry to advantage on
the plains below. The plan was rejected, for the King still feebly hoped
that his ultimatum might be accepted. When at last the reluctant monarch
set out for the seat of war to join Brunswick, he took with him a
numerous suite from the sanguine and even exultant court party. On their
arrival at headquarters an antipodal divergence between the ideas of the
King's followers and those of the conservative Brunswick was instantly
developed, and the latter's command soon became nominal. In spite of the
Queen's noble efforts to infuse spirit into her husband, the divided
councils of his advisers produced in him an infectious incapacity which
spread rapidly throughout the Prussian camp. The results were seen in
the wretched disposition of the forces at the crucial moment. After
considerable wrangling among the staff, their conference lasting three
entire days, the army finally, on October seventh, took position, not on
the southern, but on the northern slopes of the Thuringian
hills--Brunswick with the main army at Erfurt, Hohenlohe at Blankenhain,
and Rüchel, to whose reinforcement Blücher was advancing from Cassel, at
Eisenach. Pickets were thrown out into the passes in front. This
position was virtually divined by Napoleon on the fifth, and, believing
that the Prussians would mass at Erfurt to strike his left, he
immediately set his troops in motion. There were three columns; on the
eighth the left wing, under Lannes, was at Coburg, with Augereau one
day's march behind; of the center, Murat was already over the hills at
Saalburg, Bernadotte and Davout were in the very heart of them at
Lobenstein and Nordhalben respectively; the guard was at Kronach; and,
of the two divisions of the right, one, under Soult, was at Münchberg;
the other, with Ney, was at Bayreuth, one day's march behind. By these
movements, the campaign was virtually won on the ninth, and that on the
plan as at first conceived. The connection of the Prussians with their
base of supplies by way of the Elbe was in danger, the process of
turning was well advanced, and it could be a matter of a few days only
before it would be complete.

When Napoleon's whereabouts finally became known in the Prussian camp,
on the ninth, Brunswick and Scharnhorst wished to march eastward and
meet the enemy's powerful right with the whole army; but the King
seems still to have had in mind a flank move toward the west, as
originally contemplated, and would only consent that Hohenlohe should
advance to check the French. The first hostile meeting, therefore,
occurred on that day, at Schleiz, between Hohenlohe's troops and those
of Bernadotte. The conflict was short, and resulted in the withdrawal
of Hohenlohe to defend the pass through the hills at Saalfeld.
Napoleon was still in comparative ignorance of his enemy's larger
movements; but he was constantly strengthened in his hypothesis that
his right wing was not really opposed by any substantial force. Next
day the advance-guard of Hohenlohe was driven from its post, and the
highway to Erfurt was cleared. The fighting was sharp, for the
confident Prussian soldiery had not yet lost courage; but Prince
Louis, the pride of the army, fell, and his loss was more
disheartening to the men than a great defeat.

Throughout the tenth and the eleventh the French columns continued
their advance northward. As they encountered no resistance, Napoleon
concluded that the Prussian main army was still west of the Saale, and
resolved to advance in that direction. The whole French army suddenly
turned on the twelfth, and began to move westward toward the river
valley. All that day they met no resistance, and pushed rapidly on,
Lannes reaching Jena, crossing the stream, and driving a strong body
of reconnoitering Prussians over the steep heights beyond. A general
halt was ordered for the thirteenth, to give the troops a needed rest.
Throughout the campaign they had been marching at a rate one third
higher than that laid down by the regulations, fighting, as a current
phrase ran, with their legs instead of with their bayonets. Napoleon
himself, however, hurried on to Jena. The Saxons having been forced
into their alliance with Prussia, there were many in that town well
affected toward Napoleon. One of these gladly pointed out a pass up
the heights of the Landgrafenberg available for infantry. A force was
immediately set to work improving it, and the Emperor pushed forward
unaccompanied to within gunshot of the Prussian lines. After a rapid
survey with his telescope, both of their situation and his own
vantage-ground, he determined to fight next morning, and believing the
main Prussian army to be confronting him, he immediately sent orders
to Lefebvre, Soult, Ney, and Augereau to bring up their respective
commands as swiftly as possible. Before morning they were all either
on the battle-field or within easy reach. Davout and Bernadotte were
at Naumburg, Murat with the cavalry near them. All three were to march
toward Jena if they heard the noise of battle. The Prussians were
already nearly surrounded, but it took nine hours' wrangling at the
headquarters in Weimar to make their leaders understand it. Finally
they concluded that Brunswick with the main army should draw back
northward down the Saale toward Freiburg to guard the line of supply,
that Hohenlohe should cover the retreat, and that Rüchel should
concentrate at Weimar. The French having used this long interval of
debate to the utmost advantage, it was then too late to avoid a
collision. Hohenlohe, therefore, was opposite Napoleon; Brunswick came
upon Davout at Auerstädt.

In the misty dawn of October fourteenth the Emperor put himself at the
head of Lannes's troops, and, calling upon them to remember their
success with Mack the previous year under similar circumstances, began
the attack. As he had correctly estimated, there were between forty
and fifty thousand in the opposing ranks, but owing to the fog there
was much confusion among them. Thinking there might be more in the
mist behind, he was convinced that he had before him the main army of
the Prussians. The response of Lannes's men to his appeal was so
hearty that with the help of Ney's van they were able to engage and
hold the enemy for over two hours. This was a precious interval for
Napoleon, enabling him to secure further reserves and to complete his
careful dispositions for a crushing final attack. It was a
characteristic delay, for, realizing how impotent to control the close
of a battle even he himself would be under his system, he was
correspondingly obdurate in dominating its beginning to the least
detail. To hold straining columns of eager soldiers in a leash for two
hours is serious work. On this occasion, as the Emperor stood by his
guard, a nervous voice from the ranks called out, "Forward!" "That
must be a beardless boy," said he, "who wishes to forestall what I am
about to do. Let him wait until he has commanded in twenty battles
before he dares to give me advice."

Meanwhile Hohenlohe had put his troops in motion to protect
Brunswick's rear; there was much desultory fighting along the
straggling line, with a momentary advantage for Hohenlohe. Nothing in
the least decisive occurred, however, during the morning or early
afternoon. By the arrival of Rüchel at two the Prussian line was
somewhat strengthened, but, on the other hand, it was both weakened
and demoralized by the steady, galling fire of the French, who were
hourly increasing in numbers and deploying their new strength on the
plateau. About midday Napoleon had finally felt strong enough to begin
the real day's work. At that time Soult, Lefebvre, and Augereau were
ordered to advance. For two long hours the Prussians made a brave,
stubborn resistance against tremendous odds; even on Rüchel's arrival,
Hohenlohe's line was so exhausted that the reinforcement was of no
avail. The newcomers were quickly overmatched and compelled to
retreat, for Napoleon was then overwhelmingly superior in point of
numbers. It is estimated that, first and last, he had nearly a hundred
thousand men to oppose to Hohenlohe's forty-five thousand and Rüchel's
twenty-seven thousand. By four in the afternoon the field was won. The
Prussians strove to reform and make a stand at Weimar, but they were
quickly overtaken by Ney's corps with the cavalry reserve that had
just come up. These not only dislodged their opponents, but pursued
them for some distance. In the evening Napoleon returned to Jena with
the conviction that he had destroyed the main body of the Prussian
army.

This was far from the truth; but notwithstanding his misapprehension
as to his enemy, the moral results of what he had really done were
most important. In the early morning of the fourteenth, Brunswick and
the King had brought their troops as far as Auerstädt, beyond which
they hoped to cross the Saale and make a stand on its right bank to
the eastward. They had thirty-five thousand men, excluding the reserve
of eighteen thousand. Bernadotte, according to Napoleon's orders, was
marching from Gera to Dornburg in order to get in the rear of the
deserted Prussian line; but he had not driven his troops, and was
still in communication with Davout. Davout had received later orders,
based upon Napoleon's conviction that Hohenlohe's was the main
Prussian army, to turn in farther south for the same purpose, and
march with his division of thirty-three thousand to Apolda. There was
a sentence to the effect that if Bernadotte were near by, they could
march together; but the Emperor hoped that the latter had already
reached his station at Dornburg. Bernadotte was accordingly informed;
but recalling the Emperor's dissatisfaction with him the previous year
for his inactivity, he did not feel justified in disregarding the
letter and obeying the spirit of his orders. Keeping the line of march
formally prescribed, he was not only himself absent from both the
battles of the fourteenth, but exposed Davout's single corps to
destruction by the Prussian main army, numbering, with the reserve,
fifty-three thousand.

Napoleon claimed to have sent an order during the night with
directions for Bernadotte to reinforce Davout. This was a
double-meaning statement intended to place the blame for Davout's
exposure on Bernadotte's slow movements. Bernadotte denied having
received any message, and the consequence was an increased bitterness
between him and Napoleon, destined to grow still stronger, and finally
to become of historic importance.

Davout was crossing the river Saale about six o'clock in the morning
of the fourteenth, and was well over with about two thirds of his
corps, when suddenly his advance-guard found itself facing a portion
of the enemy at the hamlet of Hassenhausen. It was the Prussian van.
At first the thick mist concealed the armies from each other, but
Davout hurried his columns forward and deployed them by the right for
a simultaneous attack; those of the Prussians advanced and deployed so
slowly that they came into action successively and lost the advantage
of their superior numbers. The action began by a charge of Blücher's
cavalry against the French right; but the men, unable to withstand the
steady fire of the French infantry, recoiled and fell back in
confusion. The Prussian right then moved around the French left by the
flank, and drove their opponents into the village for shelter. They
could not, however, dislodge them, and were left standing in the open
field for two hours under a murderous fire. By this time it was noon;
Davout's last companies had crossed the river, and the brave general,
putting himself at their head, charged with them at double quick. The
Duke of Brunswick fell, blinded in both eyes and mortally wounded; the
King, though intervening with energy, could not keep the troops in
line. At the same time his left was also attacked by a fresh force,
and he determined to fall back on the reserve, which, owing to
Brunswick's disability and consequent failure to give the necessary
orders, had remained stationary in the critical moment at Gernstädt.
The French followed, and the running fight continued through and
beyond Auerstädt, until at five in the evening Davout called a halt.
Frederick William did not, as was entirely possible, turn back with
the reserve and strive to overwhelm his exhausted foe, but marched
onward, expecting to unite with Hohenlohe and renew the conflict next
day at Weimar.

But it was foes, not friends, that he found; for Bernadotte had passed
Dornburg, and was in control of the Weimar road, having reached Apolda
with his van. The awful disappointment unnerved and demoralized both
the King and his army; throughout the terrible day the Prussian
soldiers had justified their renown, fighting bravely and stubbornly;
but now discipline was at an end, and with one or two exceptions the
squadrons dissolved and turned into a flying horde. Hohenlohe drew off
ten thousand men in good order, marched in swift but dignified retreat
through Nordhausen to Magdeburg, and thence continued by Neu-Ruppin to
Prenzlau. Blücher escaped with a body of cavalry. The battle of
Auerstädt was tactically a separate affair from that of Jena, but
strategically and morally they were one. Professional students find in
this campaign almost the first complete realization of the hazardous
and delicate manoeuver known as turning the enemy--common sense shows
that the turner, if careless or slow, is himself liable to be turned.
The campaign as a whole was never for a moment endangered, because the
unprecedented marches of the French made their leader's strategy
impregnable. But Bernadotte's conduct, though technically justifiable,
would, with any less efficiency on Davout's part, have jeopardized the
battle as it was fought. The success of Napoleon was due in part to
the fact that, as he himself said, "while others were taking counsel
the French army was marching," in part to the still undiminished
devotion and capacity of the marshals. Great ventures generally
succeed by narrow margins and fail by broad ones. The Prussian
campaign was a great one; its successors were to be of even larger
dimensions as to conception. When they were successful it was by an
even narrower chance; when disastrous, it was with frightful
completeness.




CHAPTER XXXV

THE DEVASTATION OF PRUSSIA[38]

         [Footnote 38: References: As before, and especially for
         1806-07 Bailleu: Diplomatische Correspondenzen, and the
         "Briefwechsel" of Frederick William and Louisa with the Czar;
         the Russian archives published by Woronzoff and Tratchefski;
         Stern: Abhandlungen und Aktenstücke aus der Preussischen
         Reformzeit; the published memoirs, correspondence, and lives
         of Metternich, Gagern, Gentz, Hardenberg, Montgelas, Ompteda,
         Stein, Varnhagen von Ense, Archduke Charles, Schwarzenberg,
         Frederick William III, Queen Louisa, Alexander I, Blücher,
         Gneisenau, Scharnhorst, Czartoryski, Nesselrode, Speranski,
         and Toll; the general histories of Oncken, Hassel, Häusser,
         Perthes, Treitschke, Beer, Fournier, Krones, Wertheimer,
         Bernhardi, Bogdanowitch, Golovine, Schiemann, Schilder,
         Lelewel, and Oginski; Duncker: Preussen während der
         Französischen Okkupation; Muffling: Aus meinem Leben.
         Lettow-Vorbeck: Der Krieg von 1806-07; Foucart: Campagne de
         Prusse.]

     The Effects of Jena and Auerstädt -- Degeneracy of the French
     Soldiers -- Napoleon's Abuse of Queen Louisa -- The Occupation of
     Berlin -- Conduct of the French Generals -- Turkey and Russia at
     War -- Prussia and Russia -- Treatment of Minor German States --
     Napoleon as the Liberator of Poland -- Condition of the Country
     -- The Retort to Trafalgar.


The moral effect of Jena upon Prussia was pitiful. All the years of
irresponsible government, of absolutism and militarism, seemed
revenged upon monarchy at a single blow. The nation, with no
experience of independent action, was stunned, and did not run to
arms, except in a few abortive instances. In his flight Frederick
William had with difficulty kept together his royal state, and the day
after Jena he sent an envoy to ask for an armistice. This was
ostensibly a reply to Napoleon's suggestions of a peace sent three
days earlier to the King, probably as a ruse; but the Emperor now
declared that he would dictate his terms only from Berlin, and his
army continued its advance. The Prussian court, with a few thousand
men under Lestocq, retreated through West Prussia and took refuge in
Königsberg. So thoroughly did Napoleon organize the pursuit, and so
carefully did he estimate the total result of his victory, that
nothing escaped him. The French soldiers carried everything before
them. A Prussian reserve corps was easily beaten at Halle by
Bernadotte, and fled for refuge to the unprovisioned fortress of
Magdeburg. Lannes seized Dessau; Davout, Wittenberg; while Murat,
Soult, and Ney proceeded to invest Magdeburg, which for those days was
the strategic key of the Elbe valley. It resisted until November, but
eventually fell, as did also Erfurt. In fact, the French ransacked the
land. Even Hohenlohe did not escape them. Being overtaken by the
infantry of Lannes and the cavalry of Murat, he was first driven from
Prenzlau, and then, on October twenty-eighth, he surrendered, being a
victim partly to the duplicity of Murat, who declared that a hundred
thousand French were closing in on him, and partly to the stupidity of
his own messenger, who asserted that the tale was true. Frederick
William himself would have been captured at Weissensee but for
Blücher, who brazenly declared to Klein, the French commander, that an
armistice had been granted--a pure falsehood. Stettin capitulated to
Lasalle's cavalry on the thirtieth, and Küstrin soon opened its doors.
The fortresses of Spandau and Hameln followed their example, all four
being surrendered with suspicious facility; in two instances the
French and Prussian soldiers actually joined to hiss and execrate the
governors, who were undoubtedly both recreant and venal. Blücher,
after many gallant but fruitless attempts to collect a force, had
reached Lübeck, through many dangers, with his cavalry; but driven
thence after a gallant and exceptional resistance, he too surrendered.
There remained no organized Prussian force in the lands between the
Elbe and the Oder.

It had been accurate foresight which enabled Napoleon to say, in the
decree issued from Jena on October fifteenth, that in the battle of
the previous day he had conquered all the Prussian lands west of the
Vistula. Before long the demoralization of the nation was as complete
as the conquest of their country. The treatment of the people by the
victorious soldiery was the climax of the long career of French
officers and men as plunderers. As Napoleon's success kept pace with
his ever-growing schemes of conquest, he laid less and less stress on
the means to his end, ever more and more on its accomplishment. The
army was once again scattered to obtain subsistence, and it left no
opportunity for spoil neglected. As one of the most enthusiastic
officers reluctantly declared: "From the moment Napoleon obtained
supreme power the soldiers' morals changed, the union of hearts among
them disappeared with their poverty, a desire for luxury and the
comforts of life began. The Emperor considered it politic to favor
this degeneracy. He thought it advantageous and shrewd to make the
army absolutely dependent upon him."

The shocking details of Prussia's treatment by Napoleon and his army
have been often told. On October twenty-fourth the Emperor arrived at
the Hohenzollern residence of Potsdam, and publicly visited the tomb
of Frederick the Great. Uttering words expressive of profound
reverence for the great general, he nevertheless sent the old hero's
sword, belt, and hat as trophies to ornament the Invalides at Paris.
"His intellect, his genius, and his affections were kin to those of
our nation, which he so esteemed," was the pretext for this act of
spoliation. He was equally unscrupulous in his shameful treatment of
the unfortunate Queen. Recognizing by swift penetration that in her
resided the true spirit not alone of Prussian but of German
nationality, that hers was the genius of reform, the temperament of
the patriot, and the grace of perseverance, he selected her as the
target of his spite. He loathed the use of feminine charm in
statecraft, resented her endowment of beauty and intellect, and seems
to have feared her influence. In bulletin after bulletin he heaped
lying abuse on her devoted head. In one he depicted her as having a
sufficiently pretty face, but little wit; in another he asked what
mystery had led a woman hitherto absorbed in the serious occupations
of her toilet to meddle with politics, stir up the King, and kindle
everywhere the fire with which she was herself possessed. The answer,
he insinuated, was to be found in the Czar's personal visits to
Berlin.

On October twenty-seventh Napoleon made his triumphal entry into the
Prussian capital with the utmost splendor he could devise, and at the
head of the largest military force he could muster. Coignet, one of
his soldiers, wrote of the scene: "The Emperor was grand in his plain
clothes, with his little hat and a penny cockade. His staff, on the
contrary, wore their dress uniform; and for strangers it was a queer
sight to see, in the one man most meanly clad of all, the leader of so
fine an army." The city of Berlin, populace, burghers, and
aristocracy, was strangely apathetic at the approach and presence of
the French. Its general aspect seemed to the invaders one of childish
curiosity. But the Emperor was about to launch some of his most
far-reaching thunderbolts and scorned any appearance of clemency. To
"show himself terrible at the first moment," as he had advised Joseph
to do at Naples, an order was issued for the seizure of Prince
Hatzfeldt, governor of the capital and the most distinguished Prussian
nobleman within reach. He was to be tried by a court-martial on the
charge of being a traitor and a spy, his crime being that he had
written to his King a letter giving an account of the French entry
into Berlin. The epistle was so harmless in its nature that its writer
had intrusted it to the mail, in which it was seized and then shown to
Napoleon. The prince escaped the first blast of the storm by hiding;
his life was afterward granted to the personal and tearful
solicitations of his wife as an act of great clemency. As in Italy,
the galleries, libraries, collections, and public monuments were
stripped of their finest treasures to enrich Paris.

The French soldiers needed no example. Lübeck, which, as was claimed,
had been taken by storm, was handed over to the men to work their
will, just as Pavia had been. Wherever the troops were billeted, they
had but to demand from their terrified entertainers what they desired
and their behest was done. They were not modest, and before long both
rapine and lust worked their will among the angry but helpless
populations. The French generals were too much like their men, and, as
in Italy and Austria, the gratification of their boundless greed
seemed to meet the Emperor's approval. The castles of the nobility and
the houses of the wealthy citizens were of course chosen by them as
quarters. It would have been hard for their owners to refuse the
unbidden guests any object which met with their expressed approval,
and the French officers openly admired many valuable things. All these
irregularities, the Emperor believed, attached his generals to
himself; and at the same time a threat of examination into their
accounts would, he knew, instantly check any manifestations of
independence. Masséna was the most avaricious of all; nothing but the
love of money could influence him, wrote Napoleon, and "where at first
little sums sufficed, now milliards are not sufficient." At another
time he said, more generously, that one must bow the knee before
Masséna's gifts as a soldier, although he had his faults like another.
Bernadotte, on the occasion of a certain surprise, lost the wagon
which contained his Lübeck booty. He was inconsolable, and it was
considered a delicious joke when he explained that he was so depressed
because the loss "prevented him from paying a gratification in money
to the men of his corps." Davout before long filled all Poland with
the terror of his name. Napoleon's brother Jerome, finding a bin of
choice Tokay in a Polish castle, loaded the contents in his
baggage-train, and carried them away.

With Prussia thus shattered, disintegrated, and almost annihilated,
Napoleon proceeded without the loss of a moment to use his new vantage
against both Russia and England. In the Oriental question he could
strike both with a single blow. As a result of the thorough knowledge
of the East obtained in 1803 through Sebastiani, he had virtually
determined to assert his supremacy over Turkey. To this end, however,
he must for the present spare the sensibilities of Austria, which,
though humbled to the dust, was again rising to her feet; her
curiously assorted, heterogeneous peoples showed more spirit than the
Prussians, displaying resources and courage comparable to those of
France. During the summer of 1806, apparently of his own motion, but
in reality by French suggestion, the Sultan Selim III had on August
twenty-fourth dismissed the viceroys of Moldavia and Wallachia, both
of whom had made themselves conspicuous by their Russian proclivities.
At once the Czar Alexander I sent an army to cross the Pruth. The
Sultan was terrified when the Russians occupied Bucharest, but on
November eleventh, 1806, at the very climax of his peril, he was
officially notified that Napoleon now had three hundred thousand men
free to attack Russia and save Turkey; the Emperor would himself
operate from the Vistula, and a Turkish army must simultaneously
appear on the Dniester. The Sultan at once obeyed, and the Czar
consequently sent eighty thousand men against the Turks. Two British
expeditions were despatched in coöperation, one to Constantinople, one
to Egypt: both were failures. Russia was soon fully occupied in her
offensive campaign against Napoleon and correspondingly disabled in
the East, while the Sultan's janizaries by low intrigue rendered
active operations on his part impossible. Austria, mindful,
apparently, of Russia's desertion after Austerlitz, displayed neither
resentment nor alarm at the course taken by France, and Napoleon,
whose material gain was slight, nevertheless won the diplomatic move
and felt himself a step nearer both to victory over Russia and to such
a protectorate of Turkey as would be a serious menace to England's
Eastern empire.

As to Prussia, the ultimate arrangements were held in suspense.
Napoleon's first response to a request for peace had been that he
would make terms only in Berlin, and shortly after his triumphal entry
negotiations were opened. The terms proposed by his ministers at the
outset were far in excess of what the Prussian plenipotentiaries
thought reasonable; but as one fortress after another opened its gates
the demands grew more and more exorbitant. Although other counsels
prevailed in the end, there was actually a moment when Napoleon
contemplated the extinction of the Hohenzollern power, and the
partition among his vassal states of that dynasty's variously acquired
and strangely assorted lands, which had so little territorial unity
that they extended in two separate parallel lines from northeast to
southwest. Voltaire said they stretched over Europe like a pair of
garters. The best offer that could be wrung from Napoleon--and, in
view of Prussia's absolute prostration, he thought his proposition not
ungenerous--was for an armistice, during which the French should
occupy all Prussia as far as the Bug; and Frederick William should
order the now advancing Russians off his soil. The Prussian minister
actually signed this paper, but his sovereign, whose hopes were rising
in proportion as the Russian army drew nearer, refused to ratify it.
Owing to the general readjustment of the international relations so
rudely shattered by the rise of French empire, neither Great Britain
nor Russia could settle upon a definite policy, much less Prussia,
distracted alike by internal dissensions and the smiting of ruthless
foes.

It is not difficult to conceive the desperation of Frederick William
as he learned the ominous disposition made of the lands belonging to
his allies. The Elector of Hesse-Cassel had remained ostensibly
neutral in the war, having requested and been refused membership in
the Rhine Confederation. But he had mustered about twenty thousand men
on a war footing: his heir was in the Prussian lines. He was rightly
suspected of trimming to both currents: his people loathed and
despised him. The day after Jena he was informed that the Emperor had
been aware of his secret sympathy with the coalition, and that his
feelings had been evidenced by the permission granted the Prussian
troops to pass through his domain while his own army was (p.~443)
ready for action. This conduct made it necessary to occupy his states.
Mortier, the French commander at Mainz, was ordered to seize the
prince and imprison him in Metz; on November fourth it was curtly
announced that the house of Hesse had ceased to reign. The fact was,
the territories of that house were needed for a new subsidiary
kingdom, the formation of which had been for some time in
contemplation. The Elector of Saxony, whose troops had fought with the
Prussians at Jena, was, on the other hand, offered the privilege of
neutrality, and, abandoning his former ally, he eagerly accepted. The
dukes of Saxe-Gotha and Saxe-Weimar followed his example, and obtained
immunity by submission. The Duke of Brunswick had withdrawn to his
capital. Thence he appealed to his conqueror for mercy in behalf of
his dominions. Napoleon's reply was pitiless, recalling the duke's
notorious proclamation of 1792 against the French republic, and
declaring that it was he also who had been the real instigator of the
present war. The sting of this retort was in its truth and the humbled
warrior in mortal agony betook himself to Altona, where he expired.
Brunswick, Hanover, Hamburg, and their domains were all occupied by
French troops and put under martial law.

In the treatment which Hesse-Cassel received, the Emperor of the
French, though with much provocation, was simply a despot. In the case
of Prussia he could not well pose as a liberator, for as yet there was
no widespread sense of oppression and little national spirit among the
people. In his dealings with Saxony and the Saxon duchies he appeared
in a better light, for among their inhabitants there was a very
extended sympathy with the liberal ideas, both political and
ecclesiastical, which he was still supposed to represent. But there
was a nation of Eastern Europe which longed for him as for a savior,
and to whom he was far more than a representative liberal. Unhappy in
her constitution, feeble in her political life, assassinated by a
conspiracy of her neighbors, Poland was nevertheless still alive, and
in her longing for a deliverer the majority of her people had fixed
their eyes on Napoleon. From this fact he was anxious to draw the
utmost advantage, and that right speedily, for the Czar with ninety
thousand men was steadily marching toward the Prussian frontier. On
November nineteenth a deputation of Polish nobility arrived in Berlin,
and Napoleon, after treating them with impressive distinction,
dismissed them with the statement that as France had never
acknowledged the partition of their country, it was his interest as
Emperor of the French to restore their independence and reconstruct a
kingdom which, since it originated with him, would be permanent. A
week later he proceeded to Posen, and, entering the city under an arch
erected to "the liberator of Poland," awakened such enthusiasm that it
far outran his own progress; a volunteer movement was almost instantly
set on foot in Warsaw, which resulted in the enlistment of sixty
thousand men as a national guard. It is idle to discuss whether
Napoleon could or would have resuscitated Poland. Kosciusko and the
more enlightened Poles believed not. Some of the Polish nobles
demanded an immediate and formal recognition of their country's
independence as the antecedent condition of their support. But among
the masses the old ideals were revived, and the old spasmodic,
misdirected energy was awakened in the service of the new Western
Empire.

Such proceedings could not but arouse anxiety in Austria concerning
the stability of her authority in the Polish lands under her crown.
Andréossy, the French ambassador at Vienna, was instructed to say that
such insurgent movements were a necessary consequence of the
Emperor's presence in Posen, and that he had no intention of meddling
with Austrian Poland; but that, nevertheless, if the Emperor of
Austria felt uneasy, he might perhaps be willing to consider the
acceptance of a part of Silesia as indemnity for the portion of Poland
under Austrian rule. By this sly offer Francis was rendered powerless,
for he could not accept Silesia, nor even a portion of it, without
embroiling himself with England and Russia, and thereby entering into
a virtual partnership with France. In spite of the unwearied efforts
to stir up strife made by Napoleon's Corsican countryman, Pozzo di
Borgo, who now represented the Czar at Vienna, Francis resolved to
preserve a strict neutrality. The Poles were hopelessly divided, one
party--that of Kosciusko--holding altogether aloof, a second under
Poniatowski throwing themselves heartily on Napoleon's good will, a
third under Czartoryski preferring to secure their country's
resurrection through the Czar, who passed for an enlightened idealist.
Here, as so often before, Napoleon concealed his intentions and
movements behind the cloud of contradictory sentiments which he
inspired in different classes of men by the assumption of a colorless
magnanimity, just as the octopus blinds all alike, the indifferent as
well as the hostile, in the inky fluid with which it darkens the clear
waters round about.

Perplexity as to continental policies was, however, in marked contrast
to the directness of his attack on England. This was in the form of a
paper fulmination, a proclamation and a decree; mere print, but for
all that a bolt, forged, to be sure, from the substance of French
policies, yet novel in the daring with which it was now launched.




CHAPTER XXXVI

THE CONTINENTAL SYSTEM AS A WHOLE[39]

         [Footnote 39: References. Lüders: Das Continental System,
         etc.; Kiesselbach: Die Continentalsperre; Rocke: Die
         Kontinentalsperre; Rose: Napoleonic Studies; Lumbroso:
         Napoleone e l'Inghilterra. This volume is the most complete
         treatment of the subject and contains an excellent
         bibliography. The most of this chapter was published in the
         Pol. Sci. Quarterly, Vol. XIII, in connection with the
         appearance of Lumbroso's book.]

     The Berlin Decree -- Retort to Trafalgar -- High Protection in
     France -- A Weapon of Bonaparte -- Fichte's Commercial State --
     Protectionist Doctrine in Germany and France -- The Orders in
     Council -- Responsibility for the Napoleonic Wars -- British
     Opinion -- The System and the Invasion of England -- The System
     on the Continent -- Napoleon's Explanation -- Origin of the Idea
     -- Paper Blockade and the System -- The Orders in Council of 1807
     -- Their Justification -- State of British Trade -- New Concepts
     in Public Law -- The Licensing System -- Its Use by Napoleon --
     Effects in France.


This was the Berlin Decree, which Napoleon issued on November
twenty-first. It was the capstone to that structure of continental
embargo which for four years had occupied the attention of its author.
England was the soul of every continental coalition; France could
answer only by continued continental conquest. As England could be
reached only through her trade, with continental Europe in his hands,
Napoleon determined that he would strike his implacable enemy where
she was vulnerable. "The British Islands," ran the decree, "are
henceforth blockaded; all commerce with them is prohibited; letters
and packages with an English address will be confiscated, as also
every store of English goods on the Continent within the borders of
France and her allies; every piece of English goods, all English
vessels, and those laden with staples from English colonies, will be
excluded from all European harbors, including those of neutral
states."

As early as 1795 the Committee of Public Safety had considered the
possibility of excluding English goods from the Continent. The idea of
the Berlin Decree was therefore not original with Napoleon, but the
time and form of its application were; in particular, the final clause
was thoroughly his own. These last words speak volumes. In reply to
the principle of Great Britain that on the sea "enemy's ships make
enemy's goods," he thereby retorted with "enemy's lands make enemy's
goods," ordering all English wares found in countries occupied by his
troops to be seized. But he went much farther in his suicidal logic,
and virtually declared war to the knife by commanding that every
British subject found within the same limits should be held as a
prisoner of war, and that all property of individual Englishmen should
be regarded as lawful prize. These drastic measures, considered
together, were intended as a reply to Trafalgar, and to England's
Orders in Council issued on May sixteenth, 1806, which announced a
blockade of the Continent from Brest to the Elbe for the purpose of
utterly destroying French commerce. The Berlin Decree was also
intended to be in the nature of reprisals for the English practice of
searching French ships and impressing French sailors. Napoleon had
himself been guilty of that discourtesy both to warships and to
merchantmen, but he had never been strong enough seriously to annoy or
cripple England as England had both annoyed and crippled him by the
practice. During the year 1806 three more French agents were
despatched into the Orient, and Joseph declared to the (p.~448)
Prussian envoy that his brother was contemplating an expedition to
India. Many years later the Emperor himself confirmed this statement
in a conversation with Dr. O'Meara.

No single scheme of Napoleon's contributed in the end so much to his
discredit as the Berlin Decree. Colonial wares had become a necessity
of life to the populations of Europe, and to be deprived of them
brought irritation into every household, even the poorest; it was an
attempt to coerce Russia into adhesion to this ruinous policy which
directly initiated his fall. Reviving the commercial policy of the old
régime, the republic outran the zeal of the monarchy. Such, according
to our best authority, Mollien, was the condition of public opinion
when Bonaparte took charge in 1800. It is needless to say that a man
like the First Consul, who was a suitor for public favor, made the
universal jealousy of England's commercial supremacy in a special and
peculiar sense his foremost care. But that Bonaparte did not originate
the high-protection temper of France is proved by the remarkable
enactment known as the Loi de 10 Brumaire, An V (October thirty-first,
1796). This drastic measure forbade the importation of all
manufactured articles, either made in England or passing through the
channels of English trade by land or sea, except under certain
stringent and exceptional regulations as to transshipment; and ordered
the confiscation of such articles, if found in a French port on any
vessel whatsoever. The carefully prepared list of the articles of
English manufacture thus to be shut out included absolutely everything
in the production of which the splendid expansion of English
manufactures at the close of the eighteenth century made Great Britain
supereminent--products of the loom, the forge, the tannery, the glass
house, the sugar refinery, and the potter's kiln. Fourteen concluding
articles of the law enacted a system of trade control whereby, to all
appearance, the evasion of either the letter or the spirit of the
statute was made impossible. Yet for a time the disintegration of the
public powers under the Directory was such that, in spite of the
exasperation of the national hatred against the English government,
the law was simply ignored. On December fourth, 1798, however, there
was a sudden change; without warning, strong military detachments were
placed at all the gates of Paris and every vehicle was carefully
searched; domiciliary visits were commenced by the customs authorities
and were continued until all English wares were removed from commerce;
and French public opinion supported these proceedings, which the
English stigmatized as "legal robbery."

The fact was that Napoleon Bonaparte had temporarily taken up the task
of administration, and, having correctly read the public temper, was
beginning the policy of "thorough." The treaty of Campo Formio had
been concluded; and, though he was only commander-in-chief of the
French army--and that by construction rather than in form--he was
really the arbiter of the government. Whatever the masses thought, the
Directory knew that the fate of France was in his hands; and nothing
confirmed that opinion more strongly than the ease with which the law
enacted two years before was now enforced. Having made what he
considered easy terms with Austria, he had determined to destroy the
credit of Pitt's government by attacking English industries and
commerce, and to defy, if necessary, the neutral carriers of the
world. It appears to have been at this time that his mind formed the
"Chimera," as a French historian calls it, which in the end proved his
ruin--the conception that, if only the conservative administration of
Great Britain could be discredited, the Whigs would adhere to "the
republican peace."

The time was not ripe for any attack on England more direct than this;
and to occupy the interval until it might become so, the well-worn
scheme of harassing her at her extremities was revived. The uneasy
Bonaparte was temporarily removed from the scene of administration by
the Egyptian expedition, intended at least to menace English commerce
in those distant parts of the earth, if not to work the complete ruin
of her Oriental empire. But if the time was not ripe to engage in
active hostilities for the enforcement of an economic doctrine, this
fact was not due to the absence of such a doctrine, formulated and
avowed. The theory of a closed jural state, which had been evolved in
defense of the final stage in the formation of European nationality,
was itself undergoing an expansion in the direction of expounding the
international relations of states in commercial affairs. In 1801
Fichte published his famous treatise entitled "The Closed Commercial
State," his contribution to the literature of Utopias. Defining the
jural state as a limited body of men subject to the same laws and to
the same coactive sovereignty, he declared that the same body of men
ought to be stringently limited to like reciprocity of commerce and
industry, and that any one not under the same legislative power and
the same coactive force should be excluded from participation in this
relation; thus would be formed a closed commercial state parallel to
the closed jural state. His treatise was divided into three books,
entitled respectively, "Philosophy," "Contemporary History," and
"Politics," preceded by an introduction discussing the relation of the
rational state to the real, and of pure public law to politics. The
first book was merely an elaboration of his idea as to what is just
and right within the rational state, in view of trade relations as
they are; in the second book he proceeded to discuss the actual
condition of commercial intercourse in existing states; and in the
third book he considered how the theory of a closed commercial state
was to be realized. The vital portion of his argument lay in the
statement[40] that if all Christian Europe, with its colonies and
factories in other quarters of the globe, was to be considered as a
whole, trade must remain free as it once was; if, however, it was to
be divided into several wholes, each under its own government, it must
likewise be divided into several entirely closed commercial states.
Said he: "Those systems which demand free trade, those claims to the
right to buy and sell freely in the whole known world, have been
handed down to us from among the ideas of our ancestors, for whom they
were suited; we took them without examination and adopted them, and it
is with trouble that we substitute others for them."

         [Footnote 40: Der geschlossene Handelsstaat. Ein
         philosophischer Entwurf als Anhang zur Rechtslehre und Probe
         einer künftig zu liefernden Politik (Wien, 1801), p. 109.]

Seven years later the same philosopher declared, in his better-known
Address to the German Nation, that the much-vaunted liberty of the
seas was a matter entirely indifferent to the Germans. For the
preservation of their peculiar genius, he argued, they should be saved
from all participation, direct or indirect, in the wealth of other
peoples; otherwise the curse of commercialism would overtake them.
Thus the "ideologues" of Europe, German and French, held identical
opinions. They appear to have had multitudes of supporters in all
lands. At any rate, it is idle to charge Bonaparte with being the
inventor of the rigid protectionist doctrines that he endeavored to
apply to the dominions which, when acquired by conquest, he intended
to incorporate in a European empire having its capital and
administrative seat at Paris. They were held by the men of the Terror
in 1793, by the Directory in 1796, by the overwhelming majority of the
French people in 1798, and by a respectable number of Germans and of
Americans in the years immediately succeeding; while they are still
held by immense numbers of those in whom the idea of nationality is
dominant and preponderates over all other political concepts.

The Berlin Decree, which is generally considered to have inaugurated
the Continental System in form, is, in fact, antedated by the Orders
in Council of Great Britain. During 1801 English commerce was
considerably greater than it was during 1802, the year of nominal
peace; and this was due, of course, to the fact that the commercial
welfare was not even nominally discontinued. The real trouble felt by
Lord Whitworth, the British ambassador at Paris, was that the existing
commercial situation of his country was intolerable, and that he must
find some _casus belli_ in order to end it. We have explained how he
fixed on a very trivial pretext, the conduct of Bonaparte at a public
reception in the Tuileries, and that Great Britain had much difficulty
in making the flimsy excuse appear important. The fact was that the
First Consul was using the peace to extend the protective system of
France over all the lands which he had conquered in northern and
central Italy and to force Holland and Switzerland into his customs
union. In consequence English commerce was suffering, and the mission
of Sebastiani into the Orient made it seem highly probable to English
merchants that the process of further diminishing their trade was
already under way in those distant parts. The publication of
Sebastiani's report was the last straw in the burden of the British
merchants, and they refused to carry the load any longer. Bonaparte
said that the independence of a nation carried with it the absolute
control of its trade, and that if Great Britain intended to keep both
Gibraltar and Malta, she virtually announced by that fact her
determination to unite the commerce of the Indies, the Mediterranean,
and the Baltic in a single system controlled by herself, which would
create a situation intolerable and impossible.

The Peace of Amiens was merely a truce, and the only question as to
its duration was one of reciprocal forbearance and endurance. As soon
as it became clear that neither England nor France would abandon the
idea of commercial supremacy, the vital matter of policy on both sides
was how to reopen the war. To do this was to assume a fearful burden
of responsibility. History is still striving to determine who gave the
immediate impulse; for whoever did give it is held responsible for the
appalling bloodshed of the Napoleonic as distinguished from the
republican wars. To-day even the English historians of the most
enlightened sort admit that France was tricked into the declaration of
war. The coalition was in process of formation within a few days after
the ink was dry on the treaty of Campo Formio; it was in readiness
when hostilities broke out; and the fuel necessary to make the
intermittent flickering flames burst forth anew was supplied by the
successive Orders in Council.

In 1805 there was printed in London and published anonymously a book
which is now believed to have been officially inspired. It was
actually written by James Stephen, and the title was "War in Disguise,
or the Frauds of the Neutral Flag." Its argument was the need of the
destruction of France to prevent the ruin of England. The immediate
dilemma considered was the sacrifice of Great Britain's maritime
rights or a quarrel with the neutral powers. The author thought that
the system of licenses--"salt-water indulgences," he called them--was
shaking England's supremacy exactly as the papal indulgences of the
fifteenth century had shaken the Roman supremacy. In attacking neutral
trade, he thought, there was little danger of provoking hostilities or
evoking reprisals. As to America, particularly, a non-importation
policy on her part would injure herself alone. She was far too
honorable to confiscate the property of English merchants within her
borders and far too shrewd to expose to retributive seizure the
enormous commerce which she herself had afloat. Suppose, however, he
continued, that neither the sacrifice of maritime rights nor the
quarrel with neutral powers be accepted, there remains still a third
possibility--to admit the pretension that "free ships make free
goods," to suspend the navigation laws and then to seize all the
benefits of neutral carriers. "Let brooms be put at the mastheads of
all our merchantmen, and their seamen be sent to the fleets." This, he
argued, would be a less evil than that under which English commerce
was suffering, unless, indeed, all parties, including the enemy, would
abjure the right of capturing merchant ships or private effects of an
enemy--a visionary means of reconciling naval war with commercial
peace. Such general abjuration was impossible, and there remained no
remedy for England's ills save peace with Bonaparte. But the mere
suggestion of this action was preposterous. The insuperable barrier
was the British constitution. Austria and Russia might make peace with
a military despot; but with a man who employed the leisure of peace
for no other purpose than to enslave the smaller powers of the
Continent no peace was possible for a free country like England,
except such a one as would be equivalent to absolute surrender. As
might have been expected, the Englishman who wrote "War in Disguise"
concluded his argument with a pious appeal to the Almighty, obedience
to whose righteous laws is the soundest political wisdom, and who
wills not only the end, but the means--in this case "volunteers, navy
and maritime rights." This temper for war to the bitter end was quite
as strong in France as in England; and while the English appealed to
God and righteousness, it was equally characteristic that the French
were at the same time exploiting a parallel drawn from classical
history--that of Rome and Carthage.

We must always recollect that the Grand Army of England was a
two-edged weapon. Napoleon told Metternich that he always intended to
use it against Austria, as he actually did use it; but he told the
captain of the _Northumberland_, on August fifteenth, 1815, that he
had intended the invasion seriously, expecting to land as near London
as possible. Although these antipodal statements were clearly intended
to flatter the national pride of the respective dignitaries to whom
they were addressed, yet, paradoxical as the assertion seems, when
taken together they express the exact truth: successful invasion would
have involved the immediate overthrow of British power; while
protective exclusion and the destruction of the coalition was the
slower, perhaps, but the more certain of the two ways. The latter was
probably the intention toward which Napoleon leaned most seriously. By
compelling the British to maintain a costly war establishment, the
great schemer would exhaust their by no means bottomless purse; and
thus would be able to cripple the equipment of the coalition, to
expand by victory the territorial empire of France, and to open the
way for her enterprise to the eastward. Finally, Napoleon made no
serious effort toward the "Descent," using the notion to extort war
funds from the French exactly as the Jacobins and the Directory had
done; and the actual fact of the magnificent countermarch toward
Vienna and the results of Austerlitz ought to convince us that, while
at times he did contemplate invading England, his mind was on the
whole directed toward the course he actually pursued--that of striking
at the coalition through Austria.

The extension of the protective system beyond France and the countries
immediately under her control began in 1803, when Spain was admonished
to observe it or to take the consequences; immediately after
Austerlitz, Istria and Dalmatia were included in the system. When,
thereupon, Prussia was requested to include the North Sea coasts in
its operation, as the price for the occupation of Hanover, Great
Britain retorted by her Orders in Council, declaring the shore line
from the mouth of the Elbe all the way around as far as Brest to be in
a state of blockade. Prussia chose to accept neither the terms of
Great Britain nor those of France, and struggled to remain neutral--a
sheer impossibility; the Czar of Russia then repudiated the treaty
into which his ambassador, Oubril, had been drawn by the wiles of
Talleyrand; in due course of time followed Jena and Friedland; and at
last the way was clear for turning a protective system hitherto more
or less local into one which could be more or less continental. The
Berlin Decree was the longest step possible after Jena; while the
Milan Decree was the natural sequence of the enlarged opportunity
which the Peace of Tilsit gave for pursuing the same old economic
policy.

In justification of his course, Napoleon pleaded the moderation he had
shown in dealing with the enemy after the first three coalitions, and
declared in his message to the senate that he desired such a general
European peace as would guarantee the prosperity, not of England
alone, but of all the continental powers; but as the attitude of the
enemy rendered this impossible, nothing remained but to adopt measures
"which were repugnant to his heart." The Berlin Decree set forth in
its preamble that England paid no respect to international law; that
she considered as enemies, not alone the organized war power of
hostile states, but the persons and vessels of their citizens engaged
in commerce, taking the persons prisoners of war and the ships as
prizes; that she extended the principle of blockade to unfortified
towns, harbors, and river mouths, declaring places to be blockaded
before which there were no forces sufficient to enforce the blockade,
and extending this absurdity to the coast lines of entire empires;
that, finally, since this conduct had no other intention than the ruin
of all Europe to the advantage of English trade, "We have resolved to
apply to England the usages which she has sanctioned in her maritime
legislation." The principles of the decree were asserted to be valid
just as long as England should not admit the validity in maritime war
of the principles which control war by land: the laws of war "cannot
be applied either to private property, whatever it may be, or to the
persons of those who are not belligerents, and the right of blockade
must be confined in its application to strong places really invested
by sufficient forces." The British Isles were then declared in a state
of blockade and all the rigors of the English system were ordered to
be carried out in detail. Finally, notification in due form was given
to the Kings of Spain, Naples, Holland, and Etruria, and to all
Napoleon's allies whose citizens were suffering from the "barbarities
of English maritime legislation."

The date of the Berlin Decree was November twenty-first, 1806. On July
twenty-fifth, 1805, Montgaillard, a clever scoundrel,--of whom, as
Napoleon remarked, something could have been made if he had not been
fit for hanging,--wrote a memorial[41] which was presented to Napoleon
and is claimed to have been the basis of the Continental System. As
expanded on March twenty-fourth, 1806, this paper represents that
England has in view the sole object of destroying the French marine in
order to destroy French commerce, and that, consequently, the imperial
idea of Europe is one to which she can never accede even by a
temporary peace; that she will never renounce her claim to Hanover or
permit the occupation of Holland, her ultimate intention being to
establish in Egypt a station to protect her commerce by the Red Sea
with India. Portugal, which will always side with England, must,
therefore, be incorporated with Spain; while Crete and Egypt must be
occupied by both military and commercial posts. The influence of
England's deep, fierce hostility, it continues, is seen in the refusal
of both Austria and Russia to recognize the newly created vassal
kingdom of Italy. England arrogated the tyranny of the seas in 1651 by
the Navigation Act passed under the Protector; her very existence is
founded in traffic and commerce, and without it there is no movement
in her body politic. She is forced to disregard all provisions of
international law which tend to diminish her commercial strength.
William of Orange created her national debt; and successive sovereigns
have in their various continental and American wars increased it to
its present dimensions--estimated at about six hundred millions
sterling. To carry this enormous obligation and emit the new loans
necessary to sustain the respective coalitions, it is essential that
her commerce should continuously expand. "It is through her commerce
that England must be attacked," says Montgaillard; "to leave her all
her gains in Europe, Asia, and America is to leave her all her arms,
to render conflicts and wars eternal. To destroy British commerce is
to strike England to the heart." He then advances the idea which
appears to be the germ of the Continental System: Since Russia seems
to favor the plans of England, and since Sweden is destitute of both
independence and dignity, France must begin the attack on the maritime
legislation of the enemy. She has only to make the navigation acts her
own, modify them in favor of the powers which accept them, and adopt a
policy of reciprocity.

         [Footnote 41: Only discovered and edited by C. La Croix in
         1896. Montgaillard, Mémoires diplomatiques, 1805-19.]

How far these counsels influenced Napoleon it is impossible to say;
but the chronological coincidence has some value in support of the
claim that Montgaillard at least gave the final impulse to the
Emperor. There seems, however, to have been a fatal flaw in the
reasoning of both. There was no symptom in either executive or
counselor of any grasp upon the fact that by the amazing development
of industry in England the wealth of the entire world had been
enormously increased--so enormously that without a corresponding
increase in other nations no international rivalry in prosperity and
influence was at all possible. This is a new discovery: then and until
very recently it was supposed that England had reached her eminence in
commerce by a series of flagrant wrongs; and when the successive steps
of aggression and reprisal are chronologically arranged, there is a
superficial appearance of truth in the charge. The Orders in Council
were iniquitous anachronisms, and they gave a color of justification
to the equally barbarous decrees of France--decrees in themselves
preposterous, and supported, moreover, by a blockade which was as
purely fictitious as that by which Great Britain supported her Orders
in Council. The original sketch of the Berlin Decree has been recently
discovered in the National Archives at Paris, and it is very
important to note that it does not contemplate that portion of the
completed document which covers the lands either allied to or under
the influence of France; this provision seems to have been added after
long reflection. The natural complement of a fictitious blockade was a
fictitious protective system; the one was as absurd as the other.

In her puzzled uncertainty, and under the stress of necessity for
immediate action of some kind, England took the next false step in the
same direction and issued the Orders of January seventh, 1807,
declaring all the ports, not only of France, but of her colonies, in a
state of blockade, and throwing down the gauntlet to the neutral
states by forbidding any ship to trade between the ports of France, of
her colonies, and of the countries in the French system; while on
November eleventh a new decree extended the inhibition to all ports
whatsoever from which the English flag was excluded. This extreme
position was pronounced by Lord Erskine to be unconstitutional and
contrary to the law of nations. That it was not intended to be
enforced, but was to be used as a pretext to secure maritime monopoly,
is proved by the fact that already, in the month before, Great Britain
had inaugurated the policy of evading her own decrees, raising the
blockade of both the Elbe and the Weser and winking at the contraband
trade which immediately sprang up in consequence. Napoleon was
therefore untiring in the system of reprisals; on November
twenty-third of the same year he issued the Milan Decree as a retort
both to the scheme of contraband trade put into operation at Bremen
and Hamburg and to the Orders of November eleventh; and to supplement
this, a second and more rigorous decree was promulgated on December
twenty-sixth, 1807. Any vessel which had suffered the visitation of
English cruisers or had put in at any English port was declared
thereby to have become English and consequently subject to
confiscation; an embargo was also placed on all neutral ships at that
time in French harbors. Prussia, Sweden, and Denmark adhered promptly
to the new Continental System. England was terrified at the
consequences of its own temerity, and on April twenty-sixth, 1809,
modified her orders by limiting the blockade to "all the ports of the
so-called Kingdom of Holland, of France and her colonies, and of
Southern Italy, from Orbitello to Pesaro inclusive." Yet, for all
this, Austria and Switzerland gave in their adhesion somewhat later;
while America stuck to the principle of non-intercourse and finally
obtained the revocation in her favor of both the Berlin and the Milan
Decrees and, in the end, of the Orders in Council. As is well known,
public necessity proved to be stronger than theory; Napoleon's very
energy in depriving continental Europe of colonial and English-made
articles which, once regarded as luxuries, had in time become
necessities, together with the consequent exasperation of Great
Britain at the diminution of her trade, was one of the influences
which combined the most discordant political elements into a union for
the destruction of French empire.

The English side of the secular controversy which has raged over the
right and wrong of the Continental System has been presented by
various writers with great ingenuity and acumen. The seizure of
private persons and property on the high seas, runs their argument,
was simply the retort to the French decree of 1798 which ordered the
execution of all neutral sailors found on English ships; the French
had been the first to disregard the law of nations in seizing the
property of English merchants on _terra firma_ at Leghorn, and from
times immemorial the usage of Europe had authorized the seizure of
private property on the high seas; the paper blockade, though illegal
and absurd, was resorted to under great provocation, because Prussia
had occupied Hanover, a territory which belonged, if not to England,
at least to the holder of the English crown. It follows, therefore,
that every measure taken by England was strictly in the nature of a
reprisal. This legal plea is a question to be considered by
jurisprudence, partly in the light of the changing identity of France
and partly in that of variations of obligation due to the incidents of
warfare--such, for example, as the conduct of England at Copenhagen,
which was only the culmination of a series of similar acts in the
treatment of all neutrals. It seems very doubtful whether any legal
argument can avail much in explaining the inconsistencies incident to
such struggles as the wars which were waged during the Napoleonic
epoch. The real and paramount plea of England is self-defense; the
arguments based on the political and economic emergencies in which she
was involved, in consequence of her amazing constitutional and
industrial preëminence, have a validity far beyond any which inheres
in pleas that are purely technical--and confined, at that, to the
field of international law.

Certain facts recently noted throw a flood of light on the miraculous
development of English and Scotch industry during the Napoleonic
epoch. Robert Owen stated, and in all sobriety, that in 1816 his two
thousand operatives at New Lanark accomplished with the aid of the new
machinery as much as had been accomplished by all the operatives in
Scotland without it! In his autobiography Owen further emphasizes the
extent of the industrial revolution by estimating--and the estimate
is conservative--that the work done by the manufacturing population
of Great Britain with machinery could not be done without it by a
people numbering less than two hundred millions. There was no
corresponding development of manufactures on the Continent--not even
in France; thus, it was not until 1812 that steam spinning was
introduced into Mulhouse, the great industrial capital of Alsace.
Similar comparisons could be drawn in many other respects between
Great Britain and her continental neighbors, but this single contrast
is enough to render very striking the fact that no other power could
vie with her in supplying the world with cheap and useful wares of
such a sort as to become after a first trial indispensable to the
masses of mankind. She found herself, therefore, in the position of
being required for the sake of peace to discard all her commercial
advantages, all that she had gained in her industrial evolution--all
the preëminence, in short, which she held by exertions and sacrifices
that had been unexampled elsewhere and continuous for centuries.

Does such a situation create no moral obligation? Is it supposable
that a nation could consider for an instant the possibility of
destroying itself and its inheritance, for the sake of a peace which
would surrender all its advantages to an active and irreconcilable
enemy? If there were no alternative except war or suicide, is Great
Britain to be blamed for choosing war, however desperate? Moreover,
there is another consideration of the first importance, which has a
moral quality universally recognized in other spheres. By common
consent no occupation of discovered land holds good if it be not
permanent and beneficent; and likewise the closed economic state
cannot be permanent unless it prove to be universally beneficent. Such
a state now appears to be as uncertain in its operations as the closed
jural state has proved to be under the operation of international
agreements which assist one nation to enforce its municipal law, by
the sanction of another. Extradition treaties and other equally
pregnant innovations in international law are now generally admitted
to have a jural validity, in many of the most important relations of
men, that is both higher and stronger than that of the municipal law
of the various states which compose the present federation of
civilized powers. In the same way--tacitly, perhaps, but none the less
really--it is coming to be widely conceded that the markets of the
world cannot be closed to wares so good and so cheap as to be
necessary for the ever-rising standard of comfortable living demanded
by wage-earners in every land, except on condition that such wares can
be produced sooner or later as well and as cheaply in the land which
protects itself against others of its own class.

The effort of Great Britain to establish a monopoly of ocean commerce
was accompanied by one immoral incident of the most far-reaching
importance--the inauguration of a licensing system whereby, with
simulated papers, vessels of any origin successfully evaded the
provisions of both the British orders and the French decrees. This
procedure for a time debauched the commerce of the world, and was a
fit supplement to the acts of violence severely reprobated both then
and since. In the main, fraud and violence brought greater profit to
France than to Great Britain. The relaxation in 1798 of the rule of
1756 had accrued to the advantage of the only strictly neutral power
of the world, viz., the United States; the orders and the decrees so
hampered and exasperated our merchants that we first passed the
Embargo Act and then took refuge in non-intercourse. By that time
English commerce had so seriously declined under the working of the
Continental System that violent agitation against the orders was
inaugurated in Great Britain itself. Almost at that very moment,
however, Napoleon drove the reigning house of Portugal to Brazil, and
thus opened the most important ports of South America to British
importations. The glut of the English storehouses was thus momentarily
relieved; and, while the merchants suffered serious loss from the low
prices they received, they were saved from absolute bankruptcy. For
two years longer the struggle on both sides was continued with
desperation; and would probably have resulted in the despair of Great
Britain, had not the improved methods of agriculture, introduced along
with the improved methods in manufacturing, made it possible to feed
for some time longer the still comparatively small population by means
of home production.

This was the interval which brought matters to a crisis on the
Continent. Great Britain could get on very well without the silks and
other luxuries produced in France, substituting for them woolens and
cottons; but English cruisers made almost impossible the importation
into Europe, not only of colonial necessities, but also of the raw
materials necessary for indispensable manufactures. By the system of
licenses alone was it possible to maintain the French army; cloth and
leather wherewith to outfit Napoleon's soldiers were brought from
England into the Hanseatic ports in open contempt of the Continental
System. Since Great Britain also held the monopoly of coffee, tea, and
sugar, without which the not more than half-hearted Germans of the
Rhine Confederation would not live, and which Napoleon did not dare to
cut off entirely from even the French and Italians, it was thought
that the only possible reprisals against her not already instituted
would be in the line of further restrictions on her manufactures.
During the late summer and early autumn of 1810 were promulgated the
three decrees of Trianon, St. Cloud, and Fontainebleau; and not only
were enormous duties imposed on all colonial products, wherever found,
but all English goods discovered in the lands of the French system
were to be burned. Neutral ships, including those of the United
States, were at the same time utterly shut out from all the harbors of
these lands.

This was the beginning of the end; for in the effort to destroy the
English sea power by condemning it to inanition, Napoleon deprived the
manufacturers in his own lands of all their raw materials. Even if
this had not been a sufficient cause, their manufacturing plants were
not modern enough to supply the markets open to them. Russia endured
the miseries of privation for but a single year, and in 1811 opened
her ports; while smuggling on her boundary lines at once assumed
dimensions which rendered anything approaching an administration of
the Continental System the work of an army of customs officers, so
that after 1812 the effort to enforce it was necessarily abandoned.
Our declaration of war with England came too late to exert any
influence, one way or the other, on the final solution of the question
whether sea power or land power was the stronger in the civilized
world at the opening of the nineteenth century. The death throes of
Napoleon's imperial system were primarily caused by the exhaustion of
France and of himself; when he made himself a dynastic ruler, his
prestige and his inherent strength were dissipated as rapidly as were
those of the popes when they joined the ranks of the petty princes of
Italy. Possibly an empire of United Europe based on the liberal ideas
of the day might have had some chance for life, but a single dynastic
power pitted against all the dynasties of the Continent, and also
against the moral strength of British preëminence in politics and
industry, had none at all. It is a mistake to regard the Continental
System as an influential cause of Napoleon's overthrow, except in so
far as it displayed the folly of attempting to apply what is at best a
temporary national expedient as a permanent principle in a world
system. The effort did cripple the resources of France and alienate
much Continental sympathy from the Emperor, and it embittered Great
Britain to the point of desperation; but the result of the struggle to
found a Napoleonic hierarchy of two degrees on the states of the
Continent was otherwise determined.


END OF VOLUME II